I saw quite a few people on Christmas day - the most since the start of the pandemic. So yesterday when the sinus attack lingered, I started to be afraid I'd caught a cold. Well, I didn't! That was the fourth time in the past few years that I've had a sudden quite bad sinus attack that lasted less than a day and did not turn into a cold, flu or covid.

Today I finished up a complicated, time-consuming, twice a year task for my department -- finally "winter break" for me. Whatever that means! I get to surf the web for fun, I guess.

Today would be Millie's 91st birthday.

 I am having a sinus attack. Ugh. I am a bad patient.

 I have a few things to write. First, Merry Christmas! Bob put up a tree about ten days ago. It's the first tree we've had since 2019. We couldn't get a fresh cut one because the tree farm we always patronize closed on December 10 for the season. It's a fundraiser for the boy scouts and I hypothesize that there were not enough kids willing to spend their free time at the tree farm. The tree he bought is nice, but I can tell that it is already becoming crispy. That's an exaggeration, but it's clear it won't last like a fresh cut one does. 

Next, I had a dream with Donna in it a few nights ago. That's strange because in th 8.5 years since she died, I can't remember ever dreaming of her. The dream seemed to take place in the elevator lobby of a dorm, high rise apartment complex, office building, hospital or some other institutional setting. There were festivities of some kind going on. Donna wasn't drinking and I was apprehensive because Bob was having wine.

Finally, we watched Oppenheimer. We were both disappointed. We'd seem a documentary on the subject months ago, and I think if I had not seen that first, I would have been completely confused by the movie. The only praise I have is that the acting was good and I expect it will win some acting awards. The movie itself was too long, the sound was a struggle, and the timeline seemed inappropriate for non-fiction. Then, there was so much of that tedious subject Hollywood loves...McCarthyism. We were both happy we had not gone to a theatre for this movie.

One thing about putting some time into working when everyone else is shopping for or celebrating the holidays is that a lot gets done because there are no interruptions!

 I feel like I am finally sort of caught up on work tasks I needed to do. What a relief!

I finished grading about two hours before the deadline. I have not pushed it this badly in years. I took about a two hour break, and then worked until 4:45 posting the grade breakdowns. I did this to avoid tons of student emails demanding a breakdown. I then slept six hours. I'm still not caught up, but I am not feeling too bad at this point. The good news: no complaints so far!

No changeover to snow happened, it was a couple degrees too warm. I'm deep in the abyss of grading. It is going well, but the clock is ticking!

It's very warm and rainy right now, but late tonight the precipatation is supposed to change to snow, resulting in 2-5". 

I watched the debate last week. My takeaways: RD is creepy. Eww. I have a feeling there are many icky skeletons in his closet. VR is an unhinged nut. Also, he's a boot lick for DT. All three are dangerous.

Back to grading.

I've started to read Liz Cheney's book. I hardly have the time right now, but I limit myself to one chapter per night. It's hard because the book is riveting. I am in awe of her bravery. The message is scary, but it's so important to pay attention to it. If we ignore it or discount it or buy into the cult a dystopian future awaits.

Last day of classes today. It was a good semester. One student waited until class was over and everyone had left to tell me how much he liked the class and how much he learned this semester. It was nice to hear that today.

Today was the last day for one of my classes; tomorrow is the last day for another; and, Monday is the last day for the third, and it is also the last day of classes. I don't do finals, primarily because there is no time to have an assignment due on December December 7 or 8 or 11 and make the grading deadline (December 14). I suppose it is possible if a scantron multiple choice is administered, but I don't like that kind of assessment.

 We got our first snow overnight. It is just a coating. Aside from Elwyn-inspired weather-related news, two other thing to report: First, Uncle Buddy's beloved hound Sally died yesterday. I have many thoughts and emotions swirling around on that subject that I will not share. Second, today would have been Donna's 62nd birthday. I rarely share this sort of information on Facebook and never will about Donna because I don't want a bunch of people clicking crying or caring likies or making comments of the "she's always with you" or "hugs" variety. I don't care much for that kind of thing even regarding someone whose loss has left me heartbroken forever such as my father. I certainly don't want to read it about Donna. I cannot, or perhaps will not, share any sort of truth about her with Facebook friends from high school who recall her as a 15-year-old kid with rosy cheeks. It would just make me seem mean-spirited and I don't need the drama.

