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Brenda and the beach…

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Brenda and the beach…

I must be losing my edge because I loaded up Brenda and brought her to the beach to celebrate my turning the tender age of fifty six. FIFTY SIX. Lord. That sounds so old. I do not feel that old! The hubs turned sixty last Wednesday and yesterday he popped a wheelie on a bicycle and climbed to the top of a ladder to get the water cut on in the outdoor shower. I’m like is this how your sixties are going to be? Constantly attempting to see how much you can do without breaking something? Oy.

Back to Brenda. She is like a five year old on a long car ride. She needed constant entertainment. Which consisted of me singing and pointing out anything of interest I could find on the side of the road. “Oh look, a car for sale.” “Hey, check that out. A dead opossum.” And yet she still talked. The. Entire. Way. She would tell me she wasn’t going to say another word. Didn’t last five seconds.

Before we left she called and she was packing her bag. Then she proceeded to inform me that she didn’t have a small enough travel bag so she was just going to use grocery bags. I texted my sister and after she finished cackling, called mother and said to use her small travel tote. I also order groceries before we leave so we can pick them up on the drive in. I asked Brenda what she needed and she said nothing. She was bringing her drinks and coffee K-cups from home. She wanted to know if I needed paper towels and toilet paper since she had plenty. I told her we were stocked. I still need to check her bag and see if there’s a spiral sliced ham stuck in there somewhere.

We’ve had a great weekend. The weather has been perfect. The food delicious. I got some sweet gifts. And as much as I like to tell my Brenda stories, I realize at the ripe old age of fifty six that I’m extraordinarily lucky to get to spend my birthday with the one who birthed me.

The sun is shining and breakfast must be cooked so off to the kitchen I go. Thank you ALL for the birthday wishes, cards, texts, tweets, and every ounce of love that was sent my way. I appreciate it more than you will ever know. Truly.

Have a beautiful day my friends!

Love, J


Here’s a few pics from our weekend!


Watching Brenda play Solitaire…

IMG_4799Birthday goodies from my boo…

IMG_4806Finished the master bedroom…


How I spent my birthday…


The city of surf…

Pillow Talk…

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Pillow Talk…

Over a month ago I left my favorite pillow (aka Flatsy) at the Hilton in Wilmington. I remembered it in the car when we were just a few miles away but we had appointments. I called the hotel sounding like a four year old who had left her favorite blankie, begging them to retrieve my pillow and I would call later and give them a FedEx number to ship it back.

I forgot.

And then when I remembered I felt like it had been too long to call. And I felt shamed by ‘some people’ (family members who I thought loved me!) who were all like, “just get a new pillow!” As IF my pillow could be replaced! I have three pillows. One firm for propping up in bed. One that’s fluffy. And Flatsy. The perfect softness. It never got hot. You could lay it flat or bunch it up just a little on the end. I used them all three for the perfect lounging in bed experience. Now the balance is off. Everything is askew.

What I’m trying to say is I haven’t slept decent in over a month people!!!!! I’m seriously contemplating calling the Hilton today. Do you think there is remotely a chance that they still have it? And here’s the other thing that bothers me. They have my address. Why didn’t they just ship it? They could charge me.

Anyhootinanny, I have tried several new pillows and they all hate me. My shoulder was throbbing two days ago from one of them. My neck is hot every night. I rotate my two pillows all night so sleep is constantly disrupted. I’ve checked every bedroom in this house. There is no other Flatsy.

Flatsy is gone.

Meanwhile the hubs lays there. Snoring softly. His two favorite pillows tucked perfectly under his big ‘ole head. And I secretly just wanna slug him. The man can sleep anywhere. Airplanes. A  random chair. A bed at a beach place we just stayed in that I swear was part concrete. He lays down and with very little fanfare sleeps the sleep of an angel. Rarely even turns over.

I have contemplated stealing one of his pillows but I can’t stand them.  Even though one of them is a flatsy too. It’s not the same. It’ll never be the same. Guard your good pillows people. Don’t take them for granted. Don’t be like me. Lugging them around to random hotels. All willy nilly. And ungrateful.

Today I’m going to pillow shop a little more. I don’t look forward to it which is SO not me. I enjoy shopping for dish towels for goodness sakes. But trying to replace Flatsy is going to be a challenge. Especially when my right arm is in pain above the elbow in the back and below the shoulder. Probably because that pillow wrapped itself around my face last night in an attempt to smother me and in my sleep I fought and fought. Bruising my arm in the process.

So, how’d y’all sleep?

 Here’s what I’m dealing with. 

Starting from the back. 

Too firm. (It looks like a flatsy but it’s just the angle)

Next, the pillow that makes my neck hot AND wants to smother me.

After that it’s Flatsy wannabe. I thought it had the potential. But no.

