The Dept. Is Back And With A New Feature: Ask A Large Cat

The Dept. is back, and with a new Feature, Ask A Large Cat. Without any Further Ado, here is Piper, resident Large Cat, to answer your Queries.

Query 1: Is it Just Me, or is Christmas feeling Blah and Tedious this year?
Large Cat: I feel the same way. I don't even watch Nance wrap gifts this year; I just lie under the tree and sleep. Here in NEO, everyone thinks it is due to the weather, which is extremely warm and snowless. I think that's Zzzzzz.

Query 2: Do you think the rest of the world is laughing at us due to Donald Trump leading in the polls?
Large Cat: No. I think they are shaking their heads in dismay and pity. The laughter ended with the re-election of George W. Bush.

Query 3: Every year, I ask for a pair of navy blue or red leather riding style boots. They do not exist. I don't understand why. I feel like they should, and that I cannot be the only one who thinks so. What's the deal?
Large Cat: Look, I understand. I feel like my dish should always be full of either albacore tuna or, at the very least, wet cat food. Keep hoping. I do.

Query 4: Our dog--
Large Cat: Next.

Query 5: I keep reading articles about tipping everyone at Christmas. Is this really necessary?
Large Cat: I don't think so. It sounds like a New York Thing to me. If you get regular service from the same people all the time, like a regular groomer or a regular mail carrier or pet sitter, then I would give them a tip. But tipping everyone sounds worky. And expensive. And tiring.

Query 6: Are gift bags okay to use, or are they tacky?
Large Cat: I really prefer boxes. They are cozy, and I can curl right up in them as long as they don't have some off-putting tissue paper in there. Gift bags tip over and require jumping and depth perception and quick risk-assessment.

Query 7: Is your Christmas shopping done?
Large Cat: I am a Gift Giver all year-round, and there are lint-rollers in two rooms to prove it. Sometimes I re-gift my breakfast.

Query 8: What do you want for Christmas?
Large Cat: A cat in the White House. Tuna every day. No more dog visits, ever. More quiet.

Query 9: With such impressive photos coming back from NASA's New Horizons spacecraft, and its myriad discoveries, do you think Pluto will be reassigned its planetary status within our solar system?
Large Cat: I wish.

This has been Ask A Large Cat, with Piper, resident Large Cat. The Dept. of Nance is pleased to be back after a Hiatus Of Sorts...sigh.

Making Memories Is Like Oatmeal, Or In My Case, Like A Porcupine

Pressure Busting Tip #21
I hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving.  I know I did. If you shared it with your extended family, more than a few stories were likely shared.  Probably several were precious, adorable, and embarrassing, the latter featuring you as the main character.  My mother especially loves to tell her entire repertoire of Hapless Nance stories as often as possible to as wide an audience as she can.  She doesn't do this to Patti* of course, nor Bobby, nor Susan.  And it would be at least a Venial Sin to do this to (!gasp!) a Grandchild. (*favourite child of all)

One of her All-Time Favourites is Christmas-themed.  According to St. Patsy:  "Nance is sitting there with her nose in a book, as usual, while everyone else is busy doing something, when all of a sudden, she starts hollering to me in the kitchen to come quick.  'Mom!  Mom!  Hurry up!'  Now, I have no idea what's going on.  I'm in the kitchen; I don't remember what exactly I was doing, but I was busy.  Maybe I was doing the dishes or making dinner or something like that.  Anyway, I probably stopped to wipe my hands on a dishtowel.  She screamed one more time, 'Mom!', and then I hear a whoosh and a crash and the sound of things breaking.  I run in there, and there's Nance, standing by the TV, and the entire Christmas tree, lights lit and all, lying on the floor.  Here the thing had been tipping over, falling, and instead of catching it, she just got out of the way!  Just scooped up her book and ran out of the way.  I asked her, 'Why didn't you catch it?'   And she said, 'Mom!  I'm not gonna catch that big tree!'  So she just let it fall.  What a mess!"  And here she keeps shaking her head, remembering the mess of it all, while chuckling at the same time.

