RoyalDynasty: Queen Mum's Blog

Timberrrrrrrrrr!

Two massive pin oak trees are being removed from their curbside place in front of my ranch style home. Cleaning up the acorns and leaves has become too expensive. The pin oaks hold their dead leaves during winter only releasing them now and then to be sure your lawn looks a mess. The acorns are a hazard underfoot. The sidewalk is broken and heaved up by roots which are heading for the cement slab my house rests on.

The trees are over 100 feet tall and if my arms worked I could touch my own fingers if two of me were hugging the same tree. But obviously I am no tree hugger. I have nagged City Hall relentlessly to get rid of these trees. Yesterday three fellows cut branches and chipped up the wood. Men in trees. Turn off the television.

Viva La Queen

My mother never gave out information about reproduction and I never asked. When I was nine I heard her apologize to a guest for not being able to offer napkins at lunch so I proudly retrieved the sanitary napkins from the bathroom and plunked them down on the table.

All information I got was referenced to animal behavior with embarrassed distain and disgust. Her wedding night was a bloody humiliation. The marital act was a duty performed but never enjoyed.

So I read all the books in the sixties and introduced conversations about sex to my children in nurturing ways. I thought I had covered the subject admirably when one day the Queen arrived home after a sixth grade movie about sex.

"Horrible!' Why didn't you tell me about this stuff?" she accused.

So I wasn't surprised when I had to prove to her that her maternal background was French. My word was not enough. And although my vision was blurred due to an eye examination she insisted I find the written reference before she would admit she was wrong.

Last night Gary's butt phoned my house three times. When I phoned him to tell him to stop sitting on his pager blackberry gizmo, I let myself engage in a brief discussion of how Q was mis-reporting grandmother information. Gary jumped at the chance to say she should not blog at all as the girls where he worked did not want to be mentioned on her blog.

Well, she did call them the P---- Posse but she did not get into their nationality. If she had called them Germans I can see why they might have been steamed but P---- Posse is harmless fun. Viva La Queen!

 

Queen_Mum Vs. Wild

When people don't post daily, faithful readers query, " Is she sick? Did she fall?" But sickness or falling would be grist for a post. There is no grist at this old persons mill.

I eat whatever one lame index finger can snag and propel to the mouth. I read blogs. I sleep long and deep. And I watch television.

I just watched the Discovery Channel "Man vs. Wild" where I learned to bite off the bodies of ants for valuable protein when stranded without food in the wild. I was told to never ingest the ant head as its savage mandibles can inflict great pain.

The very same week I read a blog where people duped an ant colony from invading their house by creating a barricade using dishwashing detergent. Coinkydink? Or grist.

Memorial weekend there was a M/Wild marathon and I learned when I am stranded on the African savannah without water all I need to do is locate some fresh elephant dung. This can be squeezed mightily over the mouth until the life saving fluid is released. Splash! Dehydration prevented.

The next step is to observe vultures so full from scavenging zebra carcass they cannot fly. This assures Man the kill is recent. So just go to it and smell. If it doesn't smell rotten go ahead and dig in. He ate the zebra raw but I might want to build a cooking fire. Just need to be sure to keep flint in my pocket in case my matches got wet.