A few nights ago I again saw my father in a dream. He was sitting in a booth at a restaurant, talking with great animation, telling stories. He looked great. There were others I knew around, even sitting with him, but I cannot specifically identify them. It seemed to be some sort of event -- maybe an after-funeral gathering? Perhaps his own! IDK. We, I mean me, the others I cannot now ID and he, seemed to be aware he had died, but were all thrilled he was there.

I read a story this morning from NPR about the creepy FL governor flying migrants from San Antonio to Martha's vineyard. It seems odd to use FL taxpayer's funds for this effort -- but his idiot supporters apparently don't care if he wastes their money on his self-promotion (at least according to my FB feed -- ugh more un-following). That's the reason for it, of course -- he was alarmed by the attention the TX a-hole was getting. I call him an a-hole, but at least his actions are understandable - calling attention to an issue his state actually has to routinely address. The FL idiot is doing it only to be nasty and siphon off some of the TX media attention. MA has a GOP governor. Maybe he's too stupid to know that. Well, I say, send 'em North. Too bad Kevin Spacey crashed and burned as a pedophile during #metoo -- he could have played the FL reptile just perfectly.

I submitted this through "Give Feedback" on Facebook, as requested by the page owner on video. Will it help? IDK. When I reported a violation (animal abuser's fund drive), it worked.

I write regarding Steve Caporizzo Pet Connection. Recently his page has been in Facebook jail. I assume a vindictive, jealous person filed a baseless complaint, but I know some people believe an automatic bot is responsible. Regardless, this is unjust. Steve is a local TV weatherman in Albany, NY. He has been active in the animal rights arena for decades. In 1995, long before social media, I adopted a heaven-sent puppy from the Mohawk Hudson Humane Society who was on Steve's pet connection television segment on the news. A year ago, I adopted an eleven year old cat who was on Steve's Facebook site who needed to be re-homed. He is a wonderful cat and without Steve I would not have him and who knows what would have happened to him. Steve is an outstanding advocate for animals and his page does not promote selling animals. He is saving scores of pets by helping to make forever matches -- good new homes. Please don't put him in Facebook jail again. In my experience, some people on the internet can be nasty toward honorable people for no reason, maybe they think it is funny to make trouble, or occasionally animal abusers lash out at people with a big platform like Steve's to silence kind and influential voices. Thank you.

 First classes yesterday were pretty good, except during my afternoon class (on Zoom), my cell phone rang (which I keep nearby to watch the time) and I turned it off. I noticed quickly that the number was 845 area code and I thought I'd call them back after class. Moments later, my house phone started ringing. A couple months ago, we had to upgrade to Verizon home phone, and now a computer voice says the number (and if it is spam, which is awesome). The voice said "845-657 (rest of number)." In my distracted state, I thought I heard a familiar number that I HAD to answer. 

 I apologized to the students, turned off the mic, answered the phone, and the caller wasn't who I expected. It was someone getting out the vote with a number very similar to a family member's. The caller must have phoned the Samsonville house, gotten my Castleton number and my cell phone number (which are on the message) -- and proceeded to call both! Problem is, I am not registered to vote in Olive, but what irritated me (besides the interruption) was that the person got huffy and argued with me about whose number it was (I have had the Samsonville number for over 20 years) and where I live! When I got back on Zoom, I was not focused. Thankfully class was almost over. 

I shared this on Facebook, and the response was all about robo-calls. I get too many of those too, and it is an outrage. But that wasn't what this was -- this was a persistent very rude real person with a number almost like my brother's. I didn't want to put that on Facebook because I think I know who the woman is and some of my HS friends would know as well.

Two nights ago I had two dreams. The first featured my in-laws. I didn't see my father-in-law, but knew he was there. My mother-in-law was a stronger presence, and she was laughing, which is appropriate, because she always did. They were sitting on a couch somewhere, watching television. Bob was going in and out of the room. The program they were watching was a documentary we'd watched the night before, "My name is Lopez."

The second dream took place outside, with a large field on one side, and on the other, down a small steep hill, an open space surrounded by evergreen trees. My father and some others were there, although I'm not completely sure who the others were; they could have been my brothers, but as with my FIL, it wasn't a strong impression. There was light, patchy snow on the ground, and my father was dressed for winter. The group was looking at a utility truck, something like a delivery truck such as the Kwik Kanteen. My father was talking, loudly, strong voice. He turned and walked up the little hill, and I thought, does he need help? Should I get a cane? But he didn't seem to need it.

