mermaidcamp
Keeping current in wellness, in and out of the water
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My friend Steffi Burger is one of my German teachers. She was actually born in Germany but will soon join the Swiss club, the most exclusive and hard to join club in the world. She has lived there for about 20 years I think, and fully knows Switzadootch. She will never be able to speak like a real Swiss because she uses German as it was learned in Stuttgart, and will not be able to hide that ever.I am in a category of Swiss speaking much worse than Steffi. I do not speak or read hochdeutch, based on my theory that it has nothing to do with the language and culture of Switzerland. I have tried to learn this very funny and dialectic local code by absorbing it. Results vary. Sometimes I can read stuff and discover the meaning, and others I am totally off course when I read. They capitalize all nouns, which I joke about and have never found to be all that helpful. This is why….the noun is likely to be an entire paragraph. They just love to combine words in their language. I often really like them just for the way they sound. My new favorite word in German is weltuntergang. It is giving me flashbacks to the very first things I learned to say. My friend Beth and I learned a phrase from Ursula of Berlin, the most fashionable woman we had ever met. She taught us to say, ” Let’s be friends. The world is a village.”( Luts uns freude sein. die welt ist ein dorf ) It was my only full concept so I used it in response to everything and everyone. I knew some nouns and the verbs to ice skate and to ride a bicycle. But if the nouns I knew neither ice skated nor had a bicycle I had no way to make any coherent sense with my vocabulary. Welt, or world was in my initial lesson. Now the welt is going under in a single word. Wow, so much as happened, but one thing that has not happened is my magical acquisition of German or Swiss languages by osmosis.
I asked Steffi about parties in Langweiss or Zurich to celebrate the end of the world. She said this had not caught on as a festivity. It is sometimes hard to explain humor when the cultural background is missing. It is complicated to tell someone that the end of the world pot luck party you are excited to attend is to mock the people who are actually afraid of the end of the world. Gives new meaning to you had to be there. I spent the summer of the World Cup partying with the Swiss when the event was in held Germany. I could never convey to an American how the Euros feel about soccer. You truly have to be there to see what they do. Same with Fastnacht, it is inexplicable to people outside the culture. There are intense reasons to celebrate that are generational and not yours if you are born elsewhere. So the Swiss really do Advent, and appear to be skipping the idea of weltuntergang celebrations. I hope the world will not end before I get the chance to go back to Switzerland to party Swiss style. Stay neutral, my friends.
Be still my heart. God has given us something so much funnier than the Book of Mormon on Broadway. To follow the Pope’s Twitter stream is to be enlightened to the cosmic joke. All is revealed in these tweets. I have laughed until I cried several times. The pope himself tweeted about 9 times yesterday, but the fans had some extremely funny things to say. That is all I can tell you. Just do it. Cats on the internet, get back. Trending Bennie Is with us. Et cum spiritu tuo. In the words of the artist formerly and once again known as Prince,, “You can be the president. I wanna be the Pope. You can be the side effect. I wanna be the DOPE.” You can’t touch @Pontifex, this is one thing we all have to admit. The tweep’s got soul.

New Mexico celebrates 12 Dec
The village of Tortugas near Las Cruces, NM takes the 12 December very seriously. The fiesta and pilgrimage to the Virgin of Guadalupe is the main event of the year in the town close to the border. The Piro and Tigua traditions are honored in this village.
I was lucky enough to see the surfing virgin in person during her brief stay on an underpass in Encintas, CA. She was perfect there, just a few blocks from Moonlight Beach. She was removed and I think she went to LA to a collection. There was a great uproar to save the art work, but alas she was taken from the site. Tomorrow is the 12 Dec, Virgin of Guadalupe day. I know all her fans at the beach wish she still had a shrine they could see every day in Encinitas.
During the protest the Kook at Cardiff was dressed in her image to show solidarity. If you enjoy costuming and are not familiar with the Kook, you can check his calendar here.
If you could go back in time to any place and time where would you time travel? I know I would go straight to Bad Ragaz (via Zurich) to party like it is Christmas. I would attend the tree lighting choral evening and giant buffet offered by the Grand Hotels Bad Ragaz. There is nothing like it anywhere.
I would go back to the day before the beautiful people redesigned the spa, when bads were bads, and bademeisters were bad ass.
Hotel William Penn in downtown Pittsburgh has a gingerbread house of the hotel in the lobby..I had a really wonderful buffet breakfast there after a stroll of the town.
hotel in gingerbread

