#throwback Jan 9, 2016
Homai to Aroha
Bit of a cheat today with the 2 photographs, but 1 wasn’t doing it for Me.
In my clean out the other day I had to figure out what to do with these beauties: potential rubbish bin material?
Well, I could not do it:
Heres why ..
These are macro shots of my Nans recipes. Even though they are old and largely illegible … they are my Nans essence <3 In this shot I can ‘see’ her love and beauty; her patience with us; her creativity and her wisdom. I miss her. And these little pieces of paper made my mindfulness-ness sort of teary, but happy.
I am privileged to have had a Nan in my life, right up until I was in my 30s. Not to many people can say that. My children had a Great-Nan but she departed this world before her great great grandchildren were born.
Memories come with all sorts of things … bits of paper; handwritten scribbles; recipes; smells; words … flavours.
I love my Nan for everything she gave Us girls. She was / is the epitome of strength and resilience.
Today the shout out mindfulness spot goes to my Nan.
#bnw #bnwmood #bnwlove #bnwfeels #bnwphotography #bnwmemories #bnwbeauty #mybeautifulnan #her #recipes #handwriting #love #gottokeepthe #goodmemories #macros #macroisms #photoblog #photograph #photo #photography #kpm ©
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas – Frank Sinatra, 1957
And not the usual ones ;)
My eldest moko was ‘suspended’ from his school today. He’s 9.
My issues aren’t with his alleged behaviour … my issues are with the school.
I can hear the ‘oh you’re biased’ tone … but, I know I’m not.
Here’s the deal.
Moko has been bullied for months at this school. His parents have been down there and talked with his teacher (as is protocol) on numerous occasions. The story is always the same. And always gets flipped back to moko being too aggressive.
Is it aggressive to stand up for yourself?
I think not!
And then today, his parents receive phone calls to say that they need to pick him up from school because he had another child in a head lock, was waving around a toy gun and pointing it at others kids heads, ‘pulling’ gang signs, wearing a gang ‘bandana and acting threateningly’.
Also noted was that mokos behaviour had been unmanageable ‘for awhile’ and they suggested that he get ‘professional help’ and change his attitude before he came back to school.
I note: at no time had the school contacted mokos parents about this ‘unmanageable behaviour’, and at no time was there an incident report filed or a police report made as to mokos behaviour. And at no time was there any other warnings given about his behaviour.
Instead, he was given a Principals Award for his school work and efforts in class.
His teacher has nothing but glorious praise for ‘such a clever young man’.
So whats happening?
I see a lot of lazy ass covering going on, covered over with a large helping of covert racism.
You see (I have delved into this in other areas of my blog), there is an assumption from some of our population, that those ‘of colour’ are automatically gang affiliated. That those ‘of colour’ have parents who ‘can’t be bothered with their kids’. That those ‘of colour’ are predisposed to aggression and aggressive behaviours.
And this is the rat that I can smell in this scenario.
Moko has never been near anything ‘gang related’. Not even television.
And none of this even touches the fact that the last time moko was bullied and his parents went to the school, it was discovered that moko had retaliated to the bully referring to him as being ‘black’. The other child wasn’t reprimanded. Instead, the incident was ‘left’ and it was decided it was a misunderstanding. Moko was told that if he was bullied again, he was to go straight to the teacher.
Here’s where it gets interesting.
The teachers reside in the teachers lounge during ‘breaks’. There may be one or two walking the playground during these breaks. When mokos parents have confronted the school about their lack of supervision, they have been told that they have ‘cameras’ surveilling the playgrounds. So how is moko supposed to tell a teacher he is being bullied if there is no-one around to tell?
As you’ve probably guessed, messing with my mokos pisses me off greatly!
I compiled a rather short sharp letter for the parents to send to the Principal. It states that the school didn’t follow procedure in the suspension of moko and if they don’t give them written documentation of what transpired today, then they would be referring this to the Education Department Ombudsmen.
No body fucks with my moko and gets away with it.
Yes see, to suspend a 9 year old is huge. And it pisses me off that they thought that that was the right move. No discussion. No conversation. No getting to the facts. Just a knee jerk suspension.
And don’t get me wrong; if moko did something wrong, he should be reprimanded for it. But reprimanded in light of the Entire story, not just one small piece that they don’t want to deal with.
Thats just bullshit.
So I’m not a happy Nan at the moment. Not happy at all.
I have never been a lover of exercise. And before all the exercise dieting buffs give Me a lecture on the benefits of those 2 things, let Me tell yah why I don’t like them … as only I can ;)
a. I have a theory that both of these things, exercise and dieting, are a ploy to make money. Back in the day, my ancestors hunted, gathered, chopped down trees, gardened etc. They didn’t have time for Pilates or Jogging. This tells Me:
Dieting was also non-existent. We ate what we had; what we had worked hard to grow and hunt. And our rates of heart disease and diabetes were … Nil.
