In my family, it is a crime to be seen without lipstick. I resisted this notion most of my life. Silly rebel. I have since seen the light. When I was 32, I finally looked my mother right in the eye and said, "Mother, I’m a grown woman. [I really thought I was.] You may no longer tell me to put on my make-up. If I want to wear it, I will. If I don’t, I won’t. Now stop it."

She did understand. Whether I was really grown up or not, I was definitely too old for her to be telling me to put on my lipstick. So she stopped telling me to. She started just raising her eyebrows while staring at my bare lips everytime we got ready to leave the house. So annoying. I am not going to be that kind of mother.

Anyway, Mom is in Washington with Granny Boo. She got there yesterday morning just before the Rose Medley from Martha’s Flowers arrived. They are by all accounts perfect in every way: just starting to open, smell delish, and look gorgeous: a mixture of reds, pinks and purples. Granny Boo says she can smell the flowers and she loves them. I knew she would. I am so happy about that.

GB is fading. What a word to describe such a force in my life. She’s made a remarkable recovery in the last few days, but her heart is failing and she doesn’t have all that much longer on this earth. Mom and Aunt Gay say she is angelic, so at peace. She cannot get out of bed and sleeps a lot. When she is awake, she wants to talk, is lucid and responsive. And she eats all her food. All the women in our family eat all our food. It’s a curse any way you look at it.

So this morning, Mom was in the room, putting on her lipstick. Granny Boo looked over and said, "Give me some of that." That’s my Granny Boo.

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