It’s Okay, NOT to be Okay

“We are all broken, that’s how the light gets in.” – Hemingway

Prologue – During a recent cleaning of my computer files, I discovered a folder full of partially completed blogs. Some were near completion while others were no more than a few sentences of a single thought. There were even a few, as my pal Corey Oakley best describes, that were borderline ramblings of a mad woman and may take some time to deconstruct. Deciding to tackle the chore of finishing each post, not only gave me a head start on my writing but reminds me of my reflections of years past. The following post was 95% complete and originated from November of 2019 a few months past finishing my breast cancer treatment. It was also around the time of Bobby and I calling time of death on our marriage. A longer blog, with many trains of thought, I did my best to edit without taking away from my original state of being. And although my mind, spirit and soul are in a much more joyful state, the sentiments seem to ring true in today’s world.

It’s Okay to be Not Okay

How many times has the following conversation been part of your day?

A friend asks a simple, kind question: “How are you?” You instantly respond with the obligatory, “I am okay” or better yet “I am good, just living the dream.” And quickly change the subject to any other topic but your current state of being. Deep down inside or maybe even right under the surface, you are far from okay. Why is sharing the truth seem like such a challenging request, even coming from our closest people?

In a world where other people’s opinions and reactions have a direct effect on our mindset when do we risk being brave enough to share the truth? When asked over the past several months, “How are you”, I was as guilty as the next guy with brushing the truth under the rug. Is it an inner urge to create a positive outlook or a private “do not disturb” switch I hung on my hypothetical emotional door? To be honest for me it was holding it together in order not to burst into tears. As a pure defense mechanism to my sanity and sadness, my main goal was holding it together on the surface. “Isn’t a beautiful sunny day?” was my focus, minute by minute, day by day. I had allowed myself to be the supporting character in my own story and not burden others in my sadness.

For me, there were a variety of reasons. Originally, I chalked it up to societies niceties, to air on the always sunshine, glass half full, response to your general state of being. But as I dug deeper, there were a treasure chest full of motives for being “untrue” in my remarks. I don’t have the strength to elaborate on my response, the feeling that the person asking really is just making small talk, or maybe I am just plain embarrassed by my circumstances. Was I a giant failure at my own life? And then it hit me, it is okay to say, “I am not okay”.

2019 may just be my least favorite year to date. The only other contender would be 1997, but as I try to get “this too shall pass” to set in, the newness of our current calendar feels far more difficult. Struggling to find my new normal, there is a liberation with owning your feelings and how you navigate them to the world. Starting to accept that I don’t have to go into detail nor do I need to feel responsible how the other person perceives my response. I also can take others “helpful” responses and do as I please with the information. And this new freedom has made me dig further into speaking ones truths.

Speaking Your Truths

In today’s culture (I believe strengthen by social platforms) humans think they can share their thoughts freely. Good, bad or just plain right out of left field, views flow freely. But in modern communication it seems that there is a new concept that comes with the sharing of opinions. We tend contribute those agreeing with us (or changing their mind) with how “loud” our expression grows. And that everyone who “follows or likes” our thought, will also feel exactly the same way. Even easier, if someone disagrees with us, with a push of a button we can simply “unfriend” them and block out their words. Problem solved and your world is full of the perfect harmony of everyone you associate with thinking, feeling, and believing all the same truths.

Well, I am here to tell you that is not okay. I am all for everyone embracing their political, spiritual, moral, educational, sports loving, beliefs. Sing them from the roof tops, be loud and proud, but do not expect me to jump in line and change my mind if we tend to differ. I agree with all my heart that we should all get to share our beliefs and live a life true to ourselves. But with that comes the acceptance that I get to believe, reflect and deliberate (or not deliberate) just the same as the guy next door.

So here are a few things I am okay with embracing, believing and living by, that it is okay for you to NOT share in my view. We can still be friends. We can still “like” each other on the world wide web. And the earth-shattering news is, that we all will still be a complete person tomorrow.

Jacky’s Beliefs

1 – Agriculture is king. More importantly, commercial agriculture is responsible, mindful, enterprises that are managed by smart people that value our earth, economics, and feeding our planet. Big does not equal bad. We need all kinds of farming to maintain the volume, tastes, preferences and price points that keep the supply chain viable. Do you realize that not all organic farming practices are sustainable? Do you even know the definition of organic or holistic farming or what an operation consists of on a production platform?

2 – It is okay to be a girl. Being born with two XX chromosomes isn’t a liability. I do agree both men and women can achieve, do, be whatever they want. But in this world that girls can do anything a boy can, I fear sometimes the message loses site that being a girl is pretty cool too. When I went to grad school in 1991 studying agriculture economics in Oklahoma, how many young ladies do you think were my classmates? There were three of us total and I was the only one that graduated 18 months later. 28 years later, my daughter is at the same university in the same major getting her Phd and the ratio of men to woman has changed drastically. I am all for everyone of us being true to our dreams. I also think that pink, crowns, dolls and wearing ribbons and bows doesn’t change your value to the world.

3 – Not everyone is cut out for collegiate life—and that’s okay. I’ve been around high school agriculture teachers for the last 38 years, and vocational skills have real-world value. Certified welders, landscapers, and heavy equipment operators—these are skilled professions, and they’re highly lucrative. We each have something to give to the universe to make it better. It just might not be developed through a four-year degree.

4 – Finally, it is okay not to be okay. Kiah Burchett visited my class to share her story and talk about self-brand. When one of the students asked her if she had bad days? I will never forget her response. She asked the class if you saw a heart rate monitor and the line was even (straight) what does that mean. They all replied, “you would be dead.” Exactly we all have down days. They allow the good days to follow.

