I waited just the right amount of time to disclose this secret.  I am not going to be like Granny of The Beverly Hillbillies fame and tell you right off.  I will savor the moment and slowly determine just the right timing for a tell-all, confidential admission.  My consort loves hunting and we do serve lovely marinated vension backstrap from time to time.  Plus, every now and then, when you say, “This has to be Stephen’s vension.  It is so good.  I never knew I liked vension so much ’til I came to your house.  Goodness.  I wish my husband cooked this good.”  Hold on. Deep breath. Well, I need to fess up. Once in a blue moon, it is Road kill. Honey, it’s not posssum or armadillo, but Stephen did not shoot it.  It was hit by a car.

This time it happened in Vernonberg, a township in Savannah that is it’s own municipality (like Thunderbolt).  Late one night, on a drive home, a friend of ours hit a little doe when it ran right out in front of him .  Deer will do that. Really messed up his old beat-up whatever-car that he probably needs to replace.  If it had been a big deer, it could have put him in the hospital or even killed him.  Then serving the vension would have been in horribly bad taste.

Thankfully, it was a small deer, so he calls a neighbor and says, “Hey. I just hit a deer.  You want it?” The guy says he would be right over. Lucky thing. It was a sizable enough deer not to want to waste, so he fixed it right up, on the spot and brought some of the meat to my husband ’cause hunters share like that, (even road kill.)

After work, my husband comes home with this freshly butchered venison that his friend has shared with him. He tells me what happened and nobody was hurt and “Oh boy, these hams are sweet, tender meat and will grill up nicely. ” No matter.  I just could not stop laughing when I thought about the fun opportunity ahead of me, should I take advantage of it.  Would I intentionally avoid or spare potential diners the shock? Maybe shock is a harsh word. The concern. Or would I tell ‘em?  ”Yes,” I could say. “Honey, it is his grilled vension. ‘Cept I think you ought to know, some of it is road kill.  Hummm.  I wonder if it’s bad luck to eat deer that was hit by a car? ” I would muse to myself. “You know? I guess not. I just bet it’s good luck since the driver was not injured. Well, eat up.  We got more ready to come off the grill. Sure is good.”  (We serve grilled backstrap with bisquits, horseradish sauce and a sweet-hot apricot, chipotle jam-like stuff.)

Just so you know, we also like ground vension, so on spaghetti night, be forewarned. Look. It really is OK! Promise. I absolutely know that it didn’t lay on the side of the road for too long!  All that would be way too unpleasant.

(click-Queen Emma inspired the invitation by exuding Royal Charm)

OO-la-la-la, MJQS . It’s tiara time. Three Ladies  in Waiting that have attended parties (or had ) parties in the last year and a half,  (Tricia, Ann, and Cathleen) have been asked to share their royalness with the MJQs by joining our group.  We will meet for cocktails at the Mansion on November 30th at 7:00.  No formal ceremony is needed, as you know, because each lady is already queen of her own realm.  She is merely offering to hang out with us and help us have more fun. If they are available to come in full regalia, (green gown and tiara), then they will be added to our royal roster.

Friends of Queens and others that have expressed interest in becoming an MJQ are being invited to come and have fun.  Any MJQ in good standing, (and honey, how can you be otherwise?) is allowed to bring a friend if they would like.  We will have a drink and then do whatever we decide.  No formal plans have been made.  Photographer, Erin Weathers will be on hand.

In January of 2008, the Founders, Mary, Carolyn, Becky, Stacy, and myself will ask all MJQs to come to an organizational meeting where we will decide how many more queens we will add in 2008.  If there are any questions about our regal group, please refer to the pages section, email me, or post a question. Reign On!

