(click) Bill and Queen Becky 

Becky just had a birthday on Dec. 30th.

Ya’ll you haven’t seen much of Becky because her job in marketing with Memorial Hospital is keeping her waaay too busy. Becky is originally from Florida but has been in Savannah for years and years.  She has two grown children from her first marriage and a new grand-child.

Becky and I talked every time we saw each other at a Gala or cocktail party about starting the MJQs for 5 years before it was actually begun in spring 2004.

Hi all.  January will be devoted to high-lighting our Royal members.  This way Queens that have crushingly busy lives and realms that demand way to much attention can remind themselves what a fabulous group we are. One day that they will join us for some fun and flouncing and will know all the names and faces needed for Regal recognition. If I can keep up with it, the 2008 January Archive will be the source for all MJQs to visit prior to parties so you will remember faces and names. Honey, it you have a question or comment, email me or leave it on the blog site.  I clear out post comments every day or so.  You would not believe the spam that is sent to me.

( click- from left, Rhonda, Emma, Mary, Becky, Linda, Me, Dottie, Stacy, Vernice, Terri, Becky, Sue, Cathy. From piano stool- Leslie, Patty, Carolyn, Cathleen -Cute hat!, Tricia)

Remember that 80’s Madonna song ”Quien es esta nina? Whoooo’s thaaaat girl?” Well, at our annual Holiday Queens’ & Consorts’ Party I heard, “Who’s that Queen?” and “Who’s her consort?” several times! How could a Royal group such as ours not completely know each other?  Here’s how. We travel, work our royal selves to death, and hardly take time for fun, contrary to the self-indulgent diva/queen reputation.  Also, when we do have a spare moment,  we can over commit our time to our subjects and realm. And then what happens? THEN we can’t come to enough MJQ gatherings to remember the names of our Regal sisters.

I plan to start a January blog that will introduce a Queen a day, so prior to any party, you can visit January archives and get a teenie refresher. I will start with some of the group photos from the Holiday party.  If you don’t remember every name, you are not alone:)

(click)Chris Miller, friend of Queen Jennifer is leaving to start a consulting biz.  I think the crown gives him an edge.

Hey.  Thank goodness for Queen Carolyn.  Did you know that formatted DVDs are in -R or +R ? Whatever that means.  Well, I spent hours trying to view images from Coronation and The Consort Holiday party. I now know my machine reads negative R. Erin gave the images in positive R.  After much hand-wringing, self-doubt and a call to my repair guy, it was Time for an extra strong Seabreeze and advice from Queen of Pire Tools.  She sooo rules.  After a my mini break-down, Carolyn calmly fixed my image errors.

So. Since I had just read the blog for The Creative Coast, I figured what better way to test my Super-tech skills (that are in still in their infancy), than to use the lovely pic above for good.

FOQs and MJQs, I wll send image link today or tomorrow, thanks to Carolyn.

3 drinks (AKA $45.oo dollars worth of drinks, not counting tips), toast flouncing.)

November 30th the MJQs met at The Mansion on Forsyth Park for drinks.  Again, I was less than impressed with the service or lack there of at this 4 star wanna be. If you need the space to have a function downtown, then I suppose this location will fill the bill, but if for some strange reason you long for a Southern experience in the style that represents the best of hospitality, good taste, and of what makes Savannah a destination, better rethink your choices.

I will stick to my very limited dealings with the place and its staff.  Last April we had cocktails at The McMansion and we were met with surly service. Not a single smile or “thank you” was uttered as we shelled out 16.00 for a single glass of wine poured into a cheap glass 2.00 stem. At the time, I chalked it up to Crown Envy, a little known syndrome of the type one witnesses from certain women that are temporarily blinded by jewels in some one’s hair. You don’t believe me? Put on a tiara and watch. A handful of ladies give you the disappoving you-r-such-a-harlot stare. Others will ask, “Where in the world did you find your cute tiara.?” So, since the wenches behind the bar were…well…wenches, their sour attitudes were ignored by us.  Now back to our recent expereinces at The McM. 