 The semester starts Monday. My first class is Tuesday.😢

I am so annoyed by the latest CDC guidance. Obviously they are driven by political motivation. After hearing the confusing information reported on the news, the next day's story walked it back a little. Still, way to go, empowering idiots. I know more people getting COVID than ever before. Granted none have died but who wants to get sick? I am continuing as I was, staying away from people, eating outside, masking. Someone called Bob a weirdo for wearing a mask in a convenience store a few weeks ago. Lovely. Better a weirdo than a cretin. Jerk.

The night before last, I had another dream featuring my father. This dream wasn't very long. I had several get well cards and I was trying to decide which one to give him. He was in bed, in some sort of facility with the same "flavor" as the train or bus station Sophie and I were in last week. When I saw him, he was talking -- loudly, fluently just like before the tumor re-growth. I was amazed and kept asking people why no one told me he'd recovered.

 I've wanted to write here several times since my last post a few weeks ago, but there is never any time. Sometimes I feel sorry for myself because it's almost impossible to get a couple hours off, much less a day off. I think it is more obvious to me now that Bob has retired. I have chosen the academic schedule, I have chosen to teach in the summer, I have chosen the position I have, and unfortunately, it is adjunct. I can hear my father saying, "it's not a bad way to make a living."

One thing I never shared here was his last visit. On July 3 I dreamed that we were standing at the sink in his kitchen. There were two small coffee makers on the counter. One was the Black & Decker Brew and go that he and my mother have been using for a few years; the other was another single cup coffee maker like Gevalia. He was telling me in great detail why he wanted me to return the Gevalia. It was so realistic!

Last week, another letter from hospice came. It upsets me when I receive a letter from them. Not that it reminds me that daddy died. It is the first thing I think of every morning. I miss him so much. On the 10th, it was seven months that he's been gone. As I prepare my syllabi for the looming semester, I tick off the dates, months, semesters, looking forward, looking back, and this upset me. For instance: A year ago he was alive. Three years ago, he was fine. In two months, on October 10, it will be nine months.

A couple of nights ago, I had a long dream about Sophie! I do think of her often, but she died over 10 years ago, so it was a surprise. The former dean from several years ago was in it too, which was odd. It took place in a train station or airport or someplace like that. It was a good dream -- wonderful to see Sophalina, I am left with a clear image of those huge paws - but so strange!

 Increasing numbers with new sub-variant has not led to a return to restrictions and without government mandates, people act like idiots. The governor has no will, and is making a foolish decision because of idiots. Her opponent is running a scam. I think his alleged attack was staged. All of it makes me sick.

I was so irritated by the news last night. First, this is a petty, minor thing, but what is up with the anchor's eyebrows? Did he slip with a razor and now has to pencil them in with a sharpie? Seriously dude, you look like an ahole. Second, there was a story about an unemployment surcharge to business owners because of a loan the state labor department got from the feds due to covid. It was entirely to work up a controversy, because the business owners interviewed didn't notice it until contacted by the reporter. I would love to pose a question, especially since the repetitious stories about unemployment claims taking forever have been a nonstop, annoying whine. Who should pay for the loan, if not the business owners? Didn't they benefit, keeping their employees going during the "pause" so they would have staff when they reopened? Should I pay? Or maybe a minimum wage clerk? Or perhaps an old lady on social security? Oh I know - why doesn't the reporter make a contribution, since he is so eager to pass around a crying towel.

Last night we ate at the Point in Albany, outside of course. We get GrubHub regularly and it has preserved our sanity during the pandemic. We have dined at a restaurant many times a week for 40+ years. That came crashing to a halt when COVID arrived. Since then we have eaten outside in good weather, but not routinely, mostly because places with outside dining aren't numerous enough (better than pre-2020 though), and since restrictions were lifted, many servers and patrons don't wear masks. I never much liked sitting outside, but that had to change. It was a nice evening. After dinner we got soft ice cream. Bob was talking about the hard shell dipped chocolate for cones and asked me if I knew what he meant. I said, "did you forget I was born in a soft ice cream stand?" (Not really, but besides dolls singing "It's a small world" at the World's Fair, it is the setting for my earliest memories, both the construction when I got my first bee sting so my father plunged my hand in the wheel barrow of cement mix, and the business itself; looking up at the ice cream machine lever which was above my head, catching a teenager stealing chips, watching my father make ice cream sandwiches with the day's leftovers.) The place we went to last night has a building just like Dino's Kwik Stop, except that Lickity Split has no indoor area for customers. These are happy memories, but sitting in the car eating my cone, thinking about my father, I felt sad. He's been gone six months this week. How can that be true? I wonder when getting soft ice cream will make me feel happy instead of sad? Something tells me "never" and truthfully, I'm OK with that.