We went to the Chatham House for Thanksgiving yesterday. They had a buffet with three seatings. It was packed! I checked the COVID numbers and was relieved to see all of New York and surrounding states are low. It was nice - although kind of hard for a vegetarian on what Bob and I call "amateur night." This is holidays and events at restaurants, when people who rarely eat out are the crowd. There was little for me to eat, besides salad, mashed potatoes, green beans, rolls and dessert. The salad was fine, but there were no goodies like croutons or sundried tomatoes or pumpkin seeds. Rolls and mashed potatoes are OK, but not something I'd base a meal on. But, they made me a special entree (pasta primavera). Usually take-out from an all-you-can-eat buffet is a no-no, but I was permitted to take my leftovers home. Bob overheard someone snarl as we were leaving with the tin, "they got to have a take-out." Definitely amateur night.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I am a big supporter of free speech, but here is something puzzling to me.How can attacking a private citizen be free speech? I thought such remarks were was slander or libel. Them, this isn't about speech, but in my experience, when someone who is on trial criticizes the judge, it is not tolerated. How is this a-hole getting away with it?

I'm trying to solve a blackboard-to-brightspace dilemma (converting my tools for peer and team assessment, something I've known was a problem for over a year) and a student dilemma (that I can't share, but I am feeling pissed). I'm also trying to (at least) match the number of posts I had last year, which is why I'm writing here more. End of semester looms. We fell back! Yay. I know the company line is to whine about standard time -- but not me. I feel normal again.

In the middle of the night on Sunday when I was in Samsonville, I woke up and sneezed about 50 times. After that, my nose started running like crazy and continued until I was back home. It was sinus related; I had a headache behind my eyes and my upper teeth hurt. The left side was worse than the right. It took two days of neti rinsing to completely go away, and it flared up a little today but is gone now. It has happened twice before in recent memory while I was in Samsonville. Both times I took a COVID test (which was negative) but this time I didn't bother. It must be the weather change, coupled with ragweed or something abundant in Samsonville. The reason I am writing this is because of my father. He had allergies and always complained when he had a cold. He was always so descriptive and funny. My sinus episode reminded me that several years ago, when hurricane coverage was dominating the news, he said a bad cold he had was a category five.

I was at a faculty meeting today. It was both on campus and via Zoom. We had break-out rooms (and teams in the physical room as well). We had two prompts to discuss; one was about what achievements we have and the second was about what opportunities we have. I'm not a big fan of team work or team discussion (even though I use it a lot in my classes). I've always been a loner, and in my student days, faculty allowed me to be independent. I was expecting to be muted and keep video off while eating an apple and a pear. There was no anti-social option today, so I participated, albeit minimally. The reason I am writing this is because a new-ish faculty member from another department recommended re-branding, or rather going back to "SUNY Albany," since no one "out there" has any idea what UAlbany or University at Albany are. It was an observation (almost) everyone in the room embraced, and I wholeheartedly agree with it as well. Alumni call the campus that, the community, media -- and even current students do too. Yet I get my hand slapped if I write it on the department's Facebook page. It seems like a marketing no-brainer.

I saw an interview of a woman who (I think) is in city government in the town that had the mass shooting in Maine. She was asked about healing, and her response was particularly profound, I thought. It really resonated with me. She said grief is life-long - meaning all grief, from the recent massacre and including every other death. It never goes away. I think that is so true.

I did not watch Friends and never cared very much about any of the cast, but this made me sad. What kind of a person would publicly write such a "joke" and think it is funny? It shocks me that he is 63! Crude, cruel and clueless. I guess it explains why, except for rare occasions, SNL has mostly not been funny and 1999-2000 must have been the low point.

Another dream the night before last that featured my father. He seemed fine, although I recall an awareness that he was dead. I think Uncle Lou was in it too.

Unrelated. Considering firing up another destined to fail advocacy campaign: Save Our ShopRite. LOL.

 I had another dream last night about my father. In the dream he had meningioma and was on medication, which helped him so much he got up, dressed (in long tan pants) and was basically fine. I saw him clear as a bell. We -- meaning my siblings, me, my mother, possibly other family -- were trying to get the music volume "just right," because he didn't want it too loud.

We finished watching Three Pines (eight episodes) and were so disappointed to discover that there will not be a second season! 

My classes are going well so far, but unfortunately I have a couple of grad students who are "taxing."

I am "stealing time" from my to do list because this post is so overdue! First, on Monday, I hit the first social security eligibility age: 62. I am not retiring right now, and probably won't for quite a while, but at least it's nice to know that I am "old enough" for the sh*ttiest payout. 

On my birthday, when I made my daily call to my mother, it rang several times (seven, I think) and then her answering machine picked up. This is strange, because since she switched to cable phone, it usually just rings and rings, regardless of whether she is not answering, she's on the phone, or it's out of order. My father's voice came on, with his wonderful message. It took me by surprise, and brought tears to my eyes. How wonderful it was to hear from him on my birthday!

This brings me to my dreams. One was about a co-worker from 25 years ago (who became a friend) and I working in some kind of office with lots of desks but few other people. There were a bunch of groundhogs living in the desk drawers and we were very protective of them when others came around complaining. I had another with my mother-in-law in it, involving our current cat. She was trying to put him out for the night (he is 100% indoor cat). Then I had two (maybe three?) of my father. In the first, he was watching television or a movie on a flash drive. I know screens are tiny now, but this was something that has not been invented yet. Maybe it exists in heaven! In another, he was in a facility of some sort, cheerfully bossing everyone around.

I mentioned movies, so I'll share that we watched The Wife, She Said, and You are so not coming to my bat mitzvah. All were excellent in different ways. The Wife would have been a lot less good, but was made better due to quality acting. We watched the limited series Surviving Death which was also excellent, and are currently enjoying the show Three Pines. I almost can't handle suspense any more, but so far, I'm managing (I used to love both true crime and suspense but that's less true in recent years).

Finally, Saratoga. Thank God another season is over. This year's death toll IIRC was 14, two in one day and one of those on national television. It always sparks investigations that lead to nothing and ridiculous platitudes about the health and safety of horses being of utmost importance. Bullsh*t. While 14 is outrageous, it is not atypical.

 Another dream. I didn't write about the things I listed in my last post. Just too damn busy!

Three weeks of semester done already. So many things I want to write...but no time! Three dreams. Two movies. Saratoga. Hopefully tomorrow I can tackle.

 First week of classes done. So far, so good. Busy busy busy is an understatement.

 Classes start Monday and I guess I am ready. I am posting mostly because I had another short dream about my father. We were at a counter, eating pizza! So real.

Less than a week to go until the semester starts. I think I have never been less enthused, although there is always apprehension so maybe my perception is off. I have a dreadful schedule this Fall, the worst ever. Class everyday, M-TH and then every other Friday. The switch of LMS isn't helping my attitude.

 Last night I dreamed of my father again. This time I was with my mother, and we were sitting a couple of desks apart in a classroom circle of desks. Except that it wasn't a classroom, even though that's how it looked. It was some kind of restaurant, and we had plates of food on our desks. Sitting across from us in the circle was my father, and he too had a plate of food on his desk. No one else was there; all the other desks were empty. It wasn't a long dream.

 I see my last post, June 30, mentions the wildfire smoke. It's back yesterday and today, this time coming from the west. Still awful!

The Canadian wildfire smoke is awful!

Unrelated: I find the people in the Good Feet Store ads so irritating!!

Toward daylight early this morning, I dreamed of my father again. It was a wonderful dream. I woke up afterwards, which is why I knew when it was. In this dream, he spoke to me. He said my name. When I saw him, I said, "Daddy, how are you?" That's when he said my name, and that he was all right. He was dressed in a light jacket or sweater, as if it was fall. He was wearing glasses. He looked great.

I'm reading this book right now. I'm seven chapters in, and so far it is a good read. My only issue with it, and this isn't really a criticism, is that it's a young adult novel. In recent years I prefer fiction for people like me (in other words, OLD). LOL. Regardless, it's well-written and engaging. I discovered it because everyone in my school at the university is being encouraged to read it, with the suggestion given to faculty to include it in class. Initially, I was reluctant, because the last university-recommended book was awful.

