Tuesday, January 08, 2019

Offering Some Perspective (And A New Cooking Show Idea?) For 2019

The Long-Suffering Zydrunas
One of the last conversations I had in 2018, via telephone with my eldest, Jared.

Jared: Ma. Got any ideas for a killer sauce or something for salmon? Decided to stay in tonight for New Year's Eve, so she's bringing stuff over and we're making salmon for dinner.

Nance: Ugh. You know I detest all fish, and salmon tops the list. But I have a teriyaki glaze recipe for it from back when I thought you all liked it.

Jared: I've always liked it. You know that. I can do an Asian thing. I don't need a recipe.

Nance: You could do a traditional lemon-dill-butter thing.

Jared: Yeah, that sounds good, too. The pressure's on. I've never cooked for her before.

Nance: Well, then the two of you could just cook together. That way, there's no pressure, and it's more of a fun situation.

Jared: Here's the second problem: I usually cook with my shirt off. You know, I put on some music, take off my shirt, and dance around, throwing shit together. Then, when I sit down to dinner, I complain to the dog when I find a hair in my food.

Nance: Oh, Jared.

Jared: I hold up the forkful or the hair or whatever, and I look him straight in the eye. I say, "Zydrunas, this is unacceptable. I've found a hair in my food. I expect better quality from this establishment."

Nance: What does he say?

Jared: The usual. He huffs and rolls his eyes. He's so tired of all my bullshit.

Happy New Year, everyone.  We might all be Tired Of The Bullshit, but let's have some Laughs!

Monday, December 17, 2018

Happy Holidays From The Dept. Of Nance

May you be filled with Good Cheer this Holiday Season...
one way or another.

See you in the New Year--

original image

Friday, December 07, 2018

Be Careful What You Wish For: A Little Sunshine Is A Dangerous Thing

Today one of the worst possible Nance Domestic Equations occurred, and put simply, It Was Not Good. It set into motion a chain of events that became frantic, manic, and so far-reaching that it just may cancel Christmas here at The Dept. as we have heretofore known It.

I was unready for this Perfect Storm, and when the maelstrom was upon me, I was already so in the thick of it that I was powerless to stop it. The momentum of my astonishment, anger, dismay, and industry carried me on until I was literally too spent to continue. And when I now ponder a Christmas tree and its worky luxe...I feel I might take to my bed (ah! if only I had a fainting couch!).

What on Earth were the Terrible Factors in this Equation, you ask? What Horrific Elements conspired to bring about such Disastrous Results?

Here they are:

Bright Sunshine Streaming Into My Kitchen
I Had A Rag In My Hand
Rick Was Not Here (To Stop Me)

It was, in a word, scary.

I was like a woman possessed, a Whirling Dervish of Windex, a Tasmanian Devil of the Dishrag, and a Hurricane of Scrubbery. I cleaned in a fever-dream; the sun mocked me ceaselessly, showed me everything.

The broom in my hand swept me into the dining room where the sunlight sparkled on cat hair in the corner, just out of reach of the vacuum. I traded in my wet rag for a dry one and a can of Pledge, knowing they would lead me to the leather furniture and more tables and shelves in the living room. It would be Eternal, Endless, Infinite. Would Rick never, ever come home? Would the sun never set?

Would I die?

On and on it went. I vacuumed. I unloaded the dishwasher. I emptied wastebaskets. I dusted and tidied the desk in the office. Hysterical, at one point I even considered bathing a cat. At that moment, I knew Things Had Gone Too Far. I had to, somehow, rein myself in. I realized I had not eaten all day. Was I delusional?

I went to the kitchen to forage for a snack. It looked beautiful--so clean and perfect. And...dim. Suddenly, I realized that it wasn't so sunny anymore. I took a look out the window and saw a milky sky with gathering grey clouds. And felt myself relax. It was over.

I am exhausted.

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