On Saturday, Bob & I went to the East Greenbush library and signed a petition for RFK Jr. to appear on the NYS ballot in November. 

Today, I am taking care of details related to the spring semester.

 Yesterday was a good day! Usually Thursdays are draining (long day), but yesterday was great. Whether my mood was helped by it being my last teaching day until the Fall semester or that my classes were engaged -- or maybe both, who knows. There are deadlines next week for students for some minor assignments and then it's a deep dive into grading.

This has been a tiring week. Classes end April 30, grades are due May 12, and so I had a huge amount to do, caused somewhat by 4/10 & 4/12, when I had to get my haircut and work on the taxes. (How dare you?) The good news for me is that there is light at the end of the tunnel: For the first time since 2001, I am not teaching in the summer. YAY.

While I surely don't agree with him on everything, I do on enough things to be motivated to vote, and I find the media opposition appalling. Here is my recruitment link. I'd stay home otherwise. Certainly not going to vote for the lying, misogynist grifter under any circumstanced, and I just cannot support the tired old leadership of (admittedly) the lesser of two evils candidate. Why are these two husks running?

Toward morning I had a vivid dream about my father. I would classify this one as an actual after death communication. I was sitting in a large bathroom. That's funny, because lamenting about going to the bathroom (the "Giuliano curse"), and bathroom humor were 100% my father. The room appeared to be in an unfinished log house. He was standing behind or in a cabinet. He was only visible from the waist up. I didn't recognize him at first. I thought, what is that man doing in here? Then it dawned on me that it was him and I started urgently repeating, while reaching my arms towards him, "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" He was wearing the tee-shirt he has on in the photo below, although in the ADC he was younger; his hair was a little salt & pepper but mostly black, and he looked about 60 (in this photo he was in his early 70s). He was not wearing glasses. He looked right at me and spoke directly, saying "I have things to do." My father was often hilarious, but he could be deeply serious as well. It felt real, like I was not sleeping, and when I woke up, I had tears in my eyes. I wished the experience had not ended and that we could talk more. I wondered, am I keeping him from what he needs to do? Is our family's profound grief doing that? If so, I'm sorry. I can't help it. I miss him so.

 An earthquake, an aftershock today (I only felt the aftershock) and an eclipse on Monday! 

Mimmie died 31 years ago today. 😔

Easter was nice. My brother hosted a brunch. It was my first large (32), mostly indoor gathering since 2019 (or very early 2020). So much has happened since then. It's a good thing we live mostly not knowing what is coming.