Often we wonder how people see us.

A few words people have used in describing me…Intense, Strong, Outgoing, Passionate, Defiant, Amusing, Bitchy and Hostile.

The above words are describing my work personality I believe. I tend to think I’m a completely different person at work. At home I’m somewhat a recluse. I like the solitaire. When we’re in a social setting I feel anxious an overwhelmed worrying about what to talk about and how to answer questions that might come up.

Unusual right? I wonder if getting paid to be something or to do something is the reason why I’m a completely different person at work with all of those overwhelming descriptions people have used to describe me?

So, do you ever wonder how people see you? Do you agree with what they think or say about you?

Happy Sunday Loves!

Let The Light In

Hi Loves,

I can’t tell you how happy I was to see 2019 arrive. 2018 was basically a personal shit show for me. But, looking forward to new and exciting changes in my life. Not sure what those will be but I welcome anything positive. I’m allowing the light in. No more clouds, darkness or negative feelings.

This leads me to the book “Daddy” that I contributed to by the request of Dr. K E Garland in 2018.  This is an anthology chronicling the impact of dysfunctional father-daughter relationships. After reading each memoir I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for all fourteen of us. I can only speak for myself but writing personal despairing moments about my father were quite overwhelmingly exhausting. I’ve always felt it’s brave for anyone to write about something that has caused emotional pain.

My coping routine is to bury my emotions deep inside and not to speak of it. I like to rise above my problems and pretend they never happened. I’ve always felt that if I spoke of the deep hurt that it would show weakness. But, now after writing my chapter “The Uprising” I realize it was therapeutic to release all of the emotions and wounds into something other than the burial ground in my mind. Writing this was invigorating and beneficial to me in so many positive ways.

This leads me to encourage you to order the “Daddy” Anthology on line to follow the stories of how a father’s deficiencies can cause destruction internally for their daughter’s. If you’re wondering if this is a depressing book? I don’t think it is at all. I believe that K E Garland says it best “Don’t worry. The person next to you is flawed too.” Because of K E Garland I rose above my flaws and am a “healing in process”.

If you would like to order the book it’s available on Amazon. Click the link below. Thank you for reading XO






It’s Necessary

We get so consumed with work, school, problems, others needing us that we dismiss the fact that we need time to ourselves. We need to make that doctor’s appointment for ourselves, hair appointment or lunch with a friend and stop canceling.

I have a selfish side. For instance this week it seemed like I had to bail several people at work out of their predicaments. It’s always me that has to fix their mistakes. That’s not in my job responsibilities. I feel taken for granted. But I’m also a team player. I wear a headset for nine hours a day and the phone calls are non stop. I share an office with five other people. It’s always loud and insanely fast moving.

I come home and fix dinner. Clean up after the 17 year old Mr. Cheese. He’s my mixed pup and has some health issues which cause him to urinate quite a bit in my home. There’s laundry….hubby wants to tell me all about his day and for me to watch TV with him. It’s bed time and every couple of hours Mr. Cheese walks all over my body to wake me up out of my slumber to take him outside for his business meeting. Or he doesn’t wake me and I find puddles around the bed to clean up before I get ready for work.

I feel as if everyone wants a piece of me 24/7. There is no quietness in my life. It would be nice to hear nothing….silence. I do sometimes in my car. Today I’m taking time for myself at Starbucks. It’s far from quiet but no one is asking me for anything. No one knows me here. I’m alone and taking in every second of this me time. I’m able to blog out my feelings and vent. A huge sigh of relief…..enjoying my Venti White Mocha. After I’m done here I have a much needed hair appointment. It’s been three months since my last haircut and highlights. I’m not complaining….I’m extremely grateful for this life I live.

I’m just advising you to take some time for yourself to sit back and take things in. If I do things like this more often I’ll be less stressed out and not so overwhelmed. Those of you with children, jobs, ahem… multiple jobs….I bow down to you. I don’t see how you do it all. I honestly don’t. Give yourself a hug for me because you deserve it. Remember to take care of you too loves. Because you’re taking care of everyone else and they need you to be happy too.

You deserve ME time.


Keep That

When I say “Keep That” I don’t mean hoarding or keeping that first bottle cap from the first date you had with what’s his face from 10th grade. I don’t mean keeping that memorabilia from the NKOTB tour.

I’m talking about those mistakes you’ve made, lessons you’ve learned, wrinkles you’ve acquired, the scars from playing football or falling off of your bike.

