Census

I sent in my original census, only to receive a letter a few days ago telling me our address had been selected to take part in the American community survey.  Yesterday, I got the form in the mail and sat down to fill it out.  

There were questions about what type of home I'm living in, and some asking whether we had running water and an indoor bathroom.  They wanted to know the amount of property taxes we pay, which is really going to confuse them because so far, the county hasn't gotten around to assessing the trailer house and new garage.  The census bureau has my phone number, and I'm sure they'll be calling me.  
They wondered if I was white, and I answered in the affirmative.  Later on, they wanted to know my ancestry or ethnic origin.  
Why could that possibly matter?  Here's the thing:  I have no idea what my ethnic origin is.  So in that space, I simply wrote "white".  Of course I had to answer the same questions for Cliff, otherwise known as "person number one".   I don't know his ethnic origin, either.  
I am required by law to fill this thing out, and I've done it.  
We had a real gully-washer of a rain a couple days ago, the kind that often reveals Indian artifacts in plowed ground.  So, that's where I wander as I finish my daily walk. 

That biggest rock is just that, a rock; although somebody had to have carried it on the property, since this hill we live on consists of windblown soil.  Any rock you find here was brought here by somebody.  The next-biggest object is a piece of flint, which doesn't occur naturally in these parts.  It was no doubt brought here by Indians.  You can see I found plenty of flint chips, but only one almost-perfect arrowhead.

This is the tiniest arrowhead I've ever found; it must have been for shooting birds.  
Maybe I'll go look for more.