If every day we felt the same and every situation was a neutral response would we feel nonstop joy or would we just feel empty? Being not okay occasionally and allowing ourselves to reboot is a necessity to life. When I wrote the above, I was about as down as I have ever been in my life. I started to wonder why I didn’t finish this post and get it published. But then I discovered the culprit. I wrote this on November 10, 2019, five days before I met Tod. He came along and jump started my climb back up my EOG (electric okay gram), filling my time with UCSD sporting events and meeting new people. My mind was finding joy in new adventures. And before you knew it, the sad of the past began to fade.

Here we are almost six years later. Go ahead and ask me how I am doing. Don’t get me wrong I still have those days that are just not good, but I am open to sharing my ups and downs with no remorse. Tod and I have experienced many changes in our world and even gained a dog. How does the old saying go, “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”. Maybe that is the key, our strength comes from the down days. But I rather lean into the words of the Beatles, “Here comes the sun and I say, “It’s alright” or should we say “It’s okay”.

The photo was taken outside of Santa Fe, NM in September of 2019 exploring spiritual location

September 23, 2025 0

You’re the Biggest Part of Me… Class of 85

“All it takes is one song to bring back a thousand memories” – Unknown

It’s Labor Day and approximately 90 days past my original attempt at this post. It began with a trip to California to celebrate my nephew Garrett’s wedding the first week of June.

Being the ultimate travel planner (or at least in my vivid imagination) my initial goal was to make a brief stop in Las Vegas for a couple of days with an end game of catching Kenny Chesney at the Sphere. A few days of poolside sun made the itinerary; No Shoes Nation did not. (I traded the expense of concert tickets for a second summer adventure. Saratoga Springs racing season for the win. But that is a story for another day.) During the four hour flight to Sin City, I stumbled across a documentary chronically the birth of Yacht Rock music.

Being a creature of habit with a knack to embrace my seasonal luxuries, there are hard and fast rules in holiday celebration that I hold firm. You won’t catch me listening to Christmas music until the day after Thanksgiving. Then it is nonstop Bing and the boys crooning away with a sprinkle on Mariah and Amy Grant until the clock strikes 12 on December 25. Yet the jolly holly day isn’t the only seasonal playlist that I am loyal too. A few years ago, I discovered a summer station that made my 15-year-old heart melt, Yacht Rock radio.

Between Memorial Day and Labor Day, Yacht Rock graces my satellite radio as a designated channel. And for the sunshine months, I enjoy some of my favorite tunes from my teenage years. What a pleasant surprise on that faithful flight on June 1, to stumbled across a documentary that chronicled the mystery of this nontraditional genre.

The Yacht Rock movement to my surprise was more than a collection of songs I enjoyed formatted into a single playlist. Did you realize that much of this music stirs from a collection of talent combined in infinite combinations? Back in the 80s it was common for musicians or vocalists to assist in the studio across a variety of artists. Don’t believe me take a moment and grace the credits of half the songs listed on the top 100 Yacht Rock tunes and count how often Michael McDonald’s name appears? Songwriter, lead vocals or studio back up. He was mentioned so often that I began to wonder if he just kept a sleeping bag in his car with a spare tooth brush. The jazzy piano sound combined with the eccentric styles of the perfectionism of Steely Dan or the band Toto as independent studio musicians define the genre that didn’t exist until decades after the music topped the charts.

Fast forward to September 1, where I find myself as a passenger on another United flight headed to Las Vegas for an excursion to the Sphere. This time to skip down the yellow brick road and to see my pals the flying monkeys. There is no better use of my time, but to finish this blog. And ponder on why a piece of music history can make me feel like, there is no place like home?

Yacht Rock was never meant to creep into our airwaves on its own format when the artists were creating the sound. Born from skits and crooners making fun of this little slice of 80’s music it became a collection of sounds that reflected similar styles and characters. No captain hats or boats required, the definition included a smooth, jazzy piano sound featuring soulful voices of Micheal McDonald or Kenny Logins. Engrossed in the 95 minute documentary, I viewed a story of music that shaped my teenage years through my early twenties and rolled me back to 1985.

What happen forty years ago? The greatest class of the 80’s graduated from High School and took their first step into their future. Looking back at my educational journey it was truly a combination of Mayberry meets Surfing USA. I proudly place myself as part of two classes of 1985, roughly two hours apart in driving distance and as diverse in lifestyle as any country girl could imagine. And I am was the lucky one to have experienced all of my classmates from both Templeton and Carpenteria.

I began my first day of kindergarten with many of the same a faces that I walked across the stage with twelve years later in the Templeton gym to receive our high school diplomas. During the sixth year of my scholastic journey, I joined the class of 85 in a the coastal town (sixth grade through my sophomore year) just south of Santa Barbara known for avocados and ornamental horticulture, Carpenteria. An environment that seemed 10 times bigger (probably closer to 5 times) and culturally on a different planet. Yet, as I watched the documentary and quietly sing every lyric, I couldn’t help but notice the synergy that created the Yacht Rock sound mirrored the mapping of my childhood journey.

Jazz music is characterized by its emphasis on improvisation, complex harmonies, and syncopated rhythms. It often features a blend of different musical styles and cultural influences, making each performance unique and expressive. These notes combined with the overwhelming thread of collaboration of artists, song writers and musicians truly is the heart and soul of Yacht Rock music. And my growing-up game board of skipping through the spaces followed a similar format.

My classmates and friendship groups featured a mix of many personalities from a diversity of backgrounds. The foundation of our togetherness was a mix of harmonies of interest, unique collaborations, proximity in our daily life and that we were all in this big can of stew together.

There is nothing like the friends you have in your school days. They are a constant that you can count on day in and day out. As we grow older and embrace friendships in our later years, one can easily yearn for the ease of having a pal in our back pocket at all times. Let’s face it, it might not always feel this way, but in high school and college, there is always someone a stone’s throw away that is going through the exact same experience. There were an abundance of opportunities to make a friend or hang out with like minded people. Hearing the songs of my past, made me pause. Is my love of this music enriched in the sound or how it takes my memories on a soulful journey back to my youthful days.

