The Queen of Lists: A feature

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The Queen of Lists: A feature
 Welcome  to truly inspirational thinking 
written in the most engaging, provocative, and eye opening terms. The writing and cultural nuances are targeted to women in their 50's and 60's, born in the 50's and 60's. And yet everything in these blogs is universal and applies to us all.
With each blog will offer a short introduction and a link to the full article. May you be touched, enriched, and enlightened by what you experience in these pieces, and may they inspire you to do something you might not have otherwise.
In this first blog Djanka explores the world of lists and the impact on her life as the years pass. Not to mention how things have progressed from pen and ink to digital device and keyboard. Then there's all the different kinds of lists from personal to tasks, to dreams, to just about anything.
Have a good read....10 minutes tops. Enjoy

A life without checklists is like slow dancing to Led Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven.’ It starts predictable even romantic but then transitions into a melody with no possible dance steps to follow — an excellent metaphor for life.

I’ve become the Queen of Lists. I never use to be. Birthed out of necessity; my allegiance grew towards this method of recording each time I was pregnant because the maternity books speak nothing of the fact that the cutie patootie in your belly is sucking your brain dry and holding what little reasoning and intelligence you have left, hostage. Consequently, you can’t remember shite. What used to be a beautifully articulated flow of language are now thoughts uttered over your lips in the form of gags, pauses and hesitations as if you came out of your first ESL course. During the years we aren’t pregnant, we are often void of a chunk of our original brilliance, due to previous pregnancies. Despite working hard to retrieve it in our early forties, menopause soon shows up and hijacks what’s left of our ability to be coherent on demand. I spend more time acting out words to anyone I’m communicating with from friends to the cashier at the local grocery store. I’m living in a constant white fog out of a Stephen King novel.  It follows me everywhere while I’m acting out in a perpetual game of charades. I can’t access the language or the itemized tasks that used to be readily available to me.

I now live with an eternal 15 minute to 15-hour verbal delay. The right word comes to me but at a later time and if you’re in the heat of a debate or argument and your best stuff is happening 15 minutes after the fact, it defeats the purpose. I end up alone in the car when suddenly a tsunami of brilliant and articulate prose surfaces. Had I spoken blah, blah, blah that would have shown them? I’ve officially become Michigan J. Frog, the animated character from the Bugs Bunny cartoons where only his owner bears witness to his talented singing and dancing. I get to witness my own when I’m alone. Instead of some cheeky insightful rebuttal, some rudimentary insignificant and lame reply surfaces in which I have to find consolation.

For the complete series go to: