I was reading a blog post about women with femstaches today and was reminded of my mother. Right before one of the last surgeries of her life, she asked me to shave her beard. (It's one of those things postmenopausal women don't really talk about.) I laughed. She didn't want the doctor who was about to see her intestines to see her beard. Mom's vanity was just enough to be endearing.
I'm growing my nails long(ish) for the wedding, and hopefully beyond. She was always on me about biting them down to bloody stumps. I wonder whether she would be pleased with them now or pissed that I waited until she kicked it to let them grow.
Miss you, Mom. Wish you were here.