 This story in the news captures my imagination, in a terror-filled, creepy kind of way. I keep thinking, the Titanic claims five more.

An excerpt from my "Mimmie book" that I wrote in 2003, ten years after she died: 

Mimmie didn’t like to go many places, but she did enjoy strawberries picking; in fact, she even liked it more than she feared snakes. In my mind’s eye I can see her, wearing sneakers and a house dress, carefully navigating the rows, carting quarts of perfect berries, making sure that she didn’t step on any plants. She looked frail, but somehow strong at the same time. Mimmie never gave into temptation as the rest of us did, by sampling the berries while out in the field. That was due more to the fact that insects may have been on them at some point, than to a concern about pesticides. And if she discovered later that a bug had gotten into one of her quarts, she’s have to throw the whole thing out.

“Next spring, if I’m alive,” she’d say afterwards, her blue eyes sparkling as she looked off into the distance, as if she could see all the way until the following June, “I’m only going to pick medium sized red-orange ones, instead of ripe ones. They’re rotten by the time you get them home.  And the big ones look nice but they’re tasteless.”

 Strawberry season! They are so good this year!

The idiot who complained about "The Hill We Climb" and other school library materials in FL is quoted: "I’m not an expert,” she said. “I’m not a reader. I’m not a book person." Apparently FL is the right place for someone who wants to raise equally ignorant kids.

 I got the grading done, but really pushed it this semester, finishing with only two hours to spare. I'm writing here today because I want to record again a dream that included my father two nights ago. A bunch of people were around and he was talking -- he was very animated. I was thrilled to hear how glib he was, but I knew he was dead. I clearly remember thinking, "oh, that's what being dead is! He's still here!"

 Up to my eye balls in end of semester grading. It is going pretty well so far. I am writing this post because I wanted to note that I had a dream a few days ago that had my father in it. It was just a glimpse; he was wearing a shirt he wore all the time when he mowed or fixed stuff in the garage. We had no conversation but I surely appreciated the visit.

 While waiting for end of semester assignments to come in, I watched the consultant's report for my alma mater school district (it was impressive) and read a few newspaper articles. I had already read the study months ago. Apparently, the board has voted to close an elementary school, and plans to eventually close another, which will result in a central campus. This is a sensible plan that has many benefits - academic, financial and environmental (including decreased CO2). Closing schools is controversial and painful and invariably fuels irrational thinking. Parent groups are outraged, which I assume means there will be a faction elected to the board in an effort to preserve status quo. The statements made by the parents are idiotic wishful thinking. The demographics are not going to magically reverse - enrollment has been declining for decades and the same tired assertions are made every time change is suggested. The data doesn't lie. Pandemic-fueled Metro transplants are a drop in the bucket. I applaud the board finally being courageous. Hopefully the faction will not be able to reverse course.

 I'm cruising along to the end of the semester. Feeling frustrated, because I never have any time. There is always something else to do. For instance, on Friday when it was warm, I so wanted to sit outside. But I didn't, because there was too much to do. Bob says I'd be a lot less stressed out if I retired. I know he is probably right, but I'm afraid of what would redefine me if I leave my job at the end of 2023 (I'll turn 62 during the Fall semester). I can't risk it.

Last week I had a dream that sort of included my father. My mother was in it, and he kind of wasn't -- but she said he was doing important paperwork.

Getting back to my frustration with time, I so want to have time to do some real writing. I want to say something profound about life. But instead, there are always essays to grade.

 End of semester is so challenging! Before more time passes, I want to note that last week, I had a dream that had Mimmie in it. It was brief. She was peeking around a door that looked like the ones we had in our white house in West Shokan. She looked as she always did. I had this dream the night of 4/12, so Daddy's birthday was the next day, but he wasn't in it. This year is the 30th anniversary of Mimmie's death (April 5). It was good to see her, even if just a glimpse.

I wanted to post at least once before the end of March, and I had plenty of things to write, but my time evaporated. I barely have time for all the things I must do - writing here is not a "must," sadly.

