Special is as special does

March 19, 2012 § 28 Comments

Helping my parents on Sunday. They are in the process of the big move. Out to the country. So I enlisted C’s help, and he’s okay with it because it’s work, not a social thing. C’s a worker bee. So long as he is busy he’s quite content. Anyway, so the family is in and out of the house, they are fully downsizing so family is picking up tables and desks and beds,etc. that my parents aren’t taking with them.
 I love my Nonna. She’s just wonderful… As a grandmother. Mother-in-law…. Yeah, not so much. Her and my mother have a somewhat strained relationship. See, if my dad makes decisions she would not make for him, it’s my mother’s influence. Like them not getting married, having children so late in life. Blah blah, blah. Over the years the have learned to peacefully co-exist. The key is to understand first and foremost, she is my dad’s mother. What that means is that no one will ever be good enough for him. And that while her Catholicism may be skewed to her advantage, she is still catholic, or as C.J. calls it “the C word”.

 So she came and made a comment about how it was nice that my “special friend” would help them. That is instead of boyfriend he is my “special friend”. I am fairly certain she knows that this idea she has that I will find some nice Italian girl is never going to happen, but she still likes to pretend that C is just a friend, a roommate. So the CJ says that he doesn’t like Nonna calling him that. I told him. Or to worry. She’s just Nonna, stuck in her ways. “I still don’t think it’s nice calling him retarded.”. Not that kind of special CJ.

Ghosts of Christmas past

January 5, 2012 § 12 Comments

For some reason I was thinking about my cousin and myself as little kids.  We were both watched a lot by my Nonna while our parents worked.  My Nonna has two kitchens.  One upstairs kitchen where everything is spotless, one downstairs, where still everything is spotless, but it does not have to stay this way.  This is the one she cooks in.  She also has a living room with her couch in the clear plastic slip covers  She DUSTS her couch.  

   There are two doors in my Nonna’s house.  The front door which leads to a large foyer, opening to her plastic couched living room and french doors with open to her beautiful kitchen.  Then there is the side door which leads to the kitchen of good smells, and her sunken “den”, and two rooms.  Growing up A and I spent many times napping on the den couch, playing, juice got spilled, crumbs dropped.  We lived in the den and second (which is really the only) kitchen.  When family would come over we spent time in the den.  Every Christmas that plastic would come off the couch and for one very tense evening Nonna’s couch lived life on the wild side.  Bareback furniture.
Anyway, because A and I were about 4 and 5 and so used to fooling around at Nonna’s we did not really grasp the impact of being allowed in the front door.  It felt like forever, but was probably only an hours of us getting told to “settle down” or “sit still” when finally Nonna said she would go down and put on a movie for us. My cousin got “Spice World” for Christmas, I can’t remember what I wanted to watch, but we were arguing.      
     We ended up shoving each other and went right into the french doors guarding the “Good Kitchen”.  As my mother stood up an entire glass of red wine down a cream coloured sofa with embroidered roses.  My cousin had a split lip and the back of my head managed to break the glass, yet it remained intact, with the perfect curved indent of the back of my head in the thick glass.  Surprisingly I was unhurt, but later as we sat watching “Spice World”, A with a dishcloth full of ice pressed to her lip and a smirk that she got her choice of movie at the cost of a little blood we heard my Nonna directed the cleaning of the couch while assuring my mother it was fine, and that she probably had too much to drink.  My father arguing that it had more to do with two children going through a glass door.  
   The couch was never the same, and they had to get a new one.  All of which Nonna assured my mother was no big deal.  But every Christmas she mentions Jamie’s head indented in the glass and the sofa.  “I loved that sofa.”  

Nothing beats the love of Nonna

February 8, 2011 § 3 Comments

Okay, so my Nonna was by last night to clean the house. Now Nonna has never heard of tidying, she guts and rearranges, and mom is not going to like havng her whole house rearranged by her MIL. They do not get along. My mom has never been good enough for my father in his mother’s eyes. She also thinks it is ridiculous that at her age my mom is pregnant.
In saying that, she has always been a brilliant grandmother. Now see, my mom could find a bag of human heads under my bed and she would sit me down and ask if I was having problems… she is that supportive. But Italian grandmother love is a little different. My grandmother would take the evidence, use it to set someone up for the fall, and never bring it up to me, secure in her knowledge that I must have had a perfectly good reason and they had it coming.
Anyway, had some wonderful manicotti last night, I love that woman.
“You should find a nice catholic italian girl.” she is forever telling me. Yep, she knows I’m gay, but she keeps thinking it is something I will get over in time. She thinks I just get this “boy thing” out of my system then settle down with a nice girl.
Working tonight with my least fave vet. He’s okay, but very religious, and tends to make digs about my “preferences”. Preferences my ass. It is not like I prefer men, women do nothing for me. He does not try to push his religion on others, he just feels bad that some people “damn themselves to an afterlife of eternal torment”. Yeah, thanks for not pushing your beliefs. In all honesty, I do not think he tries to be nasty, so I just smile and do my job. Should leave me in the mood for a few drinks right enough.
Picking up my mom tomorrow morning from the hospital:)

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