I distinctly remember my parents coming home from their Hawaiian adventure. I was in the swimming pool at the country club. My parents rounded the corner of the club by the golf pro shop. I literally could not believe my eyes. My mother was 20 shades darker and my dad had a full beard, most of which was red. They were my parents but they were fundamentally altered. I was OVERJOYED.
When I had a red headed baby I recalled my father’s red beard.
For Christmas, I gave my mother an Ancestry.com DNA test. Mr. Understanding gave me one too. I set up my mother’s account but she did not get around to spitting into the tube. This I regret, not making sure she did the test. I’d already given my father one (file under: What to Get A Man for a Gift).
When comparing my DNA to my father’s (yes, he is mine!) it turns out that, genetically, 4% of my DNA comes from the Iberian Peninsula. This I did not get from Big Mike. From the map, it appears that I am Basque-ish on my mother’s side. Celtic invaders from long ago??? This might explain my affinity for Galicia, pilgrimages to Santiago de Compostela, and love of the Portuguese and Spanish languages. It does not explain my distaste for fish – it must be a mutant gene. All of my DNA comes from seafaring countries. It also explains my mother’s dark dark dark skin due to prolonged UVA exposure. I am anxious for my sisters to do the test – maybe MoodRingMomma is even more Iberian than I?
And to think that Spain was the country I liked living in the least …