Tonight is Oscar Night, which simply does not happen without thinking of my mom.
When I was growing up, we watched the Oscars EVERY year. We'd cry at the sweet speeches and roll our eyes at the people who took themselves entirely too seriously. (At a young age, I just rolled my eyes when mom did. My Eye Roll Radar came later, with age.) We loved watching the glamour and pageantry of it, and we loved movies, so we had all sorts of opinions and guesses as to who should and/or would win. It was great fun, but not without rules.
The Rule was this: we could watch the Oscars (read: stay up late on a school night) if and only if the ladies (mom and I) wore something sparkly and the gentlemen (my brother) wore a tie *somewhere* on their person. This usually meant that I'd put on a pair of her clip-on rhinestone earrings with my very favorite nightgown and my brother would wear pajamas with a tie around his head, then his waist, then his arm (a la Rambo), and any other place he could come up with as the night progressed. (He wasn't *into* the Oscars like Mom and I were-- more into the staying up late-- so he got bored quickly.)
This rule was enforced even on the Oscar nights we were with my dad, and has continued every single year since I can remember. It's still upheld, so as I type this, I am in my very finest fleece PJs and a tiara (I just happened to have one), while my husband cooks dinner in jeans and an ugly tie, in case he gets food on it.
I love this tradition she left me, and can't help but consider Oscar Night just a big ol' glamourous tribute to my beautiful mom. :)