Hello! Five On The Fifteenth Of February

from here

Oh, hello.

Welcome to February, which I understand has been ongoing for quite some time now. Please forgive my absence here, but I do have good reasons--at least, I think I do--and I'll do my best to catch you up, chat you up, and otherwise engage you for a few minutes. Let's on, shall we?

1. My Part-Time Job:  As you may remember, Jared, Jordan, and Theo moved last month. Jared had surgery on his broken foot and is not allowed to bear any weight on it at all. Theo is a Very Busy Toddler All The Time, so Rick and I have been going over to their house to help with child care/entertainment. Tomorrow, Jared sees the orthopedist again, and may be put in a walking boot. If so, we will be laid off or have our hours cut considerably. If not, our contract will be renewed. 

2. My Streak:  On 8 February my Wordle streak ended at 344 with the word EMBED. Am I still bitter? A little bit, yes. I guess it pales in comparison to other things that happened on that same day, however, which include a fatal Learjet crash in Philadelphia, a 7.6 magnitude earthquake near the Cayman Islands, and a deadly bus crash in Mexico. Additionally, Kendrick Lamar and Beyoncé won top Grammy honors, and the 49th Imam of Nizari Isma'ilism, Aga Khan IV, passed away. Still, though, kind of a big deal.

3. My Hypocrisy:  I'm sure I have said this many times and in the Comments of so many of your blogs:  I am not a puzzle person. I don't enjoy jigsaw puzzles. They feel too much like work to me. Sigh. Behold my latest lesson in Eating My Words:

I bought this 1000-piece puzzle on a whim ages ago from my grocery store's Closeouts section, thinking I'd take it to the lake for whiling away the unexpectedly rainy days. Or, I thought, maybe Rick would like to pick away at it when he's bored during retirement. During the neverending string of freezing cold and snowy days, I pulled it out and set it on the dining room table. Pretty soon, Rick was seated at it, reading glasses perched on his nose, fitting pieces here and there. The next thing I knew, I was drawn to it like squirrels to a feeder, stopping at it every time I passed by, searching for pieces to fit, making it a competition. Poor Sam! Every time he stopped over, we made him find a piece to place before he could leave. One night, when we were close to Victory, we sat there, determined to finish it and completely forgot about dinner until 8 PM and ended up scrounging a few scraps (I think I had toast). When we sent the above photo to Sam via text, he responded with only two words, what now? 

4. My High Dudgeon:  I just read a post over at maya's place in which she mentioned the latest film version of Wuthering Heights.  Let me just say this:  I WILL NOT BE SEEING THIS MOVIE. I've read several articles about it already, and no thank you. In this article from the NYT, the writer discusses the casting of Jacob Elordi, a white actor, as Heathcliff, who is described by author Emily Bronte as dark and gypsy, leading readers to believe he is not white. This casting is nothing new. Heathcliff has been played by white actors every time this novel has been committed to the big screen. Would it have been exciting had he been played by a man of colour? Absolutely. Is this why I'm eschewing this film? No. This review tells me all I need to know, and that is that the director has decided to Improve Upon Emily Bronte and, really, Tell Her Own Version Of Wuthering Heights, which she thinks is better somehow, yet still call it Wuthering Heights. Nope. I'm not going through THAT again. Been there, done that with the 1995 film version of The Scarlet Letter, a classic novel which I taught for decades. That movie, with Demi Moore as Hester Prynne, almost killed me. Not only did they change the ending--which changed the themes and Puritan ethos and criticism at the heart of the book--they added characters and scenes that were completely aside from the story. I almost walked out, but I felt compelled to stay so that I could one day give a lecture TO EVERYONE about exactly how horrible that movie was. Thankfully, someone else did it for me, but I'm still willing.

I was equally outraged once before, and that was at The Shaw Festival in Ontario, Canada. Rick and I had chosen to see a performance of The Crucible by Arthur Miller. I had taught this play for decades as well as part of my American Literature curriculum and was excited to see it live. It was a terrific production until Act III. You see, I had taught this play so many times, and remember, at least two or three times a day for years and years, that I had it memorized. Memorized so well, in fact, that I knew the very moment during the performance of Act III that the director added a line to the script. This man ADDED A LINE TO THE WORK OF AN AMERICAN DRAMA LEGEND LIKE ARTHUR MILLER. I was beyond aghast. I was personally affronted. How dare they? I could see why they may have added the line; it made a part of the scene a little clearer perhaps for people who were getting lost in all the chaos of the afflicted girls. Still, to me that's no excuse. As another great dramatist once said:

from Spotify

5. My Musings:  All this talk about The Classics has me thinking about them. About reading them again and wanting to talk about them. I do miss that about teaching. I recently met up with a former Creative Writing student and we talked about, oh, Everything, and we talked about poetry and contemporary poets and writing and it made me miss teaching that, too. I'm very committed to Retirement, however, and I'm not able to predict my energy/pain level enough to commit to anything else. Good heavens, I have a hard enough time committing to this blog on even a semi-regular basis, and that's nothing new. Still, I may have to add a few Old Timers to my Book Cellar* for comfort reads. 

*I've decided to call my TBR pile my Book Cellar now. Like wines, my books are kept lovingly until the right time, the right occasion, or the right pairing for selection. I'd like to say I thought of this, but I read this term someplace else.

I think we're all caught up. As usual, I do so want to hear from you in Comments about All Of This and so many other things. Thank you for being here, and I also want to thank so many of you who have kindly sent me helpful and supportive emails containing research articles and links. I am so grateful and awed that you have taken time out of your lives to do this for me. It means the world. I have always said that my Readers are Exceptional People, and you continue to prove just that. Again, thank you.

