there are the things that she would do unapologetically.  like eat cheesecake for breakfast, or eat an entire avocado with salt and a spoon.  or "rest her eyes" sleeping in the corner of the couch.  or devour sappy teen romance movies.  or stink up the whole kitchen with the smell of pickled herring or stinky cheese.  or go-go dance and do the monkey like a mom and embarrass me in front of my friends. or sing awful harmonies to the oldies or gordon lightfoot or the indigo girls in the car.  they were the things that, as her daughter, you couldn't ever get away from, because the were so diana.  and they were the idiosyncrasies that made me, and my dad, and everyone she ever met, fall madly in love with her.  my mom, sharp as a knife, slapstick knock down funny, turn-heads gorgeous, loving beyond limits, and brilliantly, skillfully talented. days like today, i miss her more than ever, how a presence so gigantic could vanish right before my eyes is still beyond understanding.

happy birthday mom.  i'm hopelessly devoted to your legacy of love, art, and laughter, today and everyday.  thank you for teaching me how to take life by the horns.  i'll be damned if i don't make you proud.

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