Monthly Archives: October 2025

October 31, 2025 · 2:28 am

Josie’s Dreams

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

I read an interesting article the other day. According to some study out there, dogs dream all the time. And more than that, their dreams are about us, their owners. I’m not sure who interviewed the canines for this or how it was accomplished, but how interesting.

I looked at my dog, Josie, lying on the floor, just waking up from her tenth nap of the day. She blinked up at me and I said, “You must have a lot of nightmares.”

She simply yawned and went back to sleep. She has nothing to worry about as long as she has Roy.

I generally refer to Josie as “stupid,” but in reality, she is pretty smart for a four-legged mammal who drinks out of the toilet and chews on a rubber pig for fun.

When we plan any trip or activity, I plan what to pack and who to visit and Roy plans for the dog. I love to stop and eat at a nice restaurant along the way on our frequent trips to see the kids. But we can’t do that with the dog along—unless we can find a spot that’s shady enough or warm enough, or just plain fine enough for the dog.

We once parked three blocks out of the way of a restaurant, so the dog was in a shady spot. That, while we strolled through the hot sun to get to the restaurant. But normally, she’s much nearer to us than that. Roy has been known to go out during a meal and move the car, so he has a better view of her circumstances. Now, I don’t want the dog to fry in the car, but I also dread the day when we invite her inside to enjoy a steak and fries and maybe some ketchup to dip them in!

It isn’t only when we travel that the dog lives well. She has chewed up countless dog beds, I presume in protest to the indignity of lying on the floor. She leaves them in absolute shreds while she commandeers the couch I had planned as a bunk for grandsons when they visit. Not that they would mind sharing with her one bit—she has them wrapped around her paw as well.

Josie is beginning to show her age—and aren’t we all? She’s getting gray around the muzzle, and she takes a little more effort to jump in the pickup for a hunting excursion. And after an hour or two of tramping through the tall grass and chasing pheasants, she’s pretty tired, but she and Roy still enjoy the outing!

But even this doggy-master romance has its rough patches. The dog came home with a limp and a sheepish air about her from their latest outing. I noticed with surprise that her best buddy had a bandage on his hand and an air of regret.

Turns out loading an aging dog is not so handily done as before and as Roy was helping her in, she caught her leg. Roy, not realizing this, continued to push and in her distress, Josie drove home her point by driving her teeth into his hand. She obviously felt bad about what was, for an animal, a purely instinctive survival action, but I couldn’t resist a little “jab” of my own.

“So, biting the hand that fees you, are you, dog? That is not very smart.”

She turned and gave me that grave, considering look she has, as though she’s mentally measuring me for a pine box and a hole in the ground.

Yeah, I don’t think I’d care to analyze any dreams that dog has about me!

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October 26, 2025 · 4:39 am

Gremlin Gripes

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

At this rather spooky time of year, I must tell you that I believe a gremlin has attached itself to me. And the grabby little bugger is causing no end of trouble.

On our recent vacation, we spent two nights in Dover, England, where they tell me the spirits of sailors lost in the English Channel wander the streets. I assumed these were just tales designed to enhance the city’s mystique, but now I wonder.

We spent the nights there in a charming old building along the harbor. In the middle of the first night, I awoke because the bathroom light went on. I assumed Roy was in there until I put out a hand and he was in bed.

When you’re half asleep, you really don’t reason things. I got up, went to the bathroom and turned off the light. When I mentioned it to Roy the following morning, he said, “Faulty wiring.”

So, when it happened again the second night, I said, “Roy the faulty wiring is acting up. Go shut it off.” And then it went off by itself. It continued this most of the night until finally I sat up in bed and said, “Casper, knock it off.” That was it. No more “faulty wiring.”

Since then, I seem to have acquired a gremlin, who doesn’t steal my things so much as borrow them. Every time I lose something, Grady (he doesn’t seem to like the name Casper) watches while I frantically look for it, and then, casually returns it to some obvious place where I’ve already looked.

I lost my phone while we were still in Europe, a financial disaster in any case, but also, a loss of our means of communication if we were separated. I looked frantically through every pocket, counter, crevice and my purse, a dozen times. Exhausted, I decided to search the room one last time. There, lying peacefully, in the middle of the mattress, was my phone. I could almost hear Grady the Gremlin laughing.