The poor barkeep that met us Friday evening was totally over-whelmed by a flow of females asking for wine, Cosmopolitans, and Mint Juleps. Honey, the bar was almost dead with about 8 folks already served when the first group of ladies approached. During the 45 minutes I stood at the bar waiting for a drink, this pitiful lad struggled with every concoction.  It took me 45 minutes to get my first drink.  I was never even acknowledged or greeted.

Three ladies had to flounce upstairs to get their drinks since they had waited so long. Lucky for me someone else was able to get his attention and procure the julep for me.  Now, the julep was so bad I almost gave it back to him, but frankly I was suffering from absolute dehydration and I decided I would never get another drink so I kept it.  The little pseudo-drink was, from what I could figure a concoction of ginger ale, bourbon, sugar, mint leaves and huge lime wedge perched atop the glass. Yuck.  More like a little punch.  In the future, I suppose I must resort to ordering bourbon and water, a side of mint, and a packet of Dixie Crystal that I stir in myself. I was at this bar for 2 hours and never offered another drink or even spoken to by anyone behind the bar.

Now you may ask if I have eaten at the Mcmansion? No dear heart, I have not.  I am not talking about their food or “dining experience.”  Wait.  I did attend a big gala that was catered by the McMansion. Does that count?  The food was horrible and pretentious. The wine glasses were hot, fresh out of the dishwasher.  The funniest food item they served was some mashed potato thing in a martini glass with a port wine  reduction, (AKA gravy) and shredded cheese. I know this event was a fund-raiser and the non-profit that booked the location was not wlling to shell out the ten prices needed to make a decent table of nibbles. 

Way on up in NYC, The Waldorf-Astoria, Tao, and The W all have friendly service, nicer stemware, better drinks and, here’s the shocker…similar bar prices to the McMansion. Never the less, when faced with adversity, we , The MJQs absolutely make the best of a challenging situation and rise to the occasion. We yuck it up, flounce a little, and smile real pretty for pictures so it did not ruin our time.  In fact, we had a blast drinking over- priced wine. miniature Cosmos, and bad Juleps. Then some of us went on to dinner at Wally’s Six Pence Pub, crowned our waitress, and devoured a darn good burger.  Next time though, I really don’t think we will congregate at The McMansion. Alligator Soul or the Mercury Lounge will likely be the location of choice:)

(Thank you, Peter for you kindness. The princesses love seeing you!)

I don’t write lots of poetry, but when I can’t put together an essay, paragraph, or narrative to express a feeling or experince then poetry or painting works.  Here’s one in honor of a generous spirit, Peter Hooten. His up-lifting nature is… well, I don’t know.

I am caught in traffic again.

Go, go speed racing,

Raging down white lined,

lonely black to trip’s final stop.

Spindly pines’ kudzu mounds blur.

Seldom has a soul stopped

to breathe the new spring air.

By the edge of the killer road

anonymous yellow wildflowers

whisper in the dewy air.

Still gripping the wheel,

I imagine I am home,

and you call me to stop there.

Listen and be still kind heart.

Feel the grace of green.

Watch the cynical fog burn-off clean.

It is the sun’s kind talent

shining down peoples’ hard highways.

Part of the journey, you say.

I still travel to the end.

Wandering, waiting for a generous spirit

to stop me again.

Hear the wind? 

(fun and friends, click)

When was the last time you did a shot?  I mean a shot of liquor?  Not that I advocate any such thing, condone or encourage such behavior.  Sweetheart, if you had asked me that very same question a month ago I would have laughed at you. When you said , “No. Really I am serious. When was it?”  I would have had to think long and hard and I would have come up with about 17 years ago at Hard-hearted Hannah’s.  Now here’s a warning. I am preparing to take a detour off track and tell that story real quick, since it does actually relate to being stupid. And having fun.

