Insomnia, or, Are You Ready to Ramble?

This is the second of the past three nights that I haven't been able to get to sleep at a reasonable hour. Tonight, after watching a somewhat painful loss to the Yankees, a game that we were in until a late inning 2 run shot by traitor Johnny Damon, self-indulgent curtain call included, I am still awake wondering why can't we give Daisuke any run support? I'm still not concerned about a Yankee run-up to the playoffs. Well, I am but I'm not. I had to check where things stood 29 years ago, the sodding Bucky Dent year, yes, 1978. The Red Sox were ahead by 7.5 games at this point in the season. We are now at 7 after tonight's loss. No worries, we have Josh Beckett tomorrow, "Commander Kick-Ass of the F**k You Brigade"™, versus that overweight, overpaid, overage unctuous Texas toad named Roger Clemens. The Dixie Chicks should have also been ashamed to be from Texas because of that asshat Roger, in addition to that other asshat, the Decider. It's Texan vs. Texan night. Ok I've fulfilled my quota on mentioning Texas for awhile.

Sunday night? I wasn't sure what was eating me, so I watched 2 hours of "A History of Britain", hosted by noted Cambridge and Columbia University historian Simon Schawa. Of course I couldn't wait to watch it, I wanted to learn more about Cromwellian England. Thusly, after watching it, I was a little skeeved; the normally short walk back to bed felt like an abnormally long one in the dark, haunted by cruel wars that tore apart the British Isles, tormented by that face of cousin and Lord Protector. God help me if I ever make it to Ireland to travel one day. One slip of that name could cost me. Then again, that's just the paranoid in me talking again, and thank heavens I'm not directly related to him, only his grandfather, uncle and cousins. Like I said, my line was kind enough to come to America to live a life of obscurity in Boston, then Tewksbury MA, then eventually upstate New York. And now that I've satisfied a lot of my curiosity of England, I move further back in time to Welsh ancestry, near Cardiff, with internet information going as far back as the mid 1100s before Edward Longshanks.

Ok, I've got to go to bed. 6 o'clock is calling, however I have about 2 weeks worth of Hollyoaks to catch up on! Another time...

Photo care of: AP, Bill Kostroun.

The Ugly American

The more time passes, the more I obsess on my heritage and all things English and try to distance myself from the commonly regarded "ugly American". The past week or two I have been trying to surround myself with BBC America TV, BBC Radio 1 (which they play way too much American hip-hop/R&B music, I would much prefer that they play European artists only), and have been familiarising meself with Britain itself in a Fodor's travel book and researching on Wikipedia anything I come across. Having been Americentric for my first 30 years on the planet, especially with the state America and the world is in currently, it would do me good to think outside the box from a world point of view.

In other news, my daughter's just learned how to stand up in her crib on her own. And both the Red Sox and Yankees keep on winning, only 5 games separate the two, making it rather uncomfortable for Sox fans like me who have seen it happen all to often before - Yankees heat up in August, while the Sox flounder. To the Powers that be: Please make the end of the summer as glorious as the beginning of the summer!

It ain't my fault

Digging further into my past and the history of Britain, my great x 9 grandfather's family had a hand in the English Civil War. A major one. Sir Richard Ingoldsby was forced against his will to sign King Charles I death warrant by his cousin Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell. This was my great x 9 grandfather's brother and cousin, respectively. However, John Ingoldsby fled to Boston, Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1640, just prior to the wars, and changed his child's name's spelling to (Ebenezer) Ingalsbe. He was either smart to flee with impending war, disloyal, or encouraged to join the Puritan population in Massachusetts. This link to the past connects me to Sirs and Sir Knights as far back as 1230 A.D. in the Ingoldsby Manor of England.

Lastly, last night's game stunk - Beckett did not have a good night. More tonight at home vs. the orange birds.