Nonna Quotes

Are you Italian?" Nico asked, putting
down his drink.

I looked up at him. "A quarter, and how
did you know that? I don't look it."

"You kind of do, plus you use a spoon like
Gina, that's the waitress, and she's half Italian."

I shrugged, having picked up the habit
from my nonna.

"What else are you?" he asked.

"I'm also a quarter Māori, part
French, Welsh, Danish, and English."

His eyes twinkled at me. "Add a few more
countries in there and you'll be a one-woman United Nations."

I smiled at that and lifted the pasta to
my mouth. Gina returned with Nico's plate of food, causing me to lower the fork
momentarily, making me wonder whether I should wait for him, but Gina started
asking him questions about university, so I took a bite. I shivered at the
delicious taste of garlic, the chef having put the perfect amount in, just how
my nonna would've made it.

The waitress disappeared as Nico picked up
his fork, twirling the spaghetti onto it without the aid of a spoon. "Looks
like you got the best parts out of all of those nationalities," he said.

I blushed at the compliment, always
embarrassed when people said nice things about my looks. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied, popping the
spaghetti into his mouth, his unusual eyes once more twinkling at me, so bright
that I understood why his adop ~ Marita A. Hansen

a Sicilian grandma is a formidable opponent ~ Traci Andrighetti

This,bellissima," Nonna began, "is true love story...
"The Costas, we were born to the sea and proud, very proud. Son after father after son build their boats and follow the fish.My bisnonno, father of my nonno, is proudest of all. He is the only son of a widowed mother-king of the sea.But he is...ppffftt..." Nonna blew out a breath and fluttered her fingers maybe an inch or two above her own head. "Basso. Piccolo. When he was young, his uncles and cousins at first fear to take him on board.They think the smallest of waves or biggest of tono...tono...What is it?"
"Tuna," I said.
"Si. Silly word. A tuna would flip him from the boat. But no one looks down on him. Ah, you laugh, you. Go on, laugh. They are not much bigger than he. So he is little, but he is proud, because his boat sails highest on the waves and soon brings in the most fish. Like gold, it makes him rich. And when a man becomes rich, he must think of marriage, or the village mamas will think of it for him. Capisci?"
I smiled. "Yeah, I get it. 'It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife."
"Ah,si!" Nonna nodded, delighted. "Austen.So smart."
"You know Pride and Prejudice?" I asked. She flicked my ear. "Ow! ~ Melissa Jensen

And she says..."
I'd been fighting a losing battle with yawning for a while. I was failing fast. "I have no idea.'I'm in love with someone else'?"
Nonna snorted hard enough to shake the mattress. "With who? There is no one else like Michelangelo. He is king of the sea! In love with someone else. Pah."
"Okay.Fine.Tell me what she said."
"Nonna leaned toward me, eyes bright. "She says, 'You do not see me.' And my bisnonno, he says, 'Of course I see you! Every day I see you by the seawall. I see you in my mind, too, in pearls and furs and silks. So, here,here I offer you these things.' And she says..."
"Thank you?"
"Per carita!"
"'No,thank you?'"
"Ah,Fiorella. I think you are not the child of my child! Rifletti. Use that good brain."
"Nonna..."
"She says, 'You do not see me!' And she sends him away."
I wasn't sure I was getting the point. Here's an ordinary girl in ratty clothes who's going to end up a nun if she doesn't get married. Along comes a decent guy with money, promising to take her away from it all...Wasn't that where is usually faded to Happily Ever After? ~ Melissa Jensen

