I had another dream last night that featured my father. We were at the white house -- not "the" White House, the house where we lived for about 10 years of my childhood and teenage years. It was a large whit 1960s Colonial. The family who owns it now has extensively renovated it, hosts an open house around the holidays and my family is invited. I have never attended, and I'm not sure if we were visiting them, but besides my father, many family members were present and it wasn't our house. The fireplace was a focal point, because the suggestion was that the letter "G" painted on it could not be removed. My father was proud of his name and initials, and always branded thing with that "G." (I don't know if it's true that it could not be removed, I suspect muriatic acid would do the trick.) There was a display of items we had left behind. One was some kind of patriotic / military thing. Later, my father was walking alone in the front yard of that house, wearing a formal short-sleeved shirt and bolo tie. His hair was white. He looked thoughtful or perhaps preoccupied, and my distinct impression was that right then, he was sad.

I am tired of non-stop political ads on television. I am pissed that I was gerrymandered into the district of a member of the house of representatives who I can't stand. I filled out my absentee ballot and mailed it yesterday. I am never voting in person again. I will skip voting if I have to go to a polling place. I mourn the old machines and hate coloring in the form while poll watchers spy on me. I will only do it in the privacy of my home.

On Wednesday, I got the COVID-19 Omicron variant specific booster. The pharmacy was screwed up and thought I was getting a flu shot. Every time I have gotten the vaccine, I have had to fill out papers at home, and then the same forms on premises. The incompetence everywhere is astonishing. As I suspected, I reacted to the shot again and felt awful yesterday. It wasn't as bad as shot #2 in the original series, but it was not pleasant.

I have been very focused on getting everything graded so that I can get the omicron variant booster and risk being sick for a day afterwards. I've scheduled it for Wednesday. I have class on Thursday but I have a set up so I can work in the living room that day. I have no plans to be productive, just need to be on Zoom for 90 minutes!

 

My father died nine months ago today. The veteran's plaque I ordered for him came yesterday. I'm pleased they allowed the name he used, rather than the name the army gave him in 1945. It is gorgeous, but hard to contemplate. It seems unbelievable. Sometimes the feeling in my chest makes it hard to breathe. I miss him so much.

I didn't mention it here before this, but last week or so, I had a dream that had Gary and Bob's grandmother in it. It was at some sort of facility, I was instructing Gary about Grandma's needs, and he was taking it all very seriously. His appearance was normal; he was not ill. 

Then, the past two nights were filled with vivid dreams: Thursday night, I had two dreams in a row that were unrelated. The first was about dogs. We had a bunch (many more than three). It wasn't a bad dream, but it was chaotic. LOL. I guess that's life with a bunch of dogs. Maybe mine were barking while I slept, and that's what inspired it. IDK. 

The second was about Mimmie! I don't recall dreaming about her in a long time, even though I think of her often. At first, I knew it was her, but the woman did not look or seem at all like her physically. Then she suddenly changed into actual Mimmie - the way she lives in my memory, house dress and all. I was sitting at a table across from her, and my niece Anna was sitting next to me (as an adult). The setting was Mimmie's kitchen at her trailer, except the trailer was more of a double-wide. The decor was just like the trailer, '70s/'80s. 

Last night, I dreamed of my father again. He looked great, like himself. He was sitting in his living room watching television. I was so pleased, because I knew he'd been sick, had surgery, didn't care about TV any more - and there he was, in good spirits, seeming fine, happily watching it. 

I feel as if I am glimpsing "the other side" with all these dreams featuring animals and people who have passed on. I have always occasionally had dreams like this, but since my father died it has increased, and very recently it is almost nonstop.

 Tuesday is a LONG day. I have both an afternoon class and a night class. I always teach a night class during the spring semester, on Thursday nights, but for several years, it has been a graduate class. This semester, I have an undergraduate class on Tuesday evenings. Fortunately, the quality of the students is pretty high, but the class is new to me and enrollment is pretty large (30). It has been going OK so far, but last night, I was totally fried when it was over. This is the second time that has happened this fall. The content of the class was draining. This used to happen to me sometimes after my night class when I taught on campus, pre-COVID-19, but it has been a long time since I felt this way. It sort of has flowed into today as well. I think I need a break to recharge, but unfortunately, that ain't happening.

Again last night, I had a dream featuring my father. He was younger in this one; his hair was black. Looked good, but not totally like himself (he had glasses with heavy dark frames that he would never wear). I knew he was well and that made me happy, but there was something weird: He couldn't speak at all! He had a laptop with what seemed to be a Tractor Supply ad on the screen, and he was pointing to various pieces of equipment that were pictured (such as lawn tractors) and even kissing the images!

On Sunday, I visited the cemetery for the first time since his service on January 13. I miss him so much and was apprehensive about how I would feel. But it was not as hard as I envisioned. I have worse episodes looking at his picture or just thinking about him. His grave site looks good, the monument company already carved the date in his stone, Bob planted daffodils, and I was glad I went.

 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.