Post Christmas/Anniversary Monday

Last night, we had an excellent dinner at Love's Seafood Restaurant. These nights, I've stayed up later and later, sleeping in more each morning. Boy, is it going to be a shock to my system next Monday when the 5:15 alarm rings. But I won't think about that now.

Today, I took Paul to the bank to deposit all the cash he's been accumulating by never spending the $20 a week we dole out for walking-around money. He had $655 in cash lying around, and he has his own bank account, so we convinced him that he might want to place it in his account although I'm not against anyone having part of their nest egg stuffed in the mattress. We stopped at Lenscrafters so he could have a quick eye appointment before the year ends. The traffic was horrible today, and I was glad to return home.

We're still feeling the loss of Petie. It's hard not to expect him to come clip-clopping down the hall, or to stand excitedly nearby as we eat dinner, waiting for a scrap. We donated three bags full of towels and sheets, dog food, and other supplies to the Humane Society on Saturday.

Wednesday night is Liberto's 50th birthday party at the Oyster Bar downtown. Then the next morning, Thursday, he leaves for Venezuela.

Will I ever live down those '80's glasses??

Today is our 24th wedding anniversary. Above is a photo taken at the ceremony
in Pasadena, California, at the home of Ming, a friend of Liberto's. We were broke, but even if we had been wealthy, I have never bought into the bridezilla mentality, and would have chosen a small event. To me, it's what happens afterwards that counts, not the ceremony itself.

Beside us in the picture is Derek, who would have been two weeks short of 14 years old. Shawn, not pictured here, was also with us. He was 12. After the ceremony, we took the boys around to the endless beautiful California sights, such as the Santa Monica pier, Disney World, Huntington Gardens, and more.

Liberto said he wanted to put the picture on facebook, and I screamed, "Noooo!" I don't want the world to see me in those monster-sized glasses.

Christmas Day

The roast is in the oven and the house smells comforting. The boys are playing a game on the new PS-3. This afternoon, with stuffed bellies, we'll go to see Up in the Air .

During the night, Petie passed on. He was getting worse by late afternoon yesterday. I proposed that we consider taking him to the emergency animal clinic for euthanasia, since the regular vet's office was closed for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Not that I wanted to. But his decline was beginning to border on suffering and began to outweigh my hopes for a peaceful home death. Paul begged to keep him home and volunteered to stay with him all night so that I could sleep. I haven't had more than two consecutive hours sleep for a week, and I was exhausted. So I agreed, and Paul set up the doggie bed in the t.v. room and stayed with him. I vaguely remember being aroused from a deep sleep, with Paul at my bedside, telling me that Pete had died.

This morning, we buried him in the backyard next to Gus. I wanted to do it right away so that we could move on, not dwell on it, and enjoy each other's company on Christmas Day. I remind myself to put the event into perspective. The world is so full of unspeakable tragedies and losses, that the departure of a pet is miniscule. But he was part of our family history, part of our family, and the feeling of loss can't be ignored.

Since I haven't slept deeply for the past week, I've remembered a lot of dreams that would have slipped away in my usual deep slumber-states. One of them was a vivid story about a dog. I feel inspired to write it down, and I will.

Liberto wants to open presents now, so Happy Holidays to all!

Holiday break!!

Needless to say, I'm overjoyed to be on holiday break. It's now Tuesday.
Pete has been declining for the past week. Last January, he was diagnosed with a bladder problem, either cancer or stones, but I opted not to have it explored through surgery. He's a 14-year-old dog, and surgery seemed too extreme. He was in fairly good shape through the summer, other than loss of bathroom control. Paul has been particularly compassionate about it, cheerfully cleaning up messes, mopping the kitchen floor, and reinterating, "He can't help it. We still love him." For awhile, we tried doggy diapers, but they didn't fit well enough and kept sliding off. His problems caused me to have to give him numerous baths. His ribs and spine and hip bones began to stick out sharply. I could feel them more and more as I bathed him. But he was still eating regularly, as he lost more weight.

I learned last Monday at the vet's that his weight loss is extreme. Pete is down to half his body weight, this in spite of still eating. The doctor did a blood test, and saw elevated enzymes of this or that, but said he will not be able to conclude exactly what the problem is without a lot of fancy, expensive tests. He thinks it could be liver or kidney failure or a stomach mass. I told him I'd think about whether to pursue more tests and diagnoses---for what purpose? It's unlikely there's a cure for doggy liver cancer or whatever it is. On Tuesday, Pete stopped eating and drinking. He walked only in circles, sometimes falling. Paul and I set up a little bed of pillows on the floor and have been giving him water through a dropper.

A week has passed, with no change. He's weak and sleeps a lot, but sometimes when I come into his line of vision, his eyes light up and he breathes a little harder. Once in a while, he wakes up and yelps, so Paul and I take turns holding him for awhile. Two nights ago, so his middle-of-the-night sounds wouldn't disturb Liberto, who doesn't sleep well, Paul and I set up Peté's little bed in the t.v. room, and we both slept out there, me in the easy chair, Paul on the couch.

