Put your arms around me child, like when you bumped your shin. And you know I love you now...like I loved you then. Though you may be trying sometimes, and I need you, and you're not there. I may get mad, and turn you away, but Lord knows I still care.
But you can not ask for more, than can come from me. I am different than you are, but one day, you'll see. So, if I lose my patience with you, and suddenly I start to scream. It's only because, I just want you to be, everything I see in my dreams."
-The Feeling We Once Had from "The Wiz"
(Sorry. I'm a bit late. However, some of you that know me...and have been hanging out with me for the past few days...you understand. OK. Let's begin.)
Translate the following phrases:
"I ain't stettin' bout you."
"Goone from here. Goone nah."
"Gi-em some!"
"Greeeat day!"
These were Lorraine Fitzgerald's greatest hits. If you didn't have a Grandma that was the slave-dialect bridge like mine...here's what I just said.
"I ain't stettin' bout you."
Translation: You don't bother me at all. I could care less. I'm not paying attention.
"Goone from here wit dat foolishness. Goone nah."
Translation: Can be used TWO ways.
1) Serious: Get out of my sight. You're getting on my nerves with your behavior.
2)Humorous: Whatever you are saying is unbelievably funny and I almost don't believe you it's so incredulous.
"Gi-em some!"
Translation: SHARE!
"Greeeat day!"
Translation: Oh shit!
I'm all in Grandma mode because, after a long struggle with Alzheimers, she gave in around this time of year.
And every year, it sucks.
Even if I try not to let it suck...I get, quiet. And a quiet pain in my chest that won't let up and I can never figure out why....then, I'll remember.
Right. That's right.
And to alleviate this...I usually try to celebrate the memory to combat the pain...with humor. And you're welcome to join me...because Grandma did some strange & funny shit..and it was usually poverty driven, which, should never be funny. But it is.
Now I've told most of you the "Play the Ghosts Out The House" story, some of you got the "Big Jim and The Rat" story... and most of you have gotten the "Spider-Man Barbie Bride" story. (The funniest story in my arsenal to date.)
But this one is about the time Grandma broke her arm.
I was about 11, and looking forward to summer. REALLY looking forward to it.
I had been to day camp the years before, and, as far as I was concerned...THERE WAS NOTHING FUCKING BETTER. I was a super star at camp! I got cool with all the councilors and staff...Participated in everything...day camp was the shit.
So school lets out, and I've done damn well (made the honor roll...headed to 5-IGC...)and so, as Ma promised, PJ (spoiled cousin..same age) and I were headed to day camp!
Week one, I'd already made friends with this vegetarian girl who shared her oddly tasty sandwiches with me...joined the dance troupe (The "Seward-Action Dance Girls". I still remember the song we had to sing to go with the dance. I'll sing it for you on command.) ...life was good.
Over the weekend, Ma got a phonecall from uncle Buddy. Apparently, on the way to the Post Office mailbox, Grandma had tripped and broken her arm. (Grandma was always going to the Post Office for her mail. She didn't get her mail at home, because she expected gov't assistance checks and people would break into the mailbox and steal em. Yeah.)
So I heard this, and I'm REALLY upset. She's gonna be OK right?
She sure is...because you're going over there to spend the summer with her and help her out.
WHAT?
I tell you. Nothing hurts you more than to see your Grandma in a cast.
Helplessness and pride are kicking the shit out of each other for supremacy. She can't cook...( the microwave wasn't affordable yet), she can't sew, bake, clean, play piano, wash... you get the idea.
...which means young Nyree is thrown into "Home Domestics: Def Con Five". Because Grandma did EVERYTHING "the old fashion way", and it had to get done. Had to.
...and thus began my Jedi training.
This may shock some of you, but I am NOT TO BE FUCKED WITH in the following categories:
1) Cooking (love it) Including baking.
2) Cleaning (hate it)
3) Playing the piano with only my left hand (I was her supplement)
4) Sewing (needle and thread or machine. Gangsta.)
5) Crocheting (Yes. Hats. Booties.Blankets. Yes.)
6) Bidding on items up for bid on "The Price is Right". (One dollar is a gangsta bid. You basically are telling everyone ...you are WRONG.)
And yet, this is not the most important lesson I took away.
The most important lesson was how to put my grandmother's bra on.
There is nothing...NOTHING ...more disturbing than a girl who doesn't even have tits, than to put some tits that are
WAY BEYOND their prime in a bra.
