Scenes From March

image courtesy Ebay

Long time, no see. March felt like it was several months long and a jumble of stuff. Let's get into it with a post that reflects that.

*I've written here before about my funny grocery store and the oddities it carries in its Closeouts section. Rick and I went grocery shopping, and I came upon a whole shelf of these. I'd love to hear your thoughts about this thing:

Pretty sure he's holding it correctly

*Another familiar theme here at the Dept. is my irritation for people who leave their outdoor Christmas decorations up far too long. Around the block from my home is this particularly egregious example. They finally took everything down a few days ago. In MARCH. 

The house is also only partially sprayed this horrific blue. You can see the spray marks about a quarter of the way across on each side.

I went by there a few days ago, and while all the Christmas crap is gone, the yeti silhouette is still there. I feel so bad for the neighbours on each side, both of whose houses are neat, tidy, and carefully landscaped (also bereft of any tardy seasonal decor or large cryptids). 

*The weather straightened itself out enough for several days in a row, long enough for my neighbour's Lenten Lilies/early daffodils to come out along my driveway. They never venture to that side of their home, so I don't feel guilty at all each year when I cut them and bring them in to brighten my mood.

And I'm going to keep cutting them, too!

Later, there will be garlic to harvest from that side, too, planted ages ago by the previous owner. My own daffodils are starting to bloom now; I couldn't be happier.

*Ever since we had to say goodbye to Marlowe, her brother's personality has undergone a transformation. Piper used to never say much of anything, and now we can't get him to shut up. He's also become demanding about many things, such as requiring ice in his water and a tablespoon full of my half-and-half when I make my coffee. Because of his advanced age (16) and...er...size, he also refuses to jump or climb up to be on my lap; rather, he howls until I pick him up and put him there. So many things meet with his disapproval, and I constantly hear about each and every one of them. This is the evildoer I am speaking of:

Luckily, he is quite affable around Theo, whose toys you see in the background

Did I unwittingly help create this monster? Yes. Yes I did, so please learn from my mistakes and give your pet no special treatment whatsoever else they come to expect it.

*I caught sight of this in a residential yard in my neighbourhood. I had to stop and take a photo. To me, it is the perfect symbol of present times in this country, about which I could easily write a thousand words expressing my dismay, outrage, and profound sadness. Instead, I'll let this say it all:

The stars are merely star-shaped holes. Vote blue!

*Finally, today I watched a very determined mother intent upon protecting her baby. I took a short video and want to share it with you here:

This mother squirrel carried her two kits across the street, one at a time, and no farther than 6 feet away from me. She carried them right past me and up the driveway, and past Rick who was working noisily on the lawnmower. Her final destination was a huge sycamore tree behind our neighbour's home, which has an opening in its trunk. I was able to catch a bit of footage of her second trip. The video is not terrific, but it does have a few dramatic seconds at the end--of the stamped concrete of my patio when I, completely astonished, forgot to shut off my phone. 

Because of her amazing feat, I have vowed to stop shooing squirrels away from my blue jay feeder on the porch. Let them eat peanuts! That squirrel mom is a hero (as are so many Mothers and Women, unsung though they may be). 

Happy Springtime, my friends. It's showing signs now of its green and blooming presence, and we certainly deserve it. 

Life In The Future: Parking And Doing The Hard Stuff To Make Life Easier

 

https://plexido.pl/

In my New York Times newsletter last week, writer Melissa Kirsch wrote about "doing the harder thing now so that you’ll have an easier time later...a fundamental concept in self-improvement communities." One example she gave was backing into a parking spot, an oddity noted by a colleague who wrote up his investigation into this apparently growing phenomenon. The article is short and, despite its seemingly boring subject, pretty interesting. 

I (along with the writer's wife!) still maintain that the majority of backer-inners are men who A) just like to show off; or B) feel that it's a Rite Of Their Masculinity And They Simply Must Do It. Also, I don't get it. Parking the car involves two actions, the initial parking and the leaving of the parking spot. Does it really matter which one you do when? You aren't saving any time. Or effort, really. It just seems stupid to me.

One year, I told my husband that all I wanted for Christmas was for him to back my car into the garage every single night. I hate backing out of our garage and down our driveway. It's not a straight shot, our neighbours erected a fence partway down on their property, we have a drainage pipe along the side of the house that is required by the city, and even with a backup camera, it is always irritating for me. What a joy it would be for me to simply drive out of my side of the garage and into the street! Sadly, I did not find that gift under our tree.

