My Mother was often described as a “colorful” woman.  As a child, the term was innocently interpreted as a compliment.  As I reflect on these comments as an adult, I’ve come to understand that “colorful” does not necessarily equate to positive behaviors.  Life with my Mother was never boring.  At her core, she could best be described as a stereotypical southern lady in the body of a northern suburbanite.  Couple this with a tortured soul and closeted dependency issues and you have anything but boring.  While I could retell stories that would curl the hair of a bald man, I will restrain myself and provide you with a relatively tame example of a Faux Pas “don’t”.  First, let me impart you with some guidance…