And last, too big and overstuffed. 

Those are the players. 






The Baby Whisperer…

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The Baby Whisperer…

Yesterday was a great family day here at Green Acres. We had nine people here for lunch and four more came in after. Grown men riding in the Chevy, acting like they were 17. Little cousins kicking a soccer ball and being amazed that they have the same last name. My mother-in-law enjoying hearing her three boys laughing together. We ate chili and cornbread. And poundcake of course. When everyone was properly stuffed we retreated to the nearest sofa.


We don’t see my brother-in-law and his wife NEARLY enough. Every time I’m with her I’m reminded how much I miss her. She was my first family ally. The first person who took me under her wing and made me feel welcome. We were Cannady girls. Before we had Cannady girls of our own. We were pregnant at the same time as well. Due dates only two weeks apart.

There is nothing my sister-in-law loves more than a baby. Little bitty baby. Two year old baby. Six year old baby. Doesn’t matter. They’re all babies to her. And they take to her like a fly takes to honey. My youngest gbaby is generally standoffish with new people. But not with this one. She wasn’t here five minutes and she was in my sister-in-laws arms and then they were putting on shoes and coats to go for a walk. When she couldn’t go outside again she ran across the room, arms stretched out, to be picked up by the baby whisperer.

Some of my best memories being in this family have been spent with her. Beach vacations, where the second she arrived I gave her a pedicure. At the time she wore steel toed boots to work. I refused to let her have bad looking toes for a week. So we would sit on the balcony overlooking the ocean and talk and laugh and by the time it was almost dark her feet would be looking fantastic.

My sister-in-law is one of those people who does not age. For her aging only brought a soft glow. Which highlights her smile even more. Which I happen to love. It’s a great smile. Her family is everything to her and she is rarely without a grandchild.


Since her baby is having a baby we regaled her daughter with our birth stories yesterday. Mine is not a fun story but it did have a happy ending. My sister-in-law on the other hand, gave birth to her third child after the doctor told her she was no where near ready to give birth and he was going to dinner. She had the baby by the time he got to the parking lot. And I know this because I was standing outside the door of her room listening. Nine months pregnant myself. And now horrified. (I turned to my husband and said, while holding my gigantic belly, “I can’t do this!”. He said well it’s too late now.)

I hope we have many more days like yesterday.

Family and food and laughs and the baby whisperer…




















It’s a zoo up in here…

It’s a zoo up in here…

And that’s no joke. The last few weeks I feel like hours have flown past my head like a meteor. Maybe that’s why when I discovered the live feed of April the giraffe ‘ABOUT TO GIVE BIRTH’ I found it so utterly soothing. And I seriously do. I cannot look away. I’ve had to. Because you know. Life.


But when I’m feeling overwhelmed and anxious I’ll check in on April. I’m always thinking this is it! And the screen comes up and she is just slowly strolling around. Chewing on some cud. A big ole giraffe baby rolling around in her tummy. I swear I’ve seen contractions. Like she stopped, dead in her tracks, and something was going on. I saw a mouse run across the floor of her pen the other night. Pen. Birthing suite. Whichever. Yes. I’ve watched a lot.

So here’s what I know for those of you who are NOT committed to this process. And just so you know we don’t need any ‘Johnny come latelys’ falling up in here like they’ve been on this journey with us all along. No. NOT TODAY. Giraffes can be pregnant anywhere from thirteen to fifteen months and in labor for up to five hundred hours. The average baby giraffe can be as much as six feet tall and weigh one hundred and fifty pounds. Now. Get off April’s back! Home girl is doing the best she can! Ain’t we all?


Yesterday was baby shower day at our house. We had a blast. Long lost cousins showing up and making me laugh so hard I’m pretty sure I pulled something, is truly the best thing ever. Watching sweet little pregnant girls taking pictures down by the lake and then trying to climb their way back up the hill. Lots of nice strangers who enjoyed the food and were so gracious. Beautiful presents for a special baby boy who already has his grandmother completely wrapped and he’s not even here yet.

Processed with VSCO with c6 preset

The weather was perfect. It was warm and breezy. I felt like the trees bloomed just for our little mother to be. We had sweet tea. And meatballs. Her favorite. Beautiful skewers of fresh fruit. And pasta salad that was so good I had it for dinner. We finished the day up with some golf cart rides around the ‘hood and squeals of laughter. Or fear. Coulda went either way. I was driving.


Today we will keep it simple and low key. Throw some hot dogs on the grill and move as little as possible. That’s the plan Stan. I just checked on April. Not a baby hoof in sight. That’s okay. Take your time girl. We’ll be here.

It’s another beautiful day we are blessed to see so enjoy pretty people.