In days past I always parked in faraway spots wherever I went. I refused to make looking for a parking spot part of my shopping trips. Many times that meant that I could simply pull through to the spot in front of me, assuring that I didn't have to back out at all, even when it was time for me to leave. It also meant a bit of walking, which has always been my preferred form of exercise anyway. It also meant that I didn't have to sit in my car and wait around for anyone to back into his parking spot or sit there and wait while some idiot sat there with their blinker on, waiting for the person still loading their bags into their car in a prime spot to actually leave.

Aside from Parking and all its attendant This And Thats, I do believe in doing some harder things proactively so that Future Me has an easier time of it, and it was a habit I started as a much younger person, mainly because I hated mornings and wanted to get as much sleep as possible. Back when I was a kid, I used to put a chair right at the side of my bed and put my entire outfit for the next day on it. Many, many times, I'd even pull it on while I was still lying in bed, so loath I was to actually get up and admit that I had to start my day. It's a little embarrassing to admit how often I'd lie there, fully dressed, waiting for the exact last minute that I had to get out of bed and get downstairs before I risked being late.

As a career woman I still chose my clothes and readied them the night before. Anything I needed to take with me was placed in my school bag, a huge tote that also contained almost anything needed for any exigency that Future Me might encounter. Teaching in a huge urban school presented enough opportunities for stress; I was determined to head off any that I reasonably could.

Retired Me is still looking for opportunities to reduce stress and make my environment serene. Future Me does not want to wake up to a messy kitchen or unfolded laundry even though I have all day to do things. I also ready my coffeemaker so that all I have to do is push a button in the morning for my coffee whenever Future Me may want it. Mail passes through my hands only once; I act upon it immediately. Piles and clutter drive me nuts. 

Rick is not this way. His tolerance for piles of clutter and mail and clothes is much higher than mine. Future Him is the same as Present Him, pretty much, unless you count the carpentry rule of Measure Twice, Cut Once. He wonders at my lack of Patience in all things but our grandson and our sons. I tell him I do, too. For the record, he does not back into parking spaces, even if I am not with him in the car. He thinks it's stupid and rude. For the record, he does pull through into the spot ahead once in a while.   

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.

5 From The Frozen Tundra: Is This My Life Now?

 

from fbook via google

Let me just say right here and right now:  the eventual spring of 2026 had better be one hell of a lovely, warm, beautiful one. And the sooner the better. I have had it with this winter and all of this abusive effing snow. And painful wind. And helplessly hoping that someday the temperature will rise to the lofty heights of The Twenties Fahrenheit. My heating pad is my constant companion.

If you are one of those crazies who Thinks Snow Is So Pretty, or Loves Winter, or Goes Skiing Or Sledding, or Just Loves Winter Cozy Time, DON'T YOU DARE SAY A WORD ABOUT ANY OF THAT TO ME. I AM NOT IN THE MOOD. 

Thank you.

I am fighting this winter with every fibre in my body. It is not going well. Aside from that, what else have I been doing? Let's have a review.

1. I finally read The Correspondent. I read the review that Julie wrote, and she enthusiastically urged me to buy the book, and I'm glad she did. It was wonderful. During this illness and during wintertime, I have trouble focusing/concentrating and mushbrain, and I worried that I wouldn't be able to fully immerse myself in it. That was not the case. This book was so engaging and charming, and I found myself at times identifying so strongly with the titular character. After reading it, it was immediately and lovingly placed on my Favourite Books shelf. Now I'm reading a scholarly nonfiction work called Dark Renaissance about the life and times of Christopher Marlowe, playwright, poet, genius, and spy of Elizabethan England who was murdered before the age of 30. We'll see if I can juggle it along with The Age of Innocence for CBBC.

2. Over the weekend we had the ridiculous snowstorm. On Monday Jared and Jordan moved to their new home during the leftovers of the storm. (And poor Jared has a broken foot that needs surgery this week, and has been in a walking boot for weeks.) While the movers trooped in and out of the house with all the stuff, I was in charge of Theo. Rick had gone over earlier to snowblow their driveway. It snowed the whole day, and the front door and back door had to be open the whole time. I wore my heated coat. Theo stood at the front window watching them bring items in, excited about seeing all their things coming to The New House. At other times, we played Airport and Airplane in his parents' big walk-in closet. This is a very happy move:  not only will they be less than 20 minutes away instead of an hour, they needed the extra room because Theo will be a big brother in August. If he has his way, the new baby will be named Crocodile.

3. I have been to my doctors--two of them in two days this month. All I can say is that it's devastating to hear two days in a row from medical professionals that there really isn't anything they or medical science can do for me. I am in a sort of dead zone of medicine. There is new research ongoing, mostly due to Long Covid, so that's at least something. But right now, aside from some stronger muscle relaxers that can help with my pain at night, there's nothing. I've learned how to rest, but it still feels like giving up to me. Even showering can wear me out. And I used to shovel the driveway and take my walk on the same day!

