A Humble Request

I've finally figured out my true goal in life. It's simple, really. I want to be queen.

Don't ask "queen of what." Royal beings can't be bothered by minor concerns such as geopolitical boundaries. Besides, it isn't so much the WHAT that counts.

All I want is a loyal staff sufficient to keep my spacious, well-appointed home in ideal condition at all times, accompanied by outdoor staff sufficient to maintain my spacious, perfectly-appointed grounds in exquisite splendor. Oh yes, and I want people to feed and care for my zebras. (Did I mention I have a thing for exotic animals?)

And I want all those people to do all that in perfect, harmonious joy out of the love they bear me because I am, after all, their queen.

Now, is that really so much to ask?

I suspect that most of the women who are reading this have had a similar fantasy. Most of us are, after all, mothers. We hoped our children would maintain the home and the grounds and the family pets (okay, the zebras may be a bit much) out of blessed adoration, right?

And guys, if we substitute words like "king" or "emperor," you've been there, too. You can go ahead and admit it. You're among friends here.

In truth, I'm about as likely to flap my wings and fly to Pittsburgh as I am of ever being crowned queen, but what's life without a dream?

SO, next time you're in Pittsburgh, stop by and say hello to the zebras, okay? Just say, "Yes, your majesty."

What secret dream are you seltering? Share?