Journeys With Jani

Bean. Shelby. Cash.

April 6, 2025

The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

What animals make the best/worst pets?

From someone who lives with two snoring Bassets, a cat who healed her heartbreak, and a whole lot of opinions.

Let’s get something straight: I love animals. But not all of them are meant to live in your house, hog your blankets, or judge your snacking habits like a disappointed Southern aunt. I’ve got opinions, and I’ve got experience—namely in the form of two dramatic Basset Hounds named Cash and Shelby, and one unexpected little hero of a cat named Bean. So here’s my take on which animals make the best—and bless their hearts—worst pets.

Best Pets (Most Days)

Basset Hounds: Oh honey, let me tell you. Cash and Shelby are two short-legged, long-eared, emotionally unstable lovebugs who run the show around here. They’re like having two dramatic toddlers who are convinced they’re the stars of their own reality show. They’re loyal to a fault, have a nose that leads them into chaos daily, and snore like chainsaws. And yet? They are pure love on four stumpy legs. If you can handle drool, drama, and daily naps with a side of stubbornness—you’ll never find better companions.

Shelby-Girl

My Cash – The Best Boy Ever

Cats: Specifically, Bean—my little unexpected sidekick. I didn’t want a cat. I was working in Vet-Med, I’d seen enough cats to know what I was getting into. Not to mention, my housemate & bestie had like, FIVE! But then my son was leaving for Japan (Semper Fi!), and there I was—trying to be brave, hiding the heartbreak. Someone handed me this tiny, five-week-old ball of fluff with a motorboat purr and eyes too big for his head. And just like that, I wasn’t alone. Bean wiped my tears, made me laugh, and clawed his way into my heart (and occasionally, my furniture). He’s sweet, sensitive, slightly unhinged, and exactly what I didn’t know I needed.

The Bean

Worst Pets (Bless ‘Em, but No Thanks)

Okay, let’s not call them the worst… let’s call them “not for me.” Anything that needs a heat lamp, eats live bugs, or might escape and show up in my laundry room at 2am? Hard pass. Lizards? Very cool. Love to admire them from a distance. But I’m not built for pet ownership that involves thermostat management and crickets on auto-ship. Respect to those who are—I salute you. Truly. But this gal needs fur, eye contact, and a personality big enough to match my own.

The Final Word:

Pets are like people—some are weird, some are wonderful, some are downright exhausting. But when you find the ones that fit your life and fill your heart? Hold on tight. Whether you’re a dog devotee, a cat whisperer, or someone who just really loves lizards, your perfect pet is out there. Mine just happen to snore, shed, and steal snacks.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

XOXO, Jani

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Some Days, I Just Can’t…

April 5, 2025

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Today was one of those days.

Not a meltdown day. Not a catastrophe. Just… still.

I didn’t shower. I didn’t clean. I didn’t talk—out loud.

I watched TV. I worked on some content. I poked around my weekly schedule. That’s about it.

Some days, I feel perfectly fine. Solid. Functional. Even funny.

Other days? It’s like I’ve never dealt with a damn thing in my life.

My mind is a magician. A good one. She’s got a whole stage show going—spotlights, mirrors, applause. She can make you think I’ve got it all together. Honestly, she can make me believe it too.

But just when the illusion feels real, she reaches down into that fancy top hat and pulls out a rabbit.

Only it’s not a fluffy little bun-bun.

It’s a hideous, twisted thing. A reminder. A trigger. A memory I thought I’d burned.

Most of the time, I’m pretty quick. I stuff that monster back down into the hat and smile through the final act. The crowd never even notices.

But not today.

Today, I just… let it be. Quiet. Still.

It’s not defeat. It’s not weakness. It’s just part of it.

And it works—for the most part.

No hashtags. No call to action. Just truth.

XOXO, Jani

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Maybe I’m Not an Introvert… I Just Like My Peace

April 5, 2025

Eat, Pray, Love, The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

California Dreaming…

For the last couple of years, I truly thought I had crossed over to the dark side. That I had suddenly become an introvert. I mean, I found myself turning down plans. Preferring a cozy night in with my dogs and a good book over going out. Actually enjoying the silence. Who even was I?

But then it hit me, clear as day:

I’m not an introvert. I just love being at peace.

