There are a few different versions floating around about where my name came from. The first one, and probably the most respectable, is that my mother’s family was Catholic. In a Catholic family, “Mary” is always a solid, go-to name. My mom is Mary Catherine. My grandmother was Catherine Haynes. So on and so forth. Basically, you’re either a Mary or a Catherine — those were your options.
My MotherMy Daddy
Now, as for “Jane,” the waters get a little murkier. I’ve heard plenty of stories, but the one my mother tells is that my daddy wanted to name me after a high school girlfriend named Jani Neal. Needless to say, my mother wasn’t about to let that fly. Still, my daddy called me Jani anyway. Is that the gospel truth? Who knows. That’s her story, and I let her keep it.
Ah…Young Love in the 60’s
My story, though? Oh, it’s my favorite — and probably not one my daddy would currently tell, considering he is a Sunday school teacher with a master’s in theology. Here’s how I see it: I’ve seen my parents’ wedding photos. My daddy looked like one of the Beatles. My mother looked like a flower child. They drove off in a Volkswagen with peace signs all over it. Add to that the little detail that I was born in 1969, right in the heart of the hippie movement, and well… let’s just say naming me Mary Jane feels a little too on the nose to be a coincidence.
And cute little me!
So, where did my name come from? According to my mother, it was tradition. According to her version of my daddy’s story, it was a girlfriend. But according to me? It was the Summer of Love, a VW bug, and a name that fit the times just a little too perfectly. 🌸✌️
Traveling is stressful enough without TSA snatching your favorite stuff out of your bag. Following their rules isn’t just about getting through security on time—it’s also about keeping everybody safe up there in the sky.
Now, TSA may have finally ditched the dreaded “shoes-off shuffle,” but they’re still hanging onto that little 3.4-ounce liquids rule like it’s the Ten Commandments. And as of now, they’ve decided three new items are a big ol’ NOPE in your checked bags.
The Big Offender: Cordless Hair Tools
Ladies (and gents, no judgment), if you swear by your cordless hair gadgets, listen up. TSA says those tools can stay at home. Why? Because some of them run on butane or gas cartridges, and apparently, the whole “exploding fire hazard in the cargo hold” thing isn’t a good look for anyone.
Here’s what just made the banned list:
Cordless curling irons or flatirons with gas cartridges Butane-fueled curling irons or flatirons Extra gas cartridges/refills for those irons
👉 Translation: if TSA finds these in your checked bag, they’ll yank your luggage faster than you can say “bad hair day.”
But here’s the twist: you can bring them in your carry-on—so long as they’ve got a safety cover that keeps them from turning on mid-flight. Oh, and your old-school corded hair tools? Those are still welcome in both carry-on and checked luggage.
The Fun Part: 9 Weird Things TSA Actually Lets You Bring
Now, while TSA is busy banning curling irons with an attitude problem, they’re totally fine with some truly bizarre items. If you’re a cowboy Harry Potter fan traveling with a live lobster and a string of Christmas lights, you’re golden.
Here are 9 head-scratchers that are totally TSA-approved:
Live Lobsters – Yes, you read that right. They just have to be in a clear, spill-proof container. (And no, they don’t need a boarding pass.)
Christmas Lights – Want to decorate your row on the plane? Go for it.
Cowboy Spurs – They’re fine, just not on your boots. Antlers – As long as they fit in the overhead bin. Talk about a carry-on conversation starter.
Harry Potter Wands & Lightsabers – TSA even joked, “May the force be with you.” Bless ‘em.
Coffee & Espresso Makers – If you need caffeine on standby, pack it up.
Magic 8 Ball – It can’t ride in your carry-on, but it’s welcome in checked bags. TSA even asked it, and apparently, “Outlook not so good.”
Sewing Machines – Allowed. Just make sure it’ll fit under the seat or in the bin.
Waffle Irons – So yes, you can take your waffle obsession on vacation.
Bottom Line
Cordless gas-powered hair tools? Forget it. But cowboy spurs, Christmas lights, and lobsters? TSA says sure, why not.
Moral of the story—before you pack your bag, hop on over to TSA’s full list online. It might just save you from having your luggage hijacked… or from having to explain why you tried to sneak a waffle iron through security.
Seriously—For most of my life, I was the rise & shine, go-getter kind of girl. You know the type—up before the alarm, coffee in hand, already halfway through a to-do list before most folks even rolled out of bed. Motivation wasn’t something I had to search for—it was just…me.
