“Rabbit? RABBIT!” the Olde Banshee wailed, before poking me in the ribs.
Startled, I poorly managed to stay in my chair.
“Oh, you’re NOT dead,” she pouted.
“Nostalgia! I’m trying to write!”
Peering over my shoulder, she noticed two blank screens.
“Try harder, Rabbit.”
As she was leaving, I had a response. With an evil smile, I took a deep breath in … and blew razzberries!
“Oh, poor MiLady,” Gia gushed, glaring over the rims of her glasses back at me. “She has SIX children!”
“You. Are. Not. Helping!” I stressed tugging on my long ears.
“Really now, Rabbit,” Gia managed to sound genuinely concerned. “What are you attempting to do, exactly?”
“A friend has invited me to play along in her little party …”
“Oh! I hope it’s a costume party,” Nostalgia began clapping her hands, as she bounced on the guest bed. “I *love* costume parties! OH! Oh, maybe it’s a costume party slash murder mystery! Those whodunits are absolutely amazing! Who are you dressing up as, Dearie?”
“It’s a blog party, Gia.”
“Oh!” then she paused. “What’s that?”
Rather than explain, I showed her Lady O’Neil’s page to read.
“Oh, my,” she remarked after returning to the bed. “You haven’t got a prayer, have you, Rabbit?”
“I guess not.”
“Well, Lady O’Neil gave ideas. Here, try this one: ‘attend a seminar or conference.’ Those are always fun! I remember when I went to RootsTech …”
“You got yourself arrested! Remember? Your bail money came out of my savings, preventing my attendance the following year.”
“Oh, yes, sorry about that, but it was an accident and not my fault.”
“Mistaken identity?” I added, tugging my ears again.
“Precisely!” she smiled. “Now, tell me, there has got to be *somewhere* you’d like to go? Saskatoon in April (Saskatchewan Conference)? Guelph in June (Ontario Conference)? Or Kelowna in September (KDGS’s ‘Harvest Your Family Tree’ Conference)?”
“Of course, I’d like to go to all of them, Gia, and a few others,” I answered. “Many of my long-time friends are coming in from all over North America and from overseas.”
“Really, now, Rabbit –”
Before the Olde Fossil could say another word, I showed her the varied correspondence of dinner invites, camaraderie and, of course, high tea.
“This is wonderful, Rabbit!” Gia exclaimed, looking up at me. “I’m so proud of – What’s wrong?”
“I cannot attend all of them, Gia; they occur during the high season at work. I will be very lucky to get away to go to one.”
“That is unfortunate, Dearie … but, perhaps … I know. I can represent you and go in your place, again! Yes, that would be perfect! Problem solved!”
And like the whirlwind of overwhelming, unsolicited assistance that she is, she quickly fluttered off.
[Somebunny, please … help me!]
Certain my three (recently renewed) genealogical society memberships will be revoked, in response to unleashing the worst genealogical virus known to the planet, I opened my Guide to DNA Testing and Genetic Genealogy by Dr. Bettinger, looking for answers.
[Mantra: Please, don’t let her be related! Please, don’t let her be related! Please, don’t let her … ]