The Fall Ball," I told her. "Our Halloween dance."
"Ah.You have a boy to go with?"
"Absolutely.Frankie."
She sighed, and perched on the edge of my bed.Her feet dangled a good six inches off the floor. "I like your Frankie, but he's not going to make pretty bambini with you."
"Nonna!"
"Well,is he?No." She leaned forward. "Now, that boy with the nice voice and bony mother.He might do."
I sighed. "He might do a lot of things, Nonna." I'm not one of them. "Dancing with me is not one of them."
"He liked my pane."
"Yup.He did."
"And you.He likes you."
"Nope.That he does not."
"Hmph.You with all the answers about boys."
That made me smile. "Apparently, I don't even know the right questions."
"Who does? Even kings don't know te right questions.Eh,did you know there is a love story between a king and a queen in your history? Here." She patted the bed. "Get in, cucciola. I will tell you. ~ Melissa Jensen

New York has the gay marriage now," Camilla said. "You should propose. Make things legal." "I don't think Garrett is interested in settling down, Aunt Camilla." "He's had his fun," Nonna said. "Now it's time to put a leash on him. That will settle him right down. I was just as wild before your Grandpa Frank proposed. Had some idea I was going to run off to Argentina and write poetry or maybe marry Tommy Dellacroce and be a mafia princess, but Frank proposed first. ~ Irene Preston

Emilio appeared with wine before Cal could say anything, and Min beamed at him, grateful for the rescue. "Emilio, my darling. I forgot to mention cake boxes. Two hundred cake boxes."
"Already on it," Emilio said. "Nonna said you'd need them. She said to get four-inch-square boxes for three-inch-square cakes."
"I'm getting the boxes," Min said, nodding. "Sure. Great. Fine. Your grandmother is an angel and you are my hero. And of course, a genius with food."
"And you are my favorite customer." Emilio kissed her cheek and disappeared back into the kitchen.
"I love him," she told Cal.
"I noticed," Cal said. "Been seeing him behind my back, have you?"
"Yes," Min said. "We've been having conversations about cake."
"Whoa," Cal said. "For you, that's talking dirty. ~ Jennifer Crusie

Italians in particular are seen as either benign and child-like (the sweet old nonna with her meatballs), menacing mobsters, or hyper-sexualized housewives and gigolos; the kind of nourishment I'm looking for doesn't lie in any of these stereotypes. ~ Christopher Castellani

Who do you think Nonna picked for you tonight?" he asks. I shrug and look down at the floor. It's too hard to maintain eye contact with him and not blurt our every thought swimming in my brain. "No idea." "I wish it was me," he says quietly, and my head shoots up. "You do?" I ask. He gets up from the chair and moves slowly toward me. "I wish all the dates had been mine. ~ Ashley Elston

FRIENDS

A good friend is like a glow in the darkness;
He brightens up your darkest thoughts.
When eyes are filled with tears, he harkens;
When you complain, he tires not. ~ Nonna Bannister

Never give up hope, and look for the rainbows and happiness! ~ Nonna Bannister

Nonna tucked each of her hands into the opposite sleeve, a wizened Confucius in a leopard bathrobe. "Michelangleo, he goes. For days and days he stays away from Elisabetta. The other girls, the prettier girls, have hope again. And then, there he goes once more, carrying only his nonno's ugly old glass-his telescope-and a bag of figs. These he lays at her feet.
"'I see you,' he tells her. 'Every day for months, I watch. I see you. Where you sit, the sea is calm and dolphins swim near you. I see your mended net looks like a lady's lace. I see you dance in the rain before you run home. I see the jewel mosaic you leave to be scattered and remade again and again, piu bella than gold and pearls. You are piu bella than any other, queen of the sea.
"'You do not need silk or pearls. I see that. But they are yours if you wish. I am yours if you wish.If you like what you see.' He gives her the glass. She takes it. Then she asks, 'What about the figs? My bisnonno, he laughs. 'It might take time, your looking to see if you like me. I bring lunch.'" Nonna slapped her knee again, clearly delighted with little Michelangelo's humor. "There is the love story. You like it?"
I swallowed another yawn. "Si, Nonna.It's a good story." I couldn't resist. "But...a talking seagull? A dolphin guide? That kinda stretches the truth, dontcha think?"
Nonna shrugged. "All truth, not all truth, does it matter? My nonno Guillermo came to Michelangelo and Elisabetta, then my papa Euplio to h ~ Melissa Jensen