Welcome To 2026 And A Bunch Of Stuff

The Christmas tree is taken down and all holiday decor is stowed away. The only leftovers that remain reside in the freezer:  a handful of cookies I sneaked from the tray of cookies my sister Susan sent over and about a half-pound of glazed, spiral-sliced ham. I gave away most of the Christmas toffee I made (that stuff is dangerous to keep anywhere in the house). The new year is here, and...so am I.

*I generally don't make New Year's Resolutions or pick a Word For The Year or anything like that. I have always said that I am on a Continuous Journey Of Self-Improvement, so every day I try to be mindful of opportunities to move through this life with a little more ease and grace. Over the years, I have adopted many mantras, for lack of a better word, to do just that. For instance:

1. Kindness is my default.

2. If it will only take 2 minutes or less, just do it.

3. Touch something only once and act on it immediately.

4. Let it go.

As I have for the past 50 years, I will continue to work on my Patience, a lifelong struggle. 

*You won't find a 2025 WrapUp Post here, either, per se. I have, however, browsed through some photos on my phone and found a few to share with you, apropros of nothing.

1. This particular roundup of photos is especially for Julie. She mentioned making big salads for dinner and wanting to vary the ingredients. I commented on the post and told her that I often roast an onion and cut it up to put in our dinner salads. She later asked for a sort of tutorial, so Julie, here it is:

I preheat the oven to 375 and line a small pan with foil (or you can add it to the pan of whatever meat or other veg you may be roasting). I peel then slice a sweet/Vidalia-style onion in half horizontally, and cut off the ends so that it lies flat. I season it with Diamond Crystal Kosher salt, freshly ground pepper, and lots of dried thyme. Then I liberally drizzle it with olive oil. Into the oven it goes.

Once it's soft, about 40-50 minutes later, I cut it into wedges. We like it very chunky.

When the onion is all cut up, I toss it all together to mix in the thyme and oil and natural juices, then pour it all into our salad. The roasting makes the onion even sweeter, and the thyme is wonderful. I prefer using dried thyme rather than fresh; the flavour is stronger and it doesn't get lost in the heat.

2. This next photo is of my son Sam, who drove a real Ferrari race car for his birthday last year. It is one of Theo's favourite photos in the entire world because A)it is of Gunga, his favourite person in the entire world, and B) it is a race car. Whenever Theo wants to look at it, we always zoom in to see how big Gunga is smiling--how happy he looks. Theo smiles too and says, "Happy Gunga!" Why am I showing this to you? Oh, trust me; it will become clear very soon.

 This photo is a toy that Jared got in a Happy Meal when he was little, over 35 years ago. It was in a small crate of Hot Wheel and Matchbox cars that we hauled out of the crawlspace for Theo, who has outgrown many of the toys we have at our house. 

Theo refers to this car as Gunga. Um...obviously. Talk about Art Imitating Life, amirite? It wasn't immediately apparent to any of us why he referred to it that way until I remembered the Ferrari photo of Sam. Suddenly, it all made sense. 

*I should have known much sooner. I'd seen this sort of visual association in action before. Here's a photo of my spoon rest (not my actual one; this one is for sale on Ebay, and I'm writing this post from the lakehouse). Anyway, take a look at this spoon rest that is identical to mine, which Theo (now tall enough to see it on the butcher block) suddenly pointed to and said delightedly, "Nana! Happy Man!"

"So what?" you might be saying. "It is a man, and he looks happy. Not exactly genius, Nance." And of course you're right. This next photo, however, is from Theo's favourite book. Please take a look at the main character:

The Happy Man and His Dump Truck, ©1950 by Tibor Gergely

 Now look back at my spoon rest. AND--Did you catch the title of that book? He also calls the dog Z-Boy (one of Zydrunas's many nicknames). I want to remember that I was this amazed and awed and completely enchanted when my own sons undoubtedly displayed these sorts of developmental astonishments. I know that they must have because Jared and Sam are both very intelligent and intuitive. When they were Theo's age, however, I was teaching full time, wife-ing full time, and often exhausted while being a mother full time. I hope that I rose above that enough to be delighted and joyful, and that I showed it.

*Finally, I mentioned that we were at the lakehouse. We came for a few days so that I could have a change of scenery and some true rest and relaxation after a particularly bad flare-up of pain. It has been incredibly helpful. Views like this always are:

Happy New Year to you, my friends. Let's do what we must to make our corners of the world a good place.

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Update: A Better Place And A New Mantra

 Hello.

I couldn't let November pass without writing here at least once more. The time I took was necessary, and I realized I couldn't pretend that everything was okay, normal, fine, or as it ever was. Writing the list posts felt like I was lying to myself and you; like I was putting on a fake persona. It was stressful.

It's been difficult to adapt to life with this illness. I can't drive because it hurts and it wears me out, and my legs cannot always reliably react, so it's a safety issue. I haven't taken a real walk since July. I also have carpal tunnel syndrome in both wrists, so I wear braces when I sleep. I do not vacuum, nor can I carry or lift much of anything because of muscle fatigue and weakness. There is also brain fog, so reading is very difficult because of concentration issues, and I keep reminding myself--out loud, often--of what I need to do. And always, I am so very tired.

Still, I have learned how to cope. I have learned how to rest without feeling guilty, how to ask for help, and how to take advantage of times when I do have energy, but not to overdo it. It's a very, very fine line, and not always the same each day. I am also trying desperately to learn not to sit or sleep with my legs all drawn up or crossed because it affects my nerves/neuropathy. This is almost impossible (as a matter of fact, I am sitting incorrectly right now, damn it).

In spite of all of this, I am in a much better place now than I was two weeks ago. I was, unfortunately, falling back into old habits and fighting hard, thinking I could change things merely by force of my will. That's behaviour that I worked hard to unlearn years ago. I had to find out the hard way--again--that it's not the way things work.

