It’s Good to be Queen*

Jon’s race got rained out last night. No, we didn’t get more but the part of the state he was to race in did. So, tho’ she didn’t go, she didn’t miss anything.

Next week is the three-day race out-of-town that we attended last year. Like last year, we’ll be taking the RV. We’ll be camping. Although I’ve not heard the official word, I am positive The Queen will be going with us. The pronouncement should be coming shortly.

Things I am looking forward to:

  • More help than I need or want. Ever.
  • Sticks being picked up all over the campground
  • A guided tour of the grounds and facilities
  • The ordering of the removal of the shoes (It’s an RV, lady… not your house! Oh, and btw, not YOUR RV!)
  • The sweeping of the RV every 15 minutes, whether it needs it or not
  • The sweeping of the fake carpet mat outside the RV door (see above time schedule)
  • The worrying of the chairs. (Should we put them under the RV at night? What to do with them while we’re at the race? When we want to sit on them? What if the neighboring campers try to sit on them? Should we SHOOT them?)
  • The daily newspaper quest. (We’re c-a-m-p-i-n-g people!)
  • The licking of the lips and the staring at the shoes (We still haven’t figured out why she does this, but if she stands in one place more than 3 minutes, she examines her shoes and feet in detail. Maybe she’s just trying to make sure they’re still there?)
  • The interrupted naps. No, I’m sorry, that would be the non-existant naps.
  • The constant questions that have been asked and answered. (As I always told my kids when they asked the same question over again, “If you aren’t going to listen to the answer, don’t bother to ask the question.”)
  • The alchohol I will consume
  • The movies I will get watched
  • The books I will get read
  • Forget the last three if she is anywhere in a 10 mile radius.

I really DO love the woman. I do. Really. Someday I want to be Queen.

*The Queen in our family is my mother-in-law