Enjoy every second…

One Flu Over The Cuckoo’s Nest…

One Flu Over The Cuckoo’s Nest…

Picture if you will, a nice couple, mid to late 50’s. I’m mid. He’s late. Having a quiet little dinner at home last Tuesday night after a long day. Feeling rather exhausted. And halfway through said meal, BAM. And not the good kind of BAM like you get from Emeril. The kind of bam where you are literally flung face down in your bed and you only move when you are forced to crawl on your hands and knees, ok that was an exaggeration. You only move when you are forced to make your way to the bathroom. Praying that this demon that has somehow entered your body will find its way out.

While you rest your weary head on the cold bathroom floor tiles, phone in hand, you google exorcist in your area. There are none. But there’s Chinese food five seconds away. Only you can’t say or think about Chinese food or any kind of food for that matter without heaving.

Welcome to our weekend.

My fever broke first. Probably because I’m the meanest and I’m good with that. The hubs is currently at Urgent Care as I type this, because he can’t shake his. He also has a cough that sounds like it comes from the depths of a horror movie. I’m not kidding. He also coughed in his sleep so much I covered my face with the sheet.

No one will come near our house. People have offered to bring food to the end of the driveway. One brave soul even offered to venture all the way to the porch. But sadly if you brought us food we couldn’t eat it. I don’t even want to smell it. Someone cooked a frozen pizza yesterday and I had to leave the room for an hour.

You know the best place for bland food is the hospital. If I could have checked in there just for some of that flavorless broth they bring you in a cup I would have. I had low salt Saltines and they still tasted too salty. I opened a few cans of soup and I couldn’t do it. The sound of the can. The smell. No. Couldn’t do it.

I existed on a minuscule layer of peanut butter between two pieces of bread for three days. Well that and my body fat. I’m pretty sure I could win Survivor if there were no challenges involved. By yesterday I thought surely I’ve lost at least forty two pounds and am now in petite sizes as well. I’d pass the bathroom mirror and think ‘oh wow, I’ve finally lost that baby bloat’. It’s sad the things you tell yourself when you’ve been delirious with fever and cooped up in the house for days.

Saturday at lunch I hit a wall with the peanut butter sandwich diet. It repelled me. As did a dry toasted bagel. As did a plain (and I do mean PLAIN) turkey sandwich. I even attempted to eat a Cheeto. Alas even the Cheeto, my native food, couldn’t get past the influenza police. Never before have I been so betrayed by my stomach. Except maybe that one time in 1981 when I had two bottles of red wine at a fancy dinner. There was nothing fancy about what happened later people.  And I haven’t had a drop of red wine since.

I will now share with you what quelled the nausea and finally made me feel full enough to actually doze off and rest. A packet (NO CAN) of Lipton noodle soup.  Just noodles. Real chicken broth. No chicken! It’s as bland as the day is long. I cooked it. Had a few Saltines. And my tummy became so quiet and still. I may have almost skipped down the hall. Ok I didn’t skip. But whatever. It was magical. Lipton kicked Campbell’s ass.

Today we will stay home in our coven of cooties and rest. There will be no special Super Bowl foods around here. I hope you all enjoy game day and that you’re pulling for the Falcon’s. Because if you like Tom Brady we’re gonna have to break up. Also, if he cries even once or makes that whiny baby face or has his wife whine on his behalf OR uses a deflated ball, someone better revoke his man card. Enough already.





: a feigning to be what one is not or to believe what one does not: behavior that contradicts what one claims to believe or feel

especially: the false assumption of an appearance of virtue or religion

I loathe hypocrisy like my body loathes a diet. If there is anything that will put me on my soapbox it’s a hypocrite. So please, don’t be one. I have more respect for that batshit crazy chick on twitter who’s shouting at the top of her lungs beliefs that I don’t agree with than someone I know being a hypocrite. At least the batshit crazy chick is consistent. She doesn’t waiver. She sticks to her batshit crazy guns.

Okay enough of that. I refuse to let people who do not affect my life rob me of a fabulous weekend. And it was a fabulous weekend. Nothing happened. No big trip. No fancy meal. Just a fabulous weekend.

Yesterday our son was on call so we were asked to come and watch the little gbaby in case he had to leave. And leave he did. Before we pulled in the driveway he was out on a case. Hard job for a family man but they manage it so well.

I sat and watched little gbaby on the monitor and she was having no part of nap time. She was restless and her nose was stopped up and she couldn’t get comfortable and I wanted to just run upstairs and crawl in there with her but I remained seated and waited to see if she would go back to sleep. It didn’t happen. We caved.

Now I have to tell y’all, this one is a handful. She’s feisty and stubborn and wants what she wants when she wants it and I happen to admire that in a child. Because with it comes these grand gestures of running and jumping into your arms. Mouth wide open kisses where you feel her little teeth in your top lip.