The New York Times recently ran an article titled What You're Thankful For:  Six-Word Stories of Gratitude.  In it, the writer shared what readers sent in when he asked them for six words that described what made them thankful in 2025. Of course there were the usual ones about family and friends and grandchildren and pets. Others were about partners and anniversaries and health and nature. One, however, immediately stopped me. It brought tears to my eyes and I almost couldn't breathe. It said:

It won't always be like this.

The impact of this one sentence is enormous. While I know that my illness has no meaningful treatment or cure, I will get better at living with it each day. I will get better at Acceptance each day. I will understand my limits and my abilities better each day.

Another facet of this sentence is that, right now, I have my whole family right here with me. Sam is only five blocks away. Jared, Jordan, and Theo are less than an hour away. Rick is here with me and such a great partner. Who knows what the future could bring? I need to stay in the moment and enjoy every single minute that I can. I see how quickly things can change; I'm living it. 

Finally, I have to believe that this applies to our politics as well. I've no energy or stomach to work up a Nance Rant like I used to, but even the worst of the republicans are proving to have a gag reflex. Read this poem by Yeats and you'll see how I feel. It's like deja vu. Or, to be more blunt and au courant, I'll quote rapper MGK:  "You need the arc of dumbass to enlightened."

 In the case of America, some of us apparently need it twice. I refuse to take any responsibility for either time.

Thank you again for all of your kindness and support. It has meant everything to me. And thank you for writing over at your places. Reading you makes my day. 

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Things I Learned From My Father

 

My dad and Mac

I awoke with a headache, thanks to a big front that's moved in. Sometimes migraines can make me feel emotional and a bit...close to the edge. Maybe I dreamed about him, maybe it was Rick greeting me this morning with the election news of all the Democratic victories, but I find myself thinking of my father so much this morning. 

For those of you who are new here, my dad was a lifelong union man, a steelworker, a former professional fastpitch softball pitcher known as the Lorain Tornado, and staunch Democrat. He was a first generation American, born of two Croatian immigrants. He was a WWII veteran, a deep reader of philosophy, an appreciator of music, and a guardian of Nature. He was also a terrible chauvinist who perplexingly encouraged his three daughters to be independent, confident, free thinkers, to never need a man, and to stand up for themselves always.

Here is a partial list of some other

Things I Learned From My Father

1. Look someone in the eye when you talk to them.

2. Don't be part of The Common Herd.

3. Some people simply cannot help themselves, and they need help from others and their government.

4. The anticipation of an event is just as important as the event itself.

5. Every person has value.

6. Be a good listener and you can talk with anyone.

These are all pretty self-explanatory, but they helped to make me a good teacher, parent, and person. All of us were raised without prejudice, and we were expected to be kind. In the later years of his career, Dad was a security guard at US Steel, working the gatehouses where big trucks came in and out and the workers left after their shift was over. So many of them hung around just to talk to my father, sometimes for an hour or more. It wasn't uncommon for us to be out and about and have several people come up to him and chat, even when we were on our cross-country trip! He knew everyone, and everyone wanted to stop and exchange a few words. Oddly enough, my father used to grumble about this often, saying he preferred to be left alone.

Growing up, I was often frustrated by my demanding father. He was old-fashioned and strict; he seemed as if he didn't trust us. I know now that he didn't trust the world and the people around us. He saw what was out there, more of it than we did. His own childhood was ugly and rough. I wish he had tried to make us understand.

He did see the results of his endeavours, however, both in his children and his grandchildren before he died 25 years ago. I know he found great joy in that.  

Eating My Words: A List Of Nevers That Are Now Alwayses (Is That Even A Word?)

Many, many years ago I was a person of absolutes. I used the words Always and Never liberally in my conversations, and I really meant them when I said them. So many things seemed so clear to me all the time. Distinctions were not fine; they were obvious and defined. I found decisions relatively easy and clear-cut. 

In short, I was an idiot. And young. And lacked the wisdom and experience to know very much at all. As time has gone on, I've learned to stop using words like Always and Never. Instead, I say things like, "I can't imagine myself ever" or "At this point, it's my habit to". 

As you can imagine, I've had to eat my own words many times. Here is a list of

Things I Said I'd Never Do, But Now I Do Them All The Time

1. Text

2. Use the word Text as a verb

3. Go out in public wearing leggings

4. Be okay with my kids having tattoos

5. Wear sneakers any time but for exercise

6. Let Rick go to the grocery store with me

I know, right?

Back in the early days of cellphones, I could not understand how anyone wanted to type on those itty bitty keyboards and pay for the privilege. It just seemed ridiculous to me. I hated all the stupid word shortcuts, too:  ur for your or you're; l8 for late; cu for see you, etc. They irked me. Then! Students started using the word Text as a verb, and worse yet, they added tense endings to it. "He texted me that he'd be absent today." Aaarrgghhh. I swore I'd never, ever use Text as a verb, let alone pay for typing out messages on a minuscule keyboard. Not me! Oh, ha ha it is to laugh.

I held out on leggings for a bit longer, but not by much. Black leggings are my uniform, and you will never, ever pry them out of my grasp. I wear them 3.5 seasons out of the year, and I don't care if I have to use the lint roller every single time I step out of the house. It's worth it. 

Tattoos are so mainstream now that my initial objections seem quaint and stuffy. I still wish my sons did not have them, but that's mainly because they are my babies and I remember them as that. All that beautiful, perfect skin that I knew every unblemished inch of. But their ink doesn't change who they are, and they designed meaningful illustrations, mostly of family emblems and symbols. Will I ever get a tattoo? I can't imagine a scenario in which I would.

See? I've learned to never say Never! How about you? Have you had to eat your words like I have? Or has it usually been your habit to avoid that situation? (I'm pretty good at this now!)

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In Which I Lighten Up My Life And Get A Little Airheaded

 Let me just say this:  I'm feeling delightfully lighter in February. After 48 straight days of Absolutely No Sunshine Whatsoever, we've been treated to several bright, happy days of sun. Yesterday and today, I took my daily walks without a coat or a jacket in 60 degree temperatures. Yes, it will all come crashing down next week, but until then, I'm basking in this Joy. 

