Flamboyance

I've realized lately that since Grandma died, I've been wearing a lot more:
* red
* gold
* bronze
* heels
* sandals
* purses
* rings (mainly hers)

Grandma was almost perpetually clad in jewelry, red, gold, and high heels.

In an uncharacteristically superstitious gesture, I always wear some piece of jewelry she gave me whenever I travel. Actually, I even did that when she was alive. I think it's kind of a subconscious tribute. And whenever I hear "These Boots Were Made for Walking" I remember her singing it with her Filipino accent, cranking it up in the car on the way to my 8th grade graduation. This from the dutiful Catholic lady, twice divorced and married three times!

So now, the latest: I pierced my ears on a whim yesterday. I can't really explain it, although I have the flippant and socially acceptable reasons handy. But I drove down to Southcenter, where I'd always go shopping with Grandma, and walked into Claire's. A nice Lao family was getting their 2-year-old daughter's ears pierced right before me (they'd cleverly given her a big ice cream cone right before). I felt a little like a tagged sheep afterwards. And now I'm stuck having to clean the studs three times a day for six weeks. And I woke up at 3am this morning, realizing than in six weeks when I can start wearing real earrings, it'll be almost the 2nd-year anniversary of her passing. (Last year around that same time, I was randomly Friendstered by a distant cousin in Manila who happens to be her namesake. Actually, it wasn't random when I think it through...)

At any rate, I don't know if I even want holes in my ears anymore. And my habit of tugging on my earlobes when I'm thinking is turning out to be very, very painful.