Leave it to me to do the tribute that is not very serious. I'm sorry, but I just can't. I'm not built that way. But I blame my mother and her side of the family for that. They are the storytellers and the loud, boisterous, fun-loving group. God bless every last one of them. I contribute my sense of humor to my maternal line.
As a matter of fact, when I called my mother on Saturday last, to wish her a HMD, I said my usual, "Hey, do you know who this is?" - I say this because for years she's told me how much I sound like my sisters on the phone. I just want to make sure she has the RIGHT daughter. She sort of laughed and said, "Of course, I do. You've always had that little laugh in your voice that the other girls don't."
I thought that was kinda neat, and cool. It's something a mother-- and probably nobody else on the planet-- would pick up on. It's her way of separating me from the rest of the litter. Though I'm not her favorite child (she claims not to have one, but she does- sorry, Mom, but it's true) I'm different enough from my siblings to stick out from the pack.
So here's my tribute to my mother, and thanks for making me different...(which I hope is a good thing.)
Top Ten Ways My Mother Made Me Different
10. One stormy day when I was a kid you made me paperdolls from scratch. (She claims not to be able to draw, but I swear that doll looked just like Betti Page)
9. You never got mad when I took the organ and sheet music out on the back deck and produced my "plays."
8. You let me get lost in the woods on every family vacation. (In retrospect, I'm thinking you did that on purpose. But I thwarted you and found my way back to camp. HAHAHA.)
7. After cleaning the house all day, you let me and the cousins play "war" in the bedroom, totally destroying any order that may have been there before.
6. You put green eye shadow all over my face one year for Halloween so I could be the Wicked Witch of the West.
5. You gave me coloring books and crayons.
4. You let me play make-believe for hours and didn't disrupt or disturb me.
3. You let me read your Barbara Cartlands when I was too young to know the true power of a Ruthless Rake.
2. You took the Brothers Grimm and Three Billy Goats Gruff away from me when I was a kid and insisted on reading them despite the nightmares, forcing me to tell myself bedtime stories to get to sleep.
1. You believed I could be a writer.