Although we have been incredibly busy with our group and our private reigns, you may never know it based on this out of date blog. It reminds me of the person who is so preoccupied Snap Chatting, Instagramming, and Facebooking that they forget to experience the moment. The cold hard focus on a screen consumes them.

Well, that sure enough has not been the MJQs last year. So huzzah and good for us. We have been living and surrounded with joy and so focused on Being the Sparkle that the job of recording our Royalty on a blog has taken a back seat. To be honest, the blog is not even in a back seat. The task is in a rusty flat bed trailer sitting out in a field.

Should you wonder, “What have the MJQs been up to lately?” then this simple answer should satisfy: We have just been happy Being the Sparkle in Savannah, Georgia.  You are most welcome.

Fun comes in many different forms.

I know someone whose deepest passion is fox hunting. In fact, I know two such ladies who count the days until fox hunting season. Queen Leslie moved to Thomasville a few years back so that she could pursue her treasured pastime more often. The other, Nita Ann just got her sash and also reigns as a Mint Julep Queen. Lisa’s passion used to be helping one of her favorite charities, Bethesda Academy.

I find it fascinating that once you find a single passion, that it can define you so completely. When you meet someone new and shining, trying to remember their name may be a challenge for you, like it is for me. I need a framework to help me plant their name and their Life Picture in my mind. The frame may be your job–”Ahh. I remember her. She’s an attorney.”   Or it may be your hobby. “Oh, yeah. She’s the one who shows horses,” I may say to myself.  Picturing a runner on a track and thinking “She’s a runner,” is a image that does not help me remember anything at all– except how much I hate running. So many people are runners, I need more information.

These newest MJQs are like most women, though. Multifaceted.  They work. They have a family. They have charities. They have many deep interests and hobbies. The excitement for me is that now that they are Queen, they can add a Regal image to their Life Picture. How many among us can’t benefit from additional shining sparkle? Now we all are thrilled that they are willing to share that brightness with us. Isn’t it nice that when are out and about in Savannah and we run into a familiar face, we can think, “Oh! I remember her. She’s a Mint Julep Queen!”  Next, imagine her in her crown.

Reign on, Lisa and Nita Ann.  

Some binary choice questions imply that there is something wrong with you if you answer a certain way. How does this translate to fear? Lemme tell you.

For example, in your Book Club, everyone may say they adore the latest book by E.L. James. (I do not use the word “novel” to describe the 50 Shades of Gray book because I am a critical like that.) During the discussion you announce that you did not like it at all and did not finish reading it. Life is too short to read books you do not like, you say.   The Book Club members look aghast and one other person, whispers, “Yes. I really did not like it that much either.”

What happens if everyone says they just hated the memoir “Just Kids” by Patti Smith. “No kidding,” you say. “I loved it.” One other member counters, “It was totally disgusting.”

If you are able to feel comfortable with other women commenting on something you personally like, be it heels or flats, then good for you. Most of the time, I like to believe that I am more than happy to share my opinion and others’ differing ideas do not phase me at all.  But what if you have had a bad day?  Or even a bad week? Your hair is all frizzy. The dog threw-up on your new bedspread. Maybe the coach did not let your ten year old play but a 5 measly minutes and and your boss added your name to the clean-up crew after the company picnic. Maybe you have surgery scheduled on a lump somewhere. The nursing home workers told you that your mom had been crying a lot more and MRI you just had for the pain in your hip was diagnosed as sciatic nerve pain caused by poor posture. Maybe you have to have a root canal tomorrow or you just had one yesterday. To top it off, the only swimsuit that fits you anymore has a broken elastic leg hole and now you have to take a day and go shopping for a new one. All of these challenges are stories someone out there can tell.

Mountains of small things might pile on top of you, weighing down your heart and your spirit. The only thing you have had time to schedule is Book Club, but then doubt and unpleasantness may be your reward. A feeling of “Crap ,am I the only one who thinks this way?” could creep in with waves of loneliness and little ripples of isolation. Tiny Hardship after Tiny Hardship can take a toll and even a small judgment can knock you down a peg or two.