But then life, in its sneaky way, threw a few curveballs. First came what I like to call mentalpause (menopause, but with a heavy dose of mental chaos). Add in Covid and my multiple sclerosis, and suddenly the girl who used to wake up ready to conquer the world was more like, “Eh, let’s see what happens after this nap.”
Now, don’t get me wrong. The go-getter is still in there, but she’s pacing herself differently these days. Motivation doesn’t show up with a marching band anymore—it’s quieter, slower, sometimes harder to recognize. Some days, it’s simply getting out of bed, feeding the dogs, and calling that a win. Other days, it’s showing up for my clients, my family, or myself when I’d rather just pull the covers over my head.
The truth is, motivation shifts with seasons. What once looked like big goals and relentless energy now looks like small victories and choosing joy wherever I can find it. It’s not less—it’s just different.
And maybe that’s the biggest lesson: sometimes motivation isn’t about sprinting toward the next big thing. Sometimes it’s about honoring where you are, taking a breath, and reminding yourself that even in the blah seasons, you’re still moving forward.
For me, writing has never just been about putting words on paper—it’s about leaving little breadcrumbs of my life behind. Some days it’s a way to stretch my creative muscles, to play with words until they sound just right. Other days, it’s the only way I know to hold onto a memory that might otherwise slip through the cracks of time.
I’ve lived enough life to know how easily days blend together. Writing lets me freeze them in place—those big, joyful milestones, sure, but also the quiet, ordinary ones that mean just as much. One day, my grandchildren will be able to read these words and see not just the places I’ve traveled or the things I’ve done, but who I really was—sass, sarcasm, heart, and all.
Writing also feels like a gift I get to share. Sometimes it’s a story that makes someone laugh, other times it’s a reflection that helps someone feel a little less alone. Whether I’m jotting down travel tips, sharing memories from my own winding road, or just rambling about life’s absurdities, I like to think that maybe, in some small way, it helps.
So what do I enjoy most about writing? It’s the mix of all of it—the creativity, the record-keeping, the connection. Writing is my way of saying, “I was here. This mattered. These words are mine, but they’re also for you.”
Well y’all, I think it’s safe to say our Agent Training Day this past Saturday was a huge success! Not only did we pack a ton of information into the day, but the simple act of gathering together, laughing, and swapping stories was a win in itself. There’s nothing like the energy of being surrounded by people who love this business as much as you do.
Learning, Laughing, and Leveling Up
We had an incredible lineup of guest trainers who brought their A-game. Mousumi with Delta Vacations gave us a much-needed refresher on SkyMiles—how to use them when booking packages and even smarter ways to work the platform for marketing and training. Let me tell you, it’s always good to be reminded of those little tips and tricks that make such a big difference for our clients.
Then came Clarence with Norwegian Cruise Line—and let’s just say, wow. Between the gorgeous ships, exciting destinations, and the insider info he shared, my bucket list may have grown by about five cruises in the space of an hour. More importantly, we all left better equipped to help our clients find that perfect fit at sea.
And of course, our very own Julie, our fabulous BDM with Hyatt Inclusive. If you’ve traveled with me—or followed along on my trips—you’ve probably seen me in and out of some of Hyatt’s incredible properties: Secrets, Breathless, Dreams, Ziva, Zilara, Zoëtry… the list goes on. They truly have something for everyone, from budget-friendly to full-on luxury. Bonus? Julie is also my neighbor here in Taylorsville, proving that “buy local” doesn’t just apply to produce at the farmer’s market.
Looking Ahead
One of the most exciting takeaways from Saturday is the launch of our quarterly training sessions. These are going to give us even more opportunities to dig deeper into destinations, marketing strategies, and industry updates. Because here’s the truth: the more we know, the more we can do to help YOU plan unforgettable vacations.
So, cheers to a successful training day and to many more ahead. I can’t wait to see how what we learned translates into even better adventures for our clients.
Last night was one for the books, y’all. We started out wholesome enough—bowling with my kiddos and friends. Laughter, gutter balls, and just enough strikes to keep us humble. From there, we rolled (pun intended) right into Jake’s for a little get-together.
Now, let me set the scene: Tasha, Tyra, and Hayden had been in the kitchen all day working on dinner. Tyra, of course, had little Harvey attached like a permanent accessory because, well—he’s a baby, and that’s what babies do. Smelling food cooking all afternoon while trying to wrangle family into one house? That’s its own kind of sport.
But what were we really gathering for? Oh honey, it wasn’t just dinner. We were there for the TV event of the night: The Redneck Brawl—LIVE from Tennessee.
Yes, that’s a real thing.