4. And speaking of those Rest Days, I have actually gone without my mascara on those days! I used to think that was a Venial Sin pretty much, but now, I just don't care. AND! I don't wear real clothes on those days, either. I wear a Lounge Outfit and a cardigan. I mainly do this for the technicality; no one can accuse me of wearing my jammies all day if I am officially wearing a Lounge Outfit and a cardigan (even though it looks and feels like I am doing just that). Rick enthusiastically supports this and says ridiculous things like, "You look great!" and "I tell you all the time that you don't need makeup", but the most important thing he says is, "Why bother when you're not going anywhere?" and this is the comment that really sells it for me. I mean, duh.

5. Can you nap? I mean, actually fall asleep during the day? I cannot, and I never have been able to. Obviously, it would be very helpful these days, but try as I might, I just can't. Right now, Rick is sleeping on the couch; it's 4:30 and Judge Judy is yammering, but he's sound asleep. His breathing is heavy and deep. It happened almost instantly--one moment he was talking about being sleepy, and the next he was doing it! Sleeping, just like that. I also cannot put a blanket on over my clothes. It just feels awful to me. I can, however, put a blanket over my Lounge Outfit. It's completely different somehow. (Just now, Rick said very clearly, "Should we go in and start dinner pretty soon?" FROM A DEAD SLEEP. How? I DON'T GET IT.)

Dinner. Ugh. I have been shopping for, thinking about, planning, prepping, cooking, and cleaning up after Dinners for almost FORTY-FIVE YEARS. I am starting to feel about Dinner like I do about Winter. It's almost abusive and brutal anymore. WHEN WILL IT END? How can I continue to endure it? Sigh. I might have Rick clear the ten feet of snow away from the grill and have him start making Dinner. I've had enough.

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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Merry Christmas 2025 From The Dept. Of Nance

 Merry Christmas, everyone. We made it, literally.

Congratulations to all of you, the Holiday Bringers And Makers. You brought it to life again. Well done. In the coming days, insist on your rest. Everything else can wait. Truly, it can.

In this photo you are seeing Theo's gifts from Nana and Pa and Gunga. Our family decided only to buy for Theo, gratefully streamlining our Christmas. Pa made him a solid oak rocking horse. The biggest (and most) packages are from Gunga, who is the most indulgent uncle ever. Those two are smitten with each other.

Enjoy your family, friends, and your tree this Christmas. Cherish your health and your home. And remember to treat yourself as the athlete you are for accomplishing this feat called Christmas:  relax, rest, and recover. 

A Pre-Christmas Quartet: Random Moments From The Dept.

nhpr.org

Some random moments from around the Dept. lately:

I.  My desire was unusually strong to get our Christmas tree up this year. I very much wanted the pretty lights and decorations which I especially enjoy in the quiet of the early morning. As usual, when we are hanging decorations, I get very sentimental about one in particular. It's a small, faded silver ball that was given to me my first year of teaching. One of my sophomore classes heard me fretting about not having any ornaments for our first tree as a tightly-budgeted newlywed couple, and they each brought in an ornament for me as a Christmas present. This little silver one was from a student whose family had nothing to spare; it was obviously one from their very own tree, and probably used for many, many years.  I still remember her name and her face from 45 years ago, and I always hang her ornament where I can easily see it. 

hvseast.com

II. Even though I have a Christmas tree up and there has been plenty of snow and cold weather (UGH), I am not ready for Christmas music. Honestly, I wonder if I ever will be this year. It seems that I can't find any that doesn't annoy me. Pianos are too plinky for me. Vocals start irritating and distracting me. Organ music makes me feel like I'm in a church or roller rink. Violins make me feel stabby. Jazz, after a while, makes me roll my eyes. And why is it that every Christmas album has some song on it that no one has ever heard of or is just awful? And, speaking of awful, can we just not with Baby, It's Cold Outside? Anyway, what Christmas music are you listening to that isn't terrible (or country) and won't get me Whammed?

III. Scene opens on living room. Nance is in the recliner; Rick is lounging on the couch. The television is on, tuned to the local news.

Weatherman:  Temperatures will remain in the upper 30s, near 40 degrees. Rain will move in, followed by a wintry mix and then more snow. Wind gusts will be strong--

Nance:  Rick! Go hook up the hose.

Rick:  (turns to look at her with fear and disbelief) Whaaat?