I said, “Go back to Dover and leave me alone.”

Grady apparently decided he would like to try out the New World, so he followed me home. In the days since I have been home, I have lost and “reacquired” about a dozen items. I could not find the best soup ladle I have ever had and tore the kitchen apart, only to discover that it was sitting ever so sweetly on top of the microwave. I didn’t have soup in the microwave, so it must have been Grady.

My best pair of sewing scissors disappeared out of my sewing bag. I searched and searched, cursing Grady as I went, and eventually ended up using the kitchen shears, which are great for cutting meat, but not so fine for snipping threads. On the second night, I put my hand in the sewing bag, and my good scissors scratched my fingers. They were perched on the top of some balls of yarn. Score another one for Grady.

The latest “Grady grab” was my calendar. I use a paper calendar, in a big purple book that can’t be missed and if I can’t find it, it’s like having amnesia. I don’t know anything that’s going on. I missed it while at the school, so I thought I had simply left it at home. I went home and looked everywhere without any success. I’d already looked at the school, so I was stymied.

Finally, given no other options, I returned to the school and started asking people if they had seen it. (Unfortunately, I don’t write my name in it.) No luck. I was frantic. What would I do without my practice schedules?

Completely frustrated, I said to Grady, “Okay, enough is enough. I need that book, or they are going to put me in the home for having lost my mind.” I walked into the theater and there was the calendar, lying right out in the open where I had frantically searched an hour before.

I have my calendar again, but I am still a little worried: Might they put me in the home anyway for talking to an invisible gremlin? I know you’re laughing, Grady, and you can just stop!

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October 18, 2025 · 3:28 am

The Substitution Solution

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

No, I really don’t have a solution for the need for substitutes in the schools, so if you’re reading this for that, I have misled you and I’m sorry. In fact, the problem is even worse than you might imagine, because when the local schools need substitutes, their selection is limited.

I have done some occasional substitute work since I retired from the full-time classroom and even more than in all my years in education, do I understand now the value of a substitute teacher when the full-time teacher has to be gone. I believe most teachers share my belief that it is much easier as a regular teacher, to just show up for school than to try and prepare for a substitute! I used to write volumes of instructions until my favorite substitute of all times told me two things: 1) I’ll figure it out; don’t write me a new version of the Bible—it takes all day to read it and 2) for the love of all that’s holy, don’t make me teach Shakespeare! You’ll be sorry!

I understand her so much better now that I’m on the other side. But all in all, things in the educational world maintain a number of truths that I can never forget and on a recent opportunity I had to fill in at the school, I was reminded of several of them.

For instance, there will be any number of students who will ask to go to their lockers, the bathroom, the office, etc. during the day. The majority of these students do not really need to go to the bathroom, their lockers, the office, etc. I know this and I still let them go. Why? Because students, from first grade through adulthood sometimes just need to move. A walk to their locker, the bathroom or the office will usually relieve that urge, so why not let them go? Unless, of course, they ask to go to their locker, the bathroom and the office all in the first half hour…then you might want to curb their wanderlust a little!

 I think I learned this very valuable lesson when I sat through hours of staff meetings and personal development sessions. I would get up and go to the refreshment table for 20 cups of coffee that I really didn’t need and then my need to go to the bathroom was very real!

Another truth that any teacher will tell you is that if you spend five minutes, repeating the instructions for the math assignment, you should be prepared for the results, when you end with, “Are there any questions?” The first question will be, “What do we do again?” and the next one will be “Do you have a dog?” You will then patiently explain that they should read the textbook material and then do the worksheet, at which point, someone will inevitably ask, “When do we do the worksheet?” And that’s not as bad as the one who will ask, “What’s its name?” indicating that they are not in the math class at all—they are back on the topic of the dog!

It is so important to try and convince students that you do not suffer from any bodily demands or complaints. Teachers learn to eat their lunches in about five minutes thus creating a habit of gulping food which seems to bring on weight gain. We also learn, like Sheldon on the Big Bang Theory, to discipline our bathroom habits – there is no time for the teacher to go to the bathroom during the day. Frequently, I find teachers visit the bathroom at around 4:00, no matter what day it is.

