I wrote a blog on Firefly's blog and I want to obsolve her of her duty to keep it posted.

...that is unless you just want to cause I'm a rockin' writer and stuff.

So I was responding to her post about people always saying that their grandmother is full blooded Cherokee and how annoying that is. I agree with that annoyance because I grew up in NC where everyone that tans well says they are at least 1/5 Native American. And I mean everybody. There is actually a weird town in the Eastern part of the state where everyone has blonde hair and blue eyes but they all have the Native American characteristics and swear they are all Lumbee. THE WHOLE TOWN! I wish I could remember the name but at the moment I can't seem to remember my name.

So this is what I posted on her blog:

I think it might be peoples guilty concious. Its so deeply ingrained in us to fix the wrongs of our past that we exaggerate so as not to feel left out of our own ignorance. (wow, forgive me for that sentance that probably is more profound than I have the capacity for at the moment. I shall take credit at a date to be determined...) But I just wanted to tell you that my grandmother definitely is from Native Amer. desent but she never told my mom until my grandma's sisters told my mom. Apparently my Great Grandma was from straight off the reservation, her father took the children and ran away when she was very young. My grandmother was ashamed of this heritage because she saw them as stupid, illiterate hill billys and left home at the age of 16 and never looked back. she wrote 'white' on applications and established herself in the court system as a court clerk. I was 12 before I knew any of this. My mom has tried to discover the tribe of which we are associated with no success. Those stories didn't get passed due to shame and illiteracy. But about a year ago my mom was diagnosed with a rare back disease that has only ever been found in a small tribe of native americans found in the mountains of Virginia. So I guess that is her best lead so far. Apparently my Great Grandma would leave these prayer bags under my pillow when I was younger and my grandma or mom always found them and through them out. My great g-ma said I had the gift and that it needed to be nurtured. I never got a chance to find out exactly what that gift was because she died when I was 4. She was 94. maybe my gift is long life?

What I didn't write was that I've got a pretty darn good idea as to what gift my great g-ma spoke of. I shall not reveal it here because its too intense for my lackadasical brain at the moment and probably too intense for most readers alert brains. One day I shall reveal my super power to you and you will all bow in my vast ridiculousness. That is after pointing laughing for about 10 minutes...