Nance:  Go get the hose and spray the front and back yards. I want to be able to see all grass before it snows again. Just once. Even for a minute.

Rick:  (looks at her carefully; he is gauging her level of seriousness) Nance. I--

Nance:  Rick. If I really, really needed you to do this for me, would you? Would you go out there and spray down the yard so that I could see grass if I absolutely had to?

Rick:  Yes. Of course I would. But in the back yard. I don't want the neighbours to see me and think I'm nuts.

End Scene.

IV.  My longtime readers know I have a Cow Obsession. I've loved them since I was a child, and I still dream of owning one (yes, a real one). My kitchen has a black and white Holstein cow theme, and I might be the only woman alive who isn't offended when someone says, "I saw this cow and thought of you." On Saturday, I saw Theo and we talked all about his Christmas tree, and then we talked about mine. I told him, while counting off on my fingers, "Theo, Nana has 1-2-3-4-5-6-7 cows on her Christmas tree! What do you think about that?" He looked at me, shook his head, and said admonishingly, "Nana! Too many cows, Nana." And then he just leaned back and laughed and laughed. 

Everyone's a critic, you know?

As I'm writing this, the grass we finally saw is already covered in the snow they predicted. It's flying thick and fast, propelled by those high wind gusts. No, I will never think it's pretty, and I do not care whether or not we have a white Christmas. More and more, I like the idea of the kind of Christmas my Vacation Cow ornament looks like he's celebrating. That gives me an idea:  maybe I need to look for some reggae Christmas music. That, as they used to say, just might Be My Jam.

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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The Best Laid Plans...Updated

 It will be a little while before I can get back to writing here. Thanks for your patience. Things have been, in a word, Shitful. 

I hope to see you soon.

Updated

I realized later that this was a crummy and selfish post, and I'm sorry. I'm overwhelmed and not myself. It's not my intention to be dramatic or cryptic, and I can see how this can read as both.

In brief:  Dr. B gave me a steroid blast in an effort to ease the pain I am in daily. It didn't work. What it did do--and I was fully aware of this possibility--was to give me a sleepless night, and that was all it took to break me down. I'm in a bad place right now, and I need some time. It's hard to face that this is my Life, and that no amount of fighting is going to make it different for me.

Again, I apologize for the original post. You deserve better. And I know better.

What's The Deal With My Mouth? A List Of Foods I Don't Eat Anymore

 

Rick and I were chatting after watching a commercial about Thanksgiving food. That led to a few comments about foods that I don't like anymore. I shut that conversation down With The Quickness, as my students used to say. 

You know, I'm the first one to admit that I've gotten ... Difficult with food. But I'm also the first one to admit that I heartily wish It Weren't So. I used to be a genial, easy-to-please eater who had no opposition to any food. I gladly ate anything put in front of me without complaint well into adulthood. 

It's only been in the last several years that I've suddenly become unable? unwilling? to eat some foods that I used to like, and the list seems to be growing. Have my taste buds changed? Am I finally becoming more discerning or unwilling to settle for stuff I merely think is ok? I know a couple of things don't sit well in my stomach, and that makes them Not Worth It anymore. Here is a (partial!) list of

Foods I Don't Eat Anymore

1. Bacon

2. Ham

3. Eggs

4. Pizza

5. Pumpkin Pie

6. Pickles

7. Green Peppers

8. Caramel  

9. White Chocolate

No need to go back over the whole Pizza thing--please.

I've found that smoky foods are too overwhelming for me. If barbecue sauces are smoky, I'm out. I do not like that taste at all. Recently, I tried ham again, and it was not too bad, but that was enough to hold me for probably another year or two. It makes me sad because I make a terrific glazed ham that everyone loves, and I used to love it too. Bacon is probably the most overrated thing in the world, there I said it.

I used to ask for, and get, huge jars of dill pickles for Christmas. I piled them on burgers and all kinds of cold cut sandwiches in addition to eating them plain as a snack. Now? I don't think there's a single jar in my house, here or at the lake. When did this happen? No idea.

When I was a little girl, I got incredible chocolates in my Easter basket. My uncle owned and operated a candy store, and he made all the chocolate molds, big filled Easter eggs, and fondant mints. His chocolate was delicious and all bunnies, crosses, chicks, and ducks were solid, not hollow. I often got white chocolate and loved it. Now? Ugh. How can they even call it chocolate? (By the way, each of us used to get a 12" solid chocolate bunny plus other molds, and yes, we always ate the ears first.)

