A Queen in a Candy Store

September 19th, 2013

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Queen Kim and I have seen the glittery excitement a lady flashes when  she is first invited to join the Mint Julep Queens for a flounce. It is so much fun to watch.  The Raw Joy passes its power on.  I bask in it.

Everyone in the world I hope has seen a moment like this in the eyes of child.  Remember how it feels to stand in line at a candy store waiting to buy a pound of fudge or pralines, or caramel turtles.  If you have never done this, I strongly encourage you to put this on your bucket list. To pass the time, watch the tourists come and go.  Watch the door.  Every second human walking throught the doors is wild-eyed with excitement. Usually they tug their partner’s hand, straining to run full throttle into the store.  (Usually this person is about 3 feet tall and only recently out of diapers, but not always.)  Really watch this internal sparkle of joy. It makes the person glow.  It only explodes more when they sees trays of chocolate, buckets, and cansiters of every type of candy all packed into an old time confectionary.  A kid in a candy shop!  Where in the world did some word-smith come up with that? It smacks you in the face.

When a lady is invited to join the MJQs, that kid appears in her voice, in her eyes.  Her body will relax and her hands fly to her hair.  ”Oh, do I get tiara?” She might even squeal “GOODY!”

To a queen at heart, rhinestones are sprinkles on the cupcake of life.  Once over the sugar high induced by imagining the Rhinestones perched on top of her head, she heads out into the world to share the happy news with friends, co-workers, partners.

Depending on their response (and sometimes depending on her level of self-confidence) the fire risks being put out. Will her boss see her on the street in a tiara and think she is silly?  Will the ladies from church question her behavior?  Will the rabbi wonder if she is the right woman to lead the trip to Isreal? Will her students’ respect be undermined?  Will her clients trust her decisions? Will her employees laugh at her and not with her? Bottom line. Will people stop taking her seriously?  Seriously?

So if you are worried, questions pop into your head before your friend even finishes asking, “Hey. Would you like to join the Mint Julep Queens for our next flounce? ” You need to really think. You might not have tons of fun.

I have mentioned this before, but it is worth mentioning again.  Queens fear not. Queens have not even thought of these questions and are nonplussed when a helpful co-worker or concerned friend points out how judgment might happen if she acts against the standard social norms and wears a honking big dress and honking big tiara in public.  Some Queens, frozen in bafflement will stop and reconsider the invitation.  And then they sieze the real meaning of these cautionary queries.

“Judge me?  How dare they?  I am only having fun and not hurting a soul.  In fact, I will be spreading Joy.  I am celebrating being Royal Me!  I know it is a tad rebellious, but so what?  I get to wear a CROWN.”

Labels, #Tags, and other Annoyances

September 6th, 2013

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My mother gave me a subscription to Better Homes and Gardens a couple of years ago.  She told me, “I’m not sure you will like it. Most of the time, I don’t.  I worry the paper it’s  printed on is a complete waste of trees.” She went on getting more and more worked up. “Whenever I open it up, I see these women—-” and she spit out the word “women” like she was talking about terrorists who kill puppies.  ”These women are just stand around grinning and happy.  All that just makes me want to vomit! ”

Right about here is where I started laughing at her.  ”Mother! Why would happy women make you want to vomit?”

“Well,  it is just so fake. They stand around just grinning at each other.  Or worse…they grin at a plate of food or a bag of chips or something they see on the table!  That is not how anybody lives.”

“Maybe it is just advertising companies trying to get people to buy their chips. They use happy people for that.”

“No. I mean the people in the articles and things.  Not the ads. Of course, the ads are fake.”  I could tell she was disappointed that I was not jumping on the loathing bandwagon.

“But you’re giving me a subscription?”

“It’s only fifteen dollars. Now and then I find a nice gardening idea— so I broke down and bought you a subscription.”

“Thanks, Mother.”