Ladies, you know that wrinkle right above the two corners of your mouth that shows up when you smile? Or that one breast that’s smaller than the other one? What about the mole on your cheek that you stare at every morning?

Fellas, what about the hair or fur on your back that looks like a sweater? Or that one toe that sticks out further than your big toe and looks strange? How about that one tooth that is sort of pointy compared to the rest of your teeth?

Are you possibly in a wheel chair or disabled? Do you have a lazy eye or a lisp? Who cares? Keep that. It’s what makes you YOU. Who cares what people think? I think if all of us had more confidence the world would be so much better. It’s time for each of us to be satisfied and certain of who we are.

We need to stop doubting our worth. We need to be secure about who we are. News Flash: No one is perfect people. Do you compare yourself to other people? Like for instance, the latest hype is the Kardashian’s for some reason. Yeah, they’re gorgeous, confident, beautiful, sexy and so much more. But, have you noticed, all of them have had work done to themselves to look that way. See where I’m going with this? Yep, they are insecure too. They weren’t happy with themselves so they got botox, lip injections, implants and the list goes on.

Underneath all of us there’s some type of insecurity even in the most beautiful people in the world. Why can’t we just accept ourselves for who we REALLY are? It’s time to let go of our imperfections and take what we want out of life.

What if we all thought of ourselves as epic, not basic? We’ve paid our dues in life so why not stop hesitating and go after what we want. I often think we hold ourselves back because of our faults and think we’re not good enough. I can’t be the only one that thinks this way can I? Yes, you know me as being confident, full of myself, sassy, speaking up for what I believe in, even arrogant at times. Deep down I have my insecurities too.

What are my insecurities? I didn’t go to college. I just graduated high school. At times I let that hold me back because I don’t necessarily feel that I’m intelligent enough to have a conversation with college educated people. But, that doesn’t make me any less of a person either. I’m street smart and I have amazing skills. I make very good money and have a successful career. I’m not toned up, thin, or even in shape. I’m curvy and like to eat. So, at times when I’m at the beach in my bathing suit I feel fluffy. But then I think to myself, I’m fluffy but cute and I’m happy. We have to reel ourselves back in at times and remind ourselves how fabulous we are don’t we? I hope  you do that with yourself. You do, don’t you? Try your best NOT to put yourself down. Bring yourself up with the positives when you start doubting yourself OK?

Whether we were put down growing up by our parents or bullied or if we talk down to ourselves in our minds we can overcome that bullshit. Learn to love yourself.

We all need to own our worth don’t we? We are worthy, all of us. We need to make people remember each of us whether they want to or not. Not everyone has to like us, not everyone has taste do they?

We’re all beautiful in our own ways if you ask me. There’s beauty in everything and everyone if you look around. No one is you, that’s your power and that’s  your beauty.

I have so many favorite songs but this one always speaks to me. It’s so powerful and I think if we would all listen to this from time to time it would help us to realize our worth. If you don’t have it on your spotify, google play list or whatever, add it, you need to hear it. Treasure yourself loves. If you don’t, how can anyone else treasure you?

Whatever you think is wrong with you, It’s OK. Keep That.


Showing Up

Happy Friday Loves!

I’ve missed all of you this week. I’ve been creeping around your blogs this week instead of blogging myself. In some cases I’ve not been able to comment or hit the like button. For some strange reason WP has been playing hard to get this week. :/

I saw this quote this morning on Pinterest and it grabbed my attention. I love my bruises and scars….Call me Scrappy if you will because God knows I’ve stumbled throughout my life but I’ve definitely showed up for the party. I don’t regret one single thing. The break ups, the struggles, heartbreak, and disappointments have shown me a thing or two. I’ve learned that I can bounce back from almost anything. There’s quite a few more I’ll go through too but I’ll be ready and if I’m not, I’ll recover. I’ll come back even stronger.

Hoping all of you loves show up and know you’ve got life by the balls. It’s a fun fantastic ride wouldn’t you say?



I know I’m going to be late for work because I’m writing this post but I don’t care. I need to get it off my chest.

My friend Rhonnie gave me this idea and I love her for it. I tell her all of the time she’s my muse.

This isn’t just for the ladies, it’s for the guys too.

How many times have we said to ourselves, “Why can’t I have her legs? My legs are curvy but I want long, straight, defined legs.” Dudes, ever wish you had a bigger penis, or wish you were built like Channing Tatum or something? I think men and women compare themselves to others so much, they lose sight of what is beautiful about themselves. I’m talking about body insecurities and wanting something better than what we have.