And fresh air! My windows are open! Can you even imagine that--in Northeast Ohio! in February! What luck!

Another reason I'm feeling lighter is that this morning, I watched as a volunteer from the Vietnam Vets of America came to my home and picked up bags of clothes and several boxes of dishes, shoes, purses, and two pieces of furniture from my porch. All that stuff is now G O N E from my home. Hooray for decluttering and giving to a good cause.

Now let's see if I can declutter my head a bit and dump off a few things here.

1.  This ad was in the Cleveland Plain Dealer a little while ago and hurt my eyes and my feelings:

First of all, absolutely nothing in this estate sale interests me, thanks to the ad's key words and phrases:  Every room full (they were hoarders); CB radios (no one ever left the house or had contact with the outside modern world); precious moments (dust bunnies galore and stuck in the 80s); bennie babies (Precious Moments turned out NOT to be the moneymaker they thought, so they glommed onto these, which tanked even worse, and, again, dust); seasonal (my experience with this is that many Collector-type people also collect tons of Xmas and holiday tchotchkes which also sit around collecting dust; these types of items do not sell, even at garage sales, trust me). 

Also, let's talk about The Spelling now, shall we? Obviously, it's Beanie Babies, not bennie babies, like some sort of homage to Bennie and the Jets or the drug benzedrine. And it's collectibles--the noun form--not collectables--the adjective form. An easy way to remember is "if it's an Investment, it's a collectIble." Sigh. I know, I know, I should stop reading the Classifieds.

2. On my walk today, in addition to a dandelion, I saw this and it made me smile:

I apologize for the quality of this photo. I couldn't get very close because this is not a friendly cat. It's also Not Their Cat. Did you think I was just posting this for the Irony?

This is a neighbourhood stray who hangs around on various porches. It's the first time I've seen it on this particular porch, however, and I'm rather surprised. This is where a St. Bernard lives. There must be something really good inside that Chewy box. You know what they say:  no risk, no reward.

3.  Finally, this conversation occurred on Monday night:

Nance:  I'm exhausted. I was so busy all day. (proceeds to list all chores accomplished that day)

Rick:  Wow. Well, thank you. That was a lot.

Nance: Oh, and by the way, I barely had enough battery left to finish using the leaf blower on the porch. Then I saw the charger wasn't even plugged in. What's up with that?

Rick:  You what?

Nance: I used the leaf blower to blow all the peanut shells and sunflower seed detritus off the front porch. It's ridiculous out there, you know? And the battery went dead, and I had to put it in the charger, but first of all, the charger was crammed behind stuff on that shelf, and then it wasn't even plugged in.

Rick:  I unplugged it.

Nance:  But why?

Rick: (carefully, looking right at her) Because I assumed that we wouldn't be needing A LEAF BLOWER in the WINTER.

Nance:  (light finally goes on) Oh! 

So tell me--What's lightening up your life in February so far? (And do you have the Winter Dumbs like me? Sigh.)

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It's The Word Of The Year!

Editor at large Peter Sokolowski of Merriam-Webster (the dictionary of record, apparently) made a big announcement this week that we finally have The Word Of The Year for 2023. Before I tell you what it is, let me assure you that this Word isn't chosen at random by some Word Nerds in a dusty room full of card catalogs. Heavens no! Mr. Sokolowski and his team pore over vast quantities of data, watching spikes in the words that people look up and the events in the world that correspond to those words. This year, it would seem that there was a constant interest in The Word overall, and people were always looking it up to find out exactly what it meant. What word were they looking up?

AUTHENTIC

That's your Word Of The Year, ladies and gentlemen.  Let's now take a look at the Words that AUTHENTIC beat out. These words also spiked the lookup data, but are also-rans:

1.  RIZZ:  slang for romantic appeal; possibly short for Charisma. (never once heard/read this out on the wild)

2.  KIBBUTZ:  communal farm or settlement in Israel. (this has a sad reason for being in the news lately; I already knew what this was from my reading)

3.  IMPLODE:  to burst inward. (probably spiked during the Titanic submersible tragedy; I thought this was a fairly common word)

4.  DEADNAME:  the name a transgender person was given at birth and no longer uses upon transitioning. (this is a term that I learned from being an ally and trying to educate myself)

5.  DOPPELGANGER:  a double; a lookalike. (it's so fun to say! I think it also has some nuance, like the double can also be your alter ego or opposite personality)

6.  CORONATION:  the act or occasion of crowning, as a royal. (probably spiked during the ascension of King Charles)

7.  DEEPFAKE:  a manipulated recording/video made to look like someone or something did/said something they did not. (these things are scary, and I worry about the election cycle and social media platforms like fb and Xitter, which are not very responsible or discerning)

8.  DYSTOPIAN:  relating to an imagined state of intense human suffering and misery, usually brought upon by injustice and inhumanity. (I think we can all imagine why this word spiked)

9.  COVENANT:  a formal, solemn, and binding agreement. ( Lots of talk of covenant marriages--a Supreme Court Justice has one, the new Speaker of the House has one, and the latter even uses a software app called Covenant Eyes to track his and his son's porn viewing and report back to each other. Not creepy at all!)

10. INDICT:  to formally accuse of/charge with a crime. (I can think of 91 reasons why this word spiked, can't you?)

The Word Of The Year--Authentic--is always my word of the year. As Miss Maudie said about Atticus Finch, I'm the same in the house as I am on the public streets. I was raised on it. My father always quoted Polonius to us from William Shakespeare's Hamlet--"To thine own self be true." He never quoted the rest, but I will here:

“This above all: to thine own self be true

And it must follow, as the night the day

Thou canst not then be false to any man/"

My dad was Authentic to a fault. Still, he had a lot of Rizz.

Chat me up about the Word(s) of the Year in Comments. 