This month’s edition of BHG came and right on the cover was picture of fall flowers arranged in what looked like an aluminum composting bucket. Salads were displayed in old-fashioned cocktail glasses. Mason jars held silverwear.  A stylist, lifestyle expert and cookbook author stood grinning by a patina covered tin box that was used as a platform for the salads/cocktails.  Suddenly I started to feel it.  Nausea.  The jars had tin colored paper tags tied around the jars’ lips with twine.  One announced “spoons”. The other “forks.”  Thanks, I needed to be reminded what those silver things were…

The obvious take-away is this– folks like obvious.  It helps compartmentalize and make sense of the world.  Shoot, without our ability to use our brains to create labels and categories with a bunch of  what is really just meaningless sounds, humans would not have language.  And stylists seem to like labels and they attach them willy-nilly.  I guess it is just me, (and my mother) who find fake stuff annoying. I can look at a fork and know it is a fork.  No need to grin.  Tell me something I do not know!

Yes, it is true that Alice in Wonderland needed the tag to tell her to “Drink Me” when presented with the little bottles on the table, full of unknown liquids that she rashly guzzled. But nothing she ate or drank in the story has a tag stating the obvious.  No  ”bottle.”   Or  ”cake.” Or  ”mushroom.”

#hashtags of obvious stuff annoy me.  Superfluous tags, no matter how cute are not helpful.  Except maybe to the person who made the tag.  Was it fun gathering the supplies and practicng just the right amount of careless handwritng?  If so…GOOD JOB.

Our culture has grown so used to meaningless labels and #hashtags that when anyone puts on a tiara and flounces about, we feel pressured to label the experience.  We feel pressured to explain.  Well, sometimes it annoys me.

If I have a crown on my head, I do not need a label, do I?  I am a queen– in my heart and in part of my life.  The obvious rhinestone “tag” is right there glittering on my head.  I think that is really enough.

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A Queen’s Speech from the Dais: My Platform

August 29th, 2013

erica-and-erica-and-shh-3.jpeg “Stop acting like such a princess!!!  “My God.  She is such a Queen Diva. ” “She thinks everything is all about her.  What a —-” Judgements and criticisms of fellow females is harsh.  Out inner voices do the same thing. If you think it is only harsh in middle school, you have not hung out with many all-grown-up women.  Ladies who relentlessy criticize others are often their own worst critic. Women can cut you to shreds.   And when I say “they,” I include ME in that list.  Do something to hurt my family or insult me and —– KA-BAMMM!. My anger has been known to activate to nuclear levels  is zero to three seconds  and the radioactive fall-out has been know to be horrific.  Lately I am much more pragmatic after an explosion, though. I attribute all the peace and acceptance settling into my bones just as the dust of my anger settles to serveral things.  Faith-based practice and accepting that, indeed,  I can not change people!  Having a great therapist to remind me, “We don’t do Perfect!”  Lastly,  achieving  more empathy is likely part of being older…shoot …Well darn-shoot!  Do you have to bring that crap up?  Is that really part of it?  Turning fifty-something is it?  I am older and wiser, B.S.   You ain’t some old matron of homespun wisdom.  I can hear it now, “Honey! Through the years I has learned not to give people the power to ruin a perfectly good day.”  Then she shuffles off to shell  butter-beans and gossip about the church secretary who is having an affair with her urologist.  See, old ladies get a pass about anything.  Trying to work that angle, are we…?  *mutter* The voiceinmyhead hates for me to bring up age, but My Dear, Southern Belle mother who is +80 taught me to judge others.  Yes. TO JUDGE.  Attire was labeled:  sweet, nice, proper, polished, tacky, trashy, outlandish.  A person’s manner were assessed: bossy, horsey, trashy, snobbish, down-to-earth, nouveau riche, ostentatious, well-bred, well-reared, home spun, eccentric, Yankee.  Style was described:  ostentatious, tasteful, old money, elegant, green-stamp store, horsey,  Yankee, Country, uneducated, poor, showy, tacky.  At eighty something, she still is one tough critic.  One day she hugged my 11 year old daughter good-bye and said, ” I love you so much. Even with you wearing that tacky nail polish.”  Just so you know, it was marigold yellow.  No chips. Now you may think that since I am over 50 that this infulence and rearing would have fallen by the wayside.  It has to an extent, but I still fight the impulse.  Sitting in judgement of everyone, but yourself is so darn easy.  And frankly so very entertaining.  Truth be known, The Queens fear being talked about, too. As the MJQs reconstitute and add new members, I am considering re-writing a mission statement for the Queens.  Almost ten years ago, I thought the simple statement “Royal Fun” was enough of a tag-line to give full understanding and purpose to the group.  Playing dress-up, creating a Regal character and spreading good-will while dressed in day-glo chiffon and rhinestone tiara was Royal Fun.  For me it was.  Others saw it just as  a group to hang out out with and go drinking with.  Good.  But it is about Ruling my realm with joy and fearless abandon.   When I am Queen,  Rhinestones happen.   Glitter spreads.  Toile wraps me in Joy. I am slaying criticism and learning to walk my path in my way.  MY path includes being a Queen. Your path may or may not.  So—I want to reclaim the title.  Queen is not a dirty word. Princess is not an insult. Reign on! QUEEN ERICA