And I’m still wildly extroverted around the people who bring me that peace.

Give me a room full of folks who feel like sunshine on a hard day, and suddenly I’m the same loud, laughing, storytelling, joke-cracking, dance-floor-dominating me. But stick me in a crowd full of chaos, small talk, or fake energy? I’ll be clinging to the nearest exit faster than you can say “nope.”

See, I used to think solitude meant something was wrong with me. That needing alone time meant I had changed. But peace? Peace isn’t loneliness. It’s a soul exhale. It’s choosing quality over quantity. It’s recognizing who and what drains you—and who and what fills your cup until it’s overflowing.

I’ve learned to stop labeling myself. I’m not introvert or extrovert. I’m just someone who has finally learned how sacred peace is—and how damn good it feels to protect it.

So if you see me out, and I’m quiet, don’t assume I’ve changed.

And if you see me lighting up like a firework around certain people, know this:

Those are my people.

That is my peace.

And I’m still very much me.

XOXO, Jani

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Mental-Pause Meets MS: A Saucy Southern Take on Fog, Fire & Forgetfulness

April 4, 2025

The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

Beautiful …but glitching like an old VHS tape!

Let’s talk about a magical time in a woman’s life when her hormones decide to pack up and leave without a forwarding address. That’s right, menopause. Or as I lovingly (and sarcastically) refer to it: Mental-Pause. Now, take all that hormonal havoc, toss in some Multiple Sclerosis for flavor, and you’ve got yourself one heck of a neurological jambalaya.

Brain Fog? Honey, I Live in a Full-On Cognitive Cloud

Now, I’ve been living with MS since 2011. So brain fog and I? We’re old frenemies. But throw in menopause? That’s when things got spicy. Forget walking into a room and not remembering why—I’m lucky if I remember what day it is, where my coffee is, or if I actually shampooed my hair or just imagined it in the shower.

It’s like playing a lifelong game of “Where’s Waldo?” except Waldo is my vocabulary, and he keeps moving.

Hot Flashes + MS Heat Sensitivity = Satan’s Sauna

Now let’s talk body temperature, shall we? Menopause comes in hot—literally. Hot flashes that feel like your insides just spontaneously combusted. But MS? Oh, she hates the heat. Too much warmth and my whole nervous system turns into dial-up internet circa 1998.

Picture it: One minute I’m chilling with a fan, the next I’m melting like a Georgia peach cobbler on the dash of a Dodge Ram in August. MS says, “Too hot? Let’s shut down your limbs.” Menopause chimes in with, “Also… here’s a night sweat the size of Lake Lanier.” Bless it.

Mood Swings, Memory Loss & Mayhem

Hormones gone wild? Check. Neurological misfires? Check. Emotional rollercoaster? Buckle up, sugar. Some days I go from teary-eyed to ready to throat punch someone over a crooked throw pillow.

And the kicker? Everyone says, “You look great!” Well, thank you kindly, Karen—but that’s just good lighting, under-eye concealer, and the fact that I forgot what I was mad about five minutes ago.

Finding the Funny (Because Sanity Is Overrated)

Look, I could cry. I have. I do. But most days? I laugh. Because this chaotic cocktail of menopause and MS is just too ridiculous not to. My body may be glitching like an old VCR tape, but my sense of humor? Still sharp as a tack (on most days… unless I forget the word for ‘tack’ and call it a “wall stabby-thing”).

So to all my fellow warriors out there—whether you’re battling brain fog, melting in your own skin, or both—I see you. I get you. And I raise my lukewarm coffee mug in solidarity (because I forgot where the hot one went).

We may forget half the day, but we never forget how to fight… and how to laugh while doing it.

XOXO, Jani

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Sneaky Snake and Crocodile Rock

April 3, 2025

The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

Me

My daddy had custody of me from the time I was around four. This was the early ’70s, so that alone raised some eyebrows. But whenever I did go visit my mother, it was… well, an experience.

She had moved to Atlanta to sing in nightclubs—and she was good. I mean really good. At one point, RCA Records even approached her with a contract. Why she didn’t sign it? That’s one of those long-winded family mysteries. I’ve heard her version, I’ve heard his version, and somewhere in the foggy middle lies the truth—probably twisted up with a little pride, a little pain, and a whole lot of what if.