Picture this: a boxing ring straight out of a smoky backwoods bar, mullets flowing in the breeze of the ceiling fan, PBR’s flying through the crowd like confetti, and ring girls in boots and bikinis strutting their stuff while shaking those big number cards (and let’s be honest…shaking everything else, too).
And then came the fighters. All 31 bouts of them.
The Lineup (with my two cents, because how could I not?):
STORMY vs SADIE LYNN – I’m guessing this feud started over the last Marlboro at a cookout.
WARDOG vs CHOP – Pretty sure Chop got his name from a lawnmower incident.
423 COWBOY vs COWBOY CURTIS – Too many cowboys, not enough dental insurance.
ONE-TOOTH HILLBILLY vs HILL BOB – Spoiler: Hillbilly lost the tooth to Hill Bob years ago.
WIRECUTTERS vs BACKWOODS BRAWLER – Sounds less like a fight, more like a felony.
ITALLION STALLION vs TARZAN – Mispronounced “Italian,” but at least Tarzan wore pants. I think.
COUNTRY vs RIGHT HOOK – Betting odds weren’t great for Country.
TENNESSEE WHISKEY vs CITY COWBOY – Winner got a shot of Jack and a belt buckle.
WILD WOOD vs SEXY BOO BABE – Guess who got booed? Not Babe.
WALKERDOG vs TINY – Tiny was not, in fact, tiny. Shocker. CRAZY SHADY vs HOSSIE – Eminem would sue if he saw this. HOLLER COLOSSUS vs SMOKEY MT. REDNECK – Can’t lie, I’d buy that pay-per-view poster.
TATER vs KNOCKOUT CRYBABY – Potatoes were mashed. Feelings too.
VANILLA GORILLA vs BEAST OF MIDDLE EAST – Ring announcer’s tongue tied itself in knots.
APPALACHIAN ANNIHILATOR vs HILLBILLY – Just “Hillbilly.” No frills. No teeth either.
BIG RED vs HUMAN HIGHLIGHT – Honestly, should’ve been the main event.
DUI SHY vs BOUNTY MAMMA – One drove to the fight, the other posted bail.
METH MOUNTAIN MANIAC vs HOOK HOGAN – No relation to Hulk. Sadly.
PLAYBOY vs TAYLOR FROM THE TRAILER – The trailer park deserves better representation.
JAY DRONE vs TENNESSEE PATRIOT – One vapes, one waves a flag. Both winded by round two.
PEEKABOO vs SHEEN GREEN – Peekaboo came out swinging… then hid.
BOCEPHUS vs HOLLER BRAWLER – If Hank Jr. didn’t walk out, I’m disappointed.
SCARECROW vs INDIANA LUMBERJACK – Honestly sounds like a horror flick I’d accidentally watch.
MACHOMAN vs GIRTHQUAKE – Ohhh yeahhh… the earth did move.
NYQUIL vs CHANEL – Sleep aid vs perfume. Nobody wins. TENNESSEE CORNBREAD vs SASQUATCH – The carbs fought the hair. Who ya got?
BABY DADDY vs THE HUSBAND – Thanksgiving dinners just got awkward.
LIL LARRY vs LIL FIRE – Lil fight. Lil audience. Lil dignity. LUCKY vs BARBIE JESS – Spoiler: Barbie Jess had more fight in her press-ons than Lucky had in his fists.
T-BONE THE MT. MAN vs GEORGIA OUTLAW – Naturally, I rooted for Georgia.
LIL TERRY vs LIL SMOKEY – Sounds like a rap battle at Golden Corral.
🥊 Top 5 Craziest Matchups of the Night
Baby Daddy vs The Husband – Thanksgiving dinners are never going to be the same again. Who got the stuffing, who got the turkey leg, and who got the ex?
One-Tooth Hillbilly vs Hill Bob – Winner takes the tooth. Loser takes the moonshine jug. Dental plan not included.
DUI Shy vs Bounty Mamma – Honestly felt like a court case waiting to happen. Spoiler: one of them left with a warrant. Tater vs Knockout Crybaby – Never in my life did I expect to cheer “Go Tater!” but here we are. Mashed. Fried. Served hot. MachoMan vs Girthquake – Ohhh yeahhh! The earth shook, the crowd screamed, and I think somebody’s knee still hasn’t recovered.
And yes, some fighters didn’t even make it to the ring—eliminated due to intoxication. Only in Tennessee, folks.
The trash talk was as wild as the punches. My personal favorite? A woman screaming across the ropes: “I’m finna rock yo meat box!” (No, I cannot explain it. I can only repeat it.)
