I dooo what I cannn...

When my friends turn to me to gripe, I immediately launch into my Pollyanna mode. I try to point out the blessing in every angst, every "poor me," sob, and every fault they find with themselves, or their circumstances.

I dole out advice when advice isn't what they want, or need. They are always polite and always thank me...and I say, "Oh don't thank me, I dooo what I cannn"...Annoyingly, it seems.

Just recently, a friend lashed out over her dog peeing on everything. I said, "You have a dog. I miss Trixie every day."

She said, "But he pees on my rugs and hardwood floors." I said, "Oh I wish I could afford the rugs, and the hardwood."

She said, "But my hubby drives me nuts with his Quasimodo ways." Thinking myself clever and witty, I replied, "Does he ring bells, too?" Quickly she said, "No, but he does push all of my buttons!"

She said, "Have you ever had a friend you loved, but hated." Thinking she wanted my wisdom, I said, "No, hate is a strong word. But I've had ones that made it hard to love them."

She said, "You make it hard for me to love you."

Yikes! Point taken.

When friends call or "instant message" you to say they're having a bad day, lose the Pollyanna.

Just listen. In this case, silence really would have been golden. She is a wonderful friend, a good listener, and didn't need my advice. She needed a friend to say..."I hear ya Hun...buy some dogie diapers, redecorate the house, put hubby in a locked tower with bells and a short rope, then...eat some Oreo's."

It's what REAL friends do.

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All Humorists Go to Heaven ... and other Queenisms

I have a new book coming out soon. Well, as soon as I can get past the dangling participles, and finish my comma therapy.

My editor says he loves me because the laughs I deliver aren't from my stories, but from the edits. Seems I'll be putting yet another of his children through college.

But it's true, it's true! I'm so close to the finish line (pun intended) that I don't care what's dangling. And it's only taken me nearly five years to complete. I've uh...been pacing myself. Like when I do housework.

While my kids give me boo-coo's of writing material, and so do my family/friends, it seems they've started hanging up on me when I call. Chickens...

The conversations go something like this:

SISTER: (pick one, I have four): Hello.

ME: Y-ell-O!

SISTER: Oh, it's you.

ME: Well now, that's a heck of a way to greet your sister. Did we get up on the wrong side of Mr. Coffee this morning, hm?

SISTER: Silence.

ME: Hello?

SISTER: I'm here.

ME: So-oooo...what's new? Been fishing lately? (see previous blog)

SISTER: Silence.

ME (exasperated): Well fine then, you big chicken. I'm so glad we had this chance to share. And by the way, I'm the one who spied on you and ____ in the 7th grade and squealed to Daddy. (Sticking out tongue at phone).

SISTER: Click.

No matter. I have three more sisters to go...and then there's YOU, dear reader. I'll be calling soon so remember; if you don't answer, I know where you live.

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Memorial Day - Who THEY are...

As we get ready to fire up the grill, or as my neighborhood fire department says, "Be on standby, she's cooking again," I wonder how many of us remember the servicemen and women who so bravely fought, and are fighting, for our way of life.

I do. Do you?

I think of Daddy (sending hugs to heaven) having so proudly served in the Navy during WWII. He was involved in 13 battles aboard the ship the USS New Orleans. Listening to his recount of those battles made my blood chill. While he wouldn't elaborate on everything, I took what he would give. I learned.

I learned THEY have a brotherhood, or sisterhood, that cannot compare to our friendships.

I learned THEY love this country, enough to give the ultimate sacrifice; their life.

I learned THEY only wanted, and want, for the rest of the world to know they cared, and do care, and that they did the best they could, and you know what? They still are.

I learned THEY didn't celebrate the deaths of other nations during battle, but mourned the lost of human lives.

I learned THEY held, and hold, their sacred duty in their hearts. Our safety, our freedom, and our love for them, was always top priority.

So this weekend while you're surrounded by family and friends and grilling the dogs and burgers (or in my case, burning them, surrounding trees, brushes) remember them, please. Tell them, while you still can, how proud you are to be an American and because of THEM, we are enjoying freedom, a gift from the armed forces!

THEY may not have family around them during this holiday. They're possibly keeping the light shining in a foreign country, with their comrades surrounding them, and a rife, tent, and...fear.

Remember THEM all. And may God hold them in His heart.

I know I do.

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Feng Shuing My Life

I'm hip. I don't care what my kids say. I read. I know stuff. Recently I read a book about Feng Shuing your life. It said Feng Shui can help you to get love, money, respect (no more Georgia Dangerfield) and happiness. Although I'm one of the happiest people I know, I figure...I'm hip, right? So why not give it a try? I could always use a little extra dose of happy.