Face it.  Being the only one in a room who likes (or dislikes) something is not a  joyous party place to be. I feel strong and powerful being honest and going against the crowd, most of the time, but there are times it also feels lonely. It sort of depends on what else is going on in my life. We all have a story. The story details are constantly changing for all of us.  You never know what others face.

That is what I adore the most about reigning as a royal with the Mint Julep Queens. Through the years we finally have found our code, our mission, our reason to exit. Do you like to dress-up and wear a crown? Every last one of the MJQs will proudly say, “Yes. Of course.” In every other way we are a very diverse group of females, but on this we stand. Give us a rhinestone headpiece, a swishy dress, and a royal wave and Voila`–all is right with the world. In the Mint Julep Queens, the only question you need ask is this- “Do you like wearing a crown?” As our Queen Elizabeth noted, “Why wouldn’t I like it? I am a queen for goodness sakes.” And I promise, everyone agrees. 

Reign on!

I miss the youthful, ignorant Inner Stooges who helped me be rather risky, crazy, and fun-loving.    They gave me a mythical belief that I am invincible.  I can do it all and have a riotous time in the process.

I miss Moe.  Moe would say, “Nothing bad ever happens to me.  I know I should not be having this second shot of tequila, but it will all be ok in the morning because I am so massively smart.  I will just skip American Lit.  So what if I make a B?  I know I should be taking advanced biology, but the easy ‘A’ in psychology will help my GPA. And a ‘B’ average is plenty good enough in liberal arts.  Especially if you do not have to really work for it. ”

Larry was always yammering “Go ahead.  Stay up all night writing that paper.  Or now that I think about it, don’t!  It won’t matter that much later, but instead go ahead and decorate for Christmas.  Climb up on the roof edge and string the Christmas lights now.  Plug ‘em in first.  Or start a new project. Pull out all your art supplies right this second, wash your brushes, then put the brushes in a nice tin can and start the painting.  Leave the decorations in the corner until you need them. And tomorrow, go adopt a rescue kitty.”

Curly would tell me, “Ritz crackers dipped in blue cheese dressing counts as the main course for supper.  Four Little Debbies is fine if you drink milk with it.  Chase that with some black olives and celery with pimento cheese as a palate cleanser.”  Curly really did not know the concept of palate cleanser.  That is totally a manufactured memory. The voiceinmyhead likes pointing out Curly was none too bright.

I think the Three Stooges helped me seize fun and ignore responsibility years ago.  My Three Stooges are in hiding.  Or at least locked  in the closet for the last few months since they can be such an embarrassment.  

This weekend I am going out with the Mint Julep Queens even though I have tons of to do and am exhausted from being an adult all the darn time time.   I mean it.  All the darn time.  Working, parenting, wife-ing.  Is Wife-ing a word?  It should be.  Anyone who is or has been a wife knows what I mean. Although part of me is wishing I could put on warm jammies, watch Cary Grant movies, and not talk to anybody for a  couple of hours on Saturday night.  A larger part of me knows that if I put on a rhinestone tiara. I will have fun.   That Larger part is my inner Curly.  If I put on green chiffon and huge-ass petti-coat I will flounce about like a young girl again, right Larry?  If I wear my glitter eye liner and Dior Rouge lipstick I will take a good photo and look more like a Royal Character.  Ok with you, Moe?  If I just show up, ready to play, I will have an adventure.

Somebody will smile and laugh and feel joy that they too are a Queen in their heart of hearts.  Somebody will do a Queen’s wave and clap.  A little girl will approach  and have her mom take a picture with the Queens after she is given a tiara of her very own.  Which reminds me, I need to go shopping for that.  Maybe somebody recovering from chemo will be out on their birthday and the MJQs will serenade them with a special Happy Birthday song. It has happened.

I have so much pushing on me to do, I do not have time or energy to go out-n-about acting all outlandish.  Every lady I know is in the same boat.  But making a memory and being kid again is my priority for exactly five hours this weekend.  I will listen to the clamoring of the Stooges.  I will let them out of the closet.  If we all set aside a few hours every few months or so to just be a kids again, celebrate being alive, and be a tad bit silly– the world would be better place.  Or at least it would be more slap-stick and not so downright mean, which does not sound too bad right about now.