Be your own Hero

August 19th, 2013

kim-calendar-project.jpgHave you ever started a project and sat staring at the plans, Oppenheimer -like?  You imagine the bomb that could explode if you do not neatly and cohesively tie up every loose thread?  Well, as Queen, I have been doing just that.  I am staring at the page today.  Ripping the Royal plans up.

Creating projects that were unrelated to the MJQs  has kept me busy for the last year. My fretfulness over  failures and successes of the group have been limited.  I have been too busy creating stuff to worry, but The Membership Directory proves to be just a exercise in flexibility–  just as the formation of the group has been since its inception in 2004.

In August 2011, Kim and Lee Ann had photos done at Cha Bella.  The Membership Directory and my grandiose plans of writing an accompanying book was off the ground.  Not with much fanfare or with Orville and Wilber Wright success, but dragging up off the floor .  You know how mylar helium balloons hover low after a day of leaking gas? Well,  like that.  I was going to use another metaphor to link with “leaking gas” but it did not sound very Regal.

In 2004 I  saw a different reality for the Queens.  I saw adventure, celebrations, silliness, dancing and joy.  I saw our ranks growing and our mission focussing on fun.  I saw the work on the Directory and my memoir the same way.

A couple of years ago, I felt a call to adventure and began the journey with those 2 photos and one chapter of the book under my belt, it seemed epic, until I had stumbling blocks, fear, criticism, tests and stresses disrupting the path.  The path was riddled with pit-falls.  It was also pot-marked with new opportunity.

Today, after finishing a self-study in creative writing,  as I read an archetype outline for the plan, I see a new path and a new journey opening up for me and for the Mint Julep Queens.  When one door closes, another opens.  Or is this case, when one drawbridge is shut, another lowers over a serpent filled moat and Reigning Queens have clear passage into the strong hold.   I am arming myself!

So when faced with an ordeal, be your own hero.  Put on your crown or tiara.  Grab a scepter or sword.   Storm the castle.  Even if the castle is made of stones of doubt and mortar of fear, attack.

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Disappearing Queen Syndrome

July 8th, 2013

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My daughter, Sage observed this morning that people can be very tolerant and understanding of citizens who have disabilities.  ”If you are in a wheelchair or have a walker or even have that label “Severe Learning Disability” and you get to work with a instruction specialist to learn how to read, then you get a pass from everyone.  Or say, you can’t walk ’cause of the wheel chair, nobody asks you to do the 100-yard dash.  But if your difference is mild and not in-your-face obvious, nobody understands.”  You see, she has a very mild cerebral palsy that makes her limp a tad when she walks and keeps her from moving her left fingers in fine-motor activities that most folks take for granted.  Keyboarding for instance. The home keys A-S-D-F never have her left handing resting one them.  She would like to use her left hand, but she never will be able to isolate that movement.  It is a waste of breath to say ,”Try harder!  Practice!  You can do it!”  She can’t.

When we Queens get together, we wear tiaras and pretend to be a a real life Royals.  It is will alway be a challenge for some, though.  Tell them, “Practice! Try harder” does nothing other than annoy them.  Try as they might, being a Queen just is not fun—or not darn  fun enough.   I have figured everybody joins a social group or club for different reasons.  Shoot! You might think there is common thread, but it is not always obvious. We all have different paths.