Let's See If We're A Success (According To A Millennial Guy)

 

It's Sunday and even after beaching myself on the couch in my jammies like a Leisure Whale until almost noon, I still managed to have a productive day. My Streamline/DeClutter Project continued, and I got rid of or put away a lot of stuff, stuff that will later be donated or sold at the community garage sale in the spring. I was feeling quite Accomplished, let me tell you, and my efforts will continue tomorrow.  

Lest you feel overshadowed by my Great Success, I've got you covered. I came across this article, brought to you by the hugely respected journalistic source known as HackSpirit. The author of the article, a man in his mid-thirties who admits he's "gearing up for his mid-life crisis," says there are "11 accomplishments that could mean you're more successful than you think." I don't know about you, but I'm definitely interested in what a thirtysomething man deems Success In Life. Let's go!

1. College degree or equivalent

2. Mastery of a hobby

3. Marriage

4. Own property/real estate

5. Have a job, a car, a home, a partner at the same time

6. 3 months' expenses in savings

7. Someone has said they are envious of you

8. Someone has asked to interview you

9. Good credit rating

10.Childhood self would approve

11. Feeling of accomplishment

I cannot believe that Decluttering is not on this list. Nor is Restraining My Urge To Give Advice To Adult Children.

But I digress.

Obviously, a few of these are just bullshit. Does anyone have to be married to be Accomplished or Successful? Has everyone been asked for an interview? I think we all know plenty of accomplished people--successful people--who lack a college degree (or equivalent). 

I will say that I like Number 10 quite a bit. Personally, my Childhood Self would approve of Grownup Nance many times over. I think I mentioned before that I keep my kindergarten photo on my dresser to remind me of the little girl who wanted to be a teacher and a mom. I look at her often and think about how so many of her dreams came true and then some. It helps me stay grateful.

Many of these smack of great privilege. Not everyone can own their own home. Not everyone can maintain 3 months' savings for emergencies. And we all know that Success is relative.

Some days, my only criteria for Success is to remain vertical during a migraine. Others, it's to refrain from saying anything about the pile of papers on the table next to Rick's chair. Or, it might be to get dinner on the table five days a week.

How do you feel about these 11 criteria for Success? Do you feel like you're a Success? Which criteria would you change or add?

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Holy Cow! And Did I Ever Pay A Lot For Produce Today (But It Was Unattached, Ambulatory, And Mobile)

 Today's post has to be quick and easy. It's BDay--Baby Day. Jordan and Jared report to the hospital today where she will be induced. I'm distracted, and I just paid FIFTEEN DOLLARS for Brussels sprouts at the grocery store today. I had to buy a large quantity, and rather than pick through a big bin like a fussy old lady, I bought two big bags of prewashed and sorted ones without even looking at the price. That's how you know I'm not quite myself.

So! In order to make this a Fast Dash Post, here are a couple of things I noticed lately.

Goes with any decor!

This was from a recent Rural King ad. That's my go-to store for bulk quantities of birdseed and now raw peanuts in the shell. I'm not even interested in the idea of two breeds of cattle footstools. I just want to know why the ad felt it necessary to note that they were Deployable. The usual definition of deployable is a military one:  able to be moved to a place of readiness or usage. A more general definition of deployable is unattached, mobile, or ambulatory; able to be moved from place to place. Now, yes, those all can describe a Simulated Bovine Footrest, but must it be noted? And must such a highfalutin word be used? In a Rural King ad? (Oh, and how many do you want?)

This slogan does not inspire confidence.

This was the contractor who was doing some work on a home in my neighbourhood. This sign made me stop and think. Exactly what are they trusting in God for? Are they largely unskilled and have faith that He will help them do a good job? Do they not take a downpayment for materials and figure that the Almighty will provide? Do they bring all the stuff to your house, pray awhile, and hope that God shows up to do the work for you/them? I have so many questions. Too many to ever hire them, and as a Recovering Catholic and atheist, I feel like they just aren't my people.

Can you answer my questions--or make me feel better about overpriced Brussels sprouts--in Comments?

I Need A Big White Pen

This is Tim Misny--he'll make you pay.

This billboard is all over northeast Ohio. Every single time I see it, it's like having a cat hair in my eye. It's painful and annoying. My eyes roll and I scream inwardly (most of the time; sometimes I do it aloud), "-ly! -ly! -ly! Adverbs! Adverbs! Ever hear of them?"

Please tell me that I'm not alone in noticing or caring about things like this. 

It's a billboard! It's enormous. Come on! How did this happen?

 

The Word Is Diplomatic, And I Wonder About Its Nuance

 

Before I get started on my Random Word, I want to take a moment and catch you up on a couple things happening here at the Dept. Firstly, I am somehow managing to exist without my dear Biscoff cookies these many weeks. Each trip to the grocery store(s) has been dismaying and sorrowful. Is there a National Shortage like there is with sriracha? I am bereft and there is no suitable substitute. Secondly, it is Cold here, too. We did get the polar freeze, but since we are not New York, Chicago, D.C., or Philadelphia, you would not know of it. Way back in 2016, when Cleveland hosted the RNC (ugh), we were briefly featured on weather maps, but that was short-lived. Once again, I'd like to acknowledge the Kindness of my Canadian Friends who selflessly shared their weather with us and again ask that they Not Do That Anymore.

On to today's word, which is Diplomatic. 

As a Teacher in a large (2100+), urban public high school, I had a great deal of practice with this word. Not only did I have to practice being Diplomatic with students, but more often, I had to exert an enormous amount of Diplomacy with their parents. Parental Contact was the number one mantra at our school, and to talk to the principals, you'd think it was the panacea for all concerns. Every single problem taken to a higher-up that involved a student was met with, "Did you talk to the parent?" Tardiness, cell phone usage, failing performance, violent behaviour, absenteeism, missing work, you name it, a call to the parent had to be the First Line Of Defense. Many times, the parents were baffled as to their student's behaviour, and many times my Diplomacy was put to the test, especially at conferences when I was face to face with parents, step-parents, grandparents, legal guardians, and/or probation/parole officers.

