When’s the last time you told someone they were doing a good job?
That they looked beautiful?
That you noticed how hard they’ve been trying?
Now, when’s the last time you thought it…
but didn’t say a word?
We all do it. We think kind thoughts about people—friends, coworkers, family, even strangers in line at Target—but we keep it locked inside our heads.
And that’s a shame, because this world could use a little more spoken kindness and a little less side-eye and snark.
So here’s what I’m proposing:
Let’s make it a personal challenge.
One person.
One compliment.
Every day.
Write it down in your journal.
It doesn’t have to be groundbreaking.
Maybe you admire someone’s work ethic.
Maybe they’ve lost weight.
Maybe they just have the kind of energy that makes people feel safe and seen.
Tell them.
Tell them even if it feels awkward.
Tell them especially if you think
“they probably already know.”
Because odds are… they don’t.
Kindness doesn’t cost a thing—
but withholding it might.
In a world where people are quick to judge, quick to criticize, and quick to scroll on by, let’s slow it down and be intentional. Let’s build people up instead of tearing them down. And yes, I’m even talking about the gal at the gas station with the sparkly nails.
Compliment those too.
Start today. Reach out to someone you love—or someone you barely know—and say,
“Hey, just wanted to tell you… you matter.”
Let’s lift people up on purpose. Let’s be the reason someone smiles today.
By Jani, your travel-lovin’, snack-scarfin’, road warrior, southern fried belle!
Let me just say this upfront: I am a Buc-ee’s fan. Like, full-blown, fangirl, skip-the-gas-station-down-the-road-and-hold-it-till-Buc-ee’s kind of fan. And I make no apologies for it.
Now, I know what you’re thinking—“Really? A gas station?” Oh, this ain’t your average pit stop with sticky bathroom floors and a questionable hot dog on rollers that’s been there since the Nixon administration. Buc-ee’s is Texas-sized magic. It’s a cultural phenomenon. It’s a clean-bathroom, brisket-on-the-board, Beaver-Nuggets-in-my-bag kind of place that feels like home… if home smelled like smoked meats and cinnamon-glazed pecans (oh those pecans).
But here’s the kicker: everything I adore about Buc-ee’s is the exact stuff other people seem to hate.
Let’s break this down, shall we?
What I Love About Buc-ee’s:
The Bathrooms: You could do a trust fall into those stalls and land on tile cleaner than your kitchen floor.
The Snacks: Beaver Nuggets. Jerky walls. Homemade fudge. They’ve got more snack options than a Cracker Barrel on Christmas Eve. The Merch: Where else can you get a “Don’t Mess with Texas” beach towel, a 64oz insulated tumbler, and a cast iron skillet all in one go? The Vibes: Country music, hot food, and people-watching galore. It’s like a redneck-themed amusement park without the height requirements.
The One Thing I Don’t Love: The Parking Lot
Listen, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it—Buc-ee’s parking lots are the Wild West. It’s like a demolition derby meets NASCAR meets a caffeine-fueled mom van with three screaming toddlers and a loose sippy cup rolling under the seat. And I hate it.
But—and this is a big Texas-sized but—with a little patience and some strategic parking lot ninja skills, you can survive it. And trust me: once you finally squeeze into that spot and make your way inside? Oh baby, it’s worth every near-fender-bender moment. Because on the other side of that asphalt war zone is pure joy in the form of warm brisket sandwiches and sparkling-clean stalls.
What the Haters Say:
“It’s too much.” — Oh, sorry Karen. Would you prefer the rundown gas station where the slushie machine hasn’t worked since 2007?
“It’s overwhelming.” — Life’s overwhelming, sweetheart. Get the brisket sandwich and push through.
“The merch is tacky.” — So am I, sometimes. We all contain multitudes.
“It’s just a glorified gas station.” — And I’m just a girl, standing in front of the snack wall, asking it to love me.
I’m seriously considering planning an entire Buc-ee’s-themed road trip. I could map out all the locations like it’s a patriotic pilgrimage—Georgia to Texas to Florida to Kentucky. Maybe I’ll even rank them based on their bathrooms, brisket-to-bun ratio, and how aggressive the guy in the Ford F-250 was pulling into pump #28 …wait, that’s mu husband. Oops. Could be a whole blog series. Maybe even a sticker for my laptop that says “I brake for beavers.”
Let’s be real: Buc-ee’s isn’t for everyone. But then again, neither am I. And if loving a gas station that doubles as a snack wonderland, souvenir superstore, and restroom utopia is wrong? Then baby, I don’t wanna be right.