Rick teases me about pumpkin pie this time of year every year. I make two each Thanksgiving and eat zero pieces. I have tried very hard to like it. I love pumpkin bread and pumpkin cookies and pumpkin roll. I find pumpkin pie boring and sad. "Oh, Nance, " you say. "Make a pumpkin cheesecake!" I forgot to add cheesecake to the list of foods I no longer like. 

What are some foods that you've suddenly lost your taste for? Do you share any of mine?

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Better Living Through Little Bottles And Jars: A List Of Stuff I Take That's Not Medicine

Listen, I'll be honest. This is a real Hail Mary of a post because I woke up with a headache (not unusual now with EB/ME) and it developed into a migraine. I had to go to a doctor's appointment that was not encouraging, and the weather is SO GREY and SO WINDY and SO COLD and I'm ... well, let's just not Go There.

One of the discussions I had with Superhero Neurologist Dr. B was about medications. I am not a fan of loading up on a bunch of them, especially if I'm treating symptoms only. If I can manage them another way, that's what I'd rather do. One thing I am willing to take is vitamins or supplements that my doctors recommend if my labs show that I need them or if there is research that shows they will have a positive effect. Here is a list of

Non-Meds That I Take Regularly 

1. Multi-vitamin formulated for women

2. Vitamin D3

3. Vitamin B12

4. Magnesium

5. Iberogast

Because I am on Topamax (generic name topiramate), my body's ability to absorb many vitamins is compromised, especially Vitamin D. I had a severe Vitamin D deficiency several years ago that made me desperately ill and set me on a search to multiple doctors to find out what was wrong with me. It took me a year to recover my health. As a result, I must supplement D3 for the rest of my life. The same thing goes for B12; my levels for that vitamin were also low, and it helps with peripheral neuropathy. I take Magnesium to help with migraines and balance. The Iberogast was not prescribed, but it's an herbal supplement (drops) that help to calm my stomach and gut. Digestive problems are another symptom of ME that I deal with. I find this supplement very helpful for that, and it's just stuff like chamomile, lemon balm, and peppermint. 

Some people call vitamins and supplements the ingredients for expensive pee. I'm following doctor's orders, so I feel vindicated. How do you feel about vitamins and supplements? Do you take very many?  

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A Place For Everything: A List Of How I Keep My Kitchen In Check

 

It will probably not surprise anyone here that I like to Be Organized. Everything has a place, and I expect to find each thing in its place. Part of my fastidiousness comes from growing up in a home where this was not always the case. There were six of us in a very small house, and my mother was not the most enthusiastic housekeeper. My father was zero help in that area, being the breadwinner and quite the chauvinist.

Another reason I came to value Organization was my career. A highschool teacher with an average of 130 students for a class load, I learned that Being Organized meant my very survival. I had a system for everything, with fail-safes built into each of those systems. Nothing slipped between the cracks. My gradebook--yes, the actual black book--was a thing of beauty and efficiency and could tell me volumes at a mere glance. I had to build this empire because teenagers can find any flaw and exploit it to their advantage and to your ruin.

One important place in my own home that I'm quite Organized is my kitchen. It is a small, galley-style kitchen that also includes a breakfast nook. Space is at a premium, and I do cook, so I want it to be efficient and workable. Here is a list of

Ways I Keep My Kitchen Organized

1. Pot Rack 

2. Utensil Hooks

3. Containers With Their Lids

4. No Counter Decor

5. Store What You Don't Use Often 

I'm sure that none of these are revelations to any of you, but in case you have a small kitchen like I do, maybe one or two of these might be helpful. 

Kitchen designers or people who predict trends don't interest me. I want a functional and easy-to-clean kitchen. One of the best things I ever did was get a hanging pot rack. I put the pans I use most often on that and they're always within easy reach, ready to go. The rest of my cupboard can be used for sheet pans, cake and pie pans, and my big pasta pot. And lids (which are neatly stowed in the wire basket from a former freezer). 

I really dislike a big jumble of kitchen utensils like peelers, spatulas, ladles, serving spoons and whisks cluttering up a drawer. Not everything I use/need will fit in a cute crock on the counter. I installed a bunch of hooks, like plain old robe or towel hooks, on the wall, and hung a lot of these items if they had holes in the handles (or through the splines of a whisk). This saves space and the items are right there when I need them.

My good friend and fellow blogger Shirley taught me to end the madness of storing plastic tupper-type containers and lids separately. The summer I retired, I cleared out the plastic container cupboard, tossed any that had no matching lid or container, and stored all remaining containers with lids on them, keeping only the good stuff. It has been that way ever since and it has been life-changing. Trust us; do this.