What about Shemp?  He got left out.  Don’t worry. Shemp is doing my shopping for childrens’  Royal Trinkets. 

Why do people gossip?  The gossip and fear of people gossiping stops many a fun moment dead in its tracks.   I am completely guilty of my fair share of gossip, but in the last 2 years or so, ever since I found a church home and frankly, honey, found a malignant lump in my left breast, my perspective and tolerance for gossip has diminished somewhat.

Now do not get too self righteous.  You know you can talk bad about folks just like the next person.  

True, voiceinmyhead, I can.  The only reason I bring this up is to point out I am beginning to understand it all.  I have wise friend who says, “We are all children of the universe.”  Whether you have a secular focus or a religious one, we are in competition with each other to be the favorite child.  It really is sibling rivalry at its core.  If and only if we face that fact and stop the competition will we be free to just be who we are meant to be.

Every single friend I have has someone out there gossiping about them.  Nobody is immune.  How do you inoculate yourself from that?  Do you strive to be perfect by wearing the right clothes, saying the perfect thing at all times, joining the right clubs, sending your children to the right schools.  Do you worry that you laugh too loudly, act too silly, or ever put your foot in your mouth?  Well then, ask yourself,  Do you always think of others, always remembering to be thoughtful and kind.  Are you always interesting, polite, generous, forgiving, and loyal.   Do you help the down trodden, speak out for justice, and calmly represent everything good and right in the world?  If that is your plan to avoid the mean talk behind your back, to avoid anything that might be judged, ( and I mean anything) then let me tell you a little secret.  Mother Theresa was a saint and I ain’t no saint and honey, neither are you.

We can try to be better people and we should.  We can work at being good children of the universe, but somebody will always talk about you behind your back.  No kidding. The very nicest friends I have are targets at times of some mean comments.  You (and I) will never ever be adored by all of mankind.  You will never be forgiven by every single person you offend or otherwise annoy by your mere taking up space at the table of life. Remember we are all a big family.  Brothers and sisters will bicker and complain about each other. I am trying to understand it and with help, move past it.

Let go of the fear that somebody is going to judge you or talk about you, because I promise somebody already is!!!  Honestly. They are.

…knowing that if you are kind and honest and do nobody any harm,  flouncing about while wearing a tiara and a big green gown just gives people something harmless to talk about, and that is a good thing even if it is at “The Club,” or the Cotillion, for that matter.  (An organization my dear husband will never likely be invited to join, due to his wife’s totally outrageous behavior.  Oh and here’s some gossip for you.  Did you know she kept her MAIDEN name?  Yes, honey.  She did.  It is not like she is from a important Savannah family or anything, so why keep your name?  Her daddy was just a teacher, I hear, in Statesboro, Georgia no less.  Plus she has a tattoo, God bless her poor, pitiful heart.) 

The voicemyhead is being  sarcastic now… but there is truth in humor.   So do not move through your one and only life in fear that people will start talking about you.  They already are.  Give them something fun to discuss.  Put on rhinestones and chiffon and come on a flounce with the Mint Julep Queens.   We are not perfect, but fear not.  Just being a Queen makes it all ok.

 The best crown is on Queen Carolyn one of our founders at the 2010 Coronation. click for big image.

With several birthdays coming up, I encourage each Queen and Jr. Mint to grab your everyday Tiara to wear ALL day on your special day.  Thankfully Sage came up with the idea last year on her own because she thought it would be fun and she did not care if any of her 13 year old classmates thought is was silly.  As she said, “It is my birthday and I am wearing a tiara whether they like it or not. “   Good for her.  If we can all maintain that sense of self all through our lives, just think how much happier we all would be.  Learning to be Queenly and Royal in every way is a life long process.  I have never donned a tiara for my birthday…wait.  Let me think. I have but it was only at a party.  I think this year I will wear it all day long.  Becky C has also suggested this and used to wear her crown all day, too.  (Dears, that was BEFORE she became a Mint Julep Queen.  Pretty impressive, I’d say.)  