Alex was right in front of the mantel now, bent forward, his nose mere inches from a picture of me.
"Oh,God. Don't look at that!"
It was from the year-end recital of my one and only year of ballet class. I was six: twig legs, a huge gap where my two front teeth had recently been, and a bumblebee costume. Nonna had done her best, but there was only so much she could do with yellow and black spandex and a bee butt. Dad had found one of those headbands with springy antennai attached. I'd loved the antennae. The more enthusiastic my jetes, the more they bounced. Of course, I'd also jeted my flat-chested little self out of the top of my costume so many times that, during the actual recital itself,I'd barely moved at all, victim to the overwhelming modesty of the six-year-old. Now, looking at the little girl I'd been, I wished someone had told her not to worry so much, that within a year, that smooth, skinny, little bare shoulder would have turned into the bane of her existence. That she was absolutely perfect.
"Nice stripes," Alex said casually, straightening up.
That stung. It should't have-it was just a photo-but it did. I don't know what I'd expected him to say about the picture. It wasn't that. But then, I didn't expect the wide grin that spread across his face when he got a good look at mine, either.
"Those," he announced, pointing to a photo of my mulleted dad leaning against the painted hood of his Mustang "are nice stripes. That-" he pointed to the ~ Melissa Jensen

Nonna likes Halloween, but draws the line at a costume, although she's been known to scare small children as she looms over them in her stark black, screeching at them to have some M&M's. ~ Melissa Jensen

Pretty,eh?"
I jumped a foot. "Nonna!"
She was standing in my doorway, beaming like a demented gnome. "For your underwater dance."
"It looks like....a toga."
"Toga," she sniffed as she stalked across the room to lift the dress from its hanger, "is for boys at silly parties. This is for a goddess." She held it up to me. "You will be Salacia, Roman goddess of water."
It still looked like a toga, and not a very big one, although it did almost reach the floor. My legs would be covered, which was all well and good, except that, other than going a little too long without defuzzing, I didn't have much of a problem with my legs. I did know this wasn't going to work. I just had no idea at the moment how I was going to make it not happen.
"This is awfully...pagan of you, Nonna."
She rolled her eyes. "Ai, sixteen, with the smart mouth and such certainty. You think I just read the Bible? A goddess, she has more fun than a saint."
"Nonna!"
"Ah!" She poked me in the center of the chest with her middle finger. "Fun, si, but a bad end if she thinks to hold the heart of a boy who wants only to play. Salacia, she let Neptune chase her and chase her and prove his heart was true."
I didn't argue. My grasp of Greco-Roman mythology is shaky at best, and derived mostly from the Percy Jackson books. I had my doubts about Neptune's heart, but figured it would only be smart-assy to mention that to my grandmother. ~ Melissa Jensen

My bisnonno is such a man...Fine, you laugh again. Not so handsome,I think,but just as proud. He struts through the square with his new shoes. He buys a carriage. But he gives to the poor,too, to the Church.He is kind to his siters; he is a friend to many.He is raffinato, a gentleman. And the girl he chooses? Hmm? Hmm?"
"I don't know, Nonna. Elizabeth Benedetto?"
"Hah!" Nonna slapped her hand hard against her knee. It bounced soundlessly off the leopard plush. "Elisabetta. Elisabetta, daughter of a man who works on another's boat. Elisabetta who has many sisters and who is intended for the Church if she does not marry. I don't remember her family name, if I ever knew. Maybe Benedetto.Why not? It does not matter.What matters is that no one understands why Michelangelo Costa chooses this girl. No one can...oh,the word...to say a picture of: descrivere."
"Describe?"
"Si. Describe.No one can describe her.Small,they think. Brown, maybe. Maybe not so pretty, not so ugly. Just a girl. She sits by the seawall mending nets her family does not own. She is odd,too,her neighbors think.They think it is she who leaves little bit of shell and rock when she is done with the nets, little mosaico on the wall. So why? the piu bella girls ask, the ones with long,long necks, and long black hair, and noses that turn up at the end. Why this odd, nobody girl in her ugly dresses, with her dirty feet?
"Michelangelo sends his cousins to her with gifts. A cameo, silk handkerchie ~ Melissa Jensen