My kitchen is red, white, and black and full of Holstein cows. I am a Cow Lady. Love them. You can imagine the vast amounts of Cow Stuff I would get for gifts, let alone the stuff I couldn't resist buying for myself. However, if that stuff lived on my counter, I was giving up valuable real estate I needed for food prep and other kitchen work. Rick built me shelves above the door frame and window, and I pared down my collection A LOT. None of it lives on my counter; I can't afford to give up that workspace.

Do I have a huge stainless steel bowl big enough to bathe a baby in? Do I have muffin tins? Do I have three springform pans and lots and lots of wineglasses? How about an electric griddle, ten boxes of pasta, five cans of tomato soup, ten cans of various beans, and dozens of Mason jars for homemade pickles as well as even more smaller jars for pesto season? Heck yes I do. They all live in my basement on the sturdy shelves my husband built in the pantry area. There is no way I want any of that stuff--and more--in my kitchen until I need it.

How many of these methods do you already use? Do you have more to share? 

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Let's Play: A List Of Favourite Toys Of My Childhood

 Theo had his first playdate at another child's home over the weekend. I heard all about it from Jordan yesterday. "They had a wonderful time," she said. "William's dads had converted their entire great room into a playroom. The floor was covered in play mats. There were all kinds of toys. Theo went right to where all the vehicles were neatly parked--trucks, cars, a cement mixer, a school bus--and ran them everywhere. There was every kind of toy imaginable in there!" 

Our boys had a lot of toys, and a great many of them lived in half of our living room, which we simply gave over to them when they were little. They had a Little Tykes basketball hoop in there, as well as a Fisher Price game table that was a glide hockey and pool table in one. I mean, after all, it was where we lived, for goodness' sake. 

When I was a kid, it wasn't like that at all. For one thing, there were four of us. And until I was in high school, my mom didn't have a job outside of the home. I never felt shortchanged or anything, but our Christmases were more modest. I always got the kinds of toys I liked, and my favourites were not spectacular. Here's a list of

Favourite Toys Of My Childhood

1. Colouring Books and Crayons

2. Etch A Sketch

3. Spirograph

4. Play Doh

5. Roller Skates

This list is short because I usually wanted (and got) clothes and books for Christmas and my birthday, along with little niceties like bubble bath and other doodads. I would occasionally ask for a doll, but  looking back, they weren't my favourites. I did play with dolls often, usually on a big blanket spread out under the tree in the front yard with my sister or friends. But the things on this list hold the fondest memories for me.

Every year for Christmas, I would ask for and receive a box of Crayola 64 crayons. I loved to colour, and the year I got The Great Big Nature Book To Colour, I was ecstatic. It was at least three inches thick, and within its pages were the best pictures ever--little animals in the woods, kids picking flowers, birds in nests, kids rowing boats in lakes with fish peeping out from the surface. I loved that book. Now, it's all but impossible to find a colouring book that's not a tie-in with a cartoon or character, or branded in some way. 

When I started being a Play Doh Artiste, there were only four colours, pink, yellow, blue, and white. I considered it a Venial Sin to mix Play Doh, ever. Still, I made wonderful things out of Play Doh and was thrilled to have a sister five years younger so that I could play with it long after it was appropriate.

I rollerskated like it was my job when I was a kid. And, hey, I'm not talking about those sissy skates that are boots with wheels attached that you just put on like bowling shoes. Oh no! I'm talking Change Out Of Your Keds And Put On Your Saddle Shoes In The Summertime And Clamp Those Bitches On By Using A Skate Key Like A Badass skates. These:

from Pinterest

Don't mess with me. I also played jump rope in the street using the telephone pole to hold the rope when we couldn't get another person to twirl. When Susan (my little sister) used to purposely jerk the rope to make me miss, our battles were epic and sometimes bloody. What can I say? Life in the 'hood.

What were some of your favourite childhood toys? Did you ever use a skate key? Anyone else love to get crayons?

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And For The Lady? My List Of Picky Restaurant Behaviours

 Rick and I do not go out to eat very often. This is mostly my fault. I get very annoyed at the prices restaurants charge for even a simple salad. It's outrageous. There are very few good restaurants near us as well, and I won't pay big bucks for mediocre food or food that I could make much better in my own kitchen.

We do have a favourite restaurant nearby, and the food there is always excellent. We know the owner and chef as well as all the wait staff. They take reservations--a must for me--and they will make alterations to any dish (don't like arcadian greens for your salad? they'll sub romaine; prefer no garlic? they'll leave it out). They have a weekly menu of special appetizer, soup, salad, fish, and meat or pasta entree. It's a wonderful place, but pricey. Rick would go there every single week, but I am the rain on his parade.