If it can be done, I want Pete to depart in peace at home, rather than be shuttled off to the vet's for any futile attempts at a cure, probed with needles and stuffed with tubes. Most of all, I don't want him separated from us in his final hours. Our dog Sandy had to stay at the vet's in a cage to alleviate her suffering until she got so bad that she had to be euthanized anyway. We went to the vet's office to be with her for that procedure, which still haunts me.

The past few days have been pretty emotional for us. While I know that many people in the world have lost far, far more than just a pet, we're gripped with sadness at losing a friend of 14 years. I think I'm also sad that this pending loss signals the end of a happy phase in our lives, when our furry friends---as well as we---were young and vibrant. I associate Gus and Pete with the people Liberto and I used to be years ago when we acquired them. I can still see Gus sitting on top of the couch, happily licking the back of Liberto's salty-tasting neck for as long as he could get away with it. I remember Paul and a third-grade classmate playing with Pete in our back yard (before we got the privacy fence up), and Pete becoming wildly excited and bolting off into the thick woods behind our house in his crazy run, with Paul, Tyler and I running madly after him, trying to surround and catch him. Paul in third grade??

Today is also the 20th anniversary of my father's passing. Guess who Liberto is on the phone with right now? Cousin Carlos, whose birthday will always be linked in my mind with Dad's death. In Venezuela, 20 years ago, Carlos' birthday call to the familia's house preceeded by minutes that sad call from the states.

Almost done with the semester

I always sleep especially well on Friday nights, as the stress of the week dissipates into a cloud of movie, easy chair, and 6 ounce beer. We saw a movie called Passengers. I was able to stay awake because Diana called in the middle of it, before I nodded off, and that woke me up enough to get through the rest. It was an interesting flick, similar to Sixth Sense , except that it's Anne Hathaway instead of Bruce Willis who discovers that she's dead. This morning, we slept till 8:30, then drank coffee and read the paper in bed. At ll, I had a hair appointment. I like the different look I requested---more layered but still longish.

On Monday night, when Paul was at his CETIA class, I told Liberto I had a strong feeling my contract won't be renewed for next year. I just sense it. By the end of the conversation, he was on-line looking up non-teaching employment possibilities in the area and saying, "Why you'd be really good at this" or "You'd qualify for that. Too bad you can't apply right now." The result was that while he would not be overjoyed to lose my income, he realizes we could adjust if he had to and that I have one or two other skills in addition to teaching.

My 2nd block class has become unbearable because of two loud and malicious girls who do everything to sabotage my teaching. Then others who are normally well-behaved see the chance to hop on the bandwagon. I wrote them up, again, but there's been no response from the Administration, which I see as a sign that they're either too overwhelmed by the growing school-wide behavior problems, or they think I should be able to make them shut up on my own. How do you make someone be quiet who does not care about grades, parental calls, or any consequences? I'm just tired of expending so much energy every day on things that reap no results. In a month, I'll have new students. Then I'll be able to determine whether I'm tired of teaching in general or just tired of bad students.

A funny thing happened this week; I got a call from the Dean at Armstrong, where I'd sent my vita a week ago, just to see if I could get my toe in the door for the future by teaching a part-time course in the evening or on weekends. This Dean was a very friendly guy, a kindred spirit kind of vibe. He said he had passed my vita on to the English Department, but while looking at it, he noticed my book Back From the Land, became interested, and ordered it. He read it, and knew some of the people who were interviewed for it. He then asked if I would come to his class on Environmentism as a guest speaker later this semester and talk about my adventures as a counterculturalist, and maybe we could also have lunch right before that? He's a tad younger than I am, but clearly remembers the back-to-the-land movement. That was one of the positive moments of the week. . . talking to another adult, a professional, who is on the same wavelength.

Paul applied to Central Georgia Tech in Macon, so he could add a few courses to his current drafting diploma and turn it into an Associates degree. He plans to take only on-line courses. He also applied at Armstrong, to try out some courses in their engineering program.

Liberto had a very stressful week at work. He works hard. He works long hours. He puts up with a lot of ornery personalities. This is why it would be difficult for me to just throw in the towel on high-school teaching if I were to resign on my own rather than BE retired by the powers that be. Having a strong work ethic, he believes that come hell or high water, you stick to what you have, happy or not, period. He might have trouble understanding that I'm not sure I can teach high school anymore without losing it one day and strangling one of them. How terrible that sounds. But you'd have to be there. Remember, I am 61, not 31, so I'm getting cranky with age and losing my sense of humor about their cute antics, such as stuffing the student toilet with paper towels yet again. Actually, despite Liberto's daily stress and complaints, when I ask him bluntly, "Do you like your job?" he always says, "Oh, yes." I then tell him that if he feels stressed now, try to imagine how he will feel 11 years in the future when he has worked his way up to the age I am now. He reminds me that in 12 years, 5 months, 4 days and 8 hours, he will have a viable pension from the city, which he feels makes it all worth it. Diana says that maybe if I no longer worked full-time and had the extra time to learn to cook lovely dinners which awaited Liberto when he arrived home from work each day, he'd be much more amenable to having an under-employed wife.