The Madeira beach method was a crazy way to do tequila that my dear Carolyn and her friend Cissy learned during a vacation to Florida.  Lick a guys neck and sprinkle with salt. Have  him hold a lime like a flaminco dancer holds a rose. Now lick salt, do shot, and then get the lime from his mouth. A darling, charming friend of ours, Dolly was getting married and her fiance` stopped by after a party to have a couple of drinks at Hard-hearted Hannah’s.  We proceeded to do Madeira Method shots with her husband-to-be.  Lucky for us, she is a forgiving soul and since the next evening he made it to the wedding, we were not permanently ostracized for unseemly conduct unbecoming of a friend.  

Now back to today and recent stupidity. There’s this person, otherwise know as a talented young  doctor and regular nice-guy by the bar doing a flaming shot by dipping his finger in Sambuca, lighting it with a lighter, blowing it out, and downing the liquor.  As Carolyn said, she avoided getting sucked into that moment since, as she observed it, “It just looked stupid.”  I, however was enthralled. Oh. Pretty fire and anise flavored sticky, sweet stuff that glows in a glorious blue flame . Hey. Why not ? (’Cause it’s stupid?) Nope.  No such maturity was evidenced at that particular moment.

Was it fun? That one little shot did not give me a roaring headache the next day as some predicted it would. Just a tad bit of a throbbing headache around my eyes was the result.  Nothing that 3 Diet cokes and a cheeseburger couldn’t handle. Frankly, it is more fun telling about it later. Like now, for instance.  If any advice can be gleaned from this little story, then it is just being stupid can make a funny story. That is if no one is hurt and you can forget any pain you might have endured during or after the event of being stupid, then it is well worth it.  So, ask yourself and rethink your veiw, “Can I be safe and have a silly story for later?” Then go right ahead and be utterly stupid. You are really not too old, honey. Tell me all about it later.  I always need a good laugh.

 Click- (Queens Becky and Stacy, Queen Pat)

Queen Pat has a birthday coming up on December 20th and Queen Becky K has her big day after Christmas on December 30th. 

(Coronation news to follow after Royal photographer, Erin Weathers gets the images to me.)

(Queen Carolyn, user of Pire Tools)

When I was an undergraduate in the art department at Georgia Southern, my sculpture professor, a guy from Tennesse that made custom knives explained that we would learn to use pire tools this quarter.  We would go to a junk yard and collect salvaged metals for a sculpture we would weld. We would sandcast an aluminum  item. We would use pire saws and other grinding and polishing pire tools to complete an alabaster piece. We would produce a plaster totem-like column for the front courtyard. It required pire tools to construct the mold. 

I was excited and fascinated.  I leaned forward and asked a classmate that perched on a metal stool beside me, ” Hey. What’s a Pire tool?” Well, I suppose you might have figured it out.  I had no hands-on exposure to such tools and so POWER tools was a translation that I had to let sink in.  Wow. POW-er tools.

I don’t know lots of women that own their own power tools. Thankfully, I do know one and she just happens to be a dear friend, God-mother to my princesses  and  regal in every way.  As November slams to a close, I was feeling the crush of the Christmas demands edging their way around the corner, going faster than is safe for a really sharp curve. Hey, we are heading head-on into full throttle holiday time and I forgot to order my Mighty-Fancy Christmas tree from Honeydew Farms.  Honeydew Farms delivers a tree to your door, lets you select from 3 stellar choices. Then they clean cut the trunk.  Put it in the stand and position it it in your home.  Well, I lost the Mighty-Fancy order form this year.  Now I was going to have to find a time that my husband and I could go tree shopping, get him to put the thing in a stand and do all this simply, cheerfully and effortlessly, at a time when we both could be there.  Impossible.

After whining at lunch with Queen Carolyn, she calmly suggested that we should go ahead and get the tree and get it home.  No problem and no headaches.  Within one hour, we had gone to the friendly Snowy Mountain Tree lot behind Spanky’s. We selected, not one but two trees, had them tied to her roof and got them home.  That afternoon Carolyn came by with her little pire saw, extension cord and extra tree stand. Quick like a bunny, she clean-cut the trunks. Extra branches were trimmed off and trees were put in their stands. Not a curse word uttered. Not a bead of sweat appeared, and certainly no unpleasantness.  That little pire saw was so helpful. I want one!  No, not really.  But it was perfect for the job and Carolyn was one with the machine while she finished off those trunk bases.  I know she has renovated many a house and it is different from dealing with baseboards, cabinets, moldings, and other stuff I would pay carpenters lots do.  I was still impressed and thankful.