And heaven help you if you need to pass gas. This is the favorite bodily function of most students, with the possible exception of belching. If someone passes gas as is indicated both by sound and smell, the entire classroom will root out the perpetrator with all the tenacity of Columbo on the case. If you, as the teacher, feel this coming on yourself, you must find your way to the hallway as quickly as possible, if you don’t want the students to bring it up for the rest of their school careers. And after you have relieved the urge in the hallway, you must maintain an innocent face should anyone walking down the hallway remark on the fact that the sewer must be malfunctioning!

I loved the years I spent in the classroom and counted myself lucky to have such a satisfying career. So, the occasional substituting gig is fun for me (unless they put me in the math room…or kindergarten). And along with all of the classroom truths I have just mentioned, there is one more: there is nothing more fulfilling than time spent in the schoolroom with all of those sharp minds! Hurray for teachers!

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October 12, 2025 · 12:41 am

Insecure in the Security Line

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

Before I say too much here, allow me to state that I understand the very serious purpose of security checks at the airport. I am grateful for the caution that is used to keep me safe.

Having said that, I must tell you that security lines at the airport make me frozen with fear. I don’t know why. I’m not trying to smuggle in a weapon; I don’t plan to hijack the plane or blow it up (I’m not keen on killing myself). But suddenly, when I look into the eyes of a security officer at the airport, I remember that I still have that breath mint, wrapped in crinkly paper, stuck in the pocket of my jeans. It came from Amsterdam, and here I am, trying to get into Paris. What if it shows up in X-ray and they detain me for unlawful transport of oral deodorants???????!!!!!!

I think it’s safe to say that authority of any kind turns me into a dithering idiot and on most good days, I don’t have all that far to go to get there. I don’t need a lady eying me up and down as she puts on her plastic gloves and asks me if I want to step into a private room. No I do not! Whatever we’re going to do, we’re going to do in front of everyone! Or upon reflection, maybe not!

Generally, I am not thinking about these security lines when I get ready to go on a trip. And it seems like every time I go through one, either I wore the shirt with the studs decorating the shoulders, or I brought home a bag of trinkets in a souvenir bag that has what they described as a “suspicious odor.” I don’t tell them that the studs are really cheap plastic and the souvenir bag smells funny because it spent the night before sitting on my smelly sneakers. It’s better not to argue; just let them pat down those plastic studs or run a security wand through the souvenirs and discover there is really nothing lethal on the Paddington Bear I was bringing my grandson!

The X-ray machines are always a treat. I once heard a lady tell a TSA officer at the Denver airport as she stepped into the security X-ray, “Oh good, I’m overdue for my mammogram!” The officer was clearly not amused and so I swallowed my laugh before it could get out and meekly entered the machine without any smart comments about needing copies for my Christmas cards! The first thing you are told is not to make jokes. Unfortunately, when I am nervous, jokes just fall out of my mouth and they are wasted on people who aren’t allowed to have a sense of humor on the job.

I once set off the security alarms with a briefcase in the JFK in New York. With four security officers standing and staring at me, I went completely blank. I couldn’t remember the combination to the briefcase. I tried three times to get it right and by the time I finally got it open, even I wondered if I was smuggling in something lethal! It turned out that the marble statuette I had gotten my mother-in-law looked suspicious to the machine, but when they discovered I couldn’t shoot bullets out of it, they gave it back and left me alone to try and re-lock my briefcase with my trembling fingers!

I also get rattled when I am trying to put all my belongings into the little bins. At the Dublin airport, I needed to take off my jacket and give them the bag I had around my neck. Unfortunately, the bag was over the jacket, so when I tried to take the jacket off first, I nearly hung myself. The security fellow said with a heavy Irish accent, “Off in reverse of how they went on, Love!” I was so rattled by the accent that I asked, “Do you want anything else off?” It’s the first time I ever accidentally propositioned a security officer, but he was very nice and just shook his head.