All in all, it was part wrestling, part family reunion, and part circus. And the best part? It was exactly as redneck and ridiculous as you’re imagining.
The Redneck King!
Life’s about balance, right? A little family, a little food, and a whole lotta Redneck Brawl.
Today is the day—Take Time To Travel’s Agent Training Day!
I can’t tell you how excited I am to spend time with not only a few of our new home-based agents but also our senior agents who bring so much wisdom and experience to the table. We’ll be discussing, learning, sharing ideas, and just soaking in all the travel knowledge we can. One of my favorite parts of this business is that we never, ever stop learning. The travel world is constantly changing—new destinations, new cruise ships, new resort perks, and let’s not even start on airline “surprises.” The more we know as advisors, the better we are at planning the very best getaways for YOU.
So, if you ever wonder why your travel advisor seems obsessed with training, conferences, or webinars—it’s because this is how we make sure you get the absolute best experience possible. Think of us as your vacation matchmakers, always sharpening our skills to make those dream trips come true. ✈️🌴
And after a full day of all that goodness, I’m off to dinner at Jake’s tonight (with the grandkids, of course). My sweet mother-in-law will be here too, all the way from Oklahoma. I miss having her close by, so I’m soaking up every minute. All in all, it’s shaping up to be a wonderful weekend—work, family, and a whole lot of love. 💛
Here’s to learning, laughing, and planning unforgettable journeys.
Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?
Oh, this one’s easy. I adored my Trixie Belden collection—I tore through those mysteries like they were chocolate truffles. But if we’re talking about one book that left a mark? That would be Watership Down.
I was in fourth grade, minding my own business in the school library, when that big, bunny-filled adventure practically leapt off the shelf into my hands. I checked it out… and, well… I never checked it back in. Yep, I became an unintentional literary outlaw at age nine. That book sat on my nightstand for years, its cover worn and pages slightly crinkled from my endless rereads. And no, I don’t regret it. Those rabbits became my friends, my heroes, and—let’s be honest—my first brush with epic storytelling that didn’t involve princesses or fairy godmothers.
The truth is, I’ve always had an absolute love of reading. As a kid, the worst punishment possible would be to take my books away. When my daddy built our new home, he even made my bed into a little reading nook just for me. I lived for that space. For all the things my mother did wrong, she gave me that love of books—and I’m grateful. Honestly, I think it was in my blood. My Gramma and Grampa (her parents) were always reading, too.
When my boys were little, I made sure that love of reading was passed on. Every single night, I’d read to them. When Harry Potter first came out, I decided it would be our bedtime book. Jarrett was still a little young to follow every twist, but he loved it anyway. Jake was about five and soaked up every single word, especially since I read with full animation like I was auditioning for the audiobook. At the end of each chapter (we did one a night), I’d turn the page, read the first paragraph of the next chapter… then snap the book shut. Oh, the dramatic groans I got! But you know what? They were always more than ready for bed the next night to find out what happened next.
Some kids had Charlotte’s Web. I had a band of rebel rabbits, a reading nook, and a family tradition of falling asleep to the sound of a good story.
Let’s talk travel freedom, my fellow passport-toting Americans. Turns out, we’ve got it pretty darn good when it comes to globe-trotting — if you can find the time off work and the airline miles to make it happen.
According to the fancy-schmancy Henley Passport Index, the U.S. passport gets you into about 182 countries either visa-free or with a visa on arrival. Translation: you can just stroll (or stumble, depending on your travel style) through immigration without months of paperwork and a blood sample.
What does that mean in plain English?
Visa-free: You show up, they stamp your passport, you’re in. Easy-peasy. Visa on arrival: Same deal, but you fill out a form and pay a small fee when you land. Think of it like paying cover at a club — except the “club” is a country, and the bouncer has a uniform and a very serious face. eVisa / ETA: You apply online before you leave, but it’s quick. Like ordering DoorDash, only instead of tacos you’re getting entry into Thailand.
The Numbers Game
Depending on who’s counting and how picky they are about definitions:
182 – The most common figure, visa-free or visa on arrival. 170–185 – If you throw in eVisas and electronic travel authorizations. 117 – If you’re being super strict and only count true visa-free countries (no forms, no fees).
Bottom line? You can see a whole lotta the world without spending months begging for a stamp.
A Few Catches (Because There’s Always a Catch)
The Rules Change. One minute Brazil’s wide open, the next they want an eVisa. Time Limits Exist. Some countries let you stay 90 days, others only 30. And no, “but I’m having so much fun!” won’t extend your stay. Not All Passports Are Equal. That blue book in your pocket is a privilege — some countries only have visa-free access to 40–50 places.