Now We expend our energies on making money to go to the shop to buy crap food to kill whilst cooking, thus depleting its nutritional value, so we can fill up and sit on our asses until Pilates class.
These 2 things put profits into someone elses pocket and benefit Me, How?
b. I don’t run (aka exercise). I don’t enjoy it. I don’t like it. It doesn’t make sense to me. I run to, or from something. Like, to – the toilet. And, from – the police. Thats it.
c. I don’t diet (aka reduce carbs etc). I don’t enjoy it. I don’t like it. Why take away good food (whole foods, organics) and replace them with shit food? I don’t do nuts and legumes. I do do whole milk, fresh coffee beans, greens from my garden, organic meat, fresh fruit. Oh, and M&Ms ;)
d. Over exertion speeds up my heart rate which feels just like a good old panic attack. Why do that?
I have always been a lover of dance.
Some would say thats exercise … and sure, you can categorise it as such. But its also a thing of joy and beauty.
My Nan was a dancer. I’m pretty sure I’ve written a post about her love for dance before, but I’m to lazy to find it at the moment ;) She saw the love for dance and music in Me, when I was little. When I was about 6 or 7, she paid for Ballet lessons for Me; right up until I was 14 or 15 I think, when I got pregnant with my first child.
The thing with dance … as most cultures will attest too … there is something extremely liberating and cathartic and freeing and expression-ful (pretty sure thats not a word, but oh well lol), about it.
After I got pregnant, my dancing stopped. I went back to it in my 20s and then found I was pregnant with my second girl and was possibly going to miscarry … so the dancing stopped again.
When I left my husband, I wanted to go back to classes and eventually either apply to the Ballet School or teach. Instead, after quite a few ‘hiccups’, I had a nervous breakdown instead ;).
So instead of dance school, I got drunk and danced my ass off every night, 7 nights a week. I didn’t realise it then, but I needed to dance. And it was probably my saviour.
When I sobered up and turned into an anxiety ridden pts(d) freak, my dancing stopped, again.
That was just over 10 years ago.
I’ve been missing it for about the last 3 years, but haven’t had the energy, physically, but mainly, mentally, to go back to it.
So, it occurs to Me the other day, that the urge I have for it is returning … hard. And instead of reasoning out the hows and whys and why can’ts and so forths … I took a leaf from the melenials hand book (because they can do anything, cos no-one has told them they can’t!) … and googled it and then YouTubed it.
I typed in what I liked in the way of dance … what I wanted etc. And I came up with ‘Drag Queens Burlesque’. LOL. Now I’m not anti that At All … but is that available here in hicksville? Nope.
But it got Me thinking.
I love what Drag Queens do. I love their exuberance; their passion; the joy they seem to exude and ooze. I guess I could start my own Drag Queen thing, but as a straight brown girl just trying to find a niche? ;)
Ok, so back to the googling.
And then I struck upon Yanis Marshall.
Now I’m a little late to that party … obviously.
But Oh My Fuck … This filled Me with so much happiness and excitement; and I found my desire to dance again. Not just a whimsical wanting … but a definite … Must Do.
I’ve posted this dude before, but heres another sample:
His links are on his videos, so check them out if you’re interested.
But any who … As I was watching … I realised … I have this training … and I have this ability … and I have the passion for dance …
I am slightly unfit … Ok, really unfit lol … which took Me back to the ‘exercise’ question/theory. Would I exercise to get fit enough to be able to do this?
Then I watched this:
And I remembered just how hard it is to be a dancer … but how beautiful it is … and that when you love something that much … its not hard, its not ‘exercise’, its not work … but its all of those things … its Dance :)
So, this is Me :)
I’m taking on the Dance part of Me again.
And guess what … strangely enough … I am super fucking excited ;)
Yes, I may break a few things … and yes, I probably will have more than a few panic attacks as I figure out whats over exertion and whats pts fucking d; and Yes, I will be sore as fuck, for a very long while …
But I don’t give a fuck.
I love dance … and I’m tired of waiting to ‘be alright’.
I remember my Nan saying she missed dancing … and even when she was in her 80s she would still waltz around the lounge room when she was ‘in the mood’. I wanna do that … but in heels lol … No seriously … I want to still be dancing right up until I croak … I’ve taken a long enough break I think ;)
Yes, I do comfort movies.
But I also do comfort food.
So ‘The Last Witch Hunter’ has been paused half a dozen times and is currently at the part where He’s kicking the ass of the warlock dude after being pulled out of the memory potion thingy …
And I have just made and consumed Hot Scones with butter and Golden Syrup.
Now for a cup of tea.
Yah know, these are possibly the only 2 real British-y things I partake in … thanks Nan ;)
I was thinking about stuff I like … shit that makes Me feel Nice … Yah know … Just to add to my ‘365 reasons to smile’ mojo …
So I decided to google #shoeporn … because shoes are just one of most favourite-est things … well good shoes that is.
