Nonna has OCD. Or some sort of compulsive disorder (I mean no disrespect to those individuals who suffer from this disease). When there is something that needs to be done which she cannot do herself, she will talk about it incessantly until someone who CAN do something about it takes action (basically, until my dad comes over).
As you east coasters know…we were pummeled with a series of winter snow storms which disabled quite a number of trees. As a result of these storms, Nonna’s arboretum suffered some notable losses…namely three ugly dead trees which officially (and thankfully) fell over during the last storm. As winter slowly crept away, Nonna stared outside her window and looked at the downed trees, praying for spring to come. As we got closer to spring, Nonna’s impatience about the downed trees in her backyard grew…and led to daily conversations which went something like this:
Nonna: I can wait on spring to come.
Me: Yea, me too..
Nonna: Your daddy gonna do my trees in the spring.
Me: I know.
Nonna: We wait until springin to do the trees. It no take more than one day.
Me: I know.
Nonna: It gonna be one, two, three and my backayard lookin beautiful again.
To be frank: it got annoying real fast. A large part of me wanted to order my dad to put on a parka, get out the chain saw and get to work…however, as it is the lenten season, and in honor of my other roommate, I am refraining from being bossy…so I just swallowed Nonna’s daily reminders about the eyesore which was her backyard.
Last week, however, Nonna got an idea:
Nonna: Hey! I think the trees that fell over belongin to the state. How you make them get rid of them.
Me: Go to city hall and tell them. They will tell you if its state property.
Nonna: H-okay I gonna doin this.
The Next Day Nonna went to city hall…
Nonna: Guess what…you have no idea what I learnin today.
Nonna: The trees belongin to the church.
Me: Oh really?
Nonna: My trees belongin to God.
Me: All trees belong to God…
Nonna: But God is supposed to take care on this for me…
Me: Nonna, just wait till this weekend, Daddy will take care of it.
However, unbeknownst to myself and my father, Nonna reported the down trees to our Priest. Miraculously (or in fear of a pending lawsuit filed by your truly) the trees were gone the next day. Only remnants of the downed trees remained. Nonna received a note in her mailbox informing her that the trees were taken care of by a “Bob” who was going to return the next day to take care of the remaining trees. I got home that night to this conversation:
Nonna: Hey, you see my trees is gone??
Me: Nonna, please tell me you didn’t do this yourself.
Me: Please tell me you didn’t have daddy do this after work.
Nonna: NO! Father Vincin doin it. (our priest)
Nonna: I tellin him that the trees belongin to him…so i assumin he sendin someone to take care of it for me. He knows I don like him so now he makin me happy so i like him.
Me: You think he’s bribing you with tree removal services?
Nonna: Yes it is…and it workin.
So Bob didn’t return to remove the rest of the trees…which led to some anxiety on Nonna’s part. Saturday morning, I was headed to the gym when she instructed me “when you get back we gonna get rid of the branches.” No problem Nonna…little did I know what the afternoon would have in store.
I arrived back to Nonna pulling out the chainsaw.
Nonna: Hey, you know how to workin this thing?
Nonna: H-okay we gonna learn together.
Me: How about we call dad?
Nonna: No. You can do it. Try it.
Me: Absolutely not.
(Nonna precedes to play with the chain saw)
Me: I prefer to not witness your death in this way.
Nonna: (hysterically laughing) Call your father.
(Enter Daddy who uses the chain saw in an appropriate fashion…and teaches me how to use one too – I am so bad ass).
Nonna: Joe…can you cutem down this tree? (Points to stumpy dead tree).
Dad: Sure (Good son…knows never say no to non)
(we cut down the tree…Nonna applauds)
Nonna: Joe…can you cutem down that tree?
Nonna: Yes, It is dead…taken one two three (or forty five, six, seven)
(we cut down the tree, I suffer scratches to my face accordingly – it just adds to my “bad ass” attitude).
After the trees were cut down, Dad got out of there like a bat out of hell (or before Nonna could have him use the chain saw to do something ridiculous)…
Since then, Nonna has informed me almost hourly how happy she is the trees are finally gone. She also has gone to her backyard at least 10 times and smiled while looking at the dead tree trunks which she placed along the border of her property as a fence. When I explained to her this doesn’t really act as a fence she told me it was better than what they have in Italy and her new fence is beautiful.
I still think it looks ghetto.
To each their own.