So I am snatching a moment to share this graphic I made last night (it's been forever since I did anything like this). We have an evil creep in the Village who should be shunned but instead the current regime lacks a moral compass and kisses his a*s.

We watched two more movies from this year's Oscars: The Fabelmans (which was awesome) and Elvis (which was a little hard to follow in the beginning, and also it was sad (of course) - but very good overall). Maybe I'll have time to write more after the semester ends.

Finally - I had another dream last week that included my father. There was much more than him in the dream - and I mostly don't remember it - but his presence is still clear. He was in some sort of sales contest that involved a costume. He won (of course). His costume had "May" emblazoned on it. It was referring to the month. What could that mean?

So happy to not be in Florida - or Tennessee!

 We watched "The Whale" earlier this week. I wanted to watch it even before the best actor win. I have no comparison (because I have seen none of the other nominees), so I don't know whether the award was deserved, but it was a good performance in a difficult role. The movie, though, was so dark and disturbing. There was some Hollywood typical POV (anti-religion) and some aspects that were totally ridiculous (to name just two, no way could someone that fat stand in a bathtub to shower; the daughter was a bully, and was not made into a good person by a four day relationship with dad).

Earlier this week I got a survey from hospice. It wasn't about their services during the end of my father's life, but about the communication I've received since then. Apparently, after 13 months, they are "done." It is 14 months today since my father died. I struggle although I do what I have to do everyday. I filled out the survey and mailed it. I did not give them a very positive rating. Everyone raves about hospice, so maybe my expectations were too high, but I was underwhelmed, and told them it was not worth the 6 or 8K Medicare pays for the service. The letters they sent just upset me. They were generic. "Random loved one" language was offensive. There should have been electronic methods for communication, especially for the survey. Even the survey was folded in a screwed up way that would not fit in the return envelope. The volunteer who opens my response will probably cry.

 Granted, it's vulgar and ill-advised (it got her fired), but every day there is a new story that makes it more and more apt. Any time I feel blue about issues related to my job, I comfort myself by saying, "at least I'm not in Florida."

Later: Bingo. On occasion, I feel embarrassed to be associated with the place. Well, at least I'm not in Florida.

 I intended to post yesterday and note two things, but this is a busy week and time evaporated. First, yesterday was the fifth anniversary of Uncle Bud's death. How can that be? Next, it was the 21st anniversary of the founding of Gully Brook Press.

Last night I had another dream with my father in it. He was driving. My mother was in the passenger's seat. I was in the back seat. He was talking and looked to be about 80-85. At first we were driving on a road that traveled through a corn field, and then we were on 28A in West Shokan. We were late for dinner, and my father was quite annoyed by this. He narrowly avoided a head on collision, which did not disturb him at all, but really upset my mother. I was going through a roll of money, pulling out bills to make the ticket price ($15 each).

 This chills me to my bones.

I had a series of dreams last night. The first included my father. It was more about other things (specifically a song, "Stuck in the Middle" by Stealers Wheel), but it featured a large group (a dozen or more) sitting around a table having a big dinner, and my father was one of them. It may have been a restaurant, and there were other family members there as well as people I can't identify. I also can't specifically identify any other family although "the feeling" was that they were present. If it wasn't for satellite radio and a Facebook meme, I would not know who sang that song.

Last night, I again dreamed of my father. I has been three months since the last one. It was a good dream and I was happy to see him. I knew he was dead, and was amazed and so pleased he was there. He was standing, talking on the phone (to a business, perhaps a telemarketer). He was wearing a dark red long sleeved shirt, and looked as he did about 15 years ago. He has been gone 13 months now, and I miss him so much.

In the paper yesterday there was an article about one of the anchors on the local news we often watch. It was a sketchy article, said she was "on leave" and "needed a break." Very odd, I cannot envision the station permitting such a thing. I am not linking or naming her because she's a real person and I don't wish to be specifically unkind, but I really hope she does not come back. The news is so much more pleasant to watch without her. She has a snarky, nasty edge that upsets me.