Celebrate your Royal year and the coming Year of ruling your realm with kindness and grace by adding with a little sparkle to your hair.  Wear it to the grocery, to the dry cleaners, in car pool, at the office, at the dishwasher, in the laundry room walking the do, at the soccer field.   Now.  Let me see. Where did I put my everyday tiara?? Uhmm.  Well if I can’t find it I suppose I will have to order a new one on www.rhinestonejewelry.com  (just an tad little excuse to buy more sparkle.   I wonder if I should have a designer create a new one for me?  A diadem style.  Subtle silver leaves interwoven with little pearls or something.   You know honeys,  all I really need is a 5 dollar sequin number with the plastic headband, because it is not about the tiara!  It is about the Regal spirit.  Stand up and reach for Royal joy as often as you can!  (And do not take yourself too seriously and frankly nothing says that like sequins in a Lady Liberty pattern on a headband.) 

Happy birthday to all you Fall MJQs. Reign on & Long Live the Queens! Hooo-rah- Hoo-rah! Hoooo-RAH!

click for the big ol’ NOLA style head shotThere.  I did it just for you.  I can take a good pic and a bad pic.  My REAL look falls somewhere in between.  But in my heart and soul I am still 30, have a full head of red hair and unwrinkled skin. Ha!  A victim of early onset age…claims another victim. BTW-You have to be able to laugh at yourself before you can point and laugh at others. The bad part is, I am not laughing when I see that wrinkled old chicken neck I got going on. 

The first day of school for my Junior Mint Princesses 2011

If wearing a crown makes everything more fun, maybe they should have donned their tiaras for the day…or at least for a cute picture.  As it is, they allowed me to take several cute shots without fussing at me for taking too many pictures.  They smiled sweetly and stood up straight.  What more can a proud mother ask?  Sage even kept her eyes open the whole time.  Lucky for me, there was no need to do a flash or that would have not been the case!

There are a few MJQs who still hate having their pictures made.  They will avoid the camera at parties and when I look back over the collection of images, they are no where to be seen.  In fact, I have come to the realization that if I need a record of who attended a party, I have to come home and write down all the names.   Now that the Calendar Project and Membership Directory is beginning, I want to assure each MJQ that we have a professional photographer and I will be glad to help you with the pose and the make-up, so please just re-lax.

Why some folks are scared of a camera is beyond me, so I am training my girls young.  IT is merely a machine. It does NOT define your beauty, nor even record the real story!  A camera also does not steal your spirit & soul, unless you let it.  If you throw up your hands up in front of your face and squeal, “Oh, my God, You are not going to take my picture, are you?! ”  You need to learn some little hints to help you get over that fear.  (And self loathing..mainly the self loathing.)

When I was in 7th grade, I came home from school with our school pictures (AKA mugshots) in hand hand.  I showed them to my mother and started crying.  I mean really crying.  (Now if you are reading this and you think that these tears was due to some hormonal issues because I was 13, then you need to slap yourself right this second.  Go ahead.  Do it.  Scared?  Ok, fine.  Just pretend I slapped you, if you have the imagination, which likely you do not.  Now you need to realize, some girls cry when they are sad and it is not PMS or hormonal, or in my case, menopausal symptoms.  And if by some chance it is magnified by hormones, you best not ever-EVER say that to me, or to any female for that matter.  If for ANY reason you continue along this path of blaming tears of sadness on hormones, then I suggest you learn how to live all alone ’cause that is where you will end up.  In a trailer park in Port Wentworth eating boxes of Hot Pockets for dinner. All alone.  I know. I already said it.  And I will say it again.  All A-LONE.)

I had tried so hard to wear the right outfit and have my hair just so…and the result?  The result was absolutely horrible, homely and yuck.  It was way worse that any image I had formed of myself.  When I looked in the mirror,  I thought I was plain, but I had not thought I was downright ugly, until then.  That picture showed just how ugly I was and I told my mother so.

Dear mother, hated her own pictures so she agreed with me, “I hate how I look, too.  I always have.  I hate my nose and I always take a really bad picture. I am so sorry, honey.  It is a bad feeling.” There are next to no photographs of my brother and I with our mother.  Throughout our childhood she hid from the camera and complained bitterly that she hated to see herself in pictures.