From school dances to FFA trips, from high school sports to yearbook antics, my life was full of some of the most amazing humans that have ever walked this planet. Being part of the notorious Gen X culture, we might be small in size compared to other generations, but we have the luxury of being at the dawn of countless changes in world and daily life. We were the kids that learned how to cook with a microwave for an after school snack. Our music came in many forms, albums, 8 tracks, cassette or good old fashion AM/FM radio. Back in the days that making the team meant you showed up daily for practice and there was a role for all in the school play, being part of the whole offered a sense of community.

Templeton High School class of 85’s final journey was a trip south to the Happiest Place on Earth. Grad Night at Disneyland was our toast to the past while running straight into our future. I will admit there was a part of me that knew deep down inside that as we left the bus after the long ride home, it would be the last time I would see many of my classmates. Yes, there has been weddings, significant birthdays and chance encounters over the years, but there a just a handful of my classmates that I regularly communicate with or see (both Templeton and Carpinteria). Sure the birth of social media gives us an opportunity to reconnect and “check in”. But sitting here I figured why wait for a formal event to share what everyone of you means to my life.

Lisa, Julie, Lisa and me CHS 85 – 20 Year Reunion

As the Ambrosia song states, “Got a feelin’ that forever, we are gonna stay together, for me, there’s nothin’ better, you’re the biggest part of me”, the humans that I spent twelve years of my life surrounded by will always be part of my foundation. The story of Yacht Rock showed that working together always made the whole better. My classmates are who taught me to love, to laugh at nonsense, feel the value of team work, how to win and how to loose. Without them I would not be the person I am today. So here is to all of you from the Class of 85, thank you for being part of my life (big or small)…. you will forever be a huge part of me.

September 12, 2025 0

Lessons Learn from a Simple Note

“Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” – William Wordsworth

For the past six weeks, I have been keeping a secret. Better yet let’s call it a major surprise, that tied perfectly into my last blog post. The challenge was not to “spill the beans” while I wrote and fingers crossed the many I tied into the task, kept their lips sealed as time ticked closer to “D Day”. Or should we say “B Day”?

My daughter Kayla turned thirty last week. Early one January morning I got an idea. Those that have worked with me know that me walking in on a daily basis with the phrase, “I have an idea” is not earth shattering news. This one began with a simple thought and grew into mountain to climb with a tight deadline ticking down daily. The brainchild was a gift to my daughter that would showcase the first thirty years of her life. A creation of memories and messages from her first 10,950 days, featuring her family, friends and special loved ones from near and far.
My natural tendency is to have an idea, allowing zero time to percolate before putting the plan into action. My thoughts that early morning, while waiting to board a plane to Reno, moved like the speed of light. Before a second idea could enter my mind, the wheels were in motion as I sent out a group text to dozens of family and friends. My request while rehashing my vision, was simple please send me a handwritten note wishing Kayla a Happy Birthday. I was open to them also sharing special photos they may have of the celebration girl, but what I longed for was that piece of paper with pen marks that makes each of them special to her life.

As I woke up the next morning, instant panic hit me of the enormous task laying ahead. What was I thinking, thirty years of memorabilia to rediscover, organize and neatly sum up in a book? Over the past three decades we have moved from old fashion film, digital cameras and today’s photo capturing device of choice, our cell phone. Inputting the pictures alone would require scans, downloads, uploads and never ending edits. As I sat in my hotel room, I figured I needed a plan and fast. On my side were a few things, I have organized items for each child in a single clear container, Shutterfly had been my photo creation device of choice for at least two decades, therefore housed numerous uploaded photos and the simple fact that I opened this Pandora’s Box with a large number of my contacts, there was no turning back. Laptop in hand, I typed Shutterfly into the search bar, and the first step was taken in a very long journey.

Over the next four weeks there was the gentle balance between feelings of great accomplishment to overwhelming piles of photos, page counts and hunting down letters. The final statistics include one book, 78 pages, filled with 332 photos and 21 letters. I included her birth announcement, a few of her first birthday cards from special relatives no longer with us (complete with their signature), a poem written by her 5^th grade teacher, a newspaper article/photo and her ultrasound image.

I am grateful for the challenge and the reminder of the value of the written word. Large projects can be a doubled edge sword for me to complete. I get caught between constant inspiration to falling down a rabbit hole of chasing ideas, thus turning minutes into extended hours. Funny thing was that while I waited for the letters to come in, I would be setting up the page of the person writing to Kayla. And every single time, the photos I had inserted fell write into step with words in the letter. The words became the irreplaceable star in the production. And I began to notice this continued theme in recent days.

Assigning my students the chore of writing “thank you” notes to speakers, there was the bright light again taking center stage. Their kind words reflected the appreciation of the time the guest spent sharing their story while inspiring ideas of future career possibilities. And just this week while applying to teach yet another class, I had the opportunity to read letters of recommendation for yours truly. The written word is a wonderful reminder of where we thrive, find enjoyment and touch others. Maybe we do need to read how others feel about us, now and then, as a gentle reminder of our importance in this solar system.

In a world where we hear the words AI daily or communicate through emojis and acronyms, let me just express one more time how important connecting to each other makes life worth living. AI cannot compose a handwritten note that expresses your emotions, experiences and genuine caring of another person. Another lesson I embraced during these exercises, the net you cast over the amount of people you touch is much larger and stronger than you may ever realize. From hearing a story from a special aunt, to thanking a guest speaker or even having a former student recount the impact you had on their career path, there are countless individuals that you have touched over the course of your years.