So the next time you see that giant cartoon beaver smiling down from the highway sign, do yourself a favor—exit now. Get the nuggs. Get the jerky. Get the tee. Embrace the snacks. Brave the parking lot.
XOXO, Jani
Living that Beaver Believer life, one pit stop at a time.
Let me go ahead and say this right off the bat: my marriage doesn’t fit the mold of what you see in rom-coms or sappy social media posts. We don’t do daily forehead kisses or synchronized coffee sips on the porch swing. What we do have is a love that’s steady, seasoned, and strong enough to weather life’s messiest chapters—and that, my friends, is the kind of love that lasts.
Our marriage began after our kids were already grown. That meant we didn’t get the typical “start a life, raise a family, grow old together” path. We came into this already shaped by life—by heartaches, healing, and hard-earned wisdom. Ours is a blended family. One that didn’t grow together in the traditional sense but grew stronger by choice, by patience, and by the shared love we now pour into our grandchildren.
And oh, those grandbabies? They are the glue, the laughter, the chaos, and the calm all wrapped up in peanut butter fingerprints and belly giggles. Watching him be “Grrrr-pa” is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. That bond he has with them? It’s deep. It’s real. And it’s a reminder that love multiplies when it’s given freely, not just through blood, but through presence and consistency.
Now don’t get me wrong—love is beautiful. But it’s not always glamorous. It’s not always butterflies and breakfast in bed. Sometimes it’s holding each other up when the weight of the world feels too heavy. It’s middle-of-the-night medicine runs, deep sighs after long days, and showing up even when you don’t feel like it.
The truth is, love alone isn’t enough to sustain a marriage. You need commitment. You need maturity. You need someone who doesn’t flinch when life throws its ugliest punches. Because when it gets real—and I mean really real—romance alone won’t carry you. It’s character that will.
I know without question who will catch me if I fall. He may not recite sonnets or bring home flowers on random Tuesdays (though I wouldn’t complain), but he shows up in all the ways that matter. He stays. He tries. He loves me in the middle of the mess.
And that’s the secret, isn’t it? Forever isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about choosing each other again and again, especially when it’s hard to do. Especially when life isn’t shiny. Especially when love feels like work.
So if you’re out there thinking forever has to look a certain way—remember this: it’s not about how you started or even when. It’s about who stays when things get hard. It’s about who stands beside you—not just in the good times, but in the real ones.
And if you’re lucky, it’s about watching your grandkids dance around the living room, knowing that this is the kind of love that builds a legacy.
Let me go ahead and say it plain: MS is a hateful disease!And just like that high school bully, she shows up on her own terms, makes a mess, and dares you to deal with it. Lucky for me (cue sarcasm), I seem to have collected most of the symptoms on the MS menu like I was at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Go big or go home, right?
So let’s break it down—what are the common symptoms of MS?
Fatigue: Not just “I need a nap” tired. I mean bone-deep, soul-zapping fatigue that makes brushing your teeth feel like you just climbed Everest. Numbness/Tingling: Ever fall asleep on your arm and wake up feeling like it doesn’t belong to you? Imagine that—but random and recurring. Muscle Weakness: Sometimes my legs act like they’re new here. Walking can feel like dragging cinderblocks, even on a “good” day. Spasticity: That’s a fancy word for stiff muscles and spasms that feel like your limbs are doing their own interpretive dance. Balance Issues & Dizziness: No, I haven’t been day-drinking—I just live with a built-in wobble. Vision Problems: Blurry vision, double vision, even temporary vision loss—just a few of the visual party tricks MS likes to pull. Cognitive Fog (aka “Cog Fog”): My brain misfires more than a 1982 Ford Pinto. Forgetting words, blanking mid-sentence, mixing up names—it’s all part of the charm.
And now for the less common symptoms—the ones that make doctors scratch their heads and make you feel like you’re starring in an episode of “Mystery Diagnosis.”
Heat Intolerance: I can’t regulate my core temperature, y’all. One minute I’m freezing like Jack slipping off that damn door in Titanic, and the next I’m burning up like Mount Vesuvius is erupting inside me. Cold Sensitivity: On the flip side, cold weather can feel like I’m living in a walk-in freezer wearing wet socks. Bladder and Bowel Dysfunction: Dignity-stealing and inconvenient. Let’s leave it at that. Sexual Dysfunction: Oh yes, MS likes to screw up everything—even the fun stuff. Speech and Swallowing Problems: Occasionally, my mouth refuses to cooperate with my brain and I sound like I’ve had a mimosa too many. I haven’t. Mood Swings/Depression/Anxiety: Chronic illness is a mental battle too. Some days I’m fine, others I’m spiraling because my body won’t cooperate and my mind is tired of fighting.
