Frost

Evolving Ancestry

In August, when I received my DNA makeup from Ancestry, I had learned that I had no Scottish blood in me, a fact that disappointed me because my mother had once told me that I have a trace of Scots in me and I had grown to love the country through my fictional character, Roland Axam, and my visits to that beautiful country.

With the initial DNA results, I was told that I had Irish blood in me, which I had never suspected, plus a lot of Scandinavian blood, which surprised me. The rest of me—English, Welsh, and French—was of no surprise to me.

One of the things with Ancestry is that the more data and more connections with relatives you make, the more your genetic makeup changes. And last week, I learned that my makeup has changed quite a bit.

I'm still mostly made of English and Northwestern European blood, I've found out that I have more French blood in me than the earlier results showed. I've gained Germanic roots but I've lost most of that Scandinavian connection.

I'm not the Viking I was led to believe I was.

Here's my new bloodline breakdown:

• 52 percent England and Northwestern Europe
• 23 percent  France
• 15 percent  Scotland
• 3 percent  Germanic Europe
• 3 percent  Ireland
• 2 percent  Denmark
• 2 percent  Wales

So I do have Scottish blood in me, after all. I thought so, as I was led to believe that both of my grandmothers had Welsh and Scottish ancestry. My dad's dad was English and my mom's dad was French.

It looks like the map has placed my French ancestry more to the central and northern France regions, where it used to show central and southern regions, before.

There's now only 2 percent  of my origins in Scandinavia, where initially I had 9 percent . I've retained some Danish roots but I've lost Norway and Sweden.

Oh well, I still want to travel around Iceland someday soon.

I'm sure the numbers will change again. I wouldn't be surprised if my Welsh ties will increase.

As I said the last time, time will tell.

Where In Ottawa LXXV

It's been so long that I've all but forgotten about it.

The last time I ran a Where In Ottawa? photo challenge was in May, 2019. The number of viewers to those posts was dwindling and fewer people participated, so after about eight years of running it, I stopped.

But lately, I've noticed that people are looking at the old Where In Ottawa? posts, almost as though someone was playing the game on their own. In fact, one of my old posts has had so much attention that it's become one of the most popular posts of this past month.

For those of you who haven't played it, I would post a photo that I shot from somewhere in the Ottawa area; sometimes, even crossing the border into Gatineau, Québec. The challenge was to leave a comment on the post with a guess to the location.

The first person to leave the correct guess would be awarded a copy of my novel, Songsaengnim: A Korea Diary. On a couple of occasions, some businesses got in on the deal: Mill Street Brew Pub offered a dinner for two; loveOttawa donated a t-shirt; and even the Ottawa Marriott provided a one-night stay in their downtown hotel.

I've run out of extra copies of my book (I only have one, for myself) and I doubt I have the kind of pull anymore to get others to provide a giveaway, but I was wondering if there was enough interest to bring the contest back, despite the lack of a giveaway.

Thoughts?

I'm going to see whether there's enough interest to bring my photo challenge back, so here's a one-off.

I've got a photo that was taken somewhere in Ottawa. If you recognize the spot, or even if you only think you know where it might be, leave your guess in the Comments section, below. You can guess as often as you like.

Each day, I'll leave a clue about where this place is. If, by 6 pm, on Thursday, the correct location has not been located, I'll let you know, on Friday, where it is. If the correct location is found, I'll still share on Friday but I'll name the winner of the challenge.

Sound good? I'm a bit rusty, but here goes:

Think you know Ottawa? Prove it!

And good luck. Happy Monday!

The Extraction

"Next time," I told Kid 2, on Saturday, as we finished moving her into her new apartment, "find some strong friends."

I was talking about the next time that she moved. I was getting too old to help her and this move left me utterly drained of energy. DW and I were supposed to paddle the Barron Canyon, the next day, but I awoke with a migraine and aching muscles.

It took a couple of days to recover from that move.

We knew that the house that Kid 2 and four of her friends had rented had small bedrooms. Some looked as though they were closets. But Kid 2 and her friends had signed the lease anyway, and it wasn't our business to say anything.

But by Monday, the roommates found a few problems with the place and learned that some of the rooms didn't stand up to building code. Some were actually in violation. So, they made the decision to break the lease.

The real-estate company that advertised the unit was understanding, and said that they would refund the roommates, but the landlord was furious. By late Tuesday, she gave everybody less than 24 hours to vacate the residence.

This put Kid 2 in panic mode. She was one of the principal people involved with finding the place. She was the one who negotiated to have the utilities included and for a reduction in the asking rent. She even was able to be allowed the keys one week before the actual lease began, on November first.

Kid 2 had nowhere to go. She had furniture to move and nowhere to put it. She and her cat were about to be homeless.

As DW and I were just crawling into bed, we received the phone call. There were tears. There was panic. While DW tried to calm our daughter, telling her everything would be okay, I was online, looking for a way to make it okay.

Without hesitation, we told Kid 2 that we'd be in Toronto as soon as we could.

Miraculously, I was able to secure a moving truck and a storage locker. It was big enough for Kid 2 and two of her roommates, all who had moved in on the weekend. The other two roommates were scheduled to move over this weekend.

By 1:00, we had made plans and somewhat calmed our daughter. She had secured a way to vacate the apartment and had a place to store her things. Now, all that was left was to find a new apartment for her and her friends, and to find a place where she could stay until she could move into the new place.