So after four years of drama, I was officially promoted to Lecturer II. Drama because it took years to get going, partially but not entirely due to the pandemic, and a year and a half to assemble the dossier and move through the various levels of voting, approvals and signatures. Today at the faculty meeting, it was stated that I am part of the initial batch (I thought I was part of the third or fourth) and my dossier and the department's process is setting the bar for the future. Assuming that's true (?), it is quite flattering.

Several nights ago, I had a dream with my grandmother in it. It was just an image of her, very clear, but she didn't speak. It was not like the dream I had in 1993 after she died. Although I think of her often (almost daily), I have rarely dreamed about her since that vivid visit nearly 30 years ago. It was good to see her.

On January 30 a high school friend died. She lived in Texas, and we were connected on Facebook for 10 years or so. She was a real friend in high school, not one of the popular, affluent, snobby clique members (many of whom are also now Facebook friends). She was tall, skinny and kind of awkward in high school, and from a huge family who seem to have health challenges, in that her parents died long ago and some of her siblings have already died. Anyway, she was always nice and funny. RIP Kris.

Today in Facebook there was an ad for pet-friendly washable rugs. I was startled, because Bob and I have been talking about getting one for my office. The one that's currently on the floor must be over 25 years old. The addition of the two Beagle girls to our household is driving the decision, not the age of the existing rug -- I don't care much about household furnishings or shopping. 

So I went to the link, browsed, read up on the product, and ordered a 4X6. We have an echo dot in the living room and recently got one for the kitchen, and I'm sure that's why the ad was in my feed, because I have never googled or otherwise searched for a rug. I'm not complaining, I love smart technology even though I know lots of people are upset about privacy issues. Not me. It enabled my father to turn on and off lights and music when he couldn't walk. The Echo provided him with much amusement and company at a challenging time.

This is appalling. Sure megaphones are obnoxious and student protests during public events are embarrassing. But speech restrictions, over reactions and disciplinary actions are so much worse. How can university "leaders" be so clumsy and obtuse? Meanwhile, the rest of us annually have to waste time on insulting training videos while top administrators (not to mention coaches) get to intimidate students? What happened to being empathetic and respectful? Undoubtedly, tax dollars will be spent defending this unacceptable behavior, and funding (non-transparent) settlements.

My mother turned 90 last Thursday, and we had a cake party at her house on Saturday. Twenty-three people came. It's the first time we have had that many at her house in a very long time, long before my father being gone or the pandemic. It was nice and I'm glad we did it. I was surprised that I was not more preoccupied by my father's absence. (If I put that on Facebook, someone would surely comment "he's always with you" or a similar annoying platitude. Yes, I know. I really do. But responding that way, no matter how well-meaning, feels like a push back - it denies my right to mourn, to feel sorrow.) But today it is on my mind. Earlier, I was overwhelmed by it. I'm remembering numerous other family gatherings. If he was living, we more than likely would have held it elsewhere. The reason -- he would have objected to her wearing herself out cleaning (which she did, for two days.) Still he would have enjoyed it, and I suspect it would have included much food besides cake.

 Last night on the news there was a story about New York's population loss. Bob and I agreed that we don't care about out-migration. You don't love NY? Then stop b*tching, LEAVE and don't let the screen door hit you in the a*s. Two aspects were mentioned: A young a-hole was interviewed who moved to the ignorant State of Florida because his wife works in health care and didn't want to get the COVID-19 vaccine. OMG! How awesome they moved - our State gene pool already improved. Another thing brought up was State and municipal employees leaving after retirement. I want them to go and stop complaining, but it still pisses me off when someone reaps the benefits of a public sector pension and then takes it to a backward anti-tax State to spend.

 One year today. 😢

On New Year's Eve, I learned that my lifelong "best" friend's father died the night before. He was 98, and had been failing for a few months. I'd known him since I was five, having met my friend in Kindergarten. Yesterday I messaged my friend's sister, since we are also friends, due to my long history with their family. She said that she and my friend are really struggling. I get it. Of course their dad has only been gone a short time, but after nearly a year, I am still struggling on a daily basis. I wish I had some brilliant words of wisdom for them, but I don't. I know he wasn't well, couldn't get out of bed or do what he wanted, lived a good long life, as had my father, and unlike my father, this man had lost his wife nine years ago, but those statements don't matter. Life is hard. Happy New Year.