Now, all of this sounds like a downer—and honestly, sometimes it is. I have a lot of days where I just want to stay home. My body aches. My nerves are shot. I feel like I’m living inside a body that forgot how to be a body. And yet—I square up and push on. I intentionally do things to help make daily life better for me.
As the years pass, I find myself dreaming of a day when I can set my own pace without guilt or pressure. That’s the goal. And I’m so grateful that my job gives me the flexibility to envision that kind of future. (Shout out to the travel industry for allowing me to work from anywhere—even from my recliner with a heating pad and a fan blowing at the same time.)
Here’s what I want to say to you—whether you’re living with MS, another illness, or just the exhausting weight of everyday life: you are not alone. Whatever it is you’re walking through, give yourself some grace. Take the nap. Cancel the plans. Or don’t—get dressed and go conquer the day. Just do it your way.
Because we all have something. And life? She doesn’t pause for anyone. So don’t let your “something” define you—just let it strengthen your fight.
disembarkation day. And let me tell you something: while I’ve loved every second of salty air and bottomless shrimp cocktails, I’m more than ready to get the heck off this ship.
Don’t get me wrong—
the cruise was fabulous. But after a week of eating like a Kardashian at an all-you-can-eat buffet and pretending I didn’t hear my bank account crying every time I passed the onboard shops, I’m ready to trade in these high seas
for my low country porch swing.
I’ve hit that point where my stretchy pants are begging for mercy, my back is screaming from pretending I’m 25 doing the Macarena at the deck party, and my face is saying
“Get me off this floating hotel before I turn into a human saltine!”
Now, disembarkation? It’s always a production. You’re given luggage tags and color codes like you’re in kindergarten and they’re telling you it’s snack time. The cruise staff is on the intercom at dawn, chirping, “Good morning, lovely guests, it’s time to disembark!” like it’s a blessing. Honey, I’m packed, zipped, and ready to sprint down that gangway!
I’m already imagining my own bed, my own bathroom, and not having to make awkward small talk with people I’ll never see again in my life. I miss my pups. I miss my coffee that doesn’t cost $14 a cup. And heaven help me, I even miss my laundry pile. OK. That was a lie.
Let’s be honest—when I travel, I travel hard. I love every second of it. But I’m also the girl who, on the last day, is 110% ready to go home. I’m basically standing by the cabin door with my suitcase in hand like, “Don’t make me late for my Uber to reality!”
So today, I say: farewell, ship life. You were good to me. But my porch, my coffee mug, and Cash & Shelbys wet noses and Bean’s need for attention are calling me home.
Last night, I stood on the balcony of my stateroom, surrounded by nothing but ocean. It was so dark—truly dark—with the exception of a soft glow where the moonlight stretched across the water’s surface. It was beautiful, and in that quiet moment, I let the peace of it settle into me.
It brought back a memory of a conversation I once had with Jarrett when he was deployed. He told me about being on the deck of the ship at night when they turned off every single light. There’s a term for it, though I can’t quite recall it now. But he described how the sky would be overcast, with no stars, no moonlight—just darkness. Complete and total. He said he could hold his hand up in front of his face and not see a thing. I can’t even begin to imagine what that kind of darkness feels like.
Sometimes, I think we create our own darkness. Whether it’s through worry, fear, or the weight of things we can’t quite let go of, we find ourselves in a space where we can’t—or won’t—let the light in. But here’s the thing: even in the deepest, stillest darkness, there’s almost always a hint of light, if we let ourselves see it.
That sliver of moonlight reminded me that it’s not about waiting for brightness to return—it’s about allowing ourselves to notice even the smallest glimmer. A little bit of light can go a long way. It can soften the edges, guide us forward, and remind us that darkness, no matter how complete it seems, is never quite as solid as it feels.
Life doesn’t come with an instruction manual—at least not one that’s been passed down with your grandma’s biscuit recipe. Instead, we spend years trying to figure out how to do this thing called life without totally losing our minds. But recently, I came across this list that gave me pause. It’s called “21 Cheat Codes for Life That No One Tells You,” and let me tell you—it’s like someone snuck into my soul, read my notes, and summed it all up.
Now, I’m not saying I have it all figured out (ha, as if!). But I do know a thing or two about navigating the twists and turns. So, I figured I’d share my take on these cheat codes—with a little Southern charm, a sprinkle of sass and a whole lotta truth.
1. Saying less gains more respect.
I’ve learned that silence can be more powerful than a well-timed one-liner. Sometimes, the loudest thing you can say is nothing at all.
2. Sleep fixes most problems.
This one is for the folks who think burning the midnight oil is a badge of honor. Trust me, get some shut-eye. That problem won’t seem nearly as bad in the morning.