First, you have to assess your "Bagua." My what? It took me three days to find it. In layman's terms, that's your area of living quarters. Not, I repeat...not a body part.

Seems you take each one and then you move stuff to let the energy flow to you. Energy? Do you know how much energy it takes to move a couch, three big chairs, coffee table, end tables, and a cat? But hey, I'm hip. I think.

You put red here, mirrors there, waterfalls, candles, trees, plants, Buddha's, boxes, dirt (got that one covered), glass, squares, horizontal or flat things, fire (so I cooked), and many other odds and ends.

By the time I was through, I had spent $350.00, was flat broke, had flooded my Bagua, and had to clean my oven. Again.

The author was right. I moved stuff and it definitely changed my life. Before I had a little money, microwaved my meals, my cat didn't need therapy, and my hips weren't sore.

Now, well...ah...let's just say I'm hip for sure. Both of um...Ouch!

I'm Feng Shuing my hipNESS to the couch. If I can find it.

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The Last Straw

A good friend said to someone today, the last straw is generally the beginning of something new! In other words, look for the good or possible opportunity that will come out of it.

Cool, huh?

I can't tell you how many times I hit rock bottom and was so low I could walk upright under a snake's belly. I just knew the worst was upon me. But every time, something happened to change things and life became vertical again moving up and away from the drama.

Now grant it sometimes the "change" came in the nth hour, but I figure that's God's way of saying, "Hold on, Queenie, I'm right where you left me and you don't have to shout. I hear all."

Ain't it so?

Next time you think you can't take it any more, and you want to give someone a piece of your mind, remember the quote above. Something will change. I guarantee it. It is as sure as the fact that I'll owe the IRS the rest of my life. Another guarantee.

Stop...set your intention to hang on and to see the opportunity to try, be, or say new things. Save the pieces of your mind...you'll need them for the exciting change that's guaranteed to come.

I know I do. I remember telling a friend one day that I'd had it and was going to blow some steam. She said, "Girl, don't give um a piece of your mind, you'd empty out the vault."

Sigh...everybody's a comedian nowadays.

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Brushing with Laughter

I have a sister and I won't say which one, but her initials are BC. BC is a farmer at heart. She loves feeding cows, miniature horses, mini mules, and other things that smell. Breezy, whoops, did I say that? Ah...BC has a pond where she takes her grandbeauties to fish AND she baits all the hooks with icky grub worms. Can you say worm poop?

After a day at the pond, BC goes home and decides to rid herself of the worm remains under her nails. Using the toothbrush she had on reserve for cleaning sink drains and the like, she begins scrubbing.

Here comes the good part...

Ringggg...telephone call. The caller talks and talks. BC thinks she'll multitask so she goes into the bathroom to brush her teeth while the caller keeps talking.

You KNOW where this is going, don't you?

My sister learned a two valuable lessons that day.

Never, ever, get distracted while on the phone. And NEV-ER call me and confess.

I said, "Don't you ever call me dumb again." She replied..."Oh yeah, well I didn't try to fry French fries in water. And there was that time you..." She's lying...of course. I was framed I tell ya...framed.

I'm just glad she isn't a writer.

Never saying NEVER, again...

Friends don't let friends have yard sales. I'm going to have a T-shirt printed up that says that very thing. Or better yet, have it tattooed on my forehead.

Why do we do it? And don't give me the "I made 300.00 at my last one." Oh yeah? What did you do...sell a kidney?

You work for two weeks getting ready, your home looks like a hoarder's paradise and you trip over "stuff" during the night. Then the day comes. People show up at 5:30 for a yard sale advertised 8-4:00, no early calls. Showing up at my house BEFORE I have coffee is a very dangerous thing to do. I'm just sayin'...

I don't mind those treasure-seekers as much as the ones who say, "You want a 10 cents for this? Will you take less?" Less? "Hmm...let me get my calculator."

Having yard sales isn't for sissy's, I can tell you. The worst part ...What you thought were treasures in the morning are by definition crap at the end of the day because you know you have to drag it all back into the house.

I tried putting it all on the curb with a sign that said, "FREE!" Some joker put another sign that said, "Keep it." Everybody's a comedian nowadays.

Do me a favor, would you? If I ever say I'm going to try it again, shoot me. On the spot. Kill me dead. Then hurt me. NEVER...EVER...AGAIN...and I mean it this time. I will ne---oh, would you look at that lamp! I bet it would bring a nice price!

Sigh...never say never.