 (click-Queen Stacy and Me flashing some pink. Did I mention Cate Lyon used to work for Victoria’s Secret?)

New clothes cause a stir in my house.  The cause is having two daughters that adore girly dresses and cute outfits and of course, me.  I love a new dress especially when I have had a challenging day.  Way, way back when I was in college, one of the stress busters for registration day was going to Tillie’s in downtown Statesboro and buying another dress. This was in the years prior to computer assisted registration agony.  After I had stood in line for core courses in the old un-air conditioned gym, just to find out every class I wanted was full, and I would have wait and then go to “drop/add” to get the crap I needed.  Not wanted.   Drop/add was equally tough and it required at least a new pair of skin-tight Chic jean. Think 1980. Old habits are hard to break and lately I have been under a lot of stress.

Braving the wet of a steamy Savannah drizzle, I went by Cate Lyon’s shop on 2 Oglethorpe and selected fabrics and watched her draw a couple of new dresses for me.  Then she scheduled muslin fitting when Cate will adjust the fit in simple muslin prior to even cutting a piece of gorgeous satin. It is a very up-scale walk-in. Be pampered, feel special, choose your color experience.  Now honey, I can afford “You want pedicure? “Choose you color” moments, but a custom dress? Not really.  However I can justify it. The way I see it, one dress is commensurate with buying a Talbot’s suit at full price and Donald Pliner shoes to match.  Or it is similar to Channel sunglasses and a Coach bag. For any woman who needs this ammo, think of a foursome at Savannah Harbor with lunch, drinks, and of course, cart fee. Or hunting licenses in Georgia, South Carolina, shells, and what?  Not a hunt club membership, too. Sweetie pie, that is much more expensive! Keep in mind, previous examples serve as rationalizations, as well as helpful reference points to use as needed. 

When I was little, having anything handmade was utterly disappointing. My mother tried really hard, but whatever she made never fit quite right and the fabric looked all wrong.  In fact, if I hadn’t realized how awful it looked, she would tell me in a self-depreciating way. “I just can’t sew.  I don’t know why I try,” she’d say in a disgusted tone. I might wear the thing one time and then banish it to the back of the closet before, years later, giving it to Goodwill.

Cate Lyon realized at a young age that she would learn to sew better that her own mother.  When she was only about four years old, she remembers watching her mother make a grand entrance wearing a blue organza cocktail dress with tons of glittery, glittery jewelry.  Oh Mama! You’re so pretty! To see her very own mother looking like a Queen was so exciting.  The memory stayed with her for years.  If you are fortunate enough to see your mother looking like gorgeous Royalty, then your own dream must be fact.  “I am indeed a princess,” you must sigh to yourself.  It is tremendously empowering to know that. When I said I wanted a fifties inspired dress that rustled when I walked and swished when I flounced, Cate thought of that Oh Mama dress that she had seen her mother make and wear in the mid-fifties. 

Ordering a dress is an ultra-luxury that I can try to rationalize. Why pay Neiman’s 500.00 for a dress anyone with money to throw around can buy?  Let a talented designer make something regal just for you.   Queen Becky C is having her Mother of the Bride dress made by Cate.  Queen Terri recently tried on one of Cate’s creations and exclaimed “I look gorgeous!”  Honey, Queen Terri is terrifically chic and lovely so just try to imagine her with a drop-dead dress on.  I want that. Where’s my checkbook? Do you remember the walk-down-the-street scene that John Travolta did in Saturday Night Fever or the walk through the office sequence in Renee Zellweger’s  Down with Love? This is the way I see it.  If all the world ’s really a stage,  I want the right costume.  Preferably something show stopping, in a stunning shade of green.