3. One habit can change your life.
It’s the little things—daily walks, morning gratitude, cutting out the chaos—that add up to a whole new you.
4. People treat you how you allow.
Set those boundaries. Folks will only treat you as well—or as poorly—as you let them.
5. Confidence = keeping promises to yourself.
It’s not about walking into a room like you own it (though that’s fun too). It’s about honoring your word to you. That’s real confidence.
6. Focus beats talent.
I’ve seen plenty of talented people get nowhere because they couldn’t focus. Meanwhile, the ones who stay in their lane? They make magic happen.
7. Most arguments aren’t worth it.
Take it from me—let them be wrong. Your peace is worth more than being “right.”
8. Discipline > motivation.
Motivation is a mood; discipline is a choice. Even on the days when you don’t feel like it, show up.
9. Calm is a superpower.
When the storm hits, be the one who stays calm. Trust me, people notice.
10. Listening wins over talking.
God gave us two ears and one mouth for a reason. (My Gramma used to say that. She was right.)
11. Let go—most things don’t matter.
Life’s too short to carry all that baggage. Pack light, friends.
12. No one thinks about you that much.
That thing you’re obsessing over? No one else noticed. Let it go.
13. Show up even when you don’t feel like it.
Sometimes, the act of showing up—whether it’s to a meeting, a dinner, or just life—makes all the difference.
14. Learn to say no without guilt.
“No” is a complete sentence. Period.
15. The less you react, the more control you have.
Pause before you speak, respond, or post. You’ll thank yourself later.
16. Rich people buy assets, not stuff.
Lesson learned (and still learning): buy the things that make money, not the things that lose it.
17. Consistency beats intensity.
It’s not about doing all the things all at once. It’s about doing the right things, consistently.
18. Most people fake confidence—so can you.
If you’re waiting to feel ready, you’ll be waiting forever. Act “as if.”
19. Silence makes you mysterious and powerful.
Don’t underestimate the quiet ones. Mystery leaves ‘em guessing.
20. Time is your most expensive currency.
Spend it wisely. Invest in memories, not just moments.
21. Heal, or you’ll bleed on those who didn’t cut you.
Whew. This one hit me in the heart. Don’t carry your past hurts into your future relationships. Heal, friend. It’s worth it.
These cheat codes aren’t magic spells. They won’t make your life perfect. But they’re solid reminders that sometimes, it’s the simplest truths that pack the biggest punch.
I’m working on these every day. And if you’re reading this, I bet you are too. So, here’s to showing up, setting boundaries, and living this wild, beautiful, messy life the best way we know how.
You ever notice how, when you have health issues, everyone becomes a self-appointed fixer-upper specialist? It’s like I’ve got a little neon sign flashing above my head saying, “Needs Repairs!” and folks just can’t resist the urge to try to tighten a bolt or slap on a coat of paint.
Now, don’t get me wrong—I know they mean well. I get it. I know they love me and they’re coming from a place of kindness. But y’all… it gets old. Real old.
Here’s the thing:
I have MS.
I have depression.
I have anxiety and panic attacks.
And I am still not broken.
I’m not a puzzle missing a piece. I’m not a project in need of fixing. I’m not standing here with a big, gaping hole in my soul waiting for someone to come along and patch me up.
Sure, there are days when I feel like my body and my mind are tag-teaming to see how much chaos they can throw at me. Days when MS is doing its thing while depression decides to pull up a chair and get comfortable. But that doesn’t mean I’m broken.
I’m a whole person—with all my quirks, strengths, vulnerabilities, and yes, my struggles. But I’m also filled with love, determination, grit, and an annoying amount of stubbornness. I laugh, I cry, I work hard, I fight, and sometimes I just lay on the couch with my pets and binge old TV shows because that’s the kind of self-care that keeps me sane.
When people try to fix me—whether it’s suggesting a new diet, a miracle supplement, or “just be more positive” (cue the eyeroll)—it makes me feel like they don’t see me. They see my conditions. My diagnoses. My challenges.
But I am so much more than that.
I don’t need fixing. I need understanding.
I don’t need unsolicited advice. I need space to just be. And I need to be better at putting my hand up and saying, “stop.”
I don’t need anyone to swoop in with solutions. I need support—and sometimes, just someone to sit with me in silence.
You know what else I’ve realized? I’ve made the decision not to travel as much anymore. And this trip? This cruise? It showed me just how right I’ve been. I love traveling—I always will—but I’m not willing to push myself past my limits for the sake of the next destination. I’m trying to listen to my body and honor what it’s telling me.
I have health issues. No doubt. But I’m not broken.