Today, I am creating the final exam, which will be given on Thursday and Friday next week. That means I have three more class days, Monday through Wednesday, to keep the classes engaged. I remember a scene in the movie Office Space, which Paul and I adore, in which Peter asks a hynotherapist, "Is there any way you can hypnotize me so that I can go to work but not remember any of it, and just think that I've been fishing all day?"

Shawn is arriving on Saturday. He got a leave from Fort Eustis to come down for two weeks. Much as I'd like to, I don't think we'll get up to Washington because Liberto doesn't get time off the way teachers do, just Christmas Day. On New Year's Day, he's leaving for Venezuela for three weeks, and is using his vacation time for that. I may also be getting dental implants that week, which would get in the way of traveling. I have some bridgework that needs reinforcement. Fun, huh?

Beautiful chilly day

Last night, our Neighborhood Association had a holiday party at our neighbor's home across the street. The place was packed. We had a great time chatting with familiar and new neighbors, hearing about long-time acquaintances' surgeries, grandchildren, and career paths, and waxing sentimental about how little activity there is for Halloween trick or treating, now that the children who lived here when the neighborhood was forming are in graduate school or married and living in NYC. I remember taking Paul around on Halloween. One year I made him a real cool dinosaur costume with a long, detailed tail that dragged on the ground behind him. He loved it. In the past, I used to be far more creative than I am now. I used to make things. I used to sew. I used to do batik. I want to resuscitate that latent artist in me, such as it was. I recently went to Michael's and bought a kit to make a mosaic tile. My first thought was to place it around the koi pond, but I was suddenly inspired to make a plaque that could go on Gus' grave in the back yard. I've designed it using yellow and orange tiles, to match his color, with a blue ring around the center, to match his blue collar. I just have to mix the concrete, add the tiles, and let it dry for 48 hours.

Yesterday afternoon, we saw the movie Brothers, which I thought was better than the reviews led me to believe. Following that, we watched a movie on DVD entitled Shrink, with Kevin Spacey playing a messed up psychiatrist whose clients were mostly narcissistic celebrities and other movers and shakers in the industry.

This morning, Liberto and I went to Wal-Mart, and this afternoon, Paul and I went to the gym. I watched Property Intervention as I walked the treadmill. Love that show, along with the other real estatey, house-selling ones. Other than that, I've mostly puttered around, dragging my heels on doing any work-related work. I haven't even taken my work briefcase out of the car yet this weekend. I hope that sometime this afternoon I'll work up the energy to plan all the activities for the next week, grade papers, and create the final exams for week after next.

Only 8 more class days, thank the Lord

I was just paying bills on-line when I discovered an unauthorized purchase on a credit card for $914 at Bloomingdales. Great way to start the day! Being conservative shoppers, Liberto and I rarely spend more than $150 on clothes at retail stores during the sales season and never use credit cards, only cash. We always come home with enough shoes, shirts and pants to last for six months. We would never spend $914 on clothes! So I called the credit card company immediately to report fraud, but learned that the Disputes Department is not open for another half an hour. So I'll sit here at the computer and write a few lines in my blog as I await the runaround I'll face, (and this only after meandering through a quagmire of dead-end menu options seeking a live human being).

An article in this morning's paper stated that the Georgia education budget will face more shortfalls over the next few years, and teachers will face more furloughs and lay-offs. With my sixth-sense antennae always tuned in to people and their motives, I can sense which way the wind is blowing at my own school: I believe I will be put out to pasture at the end of the year. After all, I am older than the rest and, with my advanced degrees and years experience, earn more than most of the others. I feel a red laser beam dancing on my forehead, even now. Yet simultaneously, I am not sure but that I might feel semi-relieved if that were to happen. I do feel burned out. Badly behaved 9th graders take a toll on a teacher. Yesterday, one of the students threw a red pen at the wall and splattered red ink all over it, and on the floor. This is the kind of crap I have to put up with every day.

What if I were to BE retired rather to TO retire? If money were no object, I would break out the champagne at this point. I think if we had to, we could live on L's salary now, with some modifications in lifestyle. And of course, I'd still probably be able to get hired on for part-time courses at the local colleges and put more hours into my SAT-grading, which can be lucrative for those who have the free time to devote more hours. Last week, I sent a vita to one of the local colleges seeking one part-time course. Not for the money, because the pay would not be impressive, but to establish a connection for the future.

Well, the Disputes Department must be open now, so I'll get started!