 You'd have to be dead in the USA to not have heard of the recent mass shootings and Supreme Court decision re: Roe v. Wade. I am not a news junkie but the stories are endless. I'm pleased and hopeful about the bipartisan bill re: guns. Even if it is minimal and motivated by self-interest -- it is a good thing. The choice/life issue is the opposite. It so perfectly illustrates the division and closed mindedness of our culture right now that it makes me sick. When I taught toleration I would discuss with students the need for tolerance and how to achieve compromise. Respect is the first step. Language demonstrates this -- the poles on the issue label it anti and pro-abortion, when it should be pro-life and pro-choice, the terms that supporters of each side prefer. The media is a big part of the problem. I've had to un-follow a bunch of Facebook "friends" to spare myself the vitriol. Sharing memes is not advocacy.

 Five months.😭😭😭

On Facebook today, a friend shared a post "Written by the mom of [name deleted by me] one of the Uvalde victims." It didn't pass the sniff test because of this: "Was she practicing writing GIRAFFE the moment he walked in her classroom, barricaded the door and opened fire? She keeps forgetting the silent “e” at the end.  We studied this past weekend, and now she doesn’t need to take the spelling test on Friday." I remember it was reported that Thursday of the week of the Tuesday shooting would have been the last day of school. So either the lengthy copied and pasted post is mis-attributed and has nothing to do with Uvalde, or news reports were wrong, and Thursday was not the last day of school. 

I googled, and I was correct; the post was not written by the mom of one of the Uvalde victims. I did not bother to comment on my friend's post, because I perceive her to be a person who would be pissed at the correction. I suspect this Facebook "friend" is in the "fake but true" camp. She'd think the correction means I'm a gun nut, which I am not. She got 23 thank yous and how powerfuls and hearbreakings and someone should send this to congress comments. That was the intent of the original writer, to go viral, even if it meant taking advantage of victims of tragedy. This type of meme is known as "glurge."

It really irritates me that people don't discern fake posts and resist sharing when it is something seductive that agrees with their POV. That is why elected officials want to regulate social media, or at least it gives them justification to stifle dissent and the voice of the common person.

 Added: Snopes link 

We went out to eat on Monday for the first time since last year. We sat outside at the Hillsdale House. It was a little chilly, but not bad. The food was amazing!

The story of the week, at least as of today, if you ignore the latest celebrity gossip, is another school shooting, this time in Texas again. I'm not numb to it and I do care, but the regular media and social media hand-wringing that this has to stop, we need to do something and snarky remark that thoughts & prayers aren't enough irritate me. What exactly am I able to do? I asked a Facebook friend when she posted the usual meme on the subject: "what makes an 18-year-old so angry?" It was just a rhetorical question, but after a couple responses were about it being a complex issue involving guns and mental health and bullying and COVID and aliens with yellow shirts (being sarcastic) I was sorry I commented. I usually resist. I didn't write "duh," which is what I thought. But I really do wonder why 18-year olds are so angry.

Another wonderful night of sleeping! Temperature was just right for blankets. I again had a dream that featured my father! It was not a long dream, but it was more than a glimpse. It was totally normal. He was walking and talking and instructing Bob and I about buying cat food to deliver to needy old people who had cats. We were scrambling to find premium brands instead of shrink-wrapped four packs of crummy varieties. Somehow we were on a deck and in the store simultaneously?

Just now I spoke to my mother on the phone and she told me she cooked something good and ate it for two nights. It was chicken breast, spices, stewed tomatoes, tomato sauce, macaroni shells and Parmesan cheese. In the past she might have fussed about preferring potatoes and baked beans over pasta and sauce, and she definitely would not have had that for dinner two nights in a row. I thought how much my father would have loved her creation, and he would have insisted on having it for lunch and dinner until it was gone.

Getting grades finished this semester was more challenging than it has been in years. There were three causes. Every weekend in Samsonville is quite difficult. That's been the case for two years, so it's not really "new." Second, the university (not sure who, but "administration" who controls calendar) appears to take pleasure in adding stress to faculty. This has been going on for a couple of years as well, but each semester there is a new wrinkle. This year, it was the absurd deadline of graduation weekend. Finally, it's typical to have a few needy, procrastinating students, but this semester there seemed to be more. I finished at 10 pm last night. That's the closest I've come to missing the deadline since the year I caught five students cheating. That must be almost 20 years ago.