She got up, sat in my lap, and was promptly rewarded for not finishing her nap, with a cookie. That’s right. That’s us. We’re THOSE grandparents. She only ate half. We had to sweep the entire kitchen floor.  And I think the only reason she didn’t finish it was because I wouldn’t let her carry it around. I said those oh so dreaded words. “NO ma’am”. The side eye she gave me sent chills down my spine. She’s THAT good.


We had a blast. I chased her, she screamed. She pulled out every single toy she had. I had to do diaper duty. My co-pilot assisted me with the wipes from about two feet away. Lightweight. And then her mommy came home. I’m talking exactly five seconds after I had that diaper changed. I may or may not have accused her of circling the block a few times.

We picked up a chair I had ordered a few weeks ago. In order to prepare for this, the hubs asked for the chair dimensions three times. Three. He then measured the opening in the back of my car. The conclusion was he was unsure if it was going to fit. People, I have put not one but TWO wingchairs in the back of a Ford Edge (not exactly a full size SUV) with three passengers still in the car. It’s ALL about placement. We backed up to the store and by the time he opened the back out walked this young girl carrying my chair and she popped it in the back and that was it. See that? That’s a tight squeeze my friends.


Dinner was some nice takeout we enjoyed at home. And glancing up I saw my deer family were back! It’s been weeks and weeks since I’ve seen them. I had a little coffee later in my new chair. And as I perused the room I realized that I need a larger picture on one wall.

Get out that measuring tape scooter.



Happy Sunday to you all!


Politics as usual…

Politics as usual…

Ok maybe not.

Amidst the occasional cries of ‘we have to come together now’ I have read and heard enough negativity to last me a lifetime. Women tearing down other women.  Friends no longer speaking because of political differences. Or if they do speak it’s only for one to judge the other. People having conversations where someone just HAS to be right. And then there are those who are rather haughtily placing themselves above the fray by just saying ‘my guy won’, ‘I’m so happy’, ‘Life is wonderful NOW’.

In all fairness if someone becoming President just made your life wonderful it was more than likely already wonderful and you have nothing to lose in these upcoming years. If this years election did scare you because you’re gay, a single mother who works and yet relies on food stamps, if you have a pre-existing illness and may lose your insurance, by all means, feel what you need to feel. I would never call you a special snowflake. Unless you happen to love snowflakes and I do.

When in fresh hell did a snowflake become a bad name?

I deleted my Facebook account about two weeks ago. That may be the best move I make in 2017. Yes a lot of people read the blog through that account. But you can also find it through a google search or sign up to follow it by email or not read it at all. Your choice. There will not be a quiz later. However if you thought I blocked you on the book of face, no I didn’t.  Funny how many people have thought that and not a single one asked me.  Don’t assume things my friends. Now go back and read the first three letters of assume. Got it? Good.

So yesterday there was a Women’s March on Washington and all over our amazing country. For me the march was about equality (if you think you’re being paid the same as some of our men folk you would be wrong), the right to love who you want, and to ensure that ALL our young girls have the chance to live the best life they can. If you question why this event even took place then none of those issues affect you. So good for you. Not all women are that lucky. One man wrote that it was the March that made a bunch of fat women get out and walk. Another said it was just a lot of chicks with no jobs who are afraid they’re about to lose all their benefits. I read that sentiment from both men and women. And the hate goes on. Are you surprised? I’m not. Of course I read those comments on twitter where anything goes and hate runs rampant. I read comments worse than those. Then I just stopped reading anything.

Just remember this. When a young man in college can rape an unconscious young lady in an alley and only spend three months in jail, we are a LONG ways from equal. I would have marched just for her. And that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

Now I must share with you a phone call I received this week. My sweet cousin Tonya called me and she said guess why I’m calling you! I’m like I have no idea, why? She said “I fried chicken naked” AND “I burned my stomach”! My immediate response was SEE!!!!! I told you to never do that! She then explained, while I tried to stop laughing hysterically, that she had on a new shirt and didn’t want to get grease on it so she just stripped down right there in the kitchen and commenced to frying some chicken. We laughed and laughed and ended up talking on the phone for over an hour I’m sure. I completely lost track of time and she made my week. Thanks for the laughs Tonya! And put some clothes on the next time there’s hot oil and chicken involved. Ok?

For the record I think everyone who reads my blog is a good person with a beautiful heart who cares about their country. In the end we all want the same thing. Or at least I sincerely hope we do. Every human being to be treated equally. I don’t think it’s too much to ask. Let’s start there and we’ll work the rest out as we go along.

I wish only the best for all of you.






Lead Our Lives

Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom. -Aristotle

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if it tastes good, eat it.

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