Moral of the Story?
If you’ve got the passport, the PTO days, and the wanderlust — go! We’ve got access to nearly the whole planet without turning our lives into a visa application nightmare. Just don’t forget to check entry requirements before you book, because nothing ruins a vacation like getting turned away at the border.
I ask myself this at least once a week—usually while stepping over a pair of Basset ears stretched across the floor like a speed bump. Shelby is creeping up on 10, Cash is coming up on 9, and Bean just turned 11 (and would like you to know he’s still the supervisor of this household). These three have been the soundtrack of our lives—tail thumps, contented snores, and that dignified little “mrrrp” from Bean when dinner is two minutes late.
And yet the math is just plain rude. We get maybe a decade—if we’re lucky a little more—of their entire, whole-hearted everything. They give us so much in such brief lives. Why can’t they stay?
The cruel time math (and the gift hiding inside it)
Dogs and cats live on fast-forward. They pack an entire saga—childhood, teens, wise old soul—into the span of a few of our chapters. It’s unfair. But somewhere in that crunch of days is the lesson I keep relearning: love out loud, now. Pets don’t future-trip. They celebrate Tuesday like it’s Mardi Gras because the sunbeam hit the rug just right. They remind us that ordinary moments are the good stuff we’ll miss later.
Shelby teaches joyful ritual—slow morning sniffs and evening porch sits like it’s a religion. Cash teaches resilience (that boy has ridden the health roller coaster and still greets life like it owes him belly rubs). Bean? He’s the master of presence. When he parks himself on my laptop with that 11-year-old gravitas, it’s not to be annoying—it’s to say, “Be here.” I hear you, sir.
Anticipatory grief is real (and you’re not dramatic)
If you’ve loved an old pet, you know this dance: one day they’re zooming; the next they’re a little stiff; then suddenly the white on the muzzle looks like powdered sugar. You find yourself memorizing the weight of their head on your knee, the exact pitch of the dinner bark, the smell of warm dog after a nap. That’s not being morbid—that’s your heart taking pictures.
So what do we do with the time we have?
Here’s what I’m doing with my trio, and maybe it’ll help you with yours:
Make a “small joys” list and actually do it. Extra car rides (windows cracked, ears flapping), a weekly peanut-butter spoon ceremony, new snuffle mats, fresh catnip for the Bean Boss. Turn routines into rituals. Morning yard patrol becomes “Shelby’s Sunrise Tour.” Bedtime treat becomes “Cash’s Crunchy Curtain Call.” It sounds silly. It works. Record the ordinary. Thirty-second videos of their goofy walk, their snore, that little pre-nap circle. You’ll want the sounds later. Paw prints & nose boops. A clay paw print, a smudged nose print on paper, a lock of fur in a tiny vial—tangible love notes for future you. Invite them into your life, not just your house. Errands, quick drives, lazy porch time, Sunday afternoon football naps—bring them along for the nothing moments.
Senior-pet TLC (from a seasoned pet momma)
I am not your veterinarian, but after years of being in and around vet-med—and loving seniors with my whole heart—here’s what helps:
Twice-a-year checkups once they’re “distinguished.” Catch the little stuff early. Comfort first. Cushy beds, rugs on slick floors, a ramp for the couch and car. Pride is lovely; pain relief is lovelier. Keep ‘em lean and moving. Short, happy walks; gentle play; sniffaris (a slow walk where their nose leads and time doesn’t matter). Brain games. Puzzle feeders, hide-and-seek treats, new routes. Bean votes for window perches and judging the neighborhood. Teeth matter. Cleanings, chews your vet approves, and quick daily brush-bys if they’ll allow it. Supplements & meds—only with your vet. Omega-3s, joint support, and whatever your doc recommends. Comfort is the goal, not a marathon.
Let yourself love them “too much”
People say, “Don’t get too attached.” Bless their hearts. That’s the whole point. If love could add years, my hounds would be applying for AARP and Bean would be collecting Social Security with a pearl collar. We can’t make the clock stop, but we can make every tick count.
So tonight I’ll do what I do most nights: scratch Shelby’s velvet ears, tell Cash he’s the best boy that ever boy’d, and let Bean choose which side of the pillow is mine. I’ll take too many photos and not apologize. I’ll thank God for the fur, the noise, the muddy paw prints, and the way they make even an ordinary Tuesday feel like a holiday.
Why can’t our pets live longer? I don’t know. But while they’re here, I’m going to love them like time forgot.
