Drop us a line or two . . . ## LONG SUMMARY This episode opens mid-life, mid-mess — which is pretty on-brand for CDQ. Queenie kicks things off with a life update that's equal parts exhausting and quietly heroic: her mom, Mumsy, has been transferred to Sunnyview Hospital for acute rehabilitation following a pelvic fracture complicated by pneumonia. And it has been, to put it mildly, a week. The opioid reaction alone is a whole story. Mumsy — described as a tiny little bird of a woman at 105 pounds — went full superhuman after being administered medication that did not agree with her, requiring five adults (including two men, Queenie is quick to note) to safely get her back into bed. She was subsequently assigned one-on-one monitoring with what Queenie cheerfully describes as "a robot looking thing" watching her around the clock. Thursday was, in Queenie's words, a completely lost day. But by the time they're recording, Mumsy is up with a walker, fully participating in therapy, and apparently chatty as ever — which, given the steroid-fueled word avalanche Queenie witnessed upon transfer, seems to be something of a baseline. The path forward is genuinely uncertain: subacute care may follow, options are limited while oxygen stays in the picture, and Queenie is doing what she can, which right now means taking it a day at a time and trying to get to her grandchildren when she can squeeze it in. From the heavy to the delightful: TT received a birthday gift while the two were celebrating on the Cape, and it's a game called Ganja Land — a cannabis-themed Candyland knockoff from the brand Lightly Toasted. TT, who has not yet played it, gives an enthusiastic rundown: eight character pieces (including Mary Jane Mermaid, The Royal Highness, and Weedly Wizard, all dressed appropriately for the occasion), a board full of hidden objects for timed scavenger hunts, trivia cards, fun facts, and a Spotify playlist to set the mood. The goal is to reach the Cannabis Castle and claim the cannabis crown — a bedazzled, marijuana-leaf-encrusted upgrade on the Burger King paper crown. Gameplay involves passing a joint to the left per Ganja Land tradition, and turn order follows the same direction. TT and Queenie immediately begin plotting to play virtually or in person come October. Then Queenie brings an article she'd flagged from Time magazine: what to do when someone gives you the silent treatment. The timing is personal. She'd reached out to a friend she'd lost touch with — wrote a note, explained a difficult five-year stretch, opened the door. Got nothing back. Not even, as she puts it, a f**k you. The article's framework is practical: distinguish between a healthy pause and a deliberate withdrawal, send one calm non-accusatory message, do not chase, do not retaliate with more silence, don't apologize just to get a reaction. When contact resumes: lead with curiosity, describe impact without assuming intent, and if the silence is a pattern rather than a moment, maybe look hard at whether the relationship is worth the real estate it's taking up in your head. Queenie's takeaway is quieter than the article's framework. Reading it gave her permission to let it go — to acknowledge she'd done her part, fulfilled what she calls "the social contract," and move on. TT points out, warmly but pointedly, that reaching out at all was the brave move. It was. And the non-response is its own answer. Which connects to the Fucket List addition: you do not have to respond to everything. Queenie originally pulled this out as a parenting tool — when kids are being fresh or challenging or saying things that don't actually require your engagement, you give yourself permission to just not. She's had to resurrect it lately, for adults. For family situations. For the nurses at the hospital asking her how Mumsy likes her nasal cannula. (Her answer: "What would you do if I wasn't here? Do that.") The relief of not needing to be the one with every answer — not needing to fix, explain, defend, or respond to everything lobbed at you — is, it turns out, just as applicable at 60-something as it was when her kids were teenagers. The episode closes on a more tender note. While the women were on the Cape, two significant losses happened: Dolly Parton and Gloria Steinem. Both are acknowledged with the kind of genuine warmth you can't fake. For Steinem, Queenie has a specific recommendation: Netflix's Final Words — a pre-recorded interview filmed in the last couple of years, designed to air only after her death. Remote cameras, no crew, just Steinem knowing this would be her last on-camera words. Queenie watched it the night Steinem died. She calls it powerful. Forty minutes, not overlong, completely worth it. The conversation turns briefly political — because it has to. Women couldn't get credit in their own names until 1977. Physicians could discuss a woman's health directly with her husband, without involving her. Queenie and TT were already out of high school by then. It doesn't feel like ancient history to them. It feels like a warning. The episode wraps with an original song — "What Would Gloria Do?" — a full-throated tribute to Steinem that closes the show the way Steinem apparently closed most things: with glasses on, something sharp to say, and zero apologies. --- ## SHORT SUMMARY Queenie opens up about a harrowing week navigating her mother's transfer to a rehabilitation hospital — steroids, an opioid reaction, and five adults required to contain a 105-pound woman — while finding small things to hold onto, like TT's birthday gift of Ganja Land, a cannabis Candyland that they're already plotting to play. The episode gets real about the silent treatment, the art of not responding to everything, and the very different kinds of quiet that can settle over a relationship. It closes by honoring Dolly Parton and Gloria Steinem — two women who showed up, in completely different ways, and never once made themselves small. --- ## EPISODE VIBE This one has weight to it, but it wears it lightly. It's the kind of episode that starts in the thick of a hard week — hospital transfers, oxygen dependency, a mom who needed five people to keep her safe — and somehow finds its way to a birthday gift and a cannabis board game without it feeling like whiplash. There's exhaustion here, yes, but also a kind of hard-won clarity that comes through in everything from the silent treatment conversation to the Fucket List to the tribute to Gloria Steinem. Queenie is navigating a lot — caregiving, grief-adjacent uncertainty, a friendship that quietly closed a door — and TT is steady beside her, funny when it helps, serious when it matters. The emotional throughline is permission: permission to let go, to not respond, to stop being the one with all the answers. It's a midlife episode in the truest sense — not defeated, not falsely cheerful, just honest about where they are and who they're choosing to be. Welcome to the Closet Disco Queen Pot-Cast, a #1 ranked Women in Cannabis (Feedspot, Million Pods; 2025) comedy podcast with music and pop culture references that keeps you laughing and engaged. Join our hosts, Queenie & TT as they share humorous anecdotes about daily life, offering women's perspectives on lifestyle and wellness. We dive into funny cannabis conversations and stories, creating an entertaining space where nothing is off-limits. Each episode features entertaining discussions on pop culture trends, as we discuss music, culture, and cannabis in a light-hearted and inclusive manner. Tune in for a delightful blend of humor, insight, and relatable stories that celebrate life's quirks and pleasures. Our Closet Disco Queen Pot-Cast deals with legal adult cannabis use and is intended for entertainment purposes only for those 21 and olderVisit our Closet Disco Queen Pot-Cast merch store! 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