So here is my challenge to all that may read this message. Choose three people that have touched your life; 1) that is near to you on a day-to-day basis, 2) someone who you truly value but don’t connect with near enough and 3) someone that impacts/ impacted your life. Next write them a note from your heart, length isn’t important, it’s the thought that counts. Of course, I would prefer you to use paper and pen but will settle with any formal form of communication. I freely admit, we aren’t all great writers like Wordsworth, but if I can squeeze 21 notes out of the cast of characters for Kayla’s gift, you all can take the time to connect with three humans over the next few weeks.

We have heard the question, what is your love language? I am beginning to believe that mine may be the written word. After my last blog a couple of my friends and I even joked about forming a note writing club, similar to a book club. Where we could meet once a month, drink wine and write to others. Honestly the more I think of the concept, the greater the possibility becomes reality. Even across distances this feat could be achieved. Holding each other accountable to developing our new correspondence habit.

In the words of Emily Post, “Never think because you cannot write a letter easily, that it is better not to write at all. The most awkward note imaginable is better than none.” Take my challenge, share your gratitude and compose away. Maybe, just maybe, we are one card away from starting a writing revolution?

March 12, 2025 1

You’ve Got Mail

This piece of writing is dedicated to my good pal Serena. The one who excels in written correspondence, be it an inspirational note, thank you card, or that special occasion garland.

“I love writing thank you notes. There’s something very nostalgic to me about the feel of a card and putting pen to paper. How many times in our lives are we required to put pen to paper anymore?” – Taylor Swift

Continuing my quest to show gratitude, I have a deep affection for pen, paper and handwritten words. From my grandmothers’ recipe cards to shuffling through years of celebration stationary received, Taylor hits the nail on the head when she states there is something nostalgic about putting pen to paper. In an ever-evolving world that doesn’t require one to write much more than their signature (and that is scarce at times) I am truly grateful I was raised in a time of cursive writing in school and finding some inner peace with a pad of paper and pencil.

I must admit that writing thank you notes is not my superpower. I recall reading an article decades ago of how Princess Diana would take time to hand write notes on her personal stationary. I marveled at her commitment to the task and deep downed wished I possessed that drive. She famously answered many of the 47,000 letters of congratulation and 10,000 gifts when just 21 years old for her and Prince Charles wedding in 1981. Woman’s World, reported that she insisted that both Prince William and Prince Harry write letters to thank anyone who helped them because she “wanted to ingrain a sense of appreciation into her two sons” A tradition worthy of passing down to the next generation. What an incredible skill to achieve. The art of penmanship is slowing slipping through our fingers.

Me, well I am more of a collector of all thing’s correspondence. At any given time, I have stacks of colorful paper, witty greeting cards, decades old thank you notes and a never-ending supply of writing instruments. In a world filled with text message, emojis, emails and even acronyms what has happen to the written word? And can taking the time to be the author flex a muscle in your brain of thought and wonder? This past September I decided to do a little experiment of my own on the true power of a little old fashion communication.

What was the theory of this research? Unsure how the statement would read, but it included reaching out to four friends, with a handwritten note for absolutely no reason at all. Truth be told, I was measuring the “boomerang” effect, how quickly would the message reach the recipient and make its way back to me in a form of receipt confirmation. Jacky’s writing experiment official hypothesis: “The written word will serve as a catalyst for inspiring organic communication among individuals.”

The specimens were four longtime friends and the instruments were simple greeting cards.

Three of the four cards had only a message on the front, leaving the inside wide open for written word.

“The world is full of idiots, except us, we’re awesome”

“I miss your sweet ass”

“Dear Diary, Today my friends invited me to go camping so I made a list of things I will need 1. New Friends”

“We should do a podcast of us drinking and laughing.”

(inside) “They would love us”.

(Side note, my card collection is very much like my organization containers, I never just buy one. If I find a card that lights up my soul, I purchase multiple copies.)

My friends selected in order of the cards were Tisha (we have an inside credo of being relentlessly awesome), Shawna (the card had two friends walking on a beach and we talk during our daily walks, just 2,215 miles apart), Serena (she finds just about anything I say funny) and Brandy, for obvious reasons, we think we can find humor with or without a glass of bubbles in hand. Next, I took the time to hand write a note that filled every inch of the blank canvas the document offered. Sharing my value of each of them in my life and a few special words that could connect us even though we were miles apart. Finally, I addressed the parcels of written word and placed them in the mail. The date was Friday, August 30 and the location was Las Vegas, Nevada. All the cards were sent to addresses in California. Now to wait for my results.

My first response arrived via a text six days later. As expected, Serena, not only was the first to respond, but delivered a sweet text complete with a photo of the card. The outcome of the rest of the experiment was truly up for grabs. Life and work events, punctuality of getting daily mail and communication styles made the guessing game ridiculously hard to call. Low and behold, the text sound chimed three days later. Shawna, my best friend since first grade, received her handwritten note. Brandy text a few days later with a sweet thank you and Tisha called which turned into one of our hour-long chats. (I have shared all their responses for your enjoyment, hopefully they grant me this latitude.)

The outcome proved that my original notion was true. Old fashion, deliberate acts of reaching out with the written word have a more profound effect on a soul than our constant cyber chatter. Let’s be honest, how many emails and texts do you ignore a day? Better yet, isn’t just easier to let that call go to voice mail? But a piece of mail is hard not to open and read.

I am grateful for my handwriting skills and my knack for communicating thoughtfully with pen and paper. Being the ultimate “but, what if” girl I can’t help but wonder if a rebirth of this sacred art form is within reach. But what if we took a “note” from Princess Di and shared with the younger generation the importance of writing. Be it a letter, a story, or a simple thank you note. Who knows a trend for the ages could just be signature away.

“You can make anything by writing” – C.S. Lewis

February 25, 2025 0

Same Time Next Year

“Which is more important,” asked Big Panda, “the journey or the destination?” “The company,” said Tiny Dragon

Being a creature of habit, the ringing in of the New Year emanates thoughts of anew and the overwhelming urge to write in my blog. But something felt different these past few weeks. Like picking up where I left off was no longer an option, it wasn’t just a new year, but a rebirth of a sense of purpose.