During those visits, I was usually left with a nighttime babysitter while she hit the clubs. But one morning—one very specific morning—she came to pick me up still dressed in full-on nightclub mode. She was wearing all black: tight pants, a sheer chiffon blouse that left very little to the imagination, and her signature shag haircut. Say what you will, but she was an absolutely stunning woman. Beautiful, bold, and a little bit dangerous.

We walked outside to a white El Camino—not hers, of course. Those things were like a two-seater coupe mixed with a station wagon and a lowrider truck. Basically, the mullet of automobiles. She opened the passenger side door so I could perch on the little console between the seats.

That’s when I saw him.

In the driver’s seat was a man—decked out in a white, bedazzled jumpsuit. Think Elvis, but not the young, hip-shaking heartthrob. No, this was late-stage, sweat-drenched, post-divorce Elvis. The kind with sideburns, a paunch, and enough rhinestones to blind a preacher.

My mom, cool as ever, gestured toward him and said,

“Sweetie, this is Uncle……..”

Because every man in her life was magically transformed into “Uncle” something when I was around.

But before she could finish, he leaned over with a big grin and said,

🚩“But you can call me… Sneaky Snake.” 🚩

Yes.

That happened.

He said that. Out loud. To a child.

And just to make sure the moment was fully seared into my brain, Crocodile Rock was blaring on the FM radio like the universe itself was cackling at the scene.

So there I sat, sandwiched between a hungover nightclub singer in sheer chiffon and a sweaty rhinestone-stuffed stranger who introduced himself as Sneaky Snake, with Elton John howling about happy times and rockin’ feet.

And that, my friends, is just one of many reasons I have a dark sense of humor, trust issues, and a love for storytelling that’s equal parts therapy and entertainment.

Oh, the joys of my childhood. Bless it.

About the Author– I am a southern-born, Yankee-educated, sassy storyteller with a suitcase full of memories and a heart full of grit. When I’m not planning luxury getaways with Take Time To Travel, I’m spinning tales from a childhood that was equal parts chaos and charm. Stick around—this is just one gem from a treasure chest of stories you won’t believe (but absolutely happened).

XOXO, Jani

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Why Do I Know Every Word to “Upside Down” but Can’t Remember What I Had for Dinner?

April 3, 2025

The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

This morning on my way into the office, I had Sirius XM on (I think it was The Groove—though let’s be honest, my memory’s not exactly known for specifics these days). Anyway, Diana Ross’s “Upside Down” starts playing, and y’all…

Why do I know EVERY. SINGLE. WORD?

Like, every inflection, every “boy, you turn me…”—I was full-on car concert mode. Eyes on the road, hand gestures on point, hitting those “hey-ey-ey!” moments like I was channeling Miss Ross herself.

But here’s the thing:

Don’t ask me what wine I had with dinner last night.

Don’t ask me what I was doing yesterday at 4:37 p.m.

Don’t even ask me where I set down my phone 30 seconds ago.

But song lyrics from 1980? Locked. In. Solid.

What kind of brain voodoo is that?

It’s like my mind’s got this magical vault for lyrics—especially from the good stuff—but can’t be bothered to hold onto the everyday essentials. Like whether I took my vitamins or if I responded to that one email from three days ago (I probably didn’t. Sorry.).

But here’s what I’ve decided: I’m not gonna fight it.

I may not be your girl for remembering grocery lists or appointment times, but if you need someone to jump in on a Motown moment or belt out some Donna Summer at karaoke? I’m your ride-or-die. I’ve got backup vocals, interpretive dance moves, and attitude on tap.

So cheers to musical muscle memory, 80s grooves, and the sweet sweet magic of Diana Ross.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a playlist to build and a pretend microphone to find.

XOXO, Jani

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How I Adapted to the Changes Brought on by the COVID-19 Pandemic

April 2, 2025

The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

How have you adapted to the changes brought on by the Covid-19 pandemic?

When the world shut down in 2020, a lot of us were forced to take a long, hard look at our lives. For me, it was a wake-up call—loud and clear. I had been working in veterinary medicine, grinding myself into the ground, and let’s be honest… that industry, especially during the pandemic, could chew you up and spit you out. It took a serious toll on both my mental and physical health. At some point, I realized: no amount of money was worth losing me.

So, I walked away.

I took some much-needed time off, caught my breath, and eventually followed my heart right into the world of travel. Becoming a travel advisor wasn’t just a career change—it was a full-on life pivot. Planning adventures, creating joy, helping people rediscover the world… that’s where I found my peace. And my passion. I haven’t looked back since.

The pandemic brought out the worst in some folks and the absolute best in others. But isn’t that what always happens when the world gets flipped upside down? It exposes what’s already underneath. For me, it revealed strength I didn’t even know I had.

Now, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have a few lingering worries—especially around the vaccines I needed because of my MS and working in the medical field at the time. That stuff lingers in the back of your mind. But at the end of the day… que sera, sera.

We keep moving. We keep adapting. And if we’re lucky, we find our joy on the other side.

XOXO, Jani

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Convertible Cruisin’ & Island Vibes: A Florida Keys Escape You’ll Never Forget

April 2, 2025

Travel Advice

By Jani Aylsworth-Gunter, Take Time To Travel

The Florida Keys …just drive!

There’s just something about the Florida Keys that hits different. It’s like the second you leave Miami behind and hit the road with the top down (because yes, you’re definitely renting a convertible or a Jeep for this one), your blood pressure drops and your vacation soul takes over.

Let me walk you through one of my favorite tropical escapes—perfect for couples, a girls’ trip, or just anyone in need of some sun, salt air, and that laid-back island magic.

Miami and the Seven Mile Bridge!

Fly into Miami, Baby

Book an early morning flight into Miami and waste no time. Grab your bags, pick up your ride (go convertible if you’re feeling a little glam, Jeep if you’re feeling a little wild), and hit the road headed south on the legendary Overseas Highway.

This isn’t just a drive, y’all. It’s an experience.

Picture this: turquoise water on both sides, palm trees dancing in the wind, and the Seven Mile Bridge stretching out in front of you like something out of a movie. Don’t rush it. Stop for photos, a key lime slushie, or just to take in the views.

Isla Bella Beach Resort Feels Like Heaven!

Marathon: Mid-Key Magic

Your first stop? Isla Bella Beach Resort in Marathon.

This place is absolutely stunning. Think swaying hammocks, private balconies, and the kind of pool that makes you want to cancel all your plans and just lounge. But you won’t, because there’s plenty to see and do here.

Snorkeling …and Christ of The Abyss

Things to do in Marathon:

• Turtle Hospital – A must-do for animal lovers! Learn how they rescue and rehab sea turtles.

• Sunset Cruise – I can help you book one with champagne and all the island vibes.

• Sombrero Beach – A local favorite. Pack a picnic and soak up the sun.

Where to eat:

• Burdines Waterfront – A casual marina spot with killer hush puppies and fried key lime pie. (Yes. Fried. Key. Lime. Pie.)

• Hideaway Café – More upscale, romantic, and tucked away. A total hidden gem.

Key West is Quirky …and so much fun!

Key West: Quirky, Cool, and So Full of Life

After a few nights in Marathon, it’s time to make your way down to the end of the road—literally. Welcome to Key West, where the roosters run wild and the good times never stop.

Check into the Casa Marina Key West, Curio Collection by Hilton—a beachfront beauty with old-school charm and that perfect location just steps from the action but still serene enough to hear the ocean.

Things to do in Key West:

• Hemingway Home & Museum – Come for the history, stay for the six-toed cats.

• Southernmost Point – Snap that iconic photo. Touristy? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.

• Duval Street – Bars, boutiques, drag shows, galleries… it’s everything and then some.

• Sunset at Mallory Square – Street performers, snacks, and a view that’ll knock your flip-flops off.

Places to eat & sip:

• Blue Heaven – Outdoor, funky, and full of personality (and chickens). Get the banana pancakes or shrimp & grits.

• Latitudes on Sunset Key – You’ll need a boat ride to get there (included with your res!), but this romantic spot is top-notch.

• El Siboney – Authentic Cuban food in a no-frills setting. So good.

The Hemingway House and those Cats w/ 6-toed Murder Mittens!

Wrap It All Up in Style

After soaking up all that sunshine, seafood, and sweet island living, return your rental car at the Key West Airport and hop on your flight home, sun-kissed and soul-happy.

