teaparty Prodigy Of The Week: Space-Saving Submissive Fighter, Not Sinner

Oh, "Julio. The Contractor." (Or Julia, is it?) I struggle more with your overall message than with your lack of SpacingBetweenWords and hastily added "R" which still didn't fix things.

How shall we read that first sign, which seems to admonish you for bringing "Socialism" to us? Or is that resounding NO supposed to be a ban on both "Socialism" and "Julio/Julia. The Contractor"? So confusing!

And that second placard. WerNot GoingToTakeIt seems pretty downright adamant. It's foot-stomping, gauntlet-tossing, InYerFace rabblerousing language, if you ask me. Remember the famous scene from Network when Peter Finch's character Howard Beale rants into the camera and says a version of this very line? I'm sorry, but "humble" isn't really what you're after here. I'm thinkin' you're not understanding the movement. What is your narrative? "Hey! WerNotGoingToTakeThis Socialism. Wer humble. Please let us be capitalists. America is humble. Lee Greenwood got it wrong."?

Maybe "Julio/Julia. The Contractor" should humbly offer a new symbol for the teaparty to haul around to their rallies:

Julio pic found here.

Please Resist The Urge To Tell Me "Just Shut Up Already" In The Comments Section. (Remember The Thumper Rule)

If you can possibly stand it, I am going to blather on here and randomly dump all the Head Detritus that's clattering around in my cranium. It's terrible. Honestly, I think I'm at the mercy of so many awful cliches right now (and will someone, for the love of God, tell me how to put the little accent mark on the "e" in Blogger?) that I'm becoming somewhat sad and tragic. I believe I am pre-pre-menopausally hormonal; also that I am suffering from End-Of-Summer Angst; or that I am having a delayed Mid-Life Crisis; and, quite possibly, on the verge of becoming a Bit Of A Cat Lady if I'm not Very Very Careful.

(Some of you may have already noticed that, if I employ the Dash a bit more, I might also be in danger of becoming the Reincarnation of Emily Dickinson.) But--perhaps--I digress.

Next week, I go back to work at The Rock, such as it is. We are in the New Building, but let's face it: if you put leftover spaghetti in a silver bowl, it is still leftover spaghetti. Don't get me wrong, I teach with some of the best people ever and the students there can be a joy. But, realistically, a new building is not changing anything...for me. I can do my shtick in a cardboard box, if necessary. It will be lovely to have a floor with no holes, walls with no chipping plaster, air conditioning (provided that it works, for real), and an environment that speaks to learning rather than mere survival in some cases. But am I looking forward to The Grind again after three months off? No. Unpacking 33 boxes? No. Everything Else? I think you already know the answer.

I spoke about The West Wing in an earlier post, and I'm still watching and enjoying it. My sister used to have a big crush on Bradley Whitford, who played Josh Lyman. She said he had the sexiest walk. Same reason she had a brief thing for Travolta in his earliest days. ( Her big thing was for Patrick Swayze, though. Seriously.) Whitford is in a new show now, and when the previews came on, I didn't recognize him. He looks like some icky stereotype of a small-time PI or liquor store owner with a shady side. It makes me feel bad.

Also making me feel bad: my tomatoes this year are not producing; I'm not paying much attention to my herb garden; we did not mulch the back or front beds; I'm not seriously addressing my Marshmallowyness; I did not get ruthless and clean out the basement crap again this summer. Sigh. I guess this means I'm still not going to heaven.