All I can remember is a bigass, fully decorated, seven-foot balsam tree leaning and going, and my mother seeming unconcerned as I hollered for her to come quick.  I was, at the time, probably ten years old.  Maybe eleven. There was no way in Hell that I was going to intervene between gravity and, say, fifty thousand sharp little evergreen needles that were in various stages of dryness.  Plus, that tree had at least two feet and more than a couple pounds on me.  Back in those days, we used the large, old-fashioned lights, and those things got hot.  Did that woman honestly think I was going to catch what amounted to a burning hot, seven-feet tall porcupine in drag?  Exactly who is the crazy one?  But it was funny, just the same.  (Since I'm alive to talk about it.)

This brings me to my final Pressure Busting Tip, #21. ( I had hoped to have 30 of them, remember?  My original plan was to post one every day of November, but that didn't happen.  Oh well; I still did a pretty good job.  No one is perfect.  It's impossible.)   Stop striving for The Perfect Christmas.  It's Impossible.  Stuff happens.  But the Stuff is what makes memories.  Families are like oatmeal--lumpy, sticky, and a little bit messy.  That means anything connected with them will be the same.  If you look back at your memories, your pictures, your Life--it's the little imperfections that have made it interesting.  And, remember, Christmas comes every single year.  You can always try again.

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Do You Believe In Miracles? Then You Must Laugh, Laugh Very Often, And Especially At Christmastime

Pressure Busting Tip #19
For the longest time St. Patsy, Patti, and I would go out on the day after Thanksgiving and shop till we dropped, literally.  We would start at some ungodly hour--like 7AM--and pile into Patti's Big Red Van, armed with our bigass coffees, and take off for a distant mall.  I liked shopping a bit far away because the chance of me running into students was slimmer.  We'd shop that mall down to its baseboards, then hit the TOYS-R-US, and end at the KMart in the strip next door for cheapo stuff, stocking stuffers, and our fave, gift wrap.  By then it was at least six or seven PM, and we'd collapse at a restaurant, eat dinner, and drive home in a stupor with our swollen feet throbbing.

But we always, always had fun.  Because something, deep down inside, is terribly, terribly wrong with my sister and I.  I have no idea what it is, but when any of the Three Sisters combine, some sort of chemical imbalance occurs, and it is only exacerbated by the presence of The Mother.  One year, St. Patsy had a severely pinched nerve and had to have a wheelchair handy.  Patti and I took turns shoving her around, and she would hold the bags and ride in style.  We were in one store, and I zoomed her into the glove section, at her request, and turned her around.  "There!" I said sternly.  "Now stay there and don't go wandering off!"  Mom and I turned around in time to see a store clerk looking at me, shocked.  I simply smiled and walked off toward another section, amused to see my mother playing along, lowering her head in sad obedience.  Shortly after that, in another store, Patti, St. Patsy, and I were looking at some baby items.  St. Patsy rose from her wheelchair carefully to look at a few things up a little higher.  Then she moved a few steps to one side.  Noting a few shoppers nearby, I jabbed Patti in the side.  "Oh my God!" I gasped loudly.  "It's a Christmas Miracle!  Mom! Mom!  You can walk!"  Patti stood there in rapt amazement.  The people who gathered around looked shocked and awed.  Hands flew to faces and open mouths.  Gazes widened.  Murmurs ran through the crowd.  My mother stood stock still; she had no idea what to do.  It was perfect.

There is no way, no way ever that you can beat The St. Patsy Christmas Miracle as you go about your Christmas shopping this--or any!--year.  But if you pick up Pressure Busting Tip #19, you can still reap its benefits.  Inject some fun into your Christmas shopping. Take someone along who is a good time.  Start noticing the really dumb Brookstone-type gifts, or the awful kiosk wares.  Decide that you are going to get at least one goofy Dollar Store gift for each person.  Watch people and what they buy.  Surreptitiously sneak things into other people's carts at a Target or a Kohl's.  I know it's sophomoric, but it's harmless, and you'll relax a little.  It's easy for me to say "Do a little at a time" or "Stop shopping when you get tired or crabby"; I'm retired.  I can shop at 10AM on a Tuesday if I want, and I often do.  But I know that isn't possible for all of my Dearest Readers.  I honestly wish I could shop for you.  I do.  Since that isn't an option, please try to lighten your step and your mood when you go out amongst the retail madness.  Make your own Christmas Miracle, and have fun out there.