I am not sure why mother never got her nosed fixed…no really I do know.  Lack of money, but mainly lack of self-confidence and lack opportunity.  She fell several years ago and actually broke her nose and had a perfect opening to get it fixed and she has kicked herself for not going ahead and doing it.   Not a single person said anything like, “You know, it is your choice.  It is broken now, so why not neatened it up?”  When she half heartedly mentioned to her ENT that she had always hated her nose and how she took horrible pictures because of it, he did not understand.  So in a callus fashion he proclaims, ”Why in the world do anything about it now?”  In other words, “It is too late for you, old lady!”  I wish he was here right now. I would smack him.  Or at least smack him verbally.  You can imagine how that feels, right?

I learned through many years of experience, education, failure, and success (and a few sessions of therapy to face my own lack of self esteem), I have learned to say, “I ain’t sceered of any ol’ camera.”  ANY-body can take a bad picture.  AND anybody can look better in pictures!!!  If you hate how you look in pictures, do something about it.  The lighting is bad.   The photographer sucks.  The makeup you are using in the wrong color.  The pose you tried makes you look like a turkey necked geek.  The clothes?  Cute on you now, but in a picture?  FRUMPY!  Take action and practice with a real photographer.

Cameras record the moment and in a flawed alien way.  Learn that the camera is not your friend or your enemy.  It is your Frien-emy.  It can be nice, but it can turn on you any moment.  (Plus, it is probably gossipping about you with its friend the Flipshare.)  A good image that shows your beauty can be done with good lighting, good makeup, good photo-shopping, and a good photographer.  Inner beauty cannot be recorded in an image unless you are a Pulitzer prize winner photojournalist or at least a talented photographer.

In fact, a good photographer can create a story about you that is totally imaginary.  Open any women’s magazine and look at one advertisement of one woman.  You see what I am talking about?  The Perfection of the face.  The astounding lack of shadows, lines, blemishes flaws is telling the story…”If you buy this product, you may start to look like this perfect girl.” That kind of physical perfection does not exist.

Cameras are devoid of intent.  They do not lie. They do not love.  They do not add 10 pounds to anybody.  Next time you avoid a photo-op and say, ”No!  Do not Take my picture!”  Give it a chance.  Either practice with and hire a real photographer who knows what they are doing or just re-lax (which is a lot cheaper)!  When you are at a party and your friend grabs a camera, stand up straight and smile.  Friends are hoping to capture the moment, the fun, the affection, and the joy that they are sharing with you.  Let the Royal Fun shine through and it will be a perfect picture!

(Mommy and daughter, click for the big pic. we are so pur-deee)

I am raising my children like most Southern Mothers do. Like all mothers do.  To be able to darn READ.  When my girls get a mailed invitation, they had better be able to decipher the meaning of the invitation without making any huge pheax-pas.  I sent out Club One Party announcements to the MJQs a week or so ago.  I even sent detailed instructions on a separate little sheet of paper inserted in the envelope to answer and anticipate any questions.  Again, herding cats is a constant test of my…patience. (deep breath) Now.  On to the HOW-TO:

First-Read the envelope.  Is it addressed to you and to you, only?  Then YOU and YOU alone are invited.  Next clue.  Open the envelope.  Does it say anywhere on the printed material, “and guest” or  “and husband” or “and family’?  If not, then the invitation is extended to YOU and You ALONE.  Simple.  If you do see “and bring who-ever” written anywhere, then you may bring the person described in that bring who-ever comment.  Now.  If the invitation tells you what to do, who to bring, what to wear, where to be, or gifts needed, well? ..honestly gifts are always appropriate… 

Can you read  simple instructions?  Yes? Good Girl!   READ it and do it.  Oh and If this is a SALES event and not a P-A-R-T-Y-  ,(think Tupperware, Pampered Chef, clothing company of any sort), then it is not really a party.  It’s just a marketing buzz word called a “party” designed to make money for the host.  All of these rules of engagement are null and void if the hostess/marketing specialist is trying to sell you something.  You need not worry about any of this little bit of advice!  Sales events are covered under a totally different set of rules.  Oh and so are political fundraisers. So do not ask me to give money to a candidate unless you have me know it IS a party to raise money. (If you want to shop and your host makes money off you, then go to the event. If not, do not go.  Simple.)