The first time I saw the Mission Inn in Riverside, CA I thought it was a mission. I learned it is a landmark hotel now owned by the city to preserve the unique architectural wonder. I visited for a breakfast in the dining room and a look around the place. It is classy.
My 10th great grandfather, John Jenkins sailed at age 26 on the “Defence” of London, from London the last of July 1635 and arrived at Boston October 8, 1635 with about 100 other passengers, according to Edward Bostock, master. That is a seriously long voyage.
John Jenkins (1609 – 1684)
What is normally found in the search for family history is probate records, documents, bibles, and census records. Every once in a while you come across a written piece about your ancestor. This one is not designated to a specific publication. It is unusual because it gives you a picture of his physical presence as well as his philosophy. I love the Longfellow at the end.
John was a man of about 5 ft. 10 in. in height, slim build and weighing about 155 lbs. His face was widest at the eyebrows and became narrower at the chin. His forehead was moderately high. He had a long, slender neck. Mentally, he was a conservative. One who took time to think over a plan or proposition before coming to a decision. He had a great, retentive memory and was a Liberal in religion. He was a Liberal when it took raw courage to proclaim it. His voice was pitched higher than the average person and did not carry far.
He was a student in the very limited area of his time and what he read, he understood. This conclusion must be sound because of the very large number of his descendants who have made outstanding records as students and as teachers. And the many who became competant in the legal and medical professions. He must have been very capable and worth while pioneer: one of that class of persons whom Longfellow had in mind when he wrote, “And departing, leave behind us,…Footprints on the sand of time.”
This gives us the history of the celebration of Christmas.
Belle Grove Plantation Bed and Breakfast

I have had several of you ask me about how true are the wreath decorations of Colonial Williamsburg. So true to form, I did some research to confirm their authenticity. In my research I came across some interesting information on customs and traditions of Christmas within the colonial period.

During the colonial period in Virginia, the Christmas season followed a four week period of Advent. Most Virginians were devout Anglicans and they would have observed a period of fasting, prayers and reflection. They would have read daily from the Book of Common Prayer. Fasting would have been only one full meal, which generally would have been meatless during the day. After the four weeks, they would end with a Christmas meal and the start of the Christmas season.
Did you know that most of New England didn’t celebrate Christmas during the colonial period? Christmas was outlawed in most of New…
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I was a born farmer, entitled to play with everything on my grandparent’s farm. While my parents pitched in to help, I was given free reign of the place. My grandparents, Olga and Ernest Morse lived and farmed in Lincoln, Arkansas at the end of their lives after careers in teaching (my grandmother had a masters in education) and oil well drilling ( my grandfather drilled for oil before the rotary bit was invented). I did not know them before they had the farm, so I always think of them as farmers.
Here is my look in 1960, on Christmas at my grandparents’ farm in Arkansas…very American Gothic in my opinion:

A girl and her farm
I met my cousin Mary in Tulsa a couple of years ago to trace the heritage of our mutual great grandmother. We did not remember that we had met in 1964 at her grandfather’s house in Iowa. Our grandfathers were brothers who followed different paths. They both did migrant labor as very young boys, traveling to work picking corn in Iowa and beyond.
Uncle Ed sent this postcard to his brother Ernie telling him about Emma.
Ed sealed the deal when he married the farmer’s daughter in Council Bluffs, Iowa
My grandfather returned to the Cherokee Strip to marry Olga Scott and drill oil wells, creating two different paths for the future.