Everyday I want to write here, but I don't make the time. My classes are going really well, but otherwise -- especially nationally -- it is sh*t. Reading the comments on local television and newspaper sites is demoralizing. Who are these cretins? Scary.

 I am not surprised by the appalling behavior of the new / old administration, but it is still awful to contemplate. Idiocracy + authoritarianism is a terrible combination.

 I have had many ideas for things to write here, but have I? No. Semester started a week ago, and I am teaching Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. I am not crazy about that schedule, but I'll make it work. Classes are good so far.

 Well I have accomplished nothing personal over break, and I have only 12 days left! Bob turned 65 on Sunday. And...today is the third anniversary of my father's death. 😢😢😢

 I'm looking forward to doing three things during winter break: sleeping, reading, writing - in that order.

 I finished Fall grades at about 7 pm last night, then put in 2.5 more hours from 10:30 pm - 1 am uploading the breakdowns to Brightspace. It was a marathon and the Brightspace part was kind of glitchy, but it's done!

 I really want to write -- even if "just" here. But alas, no time 😞.

Feels like snow.

This story is heartbreaking.

It finally started raining yesterday. Snow in the Catskills. Hopefully this helps to extinguish the fires. Semester is winding down. I entered a Writer's Digest short fiction contest. I wanted to write something new (and I have an idea), but there wasn't enough time, so I tweaked an unpublished favorite. Notifications take place in February. I don't expect to win, but I need to get back on track with writing. Maybe because her birthday will be on Thanksgiving or one of the characters in the story is based on her or due to this story in the news (or all three), I have been thinking about Donna more than usual. I always feared she would suffer the same fate as that poor woman who was found in Troy, but somehow she managed to make it to 53 and die of natural causes  -- if addictions are "natural."

The word that best describes my election attitude: Indifferent. News embargo continues. Will I plug back in four years from now? IDK.

Wildfires rage. It's horrible.

Back to Standard time a couple weeks ago. YAY!

 Friday night I had a wonderful, fun dream featuring my father and pizza.😊

And in other news, pick your poison! Righty or lefty fascism!

I just had a class where a nontraditional student called a young man who was making a presentation "sweetie." In 2024!

November 1 was my ninth anniversary as a vegetarian.

Today, Bob got a mailing that said, "Remember, who you vote for is private, but whether or not you voted is public record." It listed years and it included that he had not voted in 2016. The organization sending it is called "The Center for Voter Information." How creepy and weird. It feels threatening and intimidating. Bob remarked that it seems like a fascist nation -- pick your poison. Fascism from the left or fascism from the right. I'm sure this movement and others like it justify such actions by claiming it's an effort to boost turn out and assert that's a good thing. News flash: Those who have routinely voted and then skip or stop have very good reasons! The candidates suck, the parties suck, the media coverage sucks. WAKE UP. In other political news, I've discovered that texting back "f*** you" is about as effective as "stop" (but far more satisfying).

 A week late, but October 18 was Gotcha Day #3 for Bailey (Hoo) and Bindi (the little one). It wasn't Harry's but this photo is so cute.

I have been intending to make a post every day this week but ran out of time. First, Election irritations: 1) the Molinaro/Riley ads are awful. I am so happy to not live in a so-called swing state. One nasty congressional race is too much; 2) I am inundated with texts from senate and house races in other states. LEAVE ME ALONE. Texting back "stop" doesn't work. Second, because we have unplugged from politics since being awakened and then disenfranchised, we have immersed ourselves in the '80s. We're currently watching "Highway to Heaven." I loved the show when it was on, and it has aged well! What a great show! Finally, last night I had a dream that had my father in it. It had something to do with food. It felt like a dream, a confusing medley, more than an ADC; regardless, it was good to see him.

I have noticed in recent years that "of course" has replaced "you're welcome." This has been true of servers in restaurants for a while. The other fay Bob told me that a man held the door for him and when Bob said "than you," the guy responded "of course." I googled it, and some of the links attributed it to millennials, while others said it was gen z. The sentiment ranged from claiming it's a less formal way of saying you're welcome, the action was expected and insignificant, to suggesting it's rude and implies entitlement. Discussion of an alternative, "no problem," surfaced in a few links. I started thinking about "of nothing," the translation for de nada. Language is interesting, nuanced and it evolves.

 Birthday flowers from Lark Street Flower Market.

Happy belated birthday to me! (It was two days ago.)

                                                                My latest advocacy!

 Also: Mimmie's 120th birthday today. She probably would not approve, but she lived in a different time.

Last night, I finished the book I have been reading (Knife). It was excellent overall and beautifully written. In my head, I have snippets from memorable books that I have read over the years; for example early in the book, when Francie responds to the librarian "she is eleven" in A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. That evokes the image of the girl asking for a recommendation and anticipating the opportunity to reread a beloved novel that had been suggested many times before, as well as my own pleasure of reading a wonderful book. In the case of Knife, it came in the last chapter, when the author is preparing to revisit the scene of the attack after 13 months. He writes, “Maybe I was going to Chautauqua to face up to the unbearable knowledge, common to all human beings, that it would never be yesterday again.” What a poignant and exquisitely-crafted sentence.

Today little Bindi is seven years old.