Granny Frass on Pettiness, Power Plays and Staying Upright..

Well now, darlings… it’s your old Granny Frass here, leaning in through the veil with a mug of something warm and a word or two for whoever needs it. Seems like the world’s still overrun with small-minded folk pulling petty tricks and calling it ‘helping out.’ Same old game, different day.

I was watching from the other side this week, and I near dropped me knitting. There’s Bully, strutting about like a rooster in a pen of hens he never fed, poking at things that don’t belong to him, moving what ought to stay put and taking what ain’t his to take. And there’s Fanny McFox, slipping along behind him like a hound with a stolen sock, tag-teaming their way through petty nonsense as though it’s a full-time job.

And what was it over this time?
An old bookcase.
A scrap of metal in the veg patch.
Bits and bobs not worth a shilling but somehow, in their world, worth moving just to remind you that you’ve no claim to peace without their permission.

Well, let me tell ye something – their kind’s always been about.

Folk like that don’t like a soul who won’t bow their head and keep their mouth shut. You see, petty hearts can’t stand to watch others make beauty out of broken things. It burns ’em up, seeps through their skin like poison ivy. It’s not about the stuff, darlings – it’s about control. It’s about making sure you feel like a guest in your own story, a stranger in your own home.

But here’s what years of living taught me:

Petty folk are loud in the moment and empty in the end. Their smallness builds up like dry rot in old wood. You mightn’t see the damage right away, but one good knock – a truth spoken, a line drawn, a laugh in the face of their foolishness and the whole lot comes crashing down.

And when it does?
You’ll still be standing.

Because while they waste their days playing at petty power, you’re out there planting seeds, salvaging scraps, finding beauty where no one else bothered to look. You’re building a life out of what they tossed aside. And let me tell you, nothing drives a bitter heart mad quite like a soul who thrives without their approval.

So here’s my wisdom for you today:

Keep your humor sharp.
Keep your boots by the door.
And when their smallness comes knocking, meet it with a laugh, a wink and the knowledge that you, my darling, we’re forged in bigger fires than they’ll ever know.

They can steal your turf, your timber, even your teacups if they’ve a mind to. But they’ll never steal your spirit. And they’ll never build a life worth living out of petty theft and spite.

Let them stew in their own bitter broth. You’ve got sun to chase and soil to tend.

With love and a wag of me ghostly finger,
Granny Frass