So the following morning after my arrival, Grandma said...
"Come on baby. Help Grandma in her britches."
WHAT?!!
But you can't say no to your Grandma. EVER. It's a mortal sin.
So I took my grandmother's long...(let me say that again) LONG...soft, worn breast (the left one)...
But wait. Let me back up.
Do you even understand what it's like to see your grandmother's breast? No?
Good. I hope to God the answer is "No. No Nye. Hell no." ...and if that's the answer. I'm so happy for you.
Because a bitch was scarred.
Anyway...
So I see these breasts....LONG..
Used...
...old.
And yes, soft.
And it's my responsibility to get them in this bra...which, is at LEAST two cup sizes too small.
At least.
So I lift up the left one...and I place it inside the bra...which has the same feeling as placing a water balloon in a ziplock baggie that's too small.
I'm pushin and mushing it in....trying to get it to mold to the form of this bra.
Uncomfortable...ummm.... yes.
But by the time I got the left one in...I was a pro. The right one was cake.
I got that shit in like a professional...uh...bra stuffer.
Nobody should have to touch their grandmother's breast...much less shove them in a bra.
And it's old bra.
The kind of bra that had velcro, seven buttons and a zipper. Point is...shit was COMPLICATED.
But I got them in it.
After a few days, I was like a Jedi master when it came to getting an old lady bra on.
And as the summer went on...I was like "COME ON GRANDMA..IT'S TIME TO PUT YA BRA ON..."
And she'd sit there and let me handle her long ...LONG ...soft breasts and get them into those old ass bras.
Look. I'm not proud of this skill...but it's helped me.
I am now able to put on my own bra in less than three seconds...and I have Grandma to thank.
Because the longer mine get...I just don't worry. I just don't.
But you don't care about my Grandma's tits...you care about my goals. That's why you're here.
HOME:
Last week, I bought red flowers. This week...white roses. Lorraine Virgina Fitzerald deserves them.
I also cleaned out my bedroom closets. (I know. The goal was HALL...but seriously. If you saw the state of my bedroom, you'd overstand.) WOW...that shit was a job...but the Salvation Army thanks me.
Bought a lamp and a heater. IT'S COLD IN HERE...
HEART:
Went to see "Chicago" the week before with Shervon, as I mentioned. Usher had strep throat, but no matter. "Pop...Six...Squish...Uh-uh...Cicero...Liptshiz.."
Not nearly as good as the first time I saw it on B'dway, but it was worth it to spend some time. (And we did a tour through Grand Central. Granted, I learned most of the facts though a scavenger hunt conducted by my job...but knowledge is never a waste.)
This week, met up with my half-sister "Donnie" for lunch. She's so damn pretty...good heart. Makes me believe in the Emory bloodline again. We've got a nice email chat going on...so we're growing. I did NOT call my cousin PJ, or my aunt Claudie...or my brother. I'll explain why in a minute.
HEALTH:
Did I mention my boxing class is kicking my ass? Well..yes. Combined with yoga and my new Saturday morning step-class habit.... I'm feeling kinda fit. Now..if I can only rid myself of these damn N. Lights. I don't need the patch. I need a reason...you know. Aside from cancer.
FINANCE:
Eff debt! Consolidated all my card debt, cut them bitches up...bills paid ON TIME...and the cable is on for the winter. I'll be debt free in five years (barring any major financial eff-ups. Like a trip to Spain.) Doing the damn thing.
NEXT WEEK:
HOME:
Pick out colors for all of the rooms I want to paint over. Clean out the hall closets. (Yikes.)
And throw away all the crap I have in the dining area/office... that hurts. PAINFUL.
HEART:
OK. I didn't call my aunt. Strictly because I...I'll be honest. I didn't know what to say. This week...I won't fear that. And I'll be sure to quell that fear with my brother as well. Sure. And PJ.
HEALTH:
I'm adding on another class. Strip-Bar. Yeah. Yeah. I was supposed to do it last week...but I chickened out. Nothing says NOT SO SEXY than someone effin' up the Pussycat Dolls choreography.
Stay tuned. OK. Fine...I'll work towards ending the N-Lights. I'll even give you a date.
FINANCE:
Eating out ...LESS. I've been doing that a LOT. It's getting colder...so I'm gonna cook more. Would you like a hot meal? A really good hot meal?
OK...so next week everybody. Have a good one.
And all who can't drive...psyche yourself up. It's REALLY gonna happen.
-Nye
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