All Things NOW

Someone asked me what my favorite time was and I answered, “right this minute.” They looked at me as if the sauce from last night’s pizza was still on my face. If you aren’t living in the moment, then you’re losing out my friend. What do you have except right now? Do you know, for instance, that you will be here tomorrow? Don’t think so!

Last night I was sitting in a rocking chair holding my brand spanking new granddaughter, Lea. Oh sure, I should have been at home working on my next article which is due reallll soon…. but I chose to be there, with Lea. I memorized every inch of her face, including the adorable double chin she’s grown. Now we REALLY look alike. I played with her tiny little fingers, rubbed her tummy, and kissed the back of her neck. I was definitely in the moment. Would I have missed that just to write an article to gross the 300 bucks? (What? You don’t get paid that much?) Never! Would I do it all over again and run the risk of staying up late tonight to finish my masterpiece? Youbetcha! In a New York minute, and honey, that’s fast.

Besides, what’s to say you can’t do it all? I loved all over my grandbeauty, ate supper with my son and his adorable wife, and came home and finished my article. And I thanked God for my life…

Let me ask you something. Did you stop and trace the view in the sky yesterday evening as God painted it with the sunset? Did you actually smell your delicious coffee this morning? Did you notice the cuteness of your hubby’s tossed hair and sleepy eyes as he stumbled to the breakfast table? Did you?

Love is a talent just like anything else. It needs to be cultivated, brought to life, and used up. My favorite writer in the world said it better than I ever could when she said:

… "When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left and could say: 'I used everything You gave me.'" -- Erma Bombeck...

Peace—da Queen

All Things Monday

...so...how was YOUR day?

All Things Icky!

Well...today would have been a total waste of makeup had it been a workday. Speaking of which, why can't I get sick on a workday like everybody else? Oh nuuuuuuu....my body picks a Sunday.

Murphy is alive and well, living in Alabama and as someone once told me, "Queenie...you can't have JUST A DAY, can you? Something always happens." Ain't it so girlfriend? Ain't it so?

I got up, put the coffee on and began checking my email fan letters. Both of um. What happens next is not for small children to read, k?

As my kids use to say, I started "pittin" up. That was around 6ish, and I'm just now seeing daylight. And much to my dogs dismay. When I finally did drag my sick little body out of bed, Trixie (my dog) was standing there with her legs crossed. Oh just great. I've been puking my guts out for the past four hours and she wants to be funny. It's owner abuse I tell ya.

Anyhoo...after half a pack of saltines and some diet coke, I'm starting to feel a tad better and wanted to come share this with you.

Why?

Hey, if da Queen suffers...YOU suffer...capice?

da Queen

All Things Halloween

CinderPillow

Ask any psychiatrist worth their weight in Prozac and they’ll tell you that children can be traumatized at an early age by a parent’s lack of understanding and their insensitivity. Take Halloween night, for instance. Its one night for Pete’s sake. It comes ONCE a year and you don’t get to celebrate it again until the following year…same time, once a year. Are we clear on this? So, one would think that one’s parents would have understood a little girl’s fantasy of being Cinderella for that ONE night. Ahem…NOT.

Year after year, costume after costume, Cinderella lost, homemade costumes won. There was the Hobo…Mother borrowed Uncle Frank’s work pants which were held up by a rope. The next year, the clown…Aunt Dorothy’s wig and makeup, plus Uncle Frank’s work pants, rope, shirt, coat, and Derby hat. Next, the Hobo revisited…Uncle Frank’s usual Hobo attire, plus one pair of shoes that fit like a boat. This meant that one night, every year, there was a grown woman going around with no makeup or hair, and beside her was a grown man completed naked except for socks.

Last but not least, Mom’s favorite: Casper, the Friendly Ghost. One pillow case with holes cut in the top for eyes, nose, and mouth outlined with a magic marker. How hard is it to cut holes in a pillowcase that will match a 6-year olds eye level? Apparently it's rocket science because I can distinctly remember adjusting those holes this way and that every few steps, just to avoid breaking my neck. You know…it’s hard to beat the bigger kids to the house with the “good stuff” when you’ve just run into a tree and have to wait till the bells quit ringing.

Oh and don’t even think about crying in front of the big kids. One night after tripping over old man Callahan’s lawn furniture, doing a flip that would rival any Olympic hopeful, and then landing on his dog Sugar, I screamed to no one, “Good grief people! Why can’t I be Cinderella just once?” It was then I heard what would follow me the rest of my trick-a-treating nights…the shame, the taunts, the sneers, the laughter that would greet me in the future as I walked the streets in search of the perfect popcorn ball. And to top it off, a crowd of kids had gathered around me, not because I was hurt and crying, but because my bag of candy had also become airborne just as I did, and everybody knows its fair game when it hits the ground…Vultures.

Anywaaaay…it was then that Scooter Parker (who later went on to be an Elvis impersonator) was bending over holding his belly laughing, pointing at my pillowcase and hollering, “Because you’re CinderPILLOW that’s why!” After that, every single Halloween I would hear one or more of the trick-or-treaters shout, “Hey look, it’s CinderPillow! Let’s follow her, maybe she’ll fall again.” Being totally devastated and traumatized, I’m sure this is why I cannot to this very day chew gum and walk. However, I am a survivor. I am woman. And I’ve learned to put the past behind me.

Well…it’s Friday night and I’m almost late for my date…hmm….now where the heck did I put those glass slippers?

da Queen Speaks....

Oh sure...just what the internet needs...another Queen. But I'm so much more than just another Queen honey...I'm a royal pain. But I digress.

Anyhooo...this is just a test of my new little blogness...

what? you want humor? okay...okay...try this one;

Two cannibals are eating a clown and one says to the other, "Does this taste funny to you?"

Hey, I don't write um...k?

Stay tuned for articles by da Queen written just for this blog. And you.

Queen Jaw Jaw
http://www.queenjawjaw.com
The Queen of Experiences