Why can’t we just have gratitude for what we already have? For instance, although I want Rhonnie’s long legs, mine are great. Even though I have naturally curly hair, I want the Jennifer Anniston straight shiny hair. But, I’m beautiful just the way that I am. I have some fantastic features.

I need my legs to walk. So, why bitch about them not being long enough? What if I didn’t have legs, I need to be thankful for these legs, arms, toes, eyes,  etc. What about our health? I complained the other day when I had a really bad headache. But, my friend Rhonnie suffers from chronic migraines. She can’t even work. It’s so bad that her Mom bought a picture frame which had a scent to it (possibly purchased from Kirkland’s) a few weeks ago and she didn’t know it and it gave her a migraine for 10 days straight, she got very sick. Just the simplest little thing like going to the Dr. or Starbucks and smelling different scents triggers these horrible God awful headaches.

She hardly ever complains, she’s grateful for her life and the positives in it. My point to all of this is we should have gratitude for our bodies, minds, health, every single thing in our lives. It could be so much worse.

I should stop complaining and whining about what I don’t have and appreciate what I do have. We all have some great attributes, let’s be thankful for them. I think we could all show more gratitude for ourselves don’t you think?

So, let’s appreciate our bodies and mental mindset loves and start the day off right, shall we?





Can we celebrate weirdos? They’re eccentric, peculiar and bizarre, wouldn’t you agree? Weirdos are my tribe, my gang, my people.

I might look normal with blonde hair and blue eyes but deep down I’m a weirdo. I’ve finally realized it and embraced it.

Individuality is monumental. We don’t have to be copycats. Each of us are matchless and extraordinary. We’re different so why not grasp the idea that you’re exceptional?

I’ll give you a few of  my quirks….

I’m 43 and I listen to Frank Sinatra and Rap music. What a combination right? I love hanging out in graveyards. I read the headstones and calculate how old they were when they passed away and try to imagine what their lives were like. Creepy right? I sleep in such a tense way that my hubby says I look like someone is performing an exorcism on me. I love bags. Not Coach, Marc Jacobs or Michael Kors bags but those cloth bags you take to the grocery store. I can’t get enough of those bags. I eat ketchup on cabbage, spinach, collards, and turnips. That’s just a few of my weird quirks.

Let the weirdness commence…..why be a standard edition of yourself? Let’s rock these incredible strange quirks we have with confidence. You know there’s something weird about yourself, don’t even try to hide it. As Lady GaGa sings “You were born this way.”

Wide Open


I absolutely love this quote!

I appreciate traditional, normal, and general types of characteristics. But, those characteristics of abnormal, unconventional, and rare are a magnet to my steel.

There’s something quite gripping about diversity, wouldn’t you say? I think people that are authentic and resistant are the most captivating ones.

Honestly, we’re all authentic. There’s no replica of you or me is there? We’re originals.

Sigh, resistant….unyielding…no brakes….That my loves is a beautiful thing. Keep going and keep writing and shining here. Don’t hold back on anything. The door is wide open. You’re not in prison here. Let it all out. There’s a freedom about writing your thoughts and sharing a piece of yourself. Let your authenticity flow.

Now be proud of your originality and wave it around magnificently loves.

Happy Wednesday – XO




Dear Vital Records

It was 1966 and my Dad had joined the Army in hopes of fighting for our beautiful country The USA. He was pumped to be going to Vietnam. First stop was Germany. Germany was a blast and the beer and women were endless. He was a MP for a year and came home for a quick visit and would soon be flying over to Vietnam, his dream was about to happen.

My Dad you see was one of those hell bent kinda guys that wanted to be the bad ass mother fucker to go in with guns blazing. Little did he know that my Grandmother had other plans.

While home visiting his parents on that short break in the US he received a call from a Lieutenant. The Lieutenant informed my Dad that he would be reporting for duty at a Fort in the US and would not be returning to Germany or going to Vietnam as he was the sole surviving son of a disabled veteran.

At the time my Dad’s father was sitting in a recliner right there as my Dad was listening to the Lieutenant informing him of this on the phone. His Father sitting in that recliner was not disabled at all. As my Dad began to ask questions the Lieutenant didn’t elaborate and told him to report for duty at the Fort on a certain date and hung up.