Best things I did this summer: Get the Kittens. Learn to make refrigerator pickles. Completely relax. Give myself a break. Learn to use the digital camera. Get gently forceful with my stylist about layering my hair more around my face, please. Read the new Emily Dickinson biography. Take all the accumulated change to Coinstar. (Sidenote: How insane is it that BANKS DO NOT HAVE COIN-COUNTING MACHINES? I called both my banks, where I have banked for eleventy hundred years, and both of them said, "Oh, no, sorry. We do not have a coin-counting machine at any of our banks. It all has to be rolled and you have to put your name and phone number on every roll." FORGET THAT BULLSHIT. It was worth it to me to take my two hundred pounds of mixed change to a Coinstar machine and pay them a small percentage.) Go to my neurologist, talk things over, and get my migraine meds readjusted. Zip up to Niagara-on-the-Lake, stay at our favourite inn, visit our friends from Cattail Creek Winery, and also get some more great wines at other places we love. Spend afternoons at my sister Susan's where I swam in her pool and spent time with my mother and my other sister Patti. Take advantage of fresh produce from local farmstands.

Can we talk about My Kittens? Just a Little Bit? I will miss them terribly when I go back to work. I admit that I am a Little Bit Worried about how they will adapt. After all, they're used to having me around pretty much all the time, and we have a very nice routine. They have incredibly distinct personalities, as most pets do develop, and I enjoy them immensely. Naturally, they are The Most Wonderful Kittens In The Whole World, even when Marlowe (the adventurous diva one) can't seem to stay off the kitchen counter when we are not looking (despite being squirted from The Discipline Bottle), and Piper (the affectionate frisky one) plants himself on my or Rick's pillow at daybreak and proceeds to bite at our heads and try to claw our hair out (just playing, of course). They've both grown considerably since you've seen them last. They're healthy and happy and playful. I just happen to have a picture.

Sigh. I know. Despite the fact that he has to curl up about ten times, Piper (the Disembodied Head) loves to sleep in that shoebox. Those two are, as the old cliche goes, thick as thieves. (By the way, I got those shoes at Target--before the boycott--for way cheap on sale.) They're constantly together.

When Jared and Sam (now out and living on their own) come over, they love to spend time with Marlowe and Piper. They are, however, a little concerned that Mom is perhaps a little...er...overinvolved with All Things Kitten. Consider:

Scene opens in livingroom. Nance and Rick are sitting in easy chairs. Sam, 22, over for a visit and to retrieve some things, is observing the kittens playing in the dining room.

Sam: Does Piper like that old Matchbox car I gave him?

Nance: He loves it! And Marlowe never plays with it at all. Must be a Boy Thing.

Sam: I guess.

Nance: (face lights up) Oh! And did I tell you? I'm teaching The Kittens to be bilingual!

Sam: (staring) What?

Nance: Bilingual. I'm teaching The Kittens to be bilingual.

Sam: (slowly turns his gaze to Rick on opposite chair, then back to Nance) No. You didn't. What language?

Nance: Spanish. Watch this. (To Piper) Piper! Donde esta su carro verde?

(Piper looks at Nance briefly, then resumes what he was doing, which was not playing with the green Matchbox car.)

Sam: (shakes head, then, to Nance) You really need to go back to work.

Except, I really don't want to.

teaparty Prodigy Of The Week: If You Can Read This, Thank...?

Okay, so...WHAT, NOW?

Let's just for one moment--if we can--ignore that first sign (in all its Crazy-Peddling Glory). And the fact that she's got two impossibly wordy signs along the side of a road where, we assume, she is hoping that people driving by in cars going at least 30 miles per hour, will be reading her pithy messages.

What in the samholyhell is going on in that second sign? Thank heaven some part of its blathering lunacy is obliterated because, honestly, it was giving me a sick-headache. At first I thought that, just maybe, the two signs were supposed to be read across; perhaps they came apart in her transport of them from Dodge Caravan or Ford F-150 Extended Cab to streetside. But even then, the message made no more sense than it does when you read it as written: "My name is Hope not The Congress taxing Hope so stop using my name for your (insert paranoid government agenda here per teaparty propaganda)."

WTF, teaparty lady?

And why all the hate for scholiasts? I'm not too sure any are around anymore, in the strictest classical sense, but in my own way, I'm pretty much a scholiast myself, and I'm not aware of having any taxable policies, per se.