I will say that my Usual Way is always to be Straightforward and Honest. I'm naturally Direct, and that can sometimes come across as bitchy or mean. Of course, this is largely because I am a woman. If I were a man, it would be a non-issue.

It is not, however, difficult to temper Honesty and Directness with Kindness. It took me a little bit of time to discover that, and I think that was due to being a small woman in a tough school. It was important for me to establish my authority and learn how to command a room, to keep order and convey my expertise in the subject matter (along with my passion). 

But, after all, isn't being Diplomatic simply being Kind? Diplomacy is "handling people and situations so as to cause no feelings of ill will." It's the reason I used to bring in tubs of crackers, cookies, and granola bars for everyone in my class to share even though I was really making sure that the four or five kids I knew were going hungry would get something to eat. 

Perhaps Kindness is Diplomacy With Heart:

 "This haircut is terrible. I'm really unhappy with it," says your friend.

Diplomat says, "I'm sorry you're unhappy. What don't you like about it?"

Kind says, "Oh no! You're beautiful and I'll help you fix whatever you don't like."

What do you think? 

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The Word Is Plane, And I'm At War With Disney And Air Travel

January's weather is killing me, giving me horrid headaches and recovery days full of fatigue. Thankfully, there has been no meaningful snow, so I've been able to walk outside when I feel up to it. Another assist has been provided by NGS over at her spot The Time for Change--the idea to use a random word generator to give me a blog topic when I get stuck. Today's word was Plane, so here's my Plane story.

I was returning from visiting my dear (now late) friend Ann in Orlando, Florida. She was a vice president for a major resort company (second only to Disney), and had invited me for several days to relax at their properties and take drives into Georgia and North Carolina as well, where we visited some lovely places and just had a Ladies Getaway. It was wonderful.

She dropped me at the airport in Orlando, and while I was still unnerved by the somewhat overwhelming presence of the National Guard, I felt a little comforted. It was October 2001; the attack on the Twin Towers had occurred less than a month before. I also resigned myself to being pulled out of the line and wanded separately again. It had happened on my flight from Cleveland to Orlando, and I chalked it up to my olive complexion and almost black hair. Sure enough, I was pulled again despite not having set off any alarm. Soon enough, I was on my way.

On the plane my seatmate in the middle was a woman of about forty or so. Nonetheless, she was wearing her Minnie Mouse ears and was clutching a pair of winter white fur Mickey and Minnie plush figures. Her husband had the window seat. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes so far back in my head I could see my spinal column. There is nothing that annoys me more than an adult with a pathetic Disney fixation, and here I was, sitting next to one for the next two and a half hours.

I had brought a book, and I pulled it out. I always bring a book with an off-putting title, and this one was about the Salem witch trials (The Devil in Massachusetts). Unfortunately, this didn't deter her for long. Pretty soon, it started:  Was I coming from Orlando? Did I go to Disney World? Why not? Oh, she and her husband celebrated their anniversary there, and she just looooves Disney. And she was soooo happy to get these Special Edition White Mickey And Minnie Dolls! And on and on and on. I smiled and nodded and kept trying to look at my book.

Finally, I said, "I'm sorry, but I'm expected to present at a panel discussion tomorrow. I really need to study this," which was a complete fabrication, but I was desperate. She apologized and left me alone.

As we got near to Cleveland, the pilot spoke over the intercom, "Ladies and gentlemen, we're going to have to delay our arrival in Cleveland for just a little while. They're not quite ready for us yet." Everyone sighed and grumbled. My seatmate futzed with her fluffy friends and wondered aloud what was going on. Our plane circled and wandered, and I looked out at the night sky, hoping that Rick knew our flight would be late and wouldn't be worried.

It seemed like we were waiting forever. No one knew anything. It was the Age Before Twitter. Before Smartphones. We were virtually disconnected.

My memory is a bit fuzzy on this detail:  I cannot remember if we landed and were held at the gate or if we were still in the air at this precise moment, but I finally pulled out my credit card and grabbed the AirPhone from the seat back in front of me. I called Rick and asked him if he knew what in the hell was going on after telling him what our status was.

"Nance," he said, "the US just bombed Afghanistan. And some idiot in the airport ran past security at this concourse. They shut the whole thing down and are making every single person go back through again. No flight is allowed to come in until everyone here has gone through security. They're being very careful because of the US action tonight. I'm sure they're worried about terrorism."

As Rick was talking, I couldn't help but react. "We bombed Afghanistan?!" As soon as I said this, Disney Fan lost it. She clutched her Special Editions and half rose in her seat, facing the rear of the plane. "We just bombed Afghanistan!" she announced dramatically.  "Oh My God!" 

Please remember, SHE WAS WEARING MOUSE EARS THIS WHOLE TIME.

Obviously, this night--October 7, 2001--was stressful and auspicious. I remember feeling dread, confusion, and anger about the invasion itself. My overall sentiments about this war and its instigator are well-known to longtime readers of this blog.

But what I remember most about the night of the actual bombing is that Plane ride and my incredible annoyance at Disney overall. As a matter of fact, that night put together two of the top things on my Most Annoying Things Ever List:  Air Travel and Disney Cult Members. Someday, perhaps, when I'm very, very old and really, really crabby and somewhat demented, I may even conflate Disney and the Afghanistan war and hold all of Disney responsible for it and for making me take my shoes off at the airport.

It's the Circle Of Life.

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When I Went Bananas And Took My BFF And Rick With Me (And A Little Politics)

 

It's back to the Bananas War with me again. Devoted readers will recall that, back in April 2021, I introduced you to my Ongoing Outrage at the price of Bananas at my funny grocery store. I continue to not only fuss about the Banana Fee, but I also faithfully text a photo of the sign (and price) to my BFF Leanne in Maryland. 

