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I've known two women named Janice. One was an elderly lady who loved to garden and bird watch; she passed away in her nineties. The other Janice was a passionate grad student in her twenties when I knew her but would be about thirty now. They were both very nice women, and they made me like Janice.

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Nancy makes me think of a maid in a movie or book set in the late 1800s or of a waitress in a 50s diner. It is a comfortable name.