The Mint Julep Queens are presently experiencing a phenomena I will call DQ-S or Disappearing Queen Syndrome.  And there is no cure. One founder resigned in a unseemly way.  Several kind ladies have bowed out very gracefully due to lack of time, energy and interest .  Even more just have not answered emails or announcements and are simply MIA.   As if MIA is ever simple.  Like, where are they?  Do they still live here?  Who knows?  So amid the exodus and the challenge to my sensibilities, I looked up “how to start a social club” on the Google machine.  All the suggestions have been noted, but nothing new was mentioned.

So when a group unravels or dissolves, when friends move or transform into other entities— is it time to rethink social groups, swear-off membership in girls’ groups?  Re-brand, re-new, re-tread?  After re-examineing the goal, all I think we need to do is practice more tolerance. Leave or stay.  Join or not.  Crown or abdicate.  Be Royal or not.  But remember, we all have challenges–some obvious and some subtle.  Do not succumb to a fear of fun.   And really, it is fine to drop out of any group that does not help you have fun or be a better person.

Reign on!

Queen Erica

One Tiara at a Time

March 5th, 2013

barbara-mardi-gras2013.jpg Queen Barbara said the joy she found after giving a necklace and a petite tiara to a little girl along the parade route was the best thing ever.  Misty eyed she confided in me, “That sweet little girl brought tears to my eyes.  She wanted to hug us all.  Wasn’t that just the sweetest?” Yes.  It was.  All Kim and I had brought were necklaces with a dangly crown pendant that kept tangling up as we attempted to pass them out to the on-lookers.  I had purchased a dozen sequined tiara that were long gone.  Gone before we made the bend in the road.  Klesey has a bushel of candy and buckets of beads.  Sylvia had confetti poppers that shot a small blast of tissue paper into the air. Thankfully, Barbara had planned ahead and bought tons of sets of plastic tiaras at the party section of Toys R Us so that she could carry on, spreading joy and glitter one tiara at a time.  Spotting another cutie-pie, she placed the silver comb with a Barbie-esque Royal ornament atop a pony-tailed head.  Tiara secured soundly,  the child hugged each of us as we flounced by.  Buried face deep in my neon green chiffon skirt, she looked up and grinned. “Wow.”  I smiled at Barbara as I waved and walked on fast, trying hard to catch up with the other queens. “Thanks for remembering to get tiny tiaras.  I ran out as soon as we got started.” Barbara, nodded knowingly and let go of a happy sigh, “Of course!  That is what this is all about.  I have been looking forward to doing this all week long.”  She looked as though she had just suddenly started breathing.  She took another long, slow, deep breath as she scanned the crowd for another Girl Princess in the making. “That is what being a Queen all about.” We saw it together.  Half way around her dress the hem was tattered and muddied. “Oh no!  Your brand new dress!” “Aww.  Who cares?  I have worn it a couple of times.  I  can always get another dress.  But today?  I will always remember today,” she said as she started digging into her bag and locating another set of toy tiaras.   A just above knee high little girl was waving energetically with her even tinier little sister standing to her side, more shy and reserved.  The toddler looked pensively down at the asphalt and then up at her mother who smiled and nodded reassuringly.   As Barbara rushed to them, she looked up.  The sisters looked as if they were watching a summer sunrise, eyes wide and expectant- they threw their arms open and stretched to catch the rays of warmth.

Queen Kim knights Sir Richard, Minister of Transportation

March 5th, 2013

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The Mint Julep Queens have a new Minister of Transportation, Sir Richard.  His 1966 Black Cadillac convertible , Dezi was our chariot during the Tybee Island Mardi Gras Parade.  The MJQ Krewe took turns riding and walking down the Butler Avenue.

Tybee Island Parade- Feb. 9th

January 18th, 2013

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Tybee Island is calling our names again.  It is whispering “Royal Highnesses!  Please come back and Flounce down our Quaint streets.  Come back and wave to the commoners who eagerly line the parade routes and-”

Wait.  Parade?  We do not work making floats or trudging along behind loud marching bands.  A parade?  We may watch one, but the effort involved getting a float together and the crepe paper.   Really crepe paper, of all things.

“Highness,  there is no effort needed.  No float required.  Just come in full regalia  and pass out tokens of your incredible kind esteem to the throngs that will line the path cheering for you.”

Do we have to wear heels?