I know she appreciates these Vital Bulletins and that they enrich her life immeasurably.

Not so long ago, it pained me to have to send this message to Leanne:

(That is not, by the way, a photo of Leanne. That is a picture of her Boston terrier, Stella.) And I truly did not buy the wretched BananaS.

The following week I went to a different town so that I could shop the same store and avoid the dumb spelling of BananaS. They were still 59 cents a pound, but I took it as a win.

Soon after, Rick had a day off, and he accompanied me to the grocery store in town. He is brave and tall, so this happened:

(Sadly, I did not have a red pen, but Rick pulled down both signs--one from each side--so that I could make the necessary correction to both:  no apostrophe for plurals!) I felt victorious and overflowing  with relief. The whole world seemed somehow righted. I smiled and felt...lighter. I didn't even mind paying 59 cents a pound for BananaS.

The following week I strode confidently to the produce department. I looked up at the sign for BananaS and was rewarded tenfold. I couldn't wait to text Leanne!

Indeed. I may be retired, but I am still Out There, Defending And Promoting The Language. Teaching In The Wild, as it were. It never stops, you know. 

Until it does.

Because here's what I found the last time I went to the grocery store.

Bless her. We have a motto, Leanne and I. Everything crummy can eventually be traced back to the republicans. And she can always make me laugh.

Want to give it a try, tracing this Sign Saga back to republicans? Do you have a BananaS Story to share? Have you ever corrected a sign? Can you relate to my Pain or are you the Leanne in this story?

Or, just natter away in Comments about the Silliness Of It All.

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Z Is For Zydrunas

 Meet Zydrunas, my granddog.

Zydrunas's name is pronounced zih-DROO-niss, but you can call him Z. As is usual in our family, he has a lot of nicknames, too:  BrownDog, Brown, Best Brown Dog, Bubba, and Big Brown are just a few of them. There is not a single person or pet that exists in our family who doesn't have a dozen or so nicknames. Your family may be the same.

His name comes from the Cleveland Cavaliers All Star center, now retired, Zydrunas Ilgauskas, who both of my sons greatly admire. 

Jared and Sam, who lived together in 2014, adopted him from the Cleveland kennel. They told them that he was already a year old, had been found wandering around a chemical plant, and was in very good health. Sam and Jared specifically chose a dog from the city kennel because they euthanize dogs after they've been there too long. 

Here's a photo of Zydrunas on his Rescue Day.

 That smile was the first of many in his new life. There cannot be a more joyful, more exuberant, more completely happy dog than this Big Brown Dog. Here he is right now, just so darn happy to be alive and with the people he loves.

When the boys stopped living together, Jared took full custody of Zydrunas. Then when Jared moved in with his new family, Sam took full custody. Throughout it all, they have co-parented Z and shared the costs associated with his care. Jared comes for visitation frequently, and Z can barely handle it. The zoomies are cataclysmic; nothing is safe.

Like many big and strong dogs, Zydrunas has no idea of his size, and he often climbs onto me for a Visit and a Cuddle. He is a 70-pound dog, and when on his hind legs, he is only about a foot shorter than I am. Still, when he wants Nance Time, he must have it. And because I am so completely and crazy in love with this dog, I am more than happy to oblige.

For Christmas this year, I got Sam an Embark Dog DNA kit (which he has yet to use) so that he can finally find out exactly what kind of dog Zydrunas is. We think he's probably part pitbull and part boxer. We don't really care; we're just curious. We love this dog no matter what he is.

Wouldn't you?

(Other posts about Zydrunas's early days are here, and here.)

Zydrunas wraps up the Alphabet Posts for me. We hope you have a restful week ahead.

Y Is For Yes

 

It's dreadfully cold here in Northeast Ohio (aka NEO), and there's nothing I want to do less than leave my home where it's warm, comfy, and everything I need is easily within my reach. I'm wearing leggings, a fleece zip-up, and behind my back is my heating pad--on High. I'm hoping that This Is It for me for the rest of the day and night; however, if, say, Sam called and invited us down to his house, or our friends sent a text and invited us to see their new home, I'd say Yes.

My Campaign Of Yes began some time ago, when I retired. It was inspired in no small part by a quote in the book The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton. In it, a countess is trying to flee her brutish foreign husband and seek comfort back in her American home and family.  Society is unkind, and she is confused by its coldness to her. She ignores Society and does what she wants. "I must go where I am invited, or I should be too lonely," she tells a friend. 

I certainly didn't have the countess's problems, but I decided that I'd take her advice and go wherever and whenever I was invited so that I would fill my days. And I did--to movies, to lunches, to shopping trips, to various outings and visits--as often as I could, saying Yes as much as I was able. 

After a time, those things naturally faded as retirees started to spend more time with their families or travel or find other things to do. And I did the same things, too. But it was fun while it lasted.

I still continue with my Campaign Of Yes, however, and I highly recommend it. Of course it's easier to say No and stay home with a cat on my lap and read or play Words With Friends. But I have almost always been happier that I went to Wherever It Was. This morning, Rick had to go to the lakehouse and troubleshoot the Nest thermostat, which we had lost connectivity with almost two weeks ago. It was a bone-chilling five degrees when he asked me if I was going along. My face must have been a mix of horror and panic because he immediately said, "You don't have to! I just thought I'd ask." I admit that I did struggle for a moment or two, but stuck to my Campaign. "Yes," I said. "Of course I'll go."

We hadn't been to the lake in a month or so. The community is shrouded in snow and quiet. From the driveway, we could see the lake, silent and frozen. Here and there in our yard were pawprints from rabbits and squirrels. I knew that if we went out and looked down at the lakeside, we might see hoofprints from deer. As we looked farther out towards the southern end, we could see several people ice fishing. The sun broke through the clouds and revealed a brilliant blue sky.