At least her hat matches her shirt.

Photo found here

The Dept. Is 5 And I Have A Little Something For You

In spite of dire predictions from Conventional Wisdom, right-wing pundits, Interpol, and several Celebrity Astrologers from all over the Interwebs, the Dept. of Nance is celebrating its Fifth Anniversary!

It's true: the Dept. has been bringing you a fresh perspective on shoes, cows, polar bears, politics, bad fashion, and oh hell, just about everything for Five Whole Years now. Probably you cannot imagine Life Before The Dept., and it's best you not try. Instead, let's have a little revelry to commemorate this milestone.

As Longtime Reader Ortizzle once sagely commented to me: Without you, My Readers, this blog is nothing but an Internet Diary. Therefore, I'd like to include you in this celebration of 5 by asking you to be active participants. Choose any of the following 5 activities/questions to respond to in comments. Or, run with them on your own blog and link to them in comments. Ready? Let's celebrate 5!

1. Did anything of major cultural or historical significance happen when you were 5? In 1964 when I was 5, my older, cooler sister was already a Major Beatles Fan. On February 9, 1964, at 8 P.M., life at my house came to a standstill so that we could all sit around the black and white television and watch The Ed Sullivan Show. When The Beatles came on, Patti was enthralled and I, already in the throes of idol-worship, copied her every move. She was leaned forward, eyes glued on the screen. I didn't know I was watching history then, but I still remember every minute of it.

2. What are 5 things that really, really frost your cupcakes? My longtime readers know I have more than 5 of these, but here are 5 of my pet peeves: flip-flops in public, people dressing poorly in public, inappropriate cellphone usage in public, parents who don't control their children in restaurants, lateness, improper apostrophe usage on signage.

3. Are there ideas, topics, issues in the past 5 years that you wish I had written about but I never have? Maybe you have a great idea or maybe you're curious about something. Let's hear it. It's been 5 years. Why wait?

4. 5 Degrees of Separation? How did you find/hear about/get to the Dept. of Nance? Most of you are Longtime Readers; I have no way of knowing who my lurkers are (Come out, come out--5 years is long enough to hide! Give me a thrill). I'm curious. How did you find me amid the millions and millions of blogs out in the cyberworld?

5. Fab 5. I've got Favorite Posts, of course, and even I'm not vain enough to think that you remember enough of my Archive to have them too. But here are 5 of My Best Ones, in my opinion, should you care to browse:

1. Personal Jesus
2. The Dept. Presents "What Not To Wear" Meets "Hardball"
3. ...But Fear Itself
4. My Latest Obsession: I Stand Up For Mary Lincoln
5. Watching And Thinking About Blueberries

Finally, here's a photo of me standing in front of my grandmother's house, taken when I was 5. It's a bit prophetic, really. I'm blissfully holding a kitten. I have no idea whose it was, then or now. Oddly enough, it looks quite a bit like Piper, my new Boy Kitten, who I very much enjoy holding now. I was always finding stray animals to rescue in some way, baby birds who had fallen out of their nests, sad little wandering kittens, trapped butterflies or moths struggling in spider's webs. I'm sure that after my mother took this picture, she firmly impressed upon me that I was not taking that cat home. And I didn't. One of the few times that I listened to Mom about a pet.

But I digress. (Again.) If there's anything else you'd like to add to help celebrate the Dept.'s Fifth Anniversary, please do! It doesn't have to be 5 things. But it can...!

Oh my, where are my manners? Do have some cake.


(But just a little cake. Remember, I'm trying to cut back.)

teaparty Prodigy Of The Week: The Three Stooges

Sigh.

Apparently, the following apply:

1. "Big Government" refers to standardized spelling.
2. The Government's version of medical care will even take away the letter H.
3. The dyslexic teaparty sign carrier's chair has insufficient back support.
4. The teapartier on the blanket in the background is even too embarrassed to sit with these morons.

Good call.