Any good annual goal should be measurable. Have I been successful over the past decade with my annual expression to the universe? Curiosity in my corner, the exploration into my past writings was a click away. Believe it or not, A Little Bit About a lot of Things is about to celebrate its 13^th birthday. With a total of 73 posts, 17,645 views and over 8,500 visitors, I knew my efforts weren’t chart topping. Just shy of 65,000 written words, which is just 15,000 words short of the average length of most fictional novels. (Wait, stop, are you saying, that I am on the verge of a completing book?) Thoughts of actually jumping off the diving board into that “big” writing project I so secretly dreamed about often, didn’t seem so scary.

Focus became key and my mind had to be glued to completing the task at hand; finding out if I have stayed true to a quest over the past 13 years? I needed more data. Guess what, Tuesdays seem to be my most prolific day to publish. And as expected, from January 2014 to present day, post Christmas to early in the new year, is the sweet spot for success in completing an entry with a grand total of eleven postings. The reasons behind the popularity was simple, the time of year.

My birthday is January 5, the combination of the celebration and kicking off a fresh chapter in the calendar playbook, makes the perfect recipe for fresh ideas, upbeat goals and visions of anything is possible. And low and behold I stayed true to course over time. Change, hope, stretching outside of comfort zone, process and glass half full mantras graced my written work. And lets not forget in January of 2019 when I based an entire blog off of math https://alittlebitaboutalotofthings.com/2019/01/05/math-doesnt-lie-the-key-to-accomplishing-your-annual-aspirations/ or in 2018 when I created a playlist https://alittlebitaboutalotofthings.com/2018/01/16/2018-a-time-to-grove/ .

They say focusing on the past isn’t healthy, but I learned a few lessons rereading my work. In 2014, I was all about being present, which I can honestly say has been an unplanned premise this past year. I didn’t have a choice but to be present I had nothing but the day ahead. And trust me I’m a person that loves to look forward to something, may I remind you of my love of travel? Having time on my hands and an empty appointment book gave way to taking time to plan adventures. It was a conscious act that I spent hours and endless energy to create destinations. This included spending stints with people that I am truly grateful for in my life, making memories and being in the moment took unexpected forms. From carefully planned trips, like our journey to California in June that I wrote about, to my last minute jaunt on the featured fair tour in Idaho that concluded with a special breakfast with my Grandma Darlene, each destination fueled my fire and boosted my energy.

In 2015, I wrote a prescription as my New Year’s resolution. https://alittlebitaboutalotofthings.com/2015/01/03/begin-again-please-dont-see-just-a-girl-caught-up-in-dreams-and-fantasies/#more-97 One of my “doses” was allow for change. For as long as I can recall I have internally thought if I could just have one or two weeks off to be at home and get my life in order things would be better. You know that underlying feeling of needing rest, checking off that household “to-do” list and just having a little me time. Well, I am living proof it takes way longer than two weeks.

At first, I struggled with the down time. The change was beyond something I felt able to lean into. I was tired. Physically, mentally and emotionally exhausted. Time and patience were the key to healing. Neither one of them are my signature strengths. As the summer months gave way to fall, I began to spring forth with new bud growth from the metamorphosis. Like the caterpillar becoming a lovely butterfly, I grew new wings and shed off a few thousand burden legs. The byproducts of my healing are evident in my everyday life. My cupboards have never been more organized. I made holiday crafts for the first time in decades. And my status is with United is at an all time high. I allowed for change and in return I found missing parts of my old self.

Yet one of my favorite posts was titled “One Decade at a Time” published January 5, 2017. If you know me, you know I love my birthday. I think we all should celebrate from the roof tops on our special day, because without it you wouldn’t be walking upright. Age has never been a big deal to me, except when I can channel it for an excuse for an even grander celebration. Pointing out significant milestones that were made by people at older ages, you get instantly inspired to go out accomplish any goal, maybe even write a novel? Reading it reminded me that turning 58 really isn’t that big a deal. Not that I really thought it was, like I said, to me age is just a number. It also prompted me to start planning something epic for the big 60. Maybe a trip to Italy?

As for 2025, I have spent some time truly thinking about my annual manifesto. Don’t get me wrong I still believe and embrace all my past idealism and plans, but this year I am only assigning myself one task. To be grateful. Grateful for all the little things in my life but most importantly for the people in my world. Why be present, if not to enjoy time with someone special? And change is prompted many times by the entrance or the exit of individuals in our world. In a world filled with texts, emails, videos, and countless non present forms of communication, I embrace the importance of having actual humans in one’s days. People are as essential to our life as air and water.

One simple word, gratitude will be all that I strive for in 2025. Yes,the journey can be fun and the destination may turn out better than expected, but none of it truly matters without the company.

2025 I am grateful for my family, especially my parents and my fabulous children, Nolan, Kayla and Lilly. I am grateful that each of them has found someone who thinks they are just as amazing as I do. I am grateful my friends, the ones I talk to often and the ones who are there even in the silence space. And I am grateful for Tod and Louie, the little nuclear family that greets me every morning with hope of a joyful day.

January 14, 2025 0

Talk to Me Goose ….. Communication Insights

“The biggest communication problem is we do not listen to understand. We listen to reply.” – Stephen R. Covey

The telephone game was a childhood backyard staple many moons ago. Conveying information through a long line of willing sharers with the basic principle that the message being received at the other end would be in perfect tact. We can all guess how that usually played out. Fast forward to today and why as adults do we still struggle to get our message across fault free?