(Hold your breath and click)

In one of the riveting scenes in Gone with the Wind, I always gasp with white knuckle fear as Bonnie Blue falls off her horse during a jump. Rhett carries her limp body up the stairs as Scarlet accuses him, “Rhett, you promised not to let Bonnie Blue jump.” The understood sub-text is, “You bast***d, you killed our daughter.” That image makes me not want my daughters to ever ride.  Plus, my consort is suffering now with an old dislocated shoulder injury caused by a nasty fall of a big ol’ darn horse. His orthopedist loves him and so does his physical therapist.

Queen Leslie continues to risk life and limb riding on her favorite big ol’ animals. Her passionate pastime is horseback foxhunting.  Is that redundant? Well, being redundant is a hell of a lot safer than being equestrian.  Last month I thought Queen L was in Thomasville drawn there like the sailors in Greek myth were lured by the sirens to their rocky saltwater doom.  Honey, she was in Thomasville for a month or two.  She was there recovering from a fall that broke her right arm.  When she told me the details and scientific name of the bone that was pinned and cast, I was close to blacking out with fear and shock. Fighting back the mother-in-me that warns with wagging finger, “If you don’t stop that, you’re going to break your neck.” How many times have I said to my Princess Selia, the same exact phrase and when she crashes, and I draw in a lung full and then I can’t breath again until I know she can.  

I have come to accept that side to my daughter and my friend Leslie, as well. They know no fear when doing something they love.  With Leslie, it is sitting astride a horse chasing cute little foxes through the brambles of woods around Thomasville.  With Selia, it is jumping off the sofa arm, over the ottoman with one smooth leap.

Leslie just had her second surgery to fix a poorly repaired break.  Those orthopods in Tallahassee weren’t too neat.  Luckily, Queen Rhonda’s consort knows a thing or two about that bone stuff.   I hear tell that a splintered arm bone does not just take care of itself.  (Actually it can, but forget about returning to activities that required a functional arm and hand, like brushing your hair or putting on eye shadow.)

Since the joy of flying through the air on the back of a large animal seems to have its hold on Queen L, she has suffered two injuries in the last couple of years. And what about the lessons she has learned? Well, first get that bone back together and then get back up on the darn horse.  Show him who’s boss and keep chasing helpless forest creatures. Preferably with a pack of dogs.  Second, Savannah is a pretty nice place to recuperate, re-energize, and re-connect.  Literally and Figuratively.

MORE November Birthday Queens- Dennis fixing Wendy’s Royal do (Birthday November 19). Erica (Birthday November 4)and Carolyn. Emma blowing you a kiss, (Birthday November 5) (click) see Patty G (Birthday Nov. 2) below.

Queen Emma has said to me that friendships are like planets and heavenly bodies. Their orbits around us change.  Sometimes they are close to you like a moon, an up-lifting presence that shines on you, brightens your path, and shines through dark times.  They can be just like comets that streak throught the sky in a blaze of beauty and excitement and then they are gone.  Like Venus, a friend can be there, waiting for you to find them amid the scattered stars that threaten to out shine them or confuse the search until all the glitter around them looks the same.  They are there never the less. Finding the true steady light of the friend, enjoying the time you have with them whether they are close or not is the challenge.   Calmly, methodically you can find them.  Their orbit seems far away, but it really is the perfect distance for them and for you, whether you know it or not.

Every friend has a purpose, a role, and a meaning in their path.  I try to be accepting and enjoy the balance of these shifting planets, comets, and stars.  Allow them to give me joy and peace and see it all a part of the design of my life’s journey. I still struggle with the acceptance part and Zen of this orbit idea that can describe friends’ relationships.

There are times I really need a kind reminder and Emma paints the friends as planets picture for me so I can stop trying to force my own agenda on people. Let it be. Just let it be what it is at that moment. My goal is to recognize their individual value, beauty, and place in my exisitance.   Next time your solitary gaze searches the quiet purple sky for the marvel of smooth light Venus, the haze of the Milky Way, an exiting comet, or our own constant moon, remember a friend you saw today, a buddy that you haven’t talked to in a few weeks, or the fun companion that helped make you laugh many years ago.   The journeys, the orbits that our friends take will not always be close to us, but their effect on our lives is as beautiful as the glow of the distant stars and planets.

 HAPPY BIRTHDAY QUEEN PATTY.

(Queen Patty looking royal. Click)

While I was writing a draft of November’s birthdays post, I  looked for images of the birthday Queens.  I had so much stuff to sort through, re-size and change to thumbnails and pages. I am embarrassed to say my photo software is a wreck with scattered folders. I have many files with just one lone, pitiful  image and I can’t figure out how to merge them.  

When Queen Becky C told me she had not figured out how to print and download the cute pics I had sent her, I breathed a sigh of relief.  When you are as techno-challenged as I am, it can be an isolating feeling and to hear someone admit their computer challenges is reassuring.   I travel slowly around that dangerously sharp learning curve of the digital cyber-highway.  I don’t know about you, but I can’t afford to have an e-crash at burn.com.   Would the geek squad rescue me with the jaws of life?   I can’t figure out why my digital camera won’t work ever since I bought a new memory card that allows for more images. What do I do now? Put in the old memory card.  Problem with that is I lost the darn thing, so I resorted to 35mm film for a family birthday party.  So I vow that I am going to teach Becky how to retrieve images I send her and I will ask Queen Carolyn to teach me how to use an ipod.  It’s humbling. My problems with technology go on and on. I won’t bore you with the rest. Just be patient with me and with this site.

(click for bigger scream)

Have you ever been introduced to someone that seems utterly annoyed by the minimal effort it will take to say “Hello. Nice to see you”? They hold out a limp wristed hand and grasp your fingers as though they might be risking some bodily fluid contamination.  Then the charmer gives you a look as if some odious fragance is wafting by them, and you, my dear are the culprit.  I  had such an unpleasant and frankly confusing moment recently. 

I admit that I have my own challenges with social introductions.  I think most of us do.  When I meet new people I immediately forget their names and must ask them again, but I try to smile cheerfuly and give them a firm handshake with the ritual greeting, “Nice to meet you” or “Lovely to see you”.   Some well-meaning men that I have met, will crush my fingers  into my ring and I believe the pulsing pain is to blame for my absent mindedly forgetting who they are.  When I catch my breath, I ask for their name, again.  

So this is the situation. At a recent gathering, a friend met me and my husband with a sweet “Hey. How-you?” and then with gandioise sweep of hand toward her friend , “I am sure ya’ll have met Mitzey. Ya’ll know Mitzey Smith?” To whom, I offered smile and outstretched hand.  “I am sure we have met at some party.  So good to see you. “  Then whammm. Let the snobbery begin. She gave me a look-down-her-nose aloof, pompous expression paired with the floppy, limp handshake. “Good to see you,” was forced from a sneer. She promptly turned on her heel and walked away. Later, I actually asked my husband if he had been shown the same lifeless, hauty greeting.  I wondered outloud if it was at all possible if we could have done something to offend this person.  He felt that our offense was merely taking up some of her airspace and occupying the same patch of carpet as she.  Maybe a larger person would not have been bothered. I can’t do it.  I would be fake and insincere to say I wasn’t angry. Honey, I was madder than a bee in a bonnet.  Plus I know I would have had a different experience had I genuflected more effectively. “Smith?  Is that The Smith’s of Savannah Canned Peach fame?  Oh my gracious!  It is so nice to finally meet you!  May I please kiss your ring?”

In Letitia Baldrige’s Complete Guide to a Great Social Life, the author plainly advises, “Be nice to everyone you meet, not just people you have heard described as important.” It is the wise thing to do.  However Vanity Fair author William Makepeace Thackeray admitted that “It is impossible, in our conditon of Society, not to be sometimes a Snob. “  I agree with both points.  I have the ability to be a snoot, but during a common introduction and unprovoked,  I hope not. The “Be nice/Play nice” edict that millions of mothers have taught their children to apply in the playground is pretty easy to use.  