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Perhaps If You Are Out There Still, You'd Like To Read This, In Which I Simply Chat A Bit About Things In General, And There Are Secondary Characters

This time of year, when most people add to the General Clutter of their lives, I now take the opportunity to get rid of some of my Cranial Clutter by dumping it out here at the Dept. So, ready your Virtual Dustpans and Dustbins and press on.

Today I finally put up all the Festivity on my fireplace mantel. I had to replenish my supply of Overpriced And Classy Candles, courtesy Pier 1. The nice thing about getting my candles there is that they last about eleventeen years since I only use them at Christmastime, the scents are long-lasting and comforting without being cloying, and they come in designery colors other than Rudolph Red and Pine Green. As I was unwrapping them, I happened to read the label on the bottom: Burn within sight, it says direly. Keep away from things that catch fire. Keep away from children. Hm. Seems to me that last part is redundant. I feel like "things that catch fire" sort of says it all. Most children I know do burn.

Continuing with candles, one of the ones I bought was a sort of seaweed color scented with patchouli. I bought it for the color and the size, mainly. I gave it to Rick to smell and said, "This one is patchouli, that typical hippie incense scent. Here, smell and tell me what you think." He said, "It smells like marijuana and protest rallies and--" At that point I just grabbed the candle.

My Creative Writing I students are writing their one act plays. One of them came up to conference with me about a possible idea. He has a propensity for writing horror and always wants a twist ending. Also, everyone has to die at the end. Everyone. The plot is really not important, the machinations are endless, the characters incidental: everything is invested in the twist at the end. The conferences are exhausting, but I find this student delightful in every way. On Friday we had a Typical Nick Conference and, in the middle of it, when I was feeling like a limp dishrag and desperate for a double vodka martini, I stopped him. "Nick," I said. "A conference with you is like eating crablegs. At first it's like a fun adventure, and you love the delicious little chunks you get as you work away. But after a while, you start wondering if it's all worth it for the payoff at the end. You start feeling like you've invested a lot more effort than what you're getting out of it. I adore you, but you are absolutely wearing me out right now. Don't make your play do the same thing to your audience. Know what I mean?" And he absolutely did.

On Friday Rick and I decided to go and bang out the bulk of our Christmas Shopping and then get some dinner. Part of that plan was a Good Idea. The other part was A Nightmare. Shopping went well, but we decided to eat at A Certain Restaurant , and it was rather late for NEO diners, 8:45. Let's just say that the service was...nonexistent, my Cosmopolitan never saw a drop of real cranberry juice, our meals were definitely the tail-end of the cook's pantry, and we left hungry and with everything still on our plates and the meal comped--at well past 10. But one of the most horrifying parts was the buxom blond girl who, left over from a huge party, stood for almost an hour with her two friends directly in the aisleway and in front of another table of diners, talking and laughing loudly and, at one point, dragging a hairbrush through her long hair. It was at that point that I wished I were carrying a licensed firearm and had no moral upbringing. Seriously.

It is snowing profusely right now, and we are under A! WINTER! WEATHER! ADVISORY! Can you possibly imagine that getting a snowstorm in Northeast Ohio is incredibly newsworthy and amazing? It is the lead story on all the Cleveland newschannels. What really kills me is that lots of snow and bitterly cold temperatures in Minnesota led the national news this morning. Really? My sister lived a year in Minnesota, and believe me, we heard all about how much snow they got (lots) and how cold it was there (bitterly). Geeze. Bring me some real news or shut the hell up already, NBC.

You sound like a blog.

I, Nance, Do Solemnly Swear, To Do My Duty...

For years I have fantasized about the Dept. of Nance being a real Department. As my masthead says, I do believe that the government needs me. Someone has to right the smallish wrongs being perpetually perpetrated everywhere in our otherwise civilized society. It has become increasingly clear to me over the years that we are, in fact, unable (or, even more sadly, unwilling) to do this ourselves. I am happy to do this task. It is bipartisan in nature. Both Democrats and republicans seem to commit these egregious faux pas and societal sins, so I can work within the bounds of any administration without interference. I am a separate entity, beholden to no one. I can be funded by the Supreme Court's order and a constitutional amendment in perpetuity.