I have been truly fortunate to work with a very gifted person, Beth Wonson. Her true talent is constructing the art of communication. Sharing her insight and developing skills like a painter brushing strokes across a canvas, she makes the simple task of conveying our messages seem easy to breakdown and navigate. Being a true believer in her methods, I was invited to her first ever Navigating Challenging Dialogue® workshop. It was two days filled with “aha moments”. Leaving with my trusty notebook, tools acquired and a strong belief, I was ready to test the teachings out in the real world. Many lessons worked, some evaporated and a few really good nuggets became part of my sharing culture. There has not been a time since, that when faced with exchange challenges that I don’t hear Beth in my ear, giving a clear perspective on how to tackle the issue.

With formal training and years of experience, I honestly feel that I grasp the art of communication. Yet over my years in the classroom and in the work place I often find myself scratching my head wondering why my words have been left misunderstood? Even now as I convey my thoughts through this writing, I hope my message comes through the other end in full narrative.

Communication is tough, period, end of story. This blog has been percolating in my brain for a very long time. “I wish communication was better”, rings out in the wide open office spaces across America. I wrote earlier this year with regards to over using the word trigger. But after careful consideration, communication can easily give trigger a run for its money. How many times are we in earshot of someone saying “the problem is lack of communication”? So here goes my attempt to communicate my two cents on this complicated verb.

My guess if I took a quick survey many people would say that communication is the number one issue with either their work place, home life, or relationship with the world. Breaking it down to its foundation there are two basic principles that can cause the old telephone game to break down, delivery method and content shared.

First and foremost, we have all forgotten that communication is a two-way street. To hear someone, say, “that wasn’t communicated to me,” always leaves me scratching my head wondering, did the person even take the time to ask the question in the first place or did they expect through osmosis to read their mind?

People you can stand on your soapbox and scream “I am not getting information”, but if you aren’t actively trying to find the answers, how does the other party know what knowledge you desire. For example, one person may share very detailed information that they feel is essential to a project, yet the person on the other end may need completely different facts. Beth teaches the importance of clarifying questions. To communicate successfully you must inquire what needs to be shared, how it needs to be shared and if you understand what has been shared. I find the best way to use this skill is when receiving information, state it back to clarify you are truly absorbing the subject matter.

Once the content can be agreed upon, do you know how you like to be feed information? And leaders do you know how your people like to receive communication? I applaud the world for its advancement in technology, but human connection trumps an electronic devise. Being a firm believer of “people networking” is light years more effective than connection through the cloud over the space continuum, here is what I know about myself. The message needs to fit the platform for me to “hear it”.

A simple rule of thumb is the longer the content, the more traditional platform for delivery. Quick facts, phone numbers, addresses, a heads up send me over a text. Planning a meeting or sharing a document, email is a fabulous option. But, if you need to tell me something that is a detailed process or requires a discussion, the last place I want the information is in an electronic form. My brain shuts down about three lines into an email. And ponder this, how much emails and texts do you receive daily? The amount of clutter that clogs the pathways of communication is beyond measure. If you don’t want your message to get lost in the noise, why wouldn’t you just pick up the phone and have a conversation? Or here is a novel concept, walk over and find the person to discuss live and in person.

If you haven’t figured it out, I am still a strong believer in personal connections. When Maverick utters the famous words, “talk to me goose”, he was searching for answers. As we continue to lean away from communicating the old fashion way, we are slowly forgetting how to take responsibility for the information that we send out or look to receive. I am not suggesting that we all go back to paper and pen (as noted with the Valentines in the Rose Garden in Adelaide in the cover photo), but there is a need for pause to think before we share. At the end of the day communication requires people to be successful. Know your audience, know your content and have the faith that someone is listening, and just maybe your voice will be heard.

May 8, 2024 0

It’s Kinda a Funny Story

Sometimes you’ll forget precisely what happened, but if a story touches you it will stay with you, haunting the places in your mind that you rarely ever visit. ~ Neil Gaiman

This week we celebrate a very special person’s birthday.

Actually, we celebrate two of the most important people in my life that just so happen to share the same March 7th birthday. My grandma Roberta was everything to me growing up. She taught me so many skills, how to read music, to sew, crochet, even bait a hook. Her talents were endless. On her 80th birthday, I missed her party as I had a more pressing engagement, the birth of my beautiful, red headed, baby girl Miss Kayla Jo.

Sometime in her teens, Kayla started the infamous birthday week. During her college days, birthday week took on a life of its own. Not being able to celebrate her in-person, I would post a “Kayla Jo Fact” on social media and she would get a small gift that day. Those of you that have experienced may have been wondering why you haven’t seen any KJ posts the past week. Well this year I get to be with my girl in person as she rings in her final year of her twenties. This celebration will a multi-day live event, far better than any birthday week.

This girl has accomplished more in 29 years than most people do in a lifetime. If we were to play the game what two things are true out of three about Kayla, my three things would be.

She was the first student to skip getting her masters at Oklahoma State University in Ag Econ department and go straight to her doctorate.
Kayla had a severe speech issue for the first six years of her life, yet went onto have highly competitive livestock judging career scoring high in oral reasons.
She currently owns two homes in two different states. Kayla has taken her love of Sims as a kid and transformed the passion into remodeling each with the help of her dad.

Which one is false, well I actually tricked you, all our true. Kayla is my silent child, yet if she calls you better be ready for an hour-long chat. This girl has her own sense of style and radiates beauty inside and out. She reminds me of grandma Roberta with her no fear attitude, creative energy and adventurous spirit. Can you tell I am a pretty proud mom?

However this birthday week is taking the celebration to the next level. Beyond having me in her midst on her special day Kayla will have two of my most special friends. One was even in the delivery room when Kayla decided to join our clan. Kayla dreamed up this request Christmas week and her wishes are coming true to have Brandy and Tisha out on the town. The only lacking character is her Aunt Stacy, which in all honesty I am not sure the Land of Lincoln is ready for the four of us “grown-ups” on holiday.

As we have been planning our Chicago escapade it got me thinking about my writing journey.

