I yam what I yam

Tom got me interested in genealogy years ago.  He has a rich Canadian heritage of homesteaders and voyageurs.  We spent many a vacation at the Archives in Ottawa tracking down copies of certificates to validate our research and add to our records.  We went to Salt Lake City several times to access the Family History Library records and check out other people's genealogical research.  (Note: It really helps if, like Tom, you have an important Mormon in your family tree!)  We even went to Ireland to check out the home town of one of Tom's ancestors.

My own family research has been much less successful.  The families are all in England; they're smaller; and they were living in larger centres.  I joined Ancestry.uk and found a bit of information, but it pales in comparison to the wealth of Thompson/Judd detail.

There is also an ebb and flow to genealogical research.  For a time it can be all-consuming, then the trail goes cold and you put it away, sometimes for years.  Which is where I have been ... until recently.

Even though I cancelled my subscription ages ago, that pesky Ancestry.uk sends me emails every now and again with hints.  And, of course, I can't see those hints without resubscribing.  But every hint piques my curiosity and I begin to wonder if it's time to start again.

And then, there are those ads on TV ...

So, of course I had to send away for a DNA test kit.  Family lore says that we are just English, no Scots or Irish, just English.  (According to my hairdresser, family lore is usually correct.)  Well, let's see.

Spitting ...

Waiting ...

Waiting ...

Waiting ...

And the results are in!

(Tom says, "Isn't it amazing what they can do with a little bit of spit.")

Not a single surprise here at all.  Family lore and the hairdresser are right.  I yam what I yam.