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.