I’m a little battered sometimes, but I’m also resilient.
I’m anxious, but I’m also brave.
I have depression, but I still find joy.
I have MS, but I’m still living my life—on my terms.
So to all the fixers out there—I see you, I appreciate your care, but you can put down the toolbox. I’m not broken. I’m just me.
Yesterday, I found myself sitting on this beautiful cruise ship, surrounded by great company, good food, and breathtaking ocean views…feeling a little homesick. And if you’ve known me long enough, you know heat, weight issues, and my back sometimes conspire to steal the fun right out of a trip. But today? Today’s different.
I woke up this morning with a new perspective and a reminder I’ve told so many of my clients: Leave room to just relax and enjoy. I mean, who am I if I come back from vacation needing another vacation because I tried to do all the things?
I’m a travel advisor, which means I feel this magnetic pull to learn everything possible when I travel. But today, I let myself just be. Tammy (my boss, my friend, my wise travel sister) and I had a long chat over room service about holding each other accountable for our health and wellness. Cindy and Trisha—you’re coming along for the ride whether you like it or not!
I sat on our balcony with my trusty fan, soaking in the sea air while booking a Disney trip for a client. I nearly melted like Olaf, but I didn’t mind one bit. For lunch, I plan to indulge in that incredible buffet pizza I keep raving about—and maybe grab a gelato for good measure. And today? I’ll finally break out my Gimbal and capture some cruise videos to share with you all.
I know my depression can creep up on me at times …NOT TODAY SATAN! Today I’m remembering to slow down, soak it all in, and remind myself that even I deserve to come back from vacation feeling refreshed and happy.
Here’s to salty air, sunshine, and giving myself permission to just be.
There’s something you should know about women who don’t have a lot of friends. Not because we’re cold. Not because we’re standoffish. Not because people we ‘re liked. But because life has taught us how to be selective—and not everybody deserves a seat at our table. And don’t get this wrong. Just because lots of people surround you, does not make them true friends!
Let me explain:
-We pick up on energy quick. We’ve walked into rooms and felt the tension before a single word was said.
-We don’t entertain drama. If it’s not peace or purpose, we’ll pass (mostly LOL).
-We’ve been betrayed by the ones we loved most. So now we move cautious—not cold. -We’re selective, not lonely.
-We’ve learned our alone time is often better than fake company.
-We don’t need a crowd to feel seen. That scares folks who rely on attention to feel important. -We’re not easy to fool. Experience taught us how to spot fake from real—and we’re not going back.
-Our peace is sacred. If we let you into our lives, it’s because your spirit aligned with ours. We’ve learned the hard way— not everyone who claps 👏 is cheering for you.
-We’ve got depth. Small talk and shallow energy don’t feed our souls. Real connection or nothing at all.
-We don’t move out of desperation. We move with discernment. The wrong people call that “standoffish.” And that’s fine.
And while we’re on the subject of truth-telling…
I’ve heard the whispers: “The blog just doesn’t sound like my friend Jani, so I just stopped reading it.”
Well, bless your heart… you weren’t reading it to begin with. 😏
Yes, I use my smart ChatGPT writing buddy to help me organize my thoughts—because my brain is like a blender most days. But don’t get it twisted: the sass, the snark, the soul? That’s ALL me. The best writing still comes from a real, flawed, passionate human.
All writers have someone polishing their work—editors, assistants, helpers. I just happen to use a tech-savvy one that doesn’t drink coffee or take bathroom breaks. But make no mistake: the humor, the depth, the Southern Fried Belle with a hint of Yankee directness? That’s mine. All mine.
The people who sit across from me every week over dinner, drinks, and girl talk? They know the unfiltered, unedited version of me. And they’ll tell you—what you read is me. Just with a few more commas.
And yes—I’ll be honest—I’m a little hurt. And a little mad. Because I’ve realized the loudest critics are often the ones who’ve always enjoyed knocking me down. The same people who serve up gaslighting and passive-aggressive jabs with a sweet tea smile and that good ol’ underhanded Southern “bless-your-heart” nonsense. 👀
But here’s the thing…
My true supporters? They see me now. They don’t need me to shrink or shape-shift to be palatable. They’re the ones who show up, who cheer me on, and who actually read the things I pour my heart into.
So if you’ve got time to scroll through TikTok, Facebook, Instagram, or X—but can’t take a second to support a friend who’s finally picking up a pen and writing from the gut? Well, kick rocks. 🪨
You may not like my writing voice—and you’re not wrong. Writing is different from talking. But make no mistake, baby—it’s still me. Every bold, sassy, soul-baring bit of it.
And if you don’t like it? Well… you know what to do.