Let Me Plan Your Keys Escape!

I’ll handle all the logistics—flights, cars, resorts, excursions, and restaurant recs. You just pack your sunnies and your sense of adventure.

Life is one big journey—and I’m sharing mine, one mile and one moment at a time. Subscribe to follow along.

Ready to feel that island breeze in your hair? Let’s make it happen.

– Jani, your go-to gal at Take Time To Travel, 770-334-2256

The Take Time To Travel Team – Cindy, Jani, Tammy, Trisha, Krystal

Life is one big journey—and I’m sharing mine, one mile and one moment at a time. Subscribe to follow along.

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My Morning Rituals: An Hour of Reiki, Royalty, and Real Life

April 1, 2025

The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

What are your morning rituals? What does the first hour of your day look like?

I so love these little prompts…

Before I even get out of bed, I give myself a little Reiki session. It’s about five minutes of calming, intentional energy work that helps me set the tone for the day (or at least prepares me for the circus that is coming). It’s short, simple, and honestly keeps me grounded.

Then I scroll my email for another five minutes—because I like to know what kind of chaos the universe has in store for me before my feet hit the floor. Travel clients, marketing notes, the occasional spammy “dear beloved” message from a Nigerian prince—it’s all in there.

And then… his majesty awakens.

Bean, my cat and self-declared household monarch, absolutely demands to be carried around like the royal highness he is. If I try to ignore him? Full-blown tantrum. Y’all, I am not joking. He will yowl, follow me like a shadow, and make a whole dramatic production until I scoop him up and do the lap of honor. This ritual is sacred. Ten minutes, minimum. I’m basically his lady-in-waiting.

Once his Royal Furriness is satisfied, I get a shower in—because functioning human status requires hot water and soap. Then it’s time for coffee and breakfast. At that point, the day can officially begin.

And yes, that is all within the first hour. I don’t do boring mornings.

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A Complete Unknown (And Completely Captivating)

March 31, 2025

The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

Timmy and Bob

So, I finally took time to sit my tail down and watch A Complete Unknown, the new Bob Dylan movie—and y’all, it was worth every minute. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but what I got was a beautifully subtle, not-overdone look at a man who refused to be boxed in.

And can we talk about the acting for a second? Phenomenal. Timothy Chalamet absolutely blew me away. I mean it—he deserves huge props for his portrayal of Dylan. He didn’t mimic or mock. He embodied. It wasn’t an impersonation—it was a transformation. He captured the quiet fire, the awkward magnetism, the stubborn soul of Dylan in a way that felt authentic and deeply respectful. That boy can act, and he earned every frame of that screen time.

Let me just say right off the bat—I’ve always had a soft spot for Joan Baez. Her voice, her activism, her grace. But if this movie’s portrayal holds true (and it felt mighty grounded), I have to admit… I don’t quite admire her the same way I used to. It struck me that she, for all her talent, was kind of a conformist. She gave the people what they wanted to hear, stuck close to the script of the folk movement. And maybe that’s not a bad thing—but when you hold her up next to Dylan? You see the contrast plain as day.

Dylan was wild in spirit. He wasn’t trying to fit in, or be crowned King of the Coffeehouse Scene. He wasn’t interested in giving the crowd what they expected—he wanted to give them what he had to say. And when his heart pulled him toward electric guitars and something new, he didn’t flinch. He just went. The folk purists booed, sure. But Dylan? He didn’t need their approval. He needed to be honest.

And isn’t that what being a true artist is all about?

What really hit me was how the movie didn’t scream or shove emotion down your throat. It whispered. It let Dylan’s choices—his quiet, complicated rebellion—speak for themselves. The cinematography, the pacing, even the casting, all felt like they were crafted with care and respect, not sensationalism. You could feel the weight of the moments, but it never dragged.

Dylan was an artist, yes—but also an entertainer. He understood the power of performance. But more than anything, he followed his gut. And maybe that’s why his music still echoes today—it wasn’t polished to perfection or built to please. It was real. Raw. Restless. And, like the man himself, a little bit unknown.

If you haven’t seen it yet, do yourself a favor. It’s not just a music biopic. It’s a reminder that living from the heart—especially when it ruffles feathers—is still the bravest way to live.

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