Any who … I was quite disgusted, nay appalled, at what our millennials believe is a good shoe, be-fitting the hashtag slash title of “Shoe Porn”.
Apparently a sneaker, that looks similar to what I could buy at K Mart for $14, but said sneaker has a teensy tiny little label on it, that alludes to the possibility of that shoe being a Louis Vuitton; but not actuals … well that shit is classed as ‘shoe porn’. Wtf right?
Now I’m No expert in shoes … however, there are a couplely things that place a shoe (for Me anyways) in the Shoe Porn Zone.
A. They’ve gotta be sexy. … and I don’t mean hooker boot sexy; I mean classy, Italian, Yanis Marshall dancing in them, sexy.
B. They’ve gotta suit your feet. They’ve gotta suit You.
Now, my Nan was my shoe fettish idol. She had heels for miles and her feet had arches like Naomi Campbell. I loved watching her get all dressed up to the nines, with the heels that perfectly accompanied her outfit. She was my version of quintessential elegance.
Shoes became something that I gravitated towards and unknowingly collected like other peeps collect little ceramic angels that gather dust on their shelves. Shoes were my go-to for elegance and relief. I’m a dress from the shoe up kind of girl; meaning the shoes are everything … except for the, ‘how’ you wear them.
For Me – Shoes are an Art unto themselves ;)
Heres a little sample of what I’m referring too.
My taste in shoes is obviously way overpriced … but I know my taste in shoes is also gangstah … and they make Me happy … and isn’t that all that matters really!
*Oh … I feel another shoe collection coming on ;) *
I decided to bust out my Nans dinner ware and silver ware for this dinner. Oh yeah ;)
Nan had amazing taste in the finer things … that none of us appreciated at the time of course. But she had one of those sets of dinner ware that had everything, and like 12 – 20 of everything. All matching; for different elements of a dinner.
Pleased we’ll actually get to use it all again.
I think she’d be pleased too … mind due, she may cringe at the way we end up setting it all up … but oh well xo
Love you Nan.
And we are making progress :)
+17 . Me and moko 4 :) Only time I manage to get cuddles with her is when she’s asleep! xo
I am made up of many nuances … some of which come from those that have loved Me; those whose genetics I carry. We all have these … I guess some we may not have known, but I’m pretty sure they’re there; lurking in the background.
For Me, one such lovely creation, is my maternal Nan.
I guess I didn’t fully appreciate who she really was and all her strengths, whilst she was alive. But thats typical isn’t it … never really appreciating what you have until its gone.
I do believe though, that even after these people, or things, that have ‘touched’ our lives, have gone, they leave an imprint and therefore never truly ‘leave’ us.
My Nan was raised during the Wars and lived through the Depression. Her and her sisters and brother, lived a life that was hard but also full of ‘learning’ rarely seen nowadays. They were able to ‘play’, create and work like we spend half of our lifetimes trying to get a little taste of.
Nan was especially sensitive to the ‘pain’ of others … and I believe this is one part of her that I inherited. Not that I’ve seen it as a blessing really; but I’ve come to appreciate what it was in her … how she ‘outworked’ that insight. Nan knew when to touch my hand; pat my head; tuck me in; make me macaroni cheese; ring to talk or listen; she knew when to tell a story about where she came from and what she was raised like; she knew when to laugh about the funny things she had experienced; she knew how to love Me.
From her also comes my creativity; my need for peace; my love for ‘pretties’; my love for Shoes!! My intuition and my ability to design … to see beauty when others don’t. My love for dance and music.
My Nan was all these things … and she was what would be termed now, as ‘mentally ill’ … but in her era she was labelled ‘neurotic’, over emotional and over sensitive. As a woman, I get what they did to her now. She was an outspoken woman. A woman well before her time. A entrepreneur and a business woman. And she pissed men off … especially doctors and ‘professionals’. And instead of showing her the compassion and understanding that she showed others, they fried her with ECT first and then pharmaceuticals second. In my lifetime though, she overcame both of those things and still lived hard and gritty. She was still running her own business when she was in her eighties … nearly 5 years before she died.
I miss her. Everyday. I do wish I had’ve really appreciated everything that she was. But I am eternally grateful that She Was! That subtlely, she taught Me; to trust Me; to also say what I need too … even when no-one agrees, or likes what I say – I managed to get that one down packed alright!
I love that she is My Nan. I love that I am her moko, and that she loved Me massively. That she is Me and I am Her. That she left Me stories to tell. That she left me with endurance and strength.
“I Love You Nan …. Thankyou for your songs … Thankyou for your presence xoxo”
213. I’ve been procrastinating making this lovely drop of nectar of the gods … aka ‘Lemon Honey’; mainly cos I didn’t want to fuck up Nans recipe … but … BooYah! I did it! And I tell yah what .. I think Nan would be positively proud of my efforts cos its pretty dam close to what she used to make ;)