Brandy and Tisha have been two of my biggest cheerleaders since day one. Knowing my initial dream was a fictional book, Tisha was the one that said what don’t you start writing about what you are good at… like collecting points for our travel. Yes, I am the United Miles, Hilton Honors, Starbucks etc and so person. Over time my blogs seem to reflect more of one of my college lesson plans than a John Grisham novel. Some thought or concept followed by a take away or a strategic approach to how to accomplish. But no real story telling.

Why haven’t I made the jump to writing stories? I even have a blog about trying my hand at short stories but nothing has followed. Well the truth of the matter is that my life adventures (especially with Tisha, Brandy and my cousin Stacy) are way better than fiction. Maybe my writers block stems from reality hindering the make believe? So as our “band” (as Brandy so pointedly coined us) goes on tour through the Windy City making blog worthy memories, I thought I would share a small snippet of life on the road with the greatest non singing group ever.

Circa the early 2010s somewhere at a Hilton property

It was a warm, sunny day in Sonoma County. Tisha and I had spent the day making our way north for our annual olive oil judging event. When we started the Central Coast Olive Oil Competition, we soon realized to keep the costs down, economically sound choice was for us to take the entries to the experts than try and bring all the judges to Paso Robles. The residual effect we discovered after the first year was we got to spend a few days in a pretty fabulous area. Exploring the region and learning about their commodities helped us create a better competition and attract new entries.

We had unloaded the oils and sat the room up for judging that would begin the following morning. We returned to our room and decided that why we waited for Brandy (I know shocking twist) we would open our favorite bottle of rose and take our glasses to relax by the pool. Grabbing a couple of room towels to sit on, two go vinos and our liquid entertainment and away we went. The area was pretty empty with a father and son in the pool and the whirl pool empty. We decided the empty spa was calling us and sat up camp. Placing our feet in the warm water for a well needed rest, the quiet of the early evening just before sunset brought a peace to the space.

Now the smartest thing we did was take our cell phones with us, at the time it was the source to keep in touch with our travel buddy but proved to be our life line latter. Sitting in the serene space, enjoying our wine and exchanging a few words the world felt pretty good. But in an instant the still was gone. The father son duo from the pool decided to interrupt our private gathering. I don’t recall their names or the details of their faces but the man’s presence is ingrained in my mind forever.

He was large man both in personality and physical statue. Had an air of Jersey shore meets a dude that drove a muscle car in high school and now dresses in finest velour sweat suits. His hair was slicked back from the pool water and his hand held one of those Club Vodka drinks one could purchase at your neighborhood 7/11. As he and his son slide in the other side of the sauna he began to strike up a conversation. I knew instantly that this was going to be a meeting we wouldn’t soon forget.

Why you might ask everything word turn into a another adventure in wonderland down a rabbit hole. He immediatley asked us our names. My response was quickly ignored as he spun around to catch Tisha’s words. She barely got out “Tisha”, when he blurted out I can’t call you that without making my wife mad. You see my ex-girlfriend’s name is Tisha he said in a hushed tone as to not allow anyone to hear his dilemma. “What is your last name?” And at the moment Tucker was now the name of the person sitting next to me sipping on a glass of Domaine Tempier Bandol Rose. He then graciously reached over with his beverage to see if we would like some added to our glass. The small can had an odor of rubbing alcohol and we motion to our bottle of wine to indicate we were fine.

The question and answer period of the episode began. This is when we began periodically scanning our cells as if a pressing emergency was about to unfold. “What do you do for a living?” he asked. Figuring to not open the dialogue of why we were actually there, I replied “I am a college professor.” My response to his occupation question teaching at Cal Poly sent him down the path of praising his son’s keen math skills. You could tell the young man began to nervously plan his escape when his dad blurted out “give him a math problem.” I have to admit this stumped me for a moment as to how to navigate my response. I could see the poor boy wasn’t about to solve a production function so I just asked “How do you solve math equations, do you see in your head or have any special tricks?” The facts of his answer are irrelevant as his actions were more important to the story. He jumped out of the water, grabbed his towel and looked over his shoulder stated I am “heading to find mom”. And the boy was gone, and then there were three.

Silence had returned to our world but the peace was totally gone. Tucker and I sat there alone with our new pal. The next action took every ounce of our being to not react or burst out laughing. He made his way across the body of water, reached under where I was sitting, took the towel I was sitting on, wiped his face and returned the material. Stunned we both took to our cells and began texting each other. Trying to change the subject and praying for Brandy’s arrival, we began on a quest of information gathering of pure nonsense.

We soon discovered any topic he did it better and bigger than anyone. His life was built on having the best and he was true in his pursuit. Throwing out subjects like shooters at a dart board, we soon learn there was a style to his responses. Any topic would start with “Well it’s kinda a funny story”, a middle, and wrap up with how it was the best ever. His wife wanted a cat “ Well it’s kinda funny story, if we were going to get a cat it had to be the best. I did my research and I bought her a $1,000 cat, it is the best cat ever.” “How did you meet your wife?” “Well it’s kinda a funny story, I owned a car dealership it was the best in the Oxnard area, she was a model, yada yada yada and I was the best so she went with me”, he continued this for what felt like hours. Looking back the one saving grace to the story, we never really told him anything about us other than our names. We didn’t need to, he was the best talker we had ever met. He even told us how is wife was a fair queen in Paso Robles and got to pinch Clint Black’s butt. I gave Tucker the death glare to not reveal my little pageant secret and we escaped the sharing of information portion of the encounter unscathed.

How did this all end, where is the cliff hanger, honestly, I can’t recall. I do know Brandy arrived, we went back to our room and never traveled by the pool again. But what I can say with all certainty, there aren’t many conversations that ole Tucker and I don’t use “Well it’s kinda a funny story”. Over the next few days I can confidently declare a few things will happen, Kayla Jo will have an epic 29^th birthday, there will be lots of champagne consumed, and more than one moment will be remembered in the future with the start “Well it’s kinda a funny story.”

