Saturday, February 26, 2011

Forgive me Nanny, for I have Blogged ("Nanny" being strictly ficticious of course! he, he ..... he?)

I realize the natural course, having just written about my Uncle Don, who was married to my "Nanny", would obviously be to write about her next.  And I have decided to do just that.  But only after some long, hard soul-searching, heart breaking and garlic wearing meditation.

You see.  I love{d} my Nanny, bless her soul (if she had one) (Ooops, did I say that outloud?).  But she was an acquired taste.  Much like hot sauce on a sardine sandwich with a side of  pickles. Very few people liked understood her.  She was what one might refer to as a bitch stoic. 

Oh she could be very funny, quite entertaining and always, ALWAYS, fashionable.  Not a hair, button or crease out of place (they wouldn't dare!).  One might even say she was ........ conceited.
Forever, the Belle of the Ball.

Even if it was someone else's Ball.
Two days after my mother showed her the dress she was wearing to my wedding as the MOTHER OF THE BRIDE...
My Nanny?
Get this.
My Nanny went out and bought a dress The. Exact. Same. Color!
1, 354,980 colors and patterns out there and she chose this one.
Funny thing.  No one was surprised!

That was "Nanny".  And no-body no-thing was ever going to change her.

But she was MY Nanny and I was her grandchild and in our sheltered little moments in time, it was wonderful.

Before I go any further, and while I certainly don't believe in evil ghosts, or people coming back from the dead, or say Satan's bff (whose resemblance to my grandmother is uncanny) casting spells or such, I do want to point out that this post is strictly fictional. (There, pretty sure I've covered my ass *nervous laugh*)
It wasn't until I was much older that cousins, aunts and uncles felt it appropriate enough to discuss things in front of me.  It wasn't that she was a bad person.  In fact, if you were family? As the Matriarch,  she made sure you were treated quite well.  After all, you were her soldiers underlings, her successors, her legacy and, as such, you would be trained appropriately to represent and protect her Kingdom and you would eat and dress accordingly.

In fact, that's what it was.
If I had to put a finger on it.
She had her idea of what was right and there would be no discussion, no debate, no argument.
That was that!

She had this thing about hair.
Actually, looking back.  It would probably be considered an obsession today.
Every time we visited her, could have been twice in one week, she would "trim" our hair.  Bangs were a must, like them or not.  As I type this it sounds a bit "Mommy Dearest" and, quite frankly, is beginning to shed a little light on some of mine and my siblings twitches mannerisms; but, at the time, it was just Nanny.

When she wasn't cutting my hair, she was combing and "styling" it.  Her favorite "do" requiring her to gather all my Nanny-imposed bangs, twiiissstttt them together and pulllllllllllll them waaaaay backkkk with a very pretty, but sharp clip. It didn't hurt, it was far too numb to, so for the rest of the day that's how I wore it, wide-eyed and smiling (two natural side-effects when the hair on the front of your head is bobby-pinned to your butt!)  In fact, I'm fairly certain I am the inspiration behind all those " Mommy, mommy, my pigtails are too tight" jokes.  Only it wasn't pigtails.  I shudder to think what would have happened then!  
Run piggies, run!

Oh! and she sang!
A lot. 
Not at home, or in the shower, or  the church choir.
No that wasn't random enough.
It was usually in a crowded car, or the mall or in the middle of a wedding reception.
Yes, you heard me, a wedding reception.  Apparently she didn't think the band could hold it's own, or perhaps she sensed that they wanted her to sing?! For whatever reason, one second she was sitting at the dais chit-chatting away and the next? Let's just say we still don't know what ninja move she used to get the microphone but it entailed traveling over 3 banquet tables, a set of  drums and an ice sculpture. And before anyone knew it, there she stood belting out the song "Mary", not-so-coincidentally, the brides name.  A song no one had ever heard before, or since. 

If it was raining? "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head";
Easter? "In your Easter bonnet" ...
Don't recall what theme accompanied our haircuts.......
..............................................perhaps "Sweeney Todd"??????

To shave-a da face, to cut-a da hair
Require a grace, require da flair;
For if-a you slip, you nick da skin,
You clip-a da chin, you rip-a da lip, a bit
Beyond-a repair!



  1. LOL
    I'm glad you're back! I've missed you! And the pic of your writing office gave me heart palpatations! To. Die. For!