Here is a list of my

Picky Restaurant Behaviours

1. I do not eat outside.

2. I cannot be seated anywhere near an air conditioning vent.

3. I will not sit at a banquette.

4. I will not wait longer than 15 minutes for a table.

5. I will not order anything that I can make easily at home.

6. I generally do not get beef.

7. I do not sit at the bar.

8. I do not and never will order the salmon. 

I feel like so many of these are things you already know about me or can intuit from reading me all this time. My aversion to camping should make #1 clear. I'm not about to pay money for a meal and then fight the elements to enjoy it. I'm also not going to sit at a long bench and share my meal with strangers. Banquettes are the picnic tables of the restaurant industry. Same with sitting at the bar. 

There is a steakhouse in the area that does not take reservations. It has something called Call Ahead Seating, which I have no understanding of. People show up there and wait as long as an hour or more just to eat. I find that preposterous. Nothing is worth that. I detest waiting for anything, especially if I have an appointment time. 

Sometimes we go to our favourite restaurant--after making a reservation and asking for our favourite server, Lynn--and for a meal I get an appetizer and a salad. And a French 75. And then a creme brulee, because they serve theirs warm, which is so lovely. I try not to add up my part of the bill in my head and get crabby because that ruins the evening for me. Especially if I remembered to bring a sweater.

Am I crazy, or do you have some picky restaurant behaviours, too?

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When Rick Met Nance: Golf Class Explained

Yesterday's mention of meeting my husband in a college golf class provoked some discussion in Comments, enough that I decided to pause my Listing and devote today's post to that story. I'm honestly shocked that in the twenty years this blog has existed it's not been a topic before.

I started my college career in 1977 at Lorain County Community College, working part time at City Bank as a teller. I'd take morning classes, rush home, change clothes, and be at work asap. I also worked Saturdays. Luckily, college tuition at LCCC was ten bucks per credit hour back then, and it was on the quarter system rather than semesters.

Anyway, I was required to take three phys ed classes towards my degree. I was deeply disappointed by this; I had thought I would escape gym class once I graduated high school, where I was a very lackadaisical participant in all things athletic. If there had been a bookathon or a reading olympics, I'd have been all over that. As I made out my freshman college schedule, I scoured the phys ed offerings for anything that met my stringent criteria:  no running, no clothes changing, and no sweating. I was pleased to find three that fit that perfectly--golf, bowling, and marksmanship. 

Another reason I chose golf was because my father was an avid enthusiast of the sport. He played often, disappearing for half the day at least once a week when the weather was decent. He only played nine holes usually, but he never just played the course. He wandered around collecting interesting sticks, acorns, leaves, abandoned bird's nests, and other things in nature that interested him. His golf bag was a mess of environmental samples.

Back to golf class. It was taught by a young, brisk woman named Miss Pugh who was probably in her early thirties, if that, and largely populated by eighteen-year old boys. I was one of about 5 girls in the class. Some days were spent in the classroom, reviewing rules and taking quizzes, but most of the time we were outside in a wide, grassy area practicing putting, driving, chipping, and pitching. Miss Pugh would put us in teams of two or three, give us clubs and tees and plastic balls, and set up an area for us to aim for. 

I hated this part because I realized early on that I hated golf. A lot. It felt awkward and unnatural. And I sucked at it. I was a terrific and accurate putter, but the rest--not so much. I also hated that some of the boys in the class took these outdoor times as opportunities to Play Expert. And get very physical. They'd get behind me, put their hands over mine, and act like they were helping me with my grip and swing. I was quick to put a stop to that.

One day, I was put on a team with Rick and a boy named John. John was very cute (think Benson Boone and Timothee Chalamet) and bougie. We were outside to practice our chipping. All three of us were teeing up and getting ready to address the ball, and John came over to help me. He got behind me and I immediately told him I was fine and could do it myself while maneuvering away from him. I rolled my eyes at Rick and we all chipped. Well, at least John and Rick did. I stood there and watched my ball roll off the tee about six inches, probably from the draft of air my lousy swing produced. "Wow," Rick said, his voice clear and deadpan. "If that was me, I'd pick it up and hit it again."

I was already embarrassed, and now I was furious. Who did this jerk think he was, anyway? I turned around, looked right at him, and said, "And if I were you, I'd go straight to hell."

And thus began our neverending love story, Dear Readers. It continued with Rick pelting John with golf balls, a sort-of marriage proposal another time soon after and me accepting, and Rick getting an A in the class and me getting a C. I've never played golf, but he played many rounds with my father. We've been together 48 years, married 44. Astonishing, isn't it?