Now back to reading an invitation.  If the group is a social group and the party is a Dutch treat affair, DO NOT expect the hostess to cover the cost of any of the party.  If she tells you that a group is meeting for dinner and a movie, and bring a friend and it is DUTCH,  fine.  Come with Credit card or Cash.  If the thing says, ”Dancing & Lady Chablis at Club One, call and buy tickets, Dutch” -THEN, call and buy your darn tickets. DO NOT expect anyone to be your Mommy and buy your tickets for you. Come or not. 

Still confused? Read this.  Honey Queen, call Club One and buy tickets, (if you want to go) for Jan 22nd, 10:30 show.  MJQs wear full regalia and if you do not know what that means, well… I feel sorry for ya’. I am not telling you what to wear and I am not buying anything for you and if you can not make it…it is OK! really!!!  But do NOT come and expect me to hold your hand and wipe your royal butt for you… (This is the Tough Love part of being in-charge.)   

now dear MJQs, did that sound too harsh? waaay tooo angry and annoyed?…really?! …maybe somebody needs a time-out?  NO!!! -Not you!  Me!!!  I am going to my quiet place now and think about all this…. where’s my tiara? putting  jewels in my hair has a calming effect…ohmmmmmm….

I was working with a 2 year old, significantly developmentally, delayed child in Garden City yesterday when my favorite president came for a visit to Savannah.  I got to see him de-plane on the television the daycare director had set up for the children to see.  I wanted to see the event in person, but I was not on the short list of invitees.  Turns out, folks who did not even think Obama could win when he was running against John Edwards and then Hillary… THEY were invited and attended the event.  Shoot. Jack Kingston was even there. (Oh well.  That is politics.) 

I can say that I sent our fine president money to help with his campaign.  There were people who attended who not only did not send him a dime, but actively supported someone else. The daycare director and her employees were all Obama supporters and they did not get an invitation to come see him either, so I was in very good company. (Oh well. That is politics.) We talked about our deep belief in the significance of this president’s election. She teared up when we talked about election night and I told them it was the best birthday present I can imagine getting. I am sad that more locals were not included in the event, but that is politics.

Linda kindly sent me a link from the President’s speech and Carolyn and Consort are in a close-up with Brooks, her consort justa- grinnin’.  (Oh well. That’s politics.)

The daycare providers I was with yesterday, spent years waiting for a president like Obama.  I can honestly say he is the most important president I ever helped elect and when my grandchildren ask about it, I can say I helped elect him! Even if I did not get an invitation to come watch his speech at Savannah Technical college, I take great pride in knowing I predicted his win.  I said he would be the first African American president and I predicted it after his key note address in 2004.  I started to sent him small checks way back in Feb. of 2008 when many of the people I knew were all loving Rudy, McCain, John Edwards and Hillary. In fact I argued with one consort about Obama’s experience and electability.

In politics, what matters to me is a persons values, heart, and action. Obama has all three going for him.  It was so exciting seeing him visit our town and spend time at Savannah Tech, even if the only way I got to see it was on T.V.!  The reality is the regular, common everyday voters and contributors who made his election possible are the ones who were truly excited about this visit and were just happy to sit and watch the local newscasters report on the event.  If only more folks could have been there in person. Politics as usual made the list of invitees rather short and made the event so small .

And then to add insult to injury, I have forgotten how to post pictures on this site.  I got some images sent from Carolyn and I can’t re-size them. When I browse and POST, the image then takes up the whole screen -plus some! So I could not use the huge images to high-light this post.  I guess it is a Freudian thing.  Cynicism and Jealousy makes me forget how to change pixel size? Or cynicism with politics as usual makes me unable to re-vamp jpgs.  What in the world?

I did remember how to “post a link” so if you missed the President’s speech at Savannah Tech, look over to the right of the screen and click on the link that is under Queens in the press.  It is a 15 minute video. There were 4 MJQs there in the audience and I saw 2 consorts. One with a huge grin on his face. Some of his friends call him Pooky. I call him Lucky.