“Majesty, Converse All-Stars, properly bejeweled will suffice.”

Well then,  please let the committee know that the MJQs accept with pleasure their kind invitation to attend Tybee Island’s Mardi Gras & Mint Julep Queen Parade.  

“Very good, Majesty. ”

That is all.

“One last thing I must reveal to you.  The commitee has named the Parade a Mardi Gras Parade and the MJQs are not part of the advertising.”

What?!

“-merely as a precaution, you understand.  The Tybee Island police and security departments may not be equipped to managed the extreme attendance if You, The Queens are an announced participant.  May we let this be a surprise appearence for the residents, so as not to over strain the bobbies?  They have a hard enough time dealing with the masses.”

Well, if we must…it is better for the Realm.

“Very good, M’am.  Now I am off to purchase some glitter for the Royal Converse.   —*whew* that was a close one.”

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Blogger for Paula

November 1st, 2012

put-your-hands-up.jpgYep.  I am a day late and a dollar short.  So the fine print contest is over.

You missed the October 31 deadline… by a few hours.  Figures.  The voiceinmyhead, my self-talking, overworked,  inner voice is not surprised.

Organizing an all out effort to win a position as a blogger for Paula is not on my to do list.  Shoot.  I did not even know the contest existed until 15 minutes ago.  I was in the middle of researching, filing, and organizing my writing.

Researching is code for procrastination.  Filing is code for tossing stuff in the trash.  And writing?  Well, writing is code for…Writing is writing! Really.  Being a full time mother of a high school student, Sage and a 5th grader, Selia, plus working outside my home as speech therapist and a part-time writer, I sure understand all the demands placed on women’s time.  Demands placed by our family, our jobs, and even ourselves.

Hey. You talkin’ ’bout me?  I’m  just giving friendly guidance.  Gotta keep you on task, so to speak.  Oh.  Right.  The inner voice all women have keeps a running a “to do” list and a running tab on what is next.  A litany of  ”Have I called to RSVP for Mimi’s party?  Is the dog due for its flea meds?  I wonder if the dryer is breaking?  I smell burning dust. No, that is the heater.  Coils need cleaning….”  And the list goes on and on.  But do I ever schedude time for FUN?  Not often.  But when I do honeys, it is a red letter day, (or night.)

So tonight I am going out tonight.  Do you have dinner planned for Stephen and the girls?  Naw.  I figure they can get dinner on their own.  Wow! Throwing caution to the wind!  I like it!  Let the party begin.  

So clearly my writing is hard to schedule.  My life is very busy.  But ultimately one priority is making time for FUN!    

Danger! Grown Women having FUN!!!!

August 29th, 2012

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 This is what I keep re-thinking.  What in essance are the MJQs about?  What is our reason to “be”?  Simple.  We like the freedom of just being ourselves.  Powerful, fun-loving women who are not scared to have a good time.  Let me put on my chiffon and rhinestones and nobody gets hurt.  Growing up female in this culture you would think empowers you to be fearless.  Wrong. More fears are still attached to women’s experiences than you might otherwise expect.  What will other people say about me if I put on a crown?  Do I look silly?  Maybe we should raise money for a good cause and then we can explain what we do.  My rationale for my existence is not linked to a cause or a job.  Being Queen, if only for a few hours is the most freeing experience  I have ever had.  I am ready for a full throttle flounce.

Saturday night we had a dinner and a photo-shoot on Tybee Island.  I love Sundae Cafe.  I think it may be the best restaurant in the area.  The photos of Jeanne are precious, but I had to get up early and so I  had to head on home after dinner. Pooh. No flounce time. I must admit,  if I spend the time and energy to dress, I really want to flounce and by this I mean…strut about swishing my big green skirt and creating a spectacle.  Queen Kim has promised me that she will help glitter a pair of shoes with me, so like Dorothy, I will be  prepared to deal with any flying monkeys who threaten my good time.  I think having to go home early was like being lifted up and locked in a tower by those mean flying monkeys.  Watching the hour glass and knowing the evening would be kaput as soon as the bill was paid, dampened my fun just a little.  So, now I know.  Always plan a flounce on a day when I have nothing to do the next morning.  No time frame! My sole purpose will then be: laughter and spreading joy among the commoners.