I can imagine someting like this.  Some poor soul introduces her friend to me at a party.  “Erica, let me introduce you to Crystalle.  Crystalle is my third husband’s baby mama.  She and the baby been staying with me ever since her boyfriend got busted at a meth lab that was in the trailer next door. You know that sorry ex of mine don’t give her no money for the baby, so she’s working night shift at the Circle K.   Crystalle ’s helping me pay for that flat screen I just got at Bes’ Buy.”   

Would I turn up my nose in horror?  No. I’d probably say something like this. “Crystalle,  I am so glad to meet you.  Sounds like you’re having quite a time. Honey, if you need a good attorney, I bet I could find one to help you get some child support.  Do you work at that Circle K on White Bluff?  They got the best Blue Raspberry Icee in town. Oh, and I am curious. Which do you like better, plasma or high-def?”

(Queen Dottie, Lady Carolyn H. and Queen Pat- click)

Queen Pat, Queen Dottie, Queen Mary, and Queen Melissa and I had fun at the Junior Achievement Hall of Fame last evening at the convention center. The event was so well attended.  From what I heard, 450 folks came out to see Helen Downing, Herb Traub and Curtis Copper’s wife accept awards recognizing their commitiment to Savannah’s business community.   Now on to Royal matters.

Queen Dottie said she had found a vintage dress at a shop on Tybee Island.  She is wisely planning for the next coronation and had it altered from a size 12 to her petite size 2 frame.   When she was at the dressmaker’s for a fitting, a stranger asked if she was a Mint Julep Queen.  I guess the green dress gave away her identity.  The sweet lady continued on about how she wanted to be an MJQ and please tell her how she could join. Darling Dottie got the girl’s address and phone number and told her that if we had a party that included friends, we would send her an invitation, if we had openings.  We will have Coronation VII on November 30th,  which is St. Andrew’s Day.   The St. Andrew’s Society will keep some of the consorts busy.  How lovely and how convenient for them to have a little something to do with themselves as we go flounce. 

(Click) Friend of Queens, Kelsey, Lee Anne, and Queen Rhonda at the Mansion for Coronation. Queen Stacy at Alligator Soul for Cocktails and Fun.

Queen Stacy and Queen Rhonda have October birthdays!  Stacy celebrates on the 6th and Rhonda on the 10th.  You could give them a call and wish them all the Fun, Fabulous times Royalty deserves.  Drop them a card or cute little something.  Reign On and Happy, Happy birthday. 

(click) Queen Rhonda and Queen Emma at April 2007 Coronation. Queen Jennifer, our most recently discovered and Coronated Queen and Her Friend, Cecelia at Alligator Soul, one of our Favorite Savannah restaurants. 

If you are being asked all about the MJQs or if some charming, stylish, fun-loving lady says, “So, I hear you are one of those Mint Julep Ladies.”  Sweetly correct her. “Queens.  Mint Julep Queens.”  Then she may ask all about us.  My answers are as simple or as complex as I feel like being at the moment. I can yammer on about dress-up time, flouncing about, being outrageous and re-invention of public perception.  Re-naming your own archetype or taking ownership of that part of yourself that allows for self assuredness and extravagant re-birthing as The Queen, The Goddess, The Celestial Mother is fun and empowering.  When I am really on a roll, I can even launch into a comparison and discussion of ”Women Who Run with the Wolves” by Clarissa Estes.  It’s a great book about divine and mythical archetypes, wild women, maidens and mothers, old crones and diva types.  (I recommend that you take note and when I start up with all that mess, it’s a good time to excuse yourself and go to the bar for another.)

Given opportunity and enough libation I will, and have, held forth on the joy of creating little moments that make my life and lives of my unknown subjects more enriched, or at the very least more memorable.  Like the time a little girl, no more than 3 years old was the only child cramed onto one of those tour trolleys rolling down the streets of Savannah with guide and adults all focused on architecture, history and the Southern stories that haunt this city.  She looked up to see me sashaying out across the street to place a child-size tiara on her head, which by the way is a ritual I have every Coronation. (If I don’t give away at least one tiara, I see it as a a bad omen for the future reign of the MJQs.) The grown-ups smiled and took pictures as she grinned and insisted that I was “Belle” from “Beauty and the Beast.”  Having placed the jewels in her brown curls, I told her that she was indeed a pricess and that I was so glad to have found her.  She had forgotten her tiara and I had come to give it to her.  Then I swished off into the sunset, self-satisfied that I had made that girl’s Savannah tour an event she would not forget.  And if she does forget, her parents have loads of picutres to remind her. 

Well, that type of little moment is one of the things I love.  Not to mention hanging out with friends, dressing up, having a drink, and not worrying about a darn thing, but how can I arrogantly think a tiara and mere greeting from me matters to anyone.  Maybe I wish that I had those kind of memories  and maybe I am projecting my own desires, wishes, and regrets of childhood and adolence onto that simple experience.  

Queen Emma and I  had a memorable meeting at the last Coronation.  Emma had gone to the powder room and a pretty, slight brunette told her with a smile, “I love your crown. I am so jealous.” 

Emma responded in typical Queenly fashison, “You don’t need to be jealous of me.  You need to buy yourself a tiara and wear it.  It’s so much fun.”  The admirer said, “Oh, I never could do that.” She left with a smile and a nod to Emma and  returned to her friends at the other end of the bar. 

As the night unfolded, we decided to give her the tiara I had brought for just such a purpose. Obviuosly she wanted one, which is the first sign that you  may already be a Queen.  Emma and I went over to three ladies and found out the lady with crown-envy was there with her friend and her friend’s mother.  Ladies Night.  We gave the taira to her and she beamed.  “This is one of the nicest things that anyone has done for me.”  Her friend then gave me a cool, super-size ring so I can offer select subjects the chance to “kiss the ring.” I refused the kind gift and said it was just too much.  She assured me it was a Steinmart piece and I could accept it without reservation,  which I did.  Very Pretty ring, plus a bargin.  Love that. 

So the moral of this story is that being part of the MJQs and being a Queen can be whatever you want it to be. Personally, most of the time the Mint Julep Queens are just pure fun and a chance to play dress-up.  But sometimes, the fun can mean a tad bit more… 

 (Click for full size image.) In 2006, Queen Holly attended “It’s a Bad Time of Year for a Party, Party” even though Princess Maura was just weeks away from arrival.

(click image)Queen Wendy last year when Yates was just a thought and not a reality.

Yates Satterlee Martin was born September 12.  Queen Wendy and Consort Capers are doing well, although I have only spoken to them and have no real proof that they are fine other than their voices sound chipper on the phone and they seemed rested enough to carry on a converstion.  I was a a mess when my babies were babies. Way back in 2001 and 1997, my own princesses were just weeks old. I was whining about lack of sleep and painful exhaustion and could not put a coherent thought together.  

Can you beleive this time last year the MJQs were getting ready for It’s a Bad Time of Year for a Party, Party?  Queen Holly was almost ready to have baby Maura, but made the regal effort to attend the soiree looking glorious in a slimming black maternity dress.  Well, imagine she was 8+ months and ready to pop.  Plus, she could not have cocktails with the rest of us.  What a trooper to show up and have Dennis do her hair with proper tiara placement. Last year Queen Wendy was just considering her reproductive options and Yates was merely a thought.  Last time I saw Wendy, she still had that exquiste skin, artist style, and runner’s body.  With one little exception.  A darling little round puff of baby belly.  We yucked it up for hours over lunch at The King and I  in August. It is hard to beleive that so much can happen in such a short amount of time.  Last fall we had talked about babies and the benefits of having more than one prince or princess.  A year has passed and low and behold, another Royal is born.  Best wishes to Queen Wendy and Consort Capers and Happy Birthday to Queen Holly’s Maura on her upcoming 1st birhtday.