My Grandmother was crying and praying out loud as my Dad hung up the phone. She then sat my Dad down and explained how thankful she was that she had contacted the officials to inform them that his “Real Father” was a disabled veteran and he was the sole surviving son. She continued to cry explaining the story to my Dad about how she was married before and he was an alcoholic and abusive. She had to leave him to keep them safe and from harms way. She said she had to contact the officials to keep my Dad from going to Vietnam as she couldn’t bare to lose him. My Dad was in shock but never even asked where his real father was and had no interest at all in meeting him ever. He loved the father that had raised him and that’s all that mattered to him.

Two years later my Grandmother told my Dad that his “Real Father” had passed away and how she wanted him to go to his funeral which was out of state. My Dad went to pay his respects but didn’t speak to anyone at the funeral home but just signed the guest book. He looked at the man in the casket and walked away. He had no feelings whatsoever for this stranger. He was happy it was over with.

Later in life I found out about all of this and had questions. I wanted to know everything I could about my “Real Grandfather” I wanted to know his story. What happened to him later in life? What did he die from? Did he ever remarry? Why was he abusive? I wanted to know everything and anything I could. My Grandmother told me his last name but only after I begged and pleaded for days. She wouldn’t even tell me his first name. My Dad resisted the whole idea and said I was wasting my time.

When I told my Mom how I wanted to find out more about my Grandfather she told me that my Grandmother had confided in her many years ago and had probably forgotten now that she was 77 years old.

My Mom began to tell me the real story…….My Grandmother had married him, a soldier that was about to go to World War II back in 1946. She was so in love with him. He was the most handsome and charming man she’d ever met. He had Elvis’ features and adored her. He honestly loved her. My Grandma used to model hosiery in the boutique windows in town. And when he first laid eyes on her he had to meet her. He went to the local florist and bought her one red rose and went back to the boutique and introduced himself. It was literally love at first sight. They got married right before he left for the war. A few months later she discovered she was pregnant with my Dad.

She gave birth to my Dad in 1947 alone in a hospital. My “Real Grandfather” was still fighting in WWII. She went home with her newborn baby boy and about six months later some officers came to the door and told her that her husband had been in a terrible accident. His brigade had been hit hard. His body had been burned severely. He was in multiple hospitals for months and when he did come home he was barely recognizable. She welcomed him home with tears, affection and much love. He was ashamed of the way he looked, constantly in pain, and suffering mentally. He turned to alcohol and began abusing my Grandmother. She tried hard to hang in there and to endure the abuse but finally had to leave for her and my Dad’s safety. He never laid a hand on my Dad as he was approximately 8 months old when she left. She never looked back.

I’m happy that my Grandmother was strong enough to leave him and found a better life for her and my Dad. I’m extremely proud of her. I don’t understand why she never told my Dad the whole story though. She had been caught in many fabrications in her lifetime by my Dad and my Aunts. That’s neither here nor there as my Mom always says.

But, I wanted to find out more about my “Real Grandfather”. What happened to him, why did he die, what type of life did he live after she left him? Did he remarry? Did he have more children?

Again, remember, My Dad and Grandmother didn’t want me to find any information and were very uncooperative. All I had was a last name and the approximate year he died.

It was June 1998 when I began my search. Three months prior to Google, might I add. So, where to begin? I wanted the death certificate. I figured that would be a good start. So, I called Vital Records in the county/town where my Grandmother was born. They had to mail me a form to sign. I forged my Father’s name because he wouldn’t sign it. They sent me another form stating they didn’t have enough information to go on to give me a death certificate. Remember, all I had was a last name and a year that he died. I decided to write a heartfelt letter telling them the story and how I just wanted to know if I had any other relatives and what he died from. At this point even just having his first name would mean something to me. I had to find out something about this man. He fought for our country and he deserved to be known no matter what hell he put my Grandmother through.

A few days later a woman called me from Vital Records and told me she really shouldn’t be calling me but my letter spoke to her. She asked for my Dad’s name and she found his birth certificate and there was my Grandfather’s complete name on it. I would share it with you but for privacy reasons I cannot. But when she called out his name I began to cry. I’m tearing up now just thinking about it. I got chills up my spine. I finally had his first name. It was a beautiful name. She told me she was sending me the death certificate that day. Two days later I received it. He had died of cirrhosis of the liver. He was 5’11. He was divorced. He was born on the 4th of July. My heart skipped a beat. It had his Mother and Father’s names on the certificate as well. I felt a sense of pride.

