When I was a little girl my 72 year old Slovak grandmother raised my sister and I while my mother went to find herself. Beth and I would run around the house like kids do. She would yell at us not to be “gypsy girls”. I could never figure out why being a gypsy girl was a bad thing. Wearing beautiful jewelry and colorful dresses and traveling with my friends in a caravan sounded wonderful!

So I give you the very good, stunningly wise and mysterious “Gypsy Queen”.
Thinking about it now, I think that was what my mother was.