 

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Simon and Garfunkel Know: A List Of What I Grow

 

Every spring I walk over to the eastern side of my house that borders the neighbour's driveway to survey the tiny plot of ground that is my herb garden. Once the weather starts to settle in and the days warm consistently, I look to see which herbs have wintered over and which ones I'll need to replant. I clear away the dead leaves and the stray gravel thrown in by Scott's snowblower. (He's a great neighbour, and he'd apologize profusely if he saw me picking out the stones.) I make a mental list of what I need from the greenhouse, and go inside to write it down. 

Some of my herbs have been around for ages, and I so appreciate them. I garden organically, using this product for sturdy growth. When the season is over, I also dry my own herbs naturally by hanging them. Because my herb garden is so sheltered, I often have herbs well into November unless the weather becomes very harsh. Right now, I can--and do--still harvest parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme (aka Simon and Garfunkel's Big Four).

This year, a volunteer Campari tomato plant made an appearance, and I harvested the last of those--green--about a week ago. They are sitting in the sun of my kitchen garden window, ripening at their leisure. I was also inundated with a dozen or so surprise jalapeno plants which I placed en masse in huge patio pots along the driveway. They look quite festive now, huge and full of bright red peppers.

But each year, my herb garden is lush and green, full of the same herbs. Here is a list of

Herbs In My Garden

1. Basil

2. French Tarragon

3. Italian Oregano

4. Chives

5. Rosemary

6. Curly Parsley

7. Thyme

8. Sage

My Tarragon, Oregano, and Chives have been with me for over ten years now. I've done nothing to them to inspire such loyalty and love. They have outstanding flavour, and I was cutting chives not a week ago for baked potato.

Many cooks prefer Italian Parsley, but I find that it tastes a bit like celery to me, so I prefer the Curly variety. I love it in salad, and I use it when I make pesto to help it stay green and lift the flavour a bit. I just cut some last night to put in meatloaf.

When I plant Rosemary, I like the barbecue variety, the kind that grows upright. It gives me more space in my little plot. It's also easier to strip. Rosemary is such a beautiful herb with potato, chicken, roasted vegetables, and you don't dare make lamb without it.

Basil = Summertime to me. I make quarts and quarts of pesto. I love a flatbread on the grill, smeared with pesto, topped with tomatoes marinated in olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Add some fresh mozzarella and that's our go-to lake dinner. It's a shame that I can't winter over Basil, but it gives me so much to look forward to.

Thyme is an astonishing addition to mushrooms and onions. Try it. 

Sage makes all poultry better and it just tastes like Thanksgiving to me. It's also nice with pork. 

Do you have an herb garden? Cook with herbs? What are some of your favourites?

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Presenting Me: A List Of Random Facts To Get Newer Readers Up To Speed

It suddenly dawned on me that a great many of you have not been hanging around the Dept. since I started writing here in 2005. You've had to pick up context clues and figure things out as you go, and while it's pretty easy to catch on, it feels sort of rude to me that I haven't provided some background. I don't have an About Me page or anything, and the Blogger bio is glib and brief.

Quite some time ago, I did post a few photos of myself on a separate page to satisfy the curiosity of a few readers, then took them down. It's a Privacy Thing. Some of you have met me and can vouch for the fact that I'm a Real Person and do, in fact, exist. 

Anyway, I thought today I'd share some random facts about me that might help to fill in some gaps or merely round out your view of me. Or maybe even surprise you. Here then is the list of stuff that's

All About Me

1. I met my husband Rick in golf class in our first year of college.

2. I have two sons:  Jared is 40 and Sam is 37. Jared is the father of my grandson, Theo, who will be 2 in about two weeks.

3. I changed my college major from veterinary medicine to elementary education to secondary education and became an English teacher.

4. I learned to read when I was about 3 years old.

5. I am deathly afraid of snakes.

6. I detest winter.

7. I've lived in Ohio all my life.

8. I am a recovering Catholic who is now atheist.

9. I am almost always cold, and I have three heating pads.

10. I am a huge Dog Appreciator and know almost all dog breeds by sight, but I won't ever own a dog.

11. I do not like pizza.

12. I have a big 15-year old orange tabby cat named Piper; he will be my last cat forever.

13. I used to have a massive and long-running crush on Daniel Day-Lewis.

14. I hate country music.

15. I do freelance writing and editing.

Time is running out for me to post this. It was a tiring day. If you'd like details on any of these, please ask, and I'll be happy to provide in Comments. Otherwise, give me some similar facts about yourself:  Who's your celebrity crush? Do you like country music? Have a phobia? Dislike a popular food? Let's hear it.