Or whatever.

I do not require a huge office, just a moderately-sized one with adequate ventilation and good natural lighting. I do not need a big staff, just a secretary and one other assistant who may even be part-time as long as he can drive me as required as I will not be driving myself since I do not plan to drive in Washington, D.C. It is too trafficky and strange to me. Finally, I will not clean my own office. I will, however, supply and water my own plant or plants.

Once installed, I will immediately act. Much like House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, I will begin a strenuous agenda of reform and will, within the first 100 days, show my vigorous commitment to making life better and more civil for the American People. Here is my short list of what I will do:

1. Require all theaters to install cell phone jammers.

2. Require all sit-down restaurants to take reservations regardless of party size.

3. Ban all inflatable lawn decorations.

4. Decree that all underwear is visible in public only at fashion shows.

5. Ban all leggings. Forever.

6. Decree that all Christmas decorations, music, displays, sales, and ads are prohibited until December 1st. The only exception made will be for craft stores. Period.

7. Require spelling to count ALL THE TIME, EVERYWHERE.

8. Ban the sale of Crocs except at swimming pool stores and garden centers, where they belong.

9. Reinstate Pluto as a planet.

10. Ban the mention of celebrity birth, marriage, public brouhaha, or rehab issues from legitimate news broadcasts.

11. Bring back the following retired Crayola crayon colors: blue gray, orange red, raw umber, violet blue, lemon yellow, orange yellow, and mulberry.

12. Ban the wearing of baseball hats by anyone not at a baseball game.

13. Make "telling someone about this dream I had" in detail a felony.

14. Abolish call waiting (a.k.a. "licensed rudeness").

15. Prohibit anyone over the age of 12 from wearing animated characters on his or her clothing or person.

I could, of course, go on and on and on and on. But this is, as I said, my short list and will likely occupy much of my first 100 days. (That, and decorating my office, hiring my secretary and assistant, and selecting my plant or plants. Plus, I will have to acclimate myself to Washington, D.C. Heretofore, I have only been there as a tourist. Once it becomes my workplace, I will have to view it in a new way, as a Beltway Insider. ) I trust that, in Brainstorms, you'll give me more to do.

Dick the Halls with Balls of Holly

I am all about the live Christmas tree, but this year really tested my resolve in that arena. It was 30 degrees Saturday, I was not feeling real chipper, and our usual tree place did not have large (8-9') blue spruce or Frasier firs and I am not a fan of the Scotch pine. So we went to a little stand in nearby Grafton and its sole proprietor, who happened to be the uncle of one of my students, said he'd unwrap, thaw out, and "get ready" a few big Frasiers for us if we came back in a few hours.

Well, we did, and basically bought a tree sight unseen as this guy's idea of getting a tree ready for us was to unwrap it and lay it on the pavement.

Big mistake.

We got the tree home, hoping it would "drop" and assume the traditional Christmas tree shape: graduated tiers of branches going from small to large as you look from top to bottom. Not this tree. This tree stubbornly held on to a more rounded, compact shape. I kept looking at it, wondering what it reminded me of. And finally, I had it.

It was a 9-foot evergreen phallus.

My husband and I kept trying to judiciously trim it and help it along, but it stubbornly refused to become the familiar Christmas tree shape. We both bitterly complained and tossed epithets its way. We begrudgingly strung lights and did our best to put a star at its...tip.

Our 20-year old son valiantly tried to jolly us along and in true Linus Van Pelt fashion (a la "A Charlie Brown's Christmas Special") tried to make the best of this ridiculous tree. Finally, though, he lost his patience. With us. "Stop being so fucking negative about this goddam Christmas tree!" he said. "Once we get our ornaments and tinsel on it, it will look great. Now shut the hell up."

Overcome with the sense of the absurd, we decided to run with it. The usual "back of the tree" ornaments (you know those! every family has them!) are now at the front. All handmade ornaments are in prominent places. Sam's Cheerio and pipecleaner wreath? Front and center! The tongue depressor Rudolph? Eye level, baby! The black Santa from the dollar store? Come on! Right under a light and in the front!

So, if you want to see a major pine erection, come to northeast Ohio for the holidays. It's in my living room, and it's illuminated.