Happy Birthday Kayla Jo – Love You to the Moon and Back

March 5, 2024 1

The Lost Year of 2023

“If you’re “too much” for them….. they’re not enough for you.” – Coffee Cup Mantra

The other day I received an email from WordPress with statistics of my year in review. Although I had visitors and many views, there was no new content. Much to my surprise I never wrote in 2023. Wow can that be true? Yes, I know I have been hit and miss over the past decade, but not one entry? Combine this fact with the recently discovered 2023 planner that was completely blank. The opening page stated “How will you bloom?” and solicited the planner to create a mission statement for their ideal year. Why was my last year void and what the heck happened to 2023?

The list is long, not much fun, very cumbersome and at times full of negative energy, but the answer was simple; I got lost in 2023. Not fully a surprise. I recall a morning drive in July and having the realization that I didn’t have the same relationship to music. The joy I found in little things, a song on the radio, a great bite of food, finding the groove in a project, these were all nonexistent in my daily ritual. Instead I was caught in a hamster wheel of trying to keep all the balls in the air while pleasing the masses.

Now I am not placing blame or not taking responsibility for my current state of affairs, this is more getting down to the foundation and assessing the situation. Letting my economic background take a hold of my brain, I started looking at the variables and limiting restraints in my life. Pretty much my entire landscape has changed. My X’s and Y’s were foreign. Living more miles than I care to think about from family and friends, no familiar surroundings, and lets just add it to the mix.. life with a dog (I do love Louie but he is a major change) nothing in my world has been the same. Allowing my environment to hold constant I need to improve my X to get the greatest return of joy out of Y.

What were the successful pieces in the past? Accepting that my function didn’t change overnight, let’s examine the timeline. In January of 2019 there was the phone call from the mammogram department at Sharp requesting I come in for additional testing. From that day forward life seemed to keep handing out new variables of constant change (including the fun filled adventure we all experienced called “Covid”). Now 1,825 days later, the variables have altered so many times that I feel more like a finished 2,000-piece puzzle that looks nothing like the box cover.

Then it dawned on me, I have been here before. Many, many moons ago I experienced much of the same feelings of life kicking over my apple cart and jumping all over my fruit. When my surroundings were different, the people weren’t my friends (at first) and the subject matter was very new and extremely scary.

When I was 11 years old, my parents divorced. My brother and I found ourselves outside our normal, small town of Templeton (800 people at the time) world and thrust into the hip, beach community of Carpinteria. Living in a condo and not on our farm with all our livestock was culture shock. Most frightening was walking into a 6^th grade classroom with 20 plus strange faces looking back at me.

You see I started kindergarten with the same group of kids that I had shared a school room with for the past half dozen years. There were no surprises, I knew where we all stood in the world of grammar school politics. I can tell you that Jack Greer and Marty Gonzales would get chosen first for teams, that Eddy McGill was the fastest boy in class and most importantly that my desk would always be next to my very best friend Shawna Moore.

Yet on this October day just shy of Halloween, my mother marched my brother and I into Main Elementary School. I can picture that first day like it was yesterday. I had to sit in the office while my mother finished our paperwork. Talk about being in a fish bowl. Kids’ faces would cruise by the window all looking at the new girl. Soon I was whisk off to meet my new class mates. Mr. Carrillo was my teacher and he was a big guy. He ran his room in a loose but structured style. I soon learned that many of my classmates lived in the same neighborhood. But I also was quick to discover that some of the students did not welcome strangers. I was threatened and even ran away from school one afternoon. Lucky for me I had a great teacher and librarian that saw the need in a lost little girl and decided to choose my first friend for me.

Lisa Gray was the daughter of the local dentist, had a very similar appearance to me and loved to read. The school adults saw something in both of us and very silently placed us together. Reading groups, going to help the librarian, working on projects she was always by my side. And the magicalness of adolescents turn us two brown haired girls into the best of friends. She made my new life bearable and soon helped me find my groove in a new place.

Lisa and I both made other friends and shared mutual groups of interest, but I can’t even begin to count the numerous adventures, secrets and memories we created. Lisa was enough for me and I was never too much for her. And the funny thing is that I know if Lisa, Julie, Candy and others were to sit down with me at dinner tonight we would pick up right back where we left off. (cue the end of The Way We Were).

I moved back to Templeton my junior year and graduated with many of the faces that I begin my academic journey with 18 years earlier. But Lisa and a handful of other friends never left my thoughts. I use to note that at the time, I down right hated having to move, but looking back I gained so much from being in a new environment. From learning experiences to different styles in clothing (who knew there were jeans outside of Wrangler?) and being exposed to a larger community helped shape my life and inner growth. And if it wasn’t for Mr. Johnson my high school agriculture teacher I wouldn’t know Parli Pro or how to play cribbage.

Discovering the lessons as our life changes and why god has placed us on a path isn’t always easy. It can be downright challenging. Using all the tools in your chest of “self help” can take time to repair the road our journey travels. My fall back in any situation is to use the simplest form and go back to square one. Cleaning a mess of closet, empty it completely and start over. Challenge at work, what is the first step in the right direction? So that is what I have done. And writing this blog is the first step to a new tomorrow. I am not going to promise that this will be the year that I actually write more and more, but who knows maybe the door opening is a sign for that adventure to unfold. My other big news is that I am teaching again. I am officially the instructor of Equine Marketing at the University of Louisville for spring of 2024. It has been great making my mind use channels of thoughts that have sat dormant for a few years.

Here is to 2024. A planner full of notes and lists. A blog review that surpasses any other year. Life is a journey and as history has shown all trips have their ups and downs. Look for the foundation or that one solid variable. Be it a person, place or thing, find your Lisa Gray and the equation will solve itself.

January 18, 2024 1