As always, being at the lakehouse was relaxing and brought back such happy memories. The place is a Haven Of Yes--everyone is encouraged to do what they want. If you want to swim, fine. If you want to fish, do it. If you want to just lie on a chaise longue and enjoy the day, do that. If you want to stay inside and watch TV, then Yes you can. 

I said Yes, and again I was glad I did. It was good to get out, go for a drive, and get things sorted out at the lakehouse. It was lovely to gaze out at the frozen lake and appreciate its sleeping beauty. One small and simple word gave me all of that. Yes.

Do you have your own Campaign Of Yes? If not, how do you feel about trying it out?

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X Is For eXhausted, eXasperated, And The X Factor

 

As you can see, I'm Creatively Forcing It for letter X. I don't have a lot to give these days, but I wanted to pop in here, wish you all a Happy New Year, and tell you that in addition to some really thoughtful and wonderful Christmas gifts, I also got COVID.

Like you, I am fully vaccinated and boosted, and so are all of my family, yet by the time this exposure ran its course, ten of us tested positive, including my 91-year old mother.  And there was never a time when all ten of us were in any place together. 

Also perhaps like you, I mask up anytime I'm in public--the grocery store, the pet food store, the pharmacy--and as soon as I get in my car, I use hand sanitizer, even before I take off my mask. I'm religious about handwashing, about social distancing, about wiping the handles of carts with the disinfecting wipes at the stores. It's eXhausting, but I never wanted to get sick.

The thing is, not everyone does that. Ohio's corrupt and gerrymandered republican legislature has gutted all COVID safeguards. Many people, even those who are vaXXed and boosted, are eXhausted by this pandemic and don't even wear masks at work or in stores. And when Omicron arrived, that behaviour did not change, sadly. And here we are. 

My symptoms began the day after Christmas with a slightly scratchy throat, which I shrugged off. Jared and Sam had both been fighting a cold for a day or two, and Jared had already tested negative for COVID. By that Monday, Sam had been sent home from work with a positive test result, and Rick and I were scrambling to find an at-home test. Quite simply, there are absolutely none in Ohio, period. 

A friend with a stockpile of tests gave us two, and we tested positive. Each day last week, our symptoms worsened. I felt like I had a head cold with the flu. The fatigue and muscle weakness were almost debilitating for me. I never got a fever, but I lost my sense of taste and smell. I've only today regained a bit of them both, and not consistently. I'm still weak and tire easily. Rick is still coughing and weak. He never lost his sense of taste or smell and never fevered up, but the coughing takes a lot out of him. He is working from home until he has a negative test. 

(A quick aside--my mother is great. She largely had cold symptoms, and under the fine care of my brother, she not only recovered, but continued her daily exercise regimen as well. She's a marvel.)

 I am finding All Of This incredibly eXasperating. I did everything right. I worked so hard to Be Safe. And for so long! Why are we still fighting this virus, one that we have vaccines for? Why are we in Year THREE of this pandemic? 

What in the hell is going on?!

I'm sick of all of it and sick of being sick. I thought I'd be able to toss my masks by now, yet I read that I have to go looking for new ones, that N95 are the only ones that will keep me Safe now. If there is such a thing as Being Safe.

That Safety is an Illusion, really. In the end, we're only as Safe as the people around us allow us to be. Other People will always be the X Factor. That's a Tough Reality, but that's the Way It Is, especially with Omicron out there now, and the monitoring of yet another variant in France. All we can do is our best to Be Safe, but we have to know that, ultimately, it's not completely in our control. Other People never are.

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W Is For Wishes

 My Wishes for you, my Friends, this Christmas of 2021, are that you find the Warmth of family and friends; the Joy of selfless giving; the Love of kindred hearts; and the Hope of brighter days to come. 

As always, thank you for your bright presence here. You are all a light in my life, and I am grateful for your loyal readership. And to my Commenters, especially, I am grateful for your continued conversation. May we always have something to talk about together.

I Wish for you a Peaceful Christmas and a Healthy Holiday Season. 

Best Wishes,

Nance

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V Is For Volume

 News Flash--I am old. All the symptoms/warning signs are there, and every single one of them can be put under the heading of one word, Volume.

As in:

1.  The fact that some television shows are SO LOUD and others make me strain to hear dialogue irritates me almost unreasonably. Commercials that feature music seem incredibly cacophanous and annoying. And car/truck commercials are also terrible. We have several streaming services, and the Volume of one set perfectly is way too soft for the other. Sam, my gadgety son, has a sound bar for his television. It is a nightmare.

2.  About a hundred years ago, I used to decorate copiously for Christmas. Every room in the house reflected the Yuletide merrily. My mantel was a showpiece. Now, that Volume of holiday decor is not only worky but smothering to me. We just this week finally put up our tree, and it was a sort of perfunctory exercise. I hung the stockings on the mantel, period. That is the extent of my holiday decorating. I simply cannot stand any more.

3.  Oh, how I do miss my thick, thick hair that used to burst elastics and defy brushes and combs with its Volume. It was downright huge when it was curled, and I never had to use a thing on it or brush it hanging upside down or anything. Now, I have to buy a Volumizing Root Spray to get any fullness at all. (Thank heaven for that stuff!)

4.  Volume itself is the measure of space that an object occupies, and I've started to begrudge the amount of room a lot of things take up in my home. "Why is this still here?" and "Why do we have this?" and "Why am I keeping this?" are constant questions I ask myself as I move around my little home. Now that Indoor Season is here, I'm feeling the need for more and freer space. The sheer Volume of Stuff I/we have collected over the years makes me feel fussy and weighed down. My sons aren't going to want to deal with all this in the future if I don't want to deal with it now.

What do you think? Am I old or just fussy? (Probably both.) How are you doing with these Voluminous Things?

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