My writing alter-ego has now seized the opportunity to display another part of myself as a person. I am still a half-caste kid, yes, but I'm also a bonafide Nana trapped inside that half-caste kid. Particularly since I moved to Melbourne.
Like I've mentioned before, I'm a tea enthusiast. Me loves the tea leaves! Since I've moved to Melbourne I can safely say I have increased my tea drinking to about twenty cups a day. No shit. Nothing like a strong cuppa in the morn accompanied by a cigarette. Throughout the day I have a few cups while I'm reading the paper, online job hunting, watching Oprah, Dr. Phil and my favourite, Welcome Back Kotter (John Travolta you make me giddy). I have a few more while I supervise Jeremiah's homework. Night falls and I have twice as many cuppas after dinner right up until bed. The amount of times I have to pee come 4am is ridic, I will tell you this. I've accumulated a variety of flavours, from Peppermint to Rosehip, and I even have my own section in the pantry. I'm spoilt for choice! I definitely think my tea-drinking has increased here because it's a time-filler. I find myself twiddling my thumbs if I don't have a cup of tea between my frostbitten fingers. Even so, words cannot describe my love for tea.
My sense of style can apparently be Nana to a T at times - according to my sister and the whanau here. Cardigans, cuffed brown pants, big woolly jumpers, red lippy and mocassins are apparently Granny in a nutshell. I certainly didn't think they were, until I saw a 70-year-old man in a close to matching get-up to mine at Coles. Not going to lie, homeboy was lookin' gooooood. A week later I found myself buying an above the ankle pleated white skirt at the Salvo's and realised the 70-year-old woman next to me was eyeing it up. Of course I gave the old bag on a mobility scooter a low, Jacob Black wolf growl - it clearly gave her the creeps because she backed off ASAP. But that's when it hit home - my God, I'm a 70-year-old woman. I'm definitely not going to change my steez, because it's partly who I am and I'm definitely no fashionista, but I guess there are hundreds of other girls like me trying to 're-create the look'.
And then comes the Nana Nap. I cannot go a day without dozing off late afternoon for at least fifteen minutes. Is this normal? I can be in the car, off to do some shopping and suddenly feel drowsy. Super awkward pulling up to Coles, dragging myself out of a coma, wiping the dribble off my chin - "Oh are we here," she says, half-dazed.
Jeremiah's mother has taken to encouraging the kids to call me Aunty Nana. I have no problems with this, in fact it makes me lol. I exhibit my Granny-like traits like a true Grandmother exhibits her grandchildren and bad arthritis. I guess the only thing that sets me apart from the average Granny Lou, is my foul mouth.
I like tea. I like cardigans. And I have a foul mouth.
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