I have been traveling with a cane for the past couple of years because I need it for stairs. It’s a pain in a security line, though, because everyone has a different procedure for how to handle it. In the Paris security line, they took it away from me completely and ran it through a special x-ray machine. I got through everything and had the rest of my hand luggage, but the cane never appeared. I asked a couple of the officers, but they didn’t know what happened to it. Finally, I saw it sitting, leaned up against a wall. Were they done with it? I don’t know. I simply grabbed it and, resisting the impulse to run like I’d just robbed the bank, I walked on down the hallway to my gate. My face hasn’t appeared on any international terrorist wanted posters for illegal pilfering of a cane, so I think I’m fine!

Okay, now I’ve had my fun and the security officers have had theirs, so I can end this little saga. And the next time I travel…I’m taking a bike!

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October 4, 2025 · 7:00 am

The Viking Invasion

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Jackie Wells-Fauth

Since coming to Ireland, I have learned that the Vikings never technically invaded the island. After an attempt or two, hundreds of years ago, they left for greener pastures (or easier targets).

That was true until my latest vacation. I had been planning the trip of a lifetime. For six years and more, I have planned to go to Europe and most of all, I wanted to visit Ireland. During those six years of planning, Roy has researched, mapped out and done a lot of legwork to decide where we were going to travel.

I would look at his research and improvised itinerary while he was busy with Sunday afternoon football. “I like the idea of spending several days in London,” I remarked.

“No, no, no! Where’s the defense!” he yelled, shaking his fist at the television. That kind of response could only mean the Vikings must be on.

“I also like the idea of ending the trip with Dublin. It will be a nice wrap-up,” I continued, glad I don’t have to travel with the Vikings.

“That reminds me,” he said. “Guess who will be in Dublin while we are there? The Vikings!”

It couldn’t be. “Tell me it’s the kind who invade countries and not the kind who play football!”

“Oh it’s the Minnesota Vikings football team. They are playing the Pittsburg Steelers in Dublin and it is just a lucky coincidence that we are going to be there too. I think we should go to the game.”

Lucky coincidence. It’s just a lucky coincidence that on the trip I have been dreaming about for years, I would have the opportunity to see the Minnesota Vikings play football. On the last Sunday of my vacation. In Dublin, Ireland! Lucky how?

I don’t believe in coincidence. I think the Vikings did this on purpose. They loaded up their Viking ship, sharpened up their weapons—or footballs and planned on invading Ireland just to put a dagger into my vacation.

The worst part is that this time Ireland was welcoming the Vikings—and the Steelers. They had up banners and signs and flags all over the city of Dublin. So, what was otherwise described in the travel brochures as a lovely old world city with quiet, winding streets, turned into a full scale flood of people in Vikings and Steeler gear and the only question you heard from a millions mouths with American accents was: Are you here for the game?

No! I was there to see Ireland. Ireland, which held off the Vikings hundreds of years ago and suddenly couldn’t hold them out long enough for me to see the city without balloon structure of every description hanging everywhere in Viking and Steeler colors. Thanks a lot, all you Irish Paddys: now, instead of old-world charm I’m going to get American football like any other random Sunday! You couldn’t have held them off for one more week?

So it was, on the last Sunday of my dream vacation, I moved as one with a swarm of American invaders to the ball park, where they fought, not with swords, but with downs and touchbacks and referees blowing whistles.

Since it was technically a Steelers home game, we were hopelessly outnumbered in the fan department, but we put on our purple and gold nonetheless and prepared to back Minnesota’s play.

And then, even worse happened: by the end of the third quarter, the Vikings were down by 15 points and their invasion appeared to be thwarted by a Pittsburg Steeler win. The least you Vikings could have done was win…or score or something! No, no no! Where’s the defense???

As is the case with the Vikings of Minnesota, they came back in the fourth quarter so hard that instead of the Steelers fans singing their victory song, there was the sound of thousands of Steelers fans holding their breath as the Vikings livened up the game by coming within three points at the final whistle.

So once again, a Viking invasion of the beautiful green island of Ireland failed, but not before it had caused my vacation to take a very weird turn. Skoll, Vikings!

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