My cat’s full name is Queen Isabella, but her friends don’t call her that. Her friends all call her Izzy. It’s me they call the Queen, and I choose to believe they mean it in the nicest possible way…
During my teaching career, it was not uncommon for my students to call me Queen B. It either referred to A) my last name, B) a queen bee like in the center of the classroom beehive, or C) something I won’t print in a family blog.
My friend Betty called me the Chicken Soup Queen after I sold my 10th story to that publishing group this year. And after I read the first few pages of my new Dinner Theater Play to my writers’ critique group, writer-friend Bill said I was striving to become the Queen of Community Theater Drama—not to be confused with Drama Queen, although I’ve called that a few times, too.
I choose to believe that when someone calls me “queen,” it’s a term of endearment, one reserved for a close and respected friend. And Queen Isabella, curled up on my lap as I write this, totally agrees.