(portion of a Henry Darger collage, we saw at the Folk Museum in NYC, shot w/my mini -- note -- i never was a prim and bowed little girl -- I never let my Mama come at me with a hairbrush, much to her chagrin)
To the woman who drinks cappuccinos with great flourish and ritual (brown sugar atop foam, to be eaten with a spoon), chops melon like a savant, enjoys life to the fullest, writes poems about Lana Turner, inspires, delights, laughs like a wild-woman, creates a fabulous cocktail, loves breakfast-in-bed, newspapers, stories and is the bearer of funny Southern isms such as, "the devil's beating his wife around the bush" (that phrase explains rain on a sunny day in Mississippi) . . . the list is endless. Is this Wonder Woman I speak of, no, it's my Mama Cissy, who's whole-hearted love I'm forever grateful for. Cheers, Mom -- today's the day we beat Alabama.
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