Last night our former neighbor, the man who sold us our house, died from ALS. Another giant in this community is gone. On Friday I didn't take the time away from grading to note that Donna died seven years ago. I could have dashed off a quick Facebook post with a picture, but I didn't. I have stopped remembering her anniversaries and milestones on social media because I don't want condolences, thoughts or prayers. I also don't want to be compelled by such comments to respond, because the sentiment I feel would not be understood by more than a few. "It's complicated" sums it up but that's so trite. So I've decided it is better to write nothing.

A woman I served on the Village board with and have known for nearly 30 years died on April 30. She was 87, and was her family matriarch, a person who was very committed to service. She was smart and funny and the entire community will mourn this big loss. Then today at the end of semester faculty meeting, a professor revealed that he has been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Really cast a pall over the meeting, which usually is a blend of apathetic boredom and contentious prickly.

Florida governor + Disney battle: hahahaha. I can't stand DeSantis or Disney so this conflict is quite amusing!!!

 One more class next week and the semester is over. Grades are due May 15.

I had a wonderful night of sleep two nights ago. It was cold and that helped. I had a dream with my father in it again. It was two glimpses, just brief snippets. In the second snippet we were watching some Chevy Chase or Bill Murray comedy -- can't remember which -- also not an actual movie, an imaginary one. He was enjoying it, but after a while he stood up and said "I'm going to bed." I responded "it isn't even up to the good part yet" but it didn't make any difference.

Last night was cold again, and I slept horribly. So much for the temperature theory! My mother got a second stent today and it was on my mind. It went fine and she's already home.

Gary would be 59 tomorrow.

Full disclosure: I have been annoyed about the university's mascot change to a cropped-ear, mean-looking Dane, and as a result I have not donated since the image was revealed. I'm not a sports enthusiast, but I would be outraged by this even if I was a fan AND did not care about animal cruelty. What a weasel response - playing the victim. Ever heard of taking responsibility? I agree with this completely. Bravo. Ever hear of transparency and accountability? Last post I mentioned my trials with a class this semester. Part of the reason is a student associated with this team who has done nothing in class and blew it off presentation day. Student had zero involvement with this scandal AFAIK, but I wonder if it has something to do with the slacker behavior? I don't know because student is MIA. It's certainly no excuse, but regardless, it makes me even more pissed off. /end rant

14 weeks.😢

April 13 would have been my father's 95th birthday. When things were "normal" (whatever that means), we'd have had a gathering to celebrate another milestone year. Instead, my mother was in the hospital from heart issues (she had a stent put in on Thursday). 

My father was a demonstrative person. Today I was remembering that for the past couple years, he would take my hand and put it to his cheek and then kiss it whenever I arrived or left. He did that to anyone who would permit it. It's a very dear memory.

The weather has remained cold and today feels especially "Marchy." That's what Elwyn would write in his diary about days like today. Such a wonderful image, I don't think I need to explain.

I have started to read the second book in Moody's Life After Life trilogy. I think I may have read it before. I am fairly sure I have never read the third book in the trilogy, which I will read next. 

The semester will soon be over and this semester it's my graduate class that is trying my patience. They are all adept at google and searching so I can't share more, but it is very irritating and stressful.

4.5 weeks ago I drastically changed my diet. No sugar (I am an addict), no simple carbs (not too bad except for sweets), and somewhat unintentionally, I cut down on dairy, but didn't eliminate it. I've been 98% compliant, even yesterday on Easter. It wasn't making a difference in how I felt until recently, and I think I do feel somewhat better. I didn't do it for this reason, but I have lost about 10 pounds.

 I had an amazing dream last night. My father was in it. He was old, looked about like he did for the past 10 years or so. He could walk and talk and make things! We were at a house, in a big, roomy, bright kitchen. A one car garage was off the kitchen, and some delivery men were unloading supplies, because the house needed some modifications. I am not sure whether the house was his or mine or someone else's.  My mother was there, as was Bob, for at least part of the dream. We knew my father had died, but he was back. He was sitting at a bar in the kitchen. My mother was taping Christmas cards to the wall near the bar. She already had a lot up, but after my father died, she received a lot more, and now that he was back, she was adding them to the display. A boy came over to work with him on Halloween decorations. They were working on a big cardboard box that was kind of like a coffin. In the dream i didn't specifically identify the boy, but after I woke up I thought it might have been a nice kid who was in the first year of our faith formation class in 2012-13 that another boy in class picked on. A friend of Bob's and mine that we have not seen in a few years was coming over for dinner, and my father finished the decorations and said he had to get dressed. Our friend came, and when he was in the bathroom my father grilled me about what he did for a living, whether he was on drugs and said he thought the friend was strange. LOL! It was such a wonderful, realistic dream.