I then decided to call the funeral home / cemetery that he was buried at to see if I could get some information on surviving family members. The woman there was kind enough to give me a list of pallbearers and a few relatives. Keep in mind, there’s no facebook, my space, google, bing, nothing. I somehow find addresses for some of the pallbearers and mail individual letters to each of them in hopes that they can tell me more. Two older gents were roommates in an assisted living home and received my letter. They immediately got in their car and drove to my Grandfather’s niece’s house and hand delivered my letter to her. She adored my Grandfather and was very close to him. She called one night and told me who she was and how these two gent’s brought her my letter. She cried and I cried. She told me that after my Grandmother left him that his drinking got worse. He loved my Grandmother and my Dad more than anything but the burning of his body and the alcohol got to him. She said he used to tell her “Mike’s coming to see me one day, I just know it.” She said he had an 8 X 10 picture of my Dad and my Grandma that he always kept near him. He did remarry but then divorced. She said he never had any other children. My Dad was his only child. She said he got so sick from the cirrhosis that he was in the hospital for 39 days before he passed away. She said on the 37th day a preacher came to speak with him and prayed with him. My Grandfather prayed for forgiveness and accepted Jesus Christ into his heart as his Lord and Savior. He was saved two days before he passed away. I take great comfort in knowing that he was saved as one day I will meet him in Heaven for the very first time.

His niece Kitty told me many stories about him and how he loved my father and my Grandmother more than life itself. She was kind enough to send me pictures of my Grandfather. She sent me one before he went to war. My God, he really was a handsome man. I see my Dad in his face and I even see myself. She also sent me a picture after he had been burned. She told me he had over seventy surgeries in his lifetime to help with the inflicted burns. His face didn’t look bad at all. It looked kind, weathered, and sweet.  But in that one single picture of him after being burned, right behind him was that 8 X 10 of my beautiful Grandmother and my Dad as a baby. They were there all along right by his side and seeing that picture behind him I knew without any doubt he honestly loved them and never ever forgot them.

It took me over a year to find the courage to put all of this together and to show my Dad. I was afraid to show him in fact. I knew he wanted nothing to do with me finding my Grandfather’s information and he always said he didn’t want to know a damn thing about him. You see, my Grandmother didn’t tell my Dad that he was attacked in WWII and burned practically to death. I know she had to leave him. I don’t blame her one bit for that. She did what was right for her and my Dad. But, I wanted him to know that he was loved by his father that was a disabled veteran. By now my Grandmother had passed away. I waited to tell my Dad any of this out of respect for my Grandmother.

I kept copies of the death certificate, that heartfelt letter I wrote to Vital records, even the letters I mailed to the pallbearers in a folder along with my Grandfather’s two single pictures. When I presented all of this to my Dad he didn’t get angry and he didn’t fuss at me. He wept. He literally just cried and held me. When he finally gained his composure, he said to me, “You did the most beautiful thing that anyone has ever done for me. You showed me that my Dad loved me.”


This was heart wrenching for me to write. It’s extremely close to my heart and very personal.

But, it’s an honor to share my Grandfather’s story. Although he was an alcoholic and an abuser, he was a soldier first and foremost. He gave his ALL to this country and for that I admire, respect and am ever so grateful for his duty to this land of the free. He lost a lot after going to war and it changed his life in so many tragic ways.

I look forward to meeting you one day Pop in heaven. That’s what I’ve been calling you in my heart…..hope you don’t mind.

Dig Your Way Out


At times I find myself surrounded by a toxic wasteland of bodies. I’m thinking some of you do too.

We have to evaluate the circumstances. There are family members, co-workers, friends and so on that are part of our circle.

Cancel the subscription to the unnecessary bullshit. It’s really a burial ground.

Do not allow these destructive people to pull you into circling the drain with them. It’s mind over matter all day, every day.

Take a knife and cut the cord already. Make the change and flip the switch. Come at them with positive responses. Compliment them on something you find significant about them. There’s something good in everyone. Sometimes you have to use a magnifying glass but it’s there.

Resist the wreckage. Clear out the debris. Don’t allow these people to suck the happiness out of your soul. Put light into their dark tunnel.

Digging your way out will be gratifying. You might also be influential to these toxic people. Positivity spreads like a wildfire. Shouldn’t we all bring value to each other?

This game of life can be hard on us…. “A great spirit rises from the ashes.”