Food has power. Nonna knew that. Ma did too. I know it now. And though it can't save me, it might help me, in some way. All I have besides food is grief. ~ Jael McHenry

Look.I'm...uh...When you told me you'd looked at my stuff.I didn't...I shouldn't have..."
What is it about those two words-I'm sorry-that makes otherwise articulate guys into babbling idiots? I mean, I love you, I get. That's a tough one, putting yourself so completely, nakedly out there. I haven't ever said that to a guy. A guy other than Frankie or my dad, anyway. But I'm sorry? I say it twenty times a day.To Nonna, when I just can't face a three-course breakfast at seven in the morning, to the half-dozen people I bump into on my frantic rush up those eight blocks to school. To Sadie, for having to copy her algebra homework for,like,the thousandth time, because I didn't get to mine.
I'm still waiting for Leo to apologize for totalling my bike three years ago. I forgave him eventually. Riding a bike in the middle of the city is a little like playing RUssian roulette with a bus. Still, it would have been nice t have gotten an I'm sorry instead of a litany of excuses. I figure I'll be waiting forever. ~ Melissa Jensen

If Nonna sensed weakness, she'd zero in for the kill ~ Rosie Genova

However, ,I believe forgiveness is important. It is to forgive, as God teaches us but never forget - rather to apply the truth to our lives in such a way that we do not repeat our sins over and over again. ~ Nonna Bannister

Tina was hosting. She's a thirty-five-year-old version of Sienne, only bottle blonde.Same blind-you lipstick, same taste in clothes,same complete disregard for anyone else's opinion on anything.
They hate each other.
"You hate me!" Sienna wailed.
It wasn't Tina's voice that snapped back, but Dad's, "Oh,no. I am not playing that game with you. Do you have any idea what a hundred pounds of filet is gonna cost me? And now you want lobster?"
"But it's my wedding! Daddy-"
"Don't you Daddy me, princess! I'm already five grand in the hole for the damned hotel,not to mention two for the dress, and every time I turn around, you and your mother have added a new guest, bridesmaid,or crustacean!"
First of all,Dad was yelling.Almost. Second,he was swearing.Even damn is fighting talk for him.I set down my pizza and debated the best route for a sealthy escape.
I'd seen the dress.Pretty, in a Disney-princess, twenty-yards-of-tulle, boobs-shaped-into-missiles sort of way. Sienne looked deliriously happy in it. She looked beautiful.The less said about the bridesmaids' dressed, I'd decided, on seeing the purple sateen,the better.
"No lobster!" he yelled.
There was a dramatic howl, followed by the bang of the back door. When I peeked out,it was like a photo. Everything was frozen.Dad was standing over the massive pasta pot, red-faced and scowling, wooden spoon brandished like a sword. Leo and Ricky had retreated to the doorway of the freezer. Nonna ha ~ Melissa Jensen

It was only nine o'clock, and I was already exhausted.The first half of the day with Bridezilla hadn't helped, but bu two, I think Nonna had slipped her a Xanax (who knows where she got it,although I suspect collusion with Sam Nguyen), and by the time we climbed into the limo at three, Sienna was channeling Grace Kelly in a big way.
The mass was fine, if you like that kinda thing. The photo session was a nightmare, since the flower girl and rng bearer kept kicking each other with their new, hard shoes, and the photographer didn't quite get that, no, I wasn't going to push my hair back so we could see my pretty face, so get over it. ~ Melissa Jensen

The popular idea that Christianity says "human nature" is inherently bad is actually the opposite of what the earliest Christian theologians believed. ~ Nonna Verna Harrison