Daisy Crazy

I love my job. I get to go to the State Fair of Texas every year for work. I get to interact with new people and see new things (and of course eat amazingly delicious food, like the Fried Sweet which is an exceptionally wonderful pie that is 3 pies in one–buttermilk, peach and pecan).  I don’t just love my job because it takes me to the motherland of corndogs and fried everything, there’s more to it than that, but that’s another story for another day.

Anyway, I was so excited to see this sign for the second year at Fair.

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It made me laugh last year when I saw it, which was perfect given the fact that it felt like I had such a storm inside the last time I was there.  What a difference a year makes…

Daisy Crazy.  It’s so her.

Bright. Vibrant. Silly.

Beautiful.

Today she’s celebrating 59 years.

It’s hard not to be sad. But instinctively, I know I have to fight those feelings for Ava. I don’t want her growing up scared of losing me (yes, she’s already mentioned it and it’s one of her “bad dreams”). It’s an ugly feeling to have, so I get it.  I don’t want her dwelling on the sadness of the Gma she never knew.

So instead of being sad, which is a very easy thing to do (usually it comes on the eve of, and not as much on the day), I decided to do what my mom would do. I don’t remember a time when she was without lipstick. She’d wake up, get her makeup on, including her lipstick, and that’s how she’d start her day. As soon as she finished her meal she had her lipstick on–who needed a mirror? She was always made up.

So here’s me, real smile, rocking my lipstick like her. Looking like her, like I always knew I did.  Even when I was a punk teenager and I protested the fact that I did.

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Happy birthday mom.

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