"We have to let you go so that we can get some rest," DW told her on the phone. "Everything is going to be okay. We love you. We're here for you." They ended the call and I turned out the light, burying my face in my pillow.

But I couldn't sleep. I was worried. I was worried how my kid was going to cope. I was worried that she'd be unable to find a place. We've always told her that if things got tough, she could always come back home. She'd always be welcome.

Kid 2 is determined. She often lacks faith in herself but she is determined. She has a couple of day jobs, plus she performs in various bands, as a drummer, throughout Toronto. She wants to make it on her own, even though she still needs mom and dad from time to time.

My alarm went off at 5. If I was lucky, I got three hours of sleep. But I hopped straight out of bed. A cool shower woke me up. Once dressed, I woke up DW, who prepared us some food and lots of liquid (we weren't going to starve and dehydrate ourselves like we had done on Saturday) while I packed things we'd need in the car.

An electric drill. Extra boxes and bins. Gloves.

By 6, we were on the road and arrived at the U-Haul depot by 10:45. By 11:30, I had the truck and was on my way to the apartment I had just filled four days earlier.

Everybody worked hard to fill the truck. It turned out to be a bad day for my lungs, so I didn't push myself. And we ate and drank at proper intervals, so we didn't run out of energy.

With the truck loaded, the roommates had a 2 pm appointment at an apartment that was only a 10-minute walk from this spot. DW and I took care of Kid 2's cat, Lily, and made sure that no one had missed anything while the ladies went to the appointment.

DW and I were able to really check out the emptied apartment, and some of the rooms were unbelievably small. One didn't even have a window. We already knew that there was only one common place, indoors—the kitchen—but there was a large balcony off the kitchen and a huge patio on the roof, with a great view towards downtown Toronto.

One of the best things about the place is its rooftop view.

But who wants to be cooped up in a tiny room, in winter, with no other reasonable place to hang out? I was glad that Kid 2 was getting out of here.

More than an hour after Kid 2 and her friends left for their apartment, we got good news: the apartment they went to see was perfect. It had five large bedrooms, a living room, big kitchen, and a studio, in which they could keep their instruments (all of them are musicians). And, the studio was sound-proofed, as the former tenant used to teach music lessons there.

And, best of all, the rent was less than the current spot. The ladies needed to apply for the place and wait to see if they could get it, so they were prepared to keep looking.

DW and I waited for them to sign the application paperwork (one of the roommates' mother was there to make sure that everything with the lease was good), and when they returned, we closed up the old apartment and drove to the storage facility.

By 7:00, the storage locker was full, the truck was returned, and Kid 2 had two suitcases that she'd be living out of for at least a month. She was worried about what she would do with Lily, but DW and I said that we could bring her home, to stay with us until it was time to move again.

As we drove from the rental spot to one of Kid 2's friends, who could put her up for a couple of nights, our daughter thanked us for all of our help.

"Of course," I said, "we'll always be there for you. But you should be proud of yourself. Yes, this was a harrowing ordeal that was extremely stressful, but look how you've managed. Look at what you've accomplished. You're a stronger person than you realize. You've come through this so far and you'll continue to get through it."

Her phone chimed, and she screamed. She started bawling her eyes out, and when I looked in the back seat, she was shaking uncontrollably. "Oh my god!" she screamed.

My heart sank. If this was another crisis, I wondered if she could take it tonight. She was already physically and emotionally exhausted.

"We got the place!" She started crying even more.

"That's right, let it all out," I said. I knew they were tears of joy. I knew that the stress that was crushing her was lifted enough to let her breathe.

She opened a video group chat with her roommates, who were all just as relieved. They all praised each other, saying that if they could get through this ordeal and feel good about how each of them stayed strong, that it was a great start to their relationship. Though some were good friends and others were mutual friends, this was a great bonding moment.

We dropped Kid 2 at her friends house just before 8. She had a cooler full of frozen vegetables, pierogies, with juice and yogurt, among other items. "Make sure you get those in a fridge and freezer," we said, "and eat." She had eaten a ham and cheese sandwich on the car ride to the Annex, as DW made sure there was lots of chances to eat, but we know that when Kid 2 is stressed, she skips meals.

"I love you," she told both of us as we hugged and said goodbye. We told her to keep us in the loop over the next month, with her living situation. This friend could only keep her until the weekend. Another friend offered her a couch after that, but we didn't know for how long. I have a sister who lives in Toronto and DW has a high-school friend who lives off the Danforth, but they're a bit far from where Kid 2 works.

We'll figure it out.

DW and I didn't pull into our garage until after nearly 1:30 in the morning. We had to pull off the 401, near Brockville, and find a quiet, dark spot where we could nap for about 20 minutes. I was fading behind the wheel and DW said that there was no way she could drive.

I don't remember my head hitting my pillow as we finally got to bed, around 2.

Oh, and that thing I wrote on Monday about knowing my limits? Yes, I do know my limits and know that I exceeded them on Wednesday. It just goes to show what I'm willing to do to see that my kids are safe and not left in a lurch.

I want to thank all of those who lent their support, online, while we went through this emergency move, which I've started referring to as the extraction. I feel so lucky to know that people have my back.

Anyone feel like helping with the move in December? I can really use that kind of support!

Happy Friday!

Autumn from a Bedroom Window