If I Were The Queen of The World

My name is Tina, and I am a daydreamer.  I can't help it.  If I sit still for more than three minutes, I'm off somewhere else in my head.  Stand me in a line longer than four people, and I'm fading in and out of reality, because quality time in my head is so very much more fun than listening to the fifty conversations going on around me.  I don't need ear buds playing my favorite songs to zone out, I just need my imagination.  I've even been known to zone out in the middle of conversations, when my brain grabs onto a passing word and takes flight.

A wonderful thing about daydreaming is that I can be the star of the show.  The world can revolve around me, the warp and woof of the world bending to my whims.  I am Queen of the World; if I want the sky painted purple, I merely have to wish for it.  As Queen of the World, I could issue an edict demanding that smiling on Mondays was forbidden, and frowning on Tuesdays was not.  Poverty?  Eradicated.  Cruelty to animals?  Gone.  Republicans?  Poof!

Whether my eyes are open or closed, inside my head there are vast rooms filled with treasures.  In my daydreams, I can summit Everest and touch the belly of a 747 as it flies over me. All of the characters from my favorite books are alive and well and dancing on my front lawn. Well, Dumbledore and Gandalf are still arguing which of them is the best, but they always do that. 

Time has no meaning in daydreams. I can fly to Europe in the blink of an eye, and dance between the slabs at Stonehenge.  I can have tea with Queen Elizabeth, the very first one, with her bright red hair and pale face.   Napoleon can tell me stories of his exploits even though I don't speak a word of French.  Meeting heads of state is a cinch in a daydream. Walking the red carpet is too.  Unilateral world peace and prosperity is within my grasp.  Of course, reality does eventually intrude, and sooner or later my flight of fancy must land me right back where I was, standing in a long line, or sitting through another staff meeting. 

I am still grateful for the small mental vacations.

And what if more people were daydreamers?  What if more people let their imaginations take them for a spin?  What if more people found themselves out there in the clouds?  The world would be a more pleasant place, I think. That is my wish for all of you, for the beginning of the year 2014.  Have more daydreams.  Squeeze them in where you can(not while driving!), and let your mind take off for an adventure, at least until it is your turn to be at the head of the line. If anyone asks, tell them that the Queen of the World said so. 

Interlude

Sally sat quietly in the restored 1920s hotel lobby, waiting for the limo which would take her to the chapel. Occasionally she would pat her hair, just to make sure that her mop of brown curls hadn't escaped the clutches of the many hairpins the stylist had used.  Mostly she just sat as still as she could manage in a white dress, and let the music from a string quartet drift around her. 

She saw him, a study in grace, drift down the stairs into the lobby, his navy suit pressed to perfection, the white of his shirt a contrast to his chiseled, sun-kissed features.  Sally's breath caught in her chest at the sight.  His hair curled a little around the temples in a way that made her want to caress them. Their eyes met with a jolt of recognition.  And then he stood in front of her, his cool palm extended, his smile inviting.  With a smile of her own, Sally placed her trembling hand in his, and stood.

Immediately his other arm went around her waist, pulling her into his chest tightly.  His feet began a familiar waltz, and Sally giggled as she was whirled about. His arm felt solid and steady against the small of her back and she felt so brilliantly happy. She knew that she loved this man with all her heart. Her hand gripped his shoulder as if he were a life raft in her usual ocean of despondency.  This was where she belonged.  Their eyes were only for each other.   She offered her lips to his, her eyes fluttering closed.  Sally felt his lips barely graze hers; she made a small frustrated sound in her throat, and her lover chuckled.

"Patience, my love!" his voice chided.  Sally frowned; the admonition had seemed distant, as if time itself were separating them.  Her eyes flew open.  She could still feel the warmth of his hand on the small of her back, her lips still tingling. 





The prompt is the third definition of the word GRACE.

This prompt is to write about the spaces between.

Summer Vacation Is A State Of Mind

Zane's last day of school was Friday.  Larry's last day was Saturday.  The two of them have been joined at the hip all weekend, giggling, playing FIFA soccer on the Xbox, discussing possible adventures.  They've decided that swimming is on the agenda, as is playing soccer.  The local movie theater offers free movies on Tuesdays for moms and kids.  Inflatable Wonderland is half-price during the week.  So much to do, so little time!   

I will not be poolside.  I will not be footing a soccer ball.  I will still be working.  We have to work during part of the summer, usually most of June.  Not our usual hours of 8am to 4pm.  No, we will have to work 7:30-5:30 for four days each week during the summer.  Ten hour work days during the summer does not equal a more productive workforce(change our routine and it takes us forever to get acclimated), but it does save on the electrical bills, they tell us. 

Except my brain has already left for the summer.  In my head I've been sitting in a lounge chair for a couple of weeks, sipping something fruity with an umbrella in it.  I am wearing a classy black maillot, a straw wide brim hat, and huge sunglasses, the latest trashy novel in my hands.  I am skinny, my skin is a nice golden brown completely free of skin cancer, and I am skinny.  Did I mention that I am skinny?  And by skinny, I don't mean a size 0 starving waif skinny, I mean a healthy size 10-12 skinny, with curves in all the right places.  The pool is crystal clear, the water cool.  There's a cabana boy waiting with towels when I get out of the pool.  At some point I have a massage scheduled, and a nice pedicure, but now is all I care about.  Best of all?  My brain vacation is an actual vacation, where I don't have to clean anything, or cook anything, or decide anything.  It's all paid for, someone else is in charge, and all I have to do is relax and enjoy.

Yeah, none of that exists.  In reality, my idea of a fun vacation involves exploring museums and historical sites, that sort of thing.  I'd love to spend a month or two in England, for instance.  But that's when Zane is older; these days we consider a day at SeaWorld to be the limit.  

But still, it is a wonderful daydream.  It will certainly give me some moments of peace in June, while I am sitting at my desk, shuffling papers about.

What is your daydream vacation?