A compilation of the random things I tell myself and what I’d tell many women navigating life –
Girl, you don’t need another eye cream. You need a consistent sleep routine.
Girl, you don’t need excuses. You need actions.
Girl, you don’t need to use AI. You need to use 4 functioning brain cells.
Girl, you don’t need to date someone in the church. You were told to bring someone to church! If you read this and think these shoes fit you, they probably do. Put them on, march yourself outside, and start looking.
Girl, you don’t need any more energy drinks and you sure don’t need to check your blood pressure while drinking it. You need water!
Girl, you don’t need another cookie…wait, yes, you do!
P.S. do not try the newest Blue Bell flavor, chocolate lava cake. I want it all for myself!
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I ask you –
Anything to add to this compilation?
Have you tried the new ice cream flavor?!
(The post Girl, yes, you do first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)
Finally, the culmination of months of dance, dance practices, rehearsals, fall recital, costume changes, new shoes, and lost accessories – henceforth, the recital! This is the first year Mini hasn’t been galivanting across the U.S. on her summer travels so she actually had time to participate in the final 4 weeks leading up to the big summer recital. I didn’t know how much work went into the final weeks. Somehow we also managed a volleyball camp in here, too, which is shocking. And ambitious.
My biggest complaint…only complaint…is I missed the mud volleyball tournament because, apparently, our city chose the short stick (for 2 years in a row?!) to host Independence Day festivities the weekend prior to the holiday. I’m irked. This same weekend coincided with recital so decisions were made. I chose volleyball and I was vetoed. So here I am in a dress instead of a swimsuit covered in mud. What a sacrifice.
So what’s next? A 6-week break, then we do it again! I can’t recall at the moment but I do believe Mini is doing musical theater and ballet next semester? I don’t know.
This is fun, right?!
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I ask you –
When does your community host July 4th festivities?
To offer thanks I didn’t kill anyone with terrible canning safety techniques. See above.
To admire my newest WordPress achievement. Although I publish all posts at the same time of the day.
To really read my emails (oh, boss). Please marvel at the profound analysis I selflessly provided you. Because “good copy” just isn’t the response I was hoping for.
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I ask you –
Name something you’d like your friends/family/coworkers to take a moment for!
I’m both thankful and surprised this month flew by. I thought it would never end.
From traversing over 2,000 miles in just a few days to executing 2 large-scale work events (only 1 of which I actively had anything to do with) to fighting to keep what little budget we have to completing my services course practicum a week before the deadline – May was a lot. May it only come around once a year.
Unfortunately, the day before Mother’s Day, I failed to log any type of workout session so my streak ended there. The goal had been to log an activity for 365 days. I guess 364 will do. That day was busy – we had a community event, followed by graduation photos, then some other stuff I can’t recall. The workout just didn’t happen.
courtesy of Strava
I’ve also been struggling with some hip/lower back pain. A lifelong injury. Although I prehab, rehab, stretch, modify, eat right, drink enough water, limit sugar, and do all the things – still it persists. But the show must go on.
Surely I’m missing a huge part of this recap but, again, I’m mostly thankful May is over. For me, June is the first indicator of summer – with pool days, sunscreen, vacation plans, books by the dozen, lazy mornings, and all the iced coffee I can drink. We’ll see how it shakes out.
P.S. Today is Global Running Day so you know where I’ll be.
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I ask you –
Highlights of your May – please share!
(The post May Recap first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)
Please allow me to rave about this incredible restaurant in Salem, Virginia: Mac & Bob’s. It’s a local establishment with quite an interesting history. Our 3 dishes below were incredible. I hate that this place is in Virginia, or maybe I don’t?, because I would eat here weekly.
CalzonePizzaChicken Alfredo
Unsurprisingly, mini can match me drink for a drink. Or coffee for a coffee rather. This girl enjoys it and pretty much knows what she likes. She did allow me to order for her once, and although I don’t think it was her favorite, she was gracious. Life is better with caffeine.
I have an insane amount of photos from graduation week/day/weekend prior.
Many of my photos from the Liberty University campus in Lynchburg, VA, are places I “spent” time at during my PhD program. Having not seen them in person until recently, I had a picture in my head. However, this could simply be the most beautiful campus I’ve ever seen.
We drank so much coffee driving to VA from TX. Not pictured: an additional 2 or so coffee shops in Virginia.
Tennessee Tennessee Virginia Virginia
It was an incredibly long drive with a very short day of ceremonies, but I would encourage anyone to walk the stage at whatever school one graduates from. It’s such an honor to be surrounded by others who probably experienced many of the same headaches and who also celebrated some of the same wins.
We survived a 2500+ mile round trip (in under 4 days) to arrive home to this surprise. Not entirely pictured: a ginormous key lime pie cheesecake. Might have eaten 3 pieces at once. Parts may give me the hardest time but her support is immeasurable.
Part’s handiwork
I’m saving the food and extra coffee photos for my next post. Standby.
Friends! Spectacular view
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I ask you –
Even though I graduated in 2025, I waited a year to walk the stage. Hope you have much success in all your life’s endeavors!
(The post Commencement Funfirst appeared here at Running on Fumes.)
I am very aware my social media presence is a source of contention. But I have a few good reasons.
First, it’s unsafe. Constant posting is triangulated to where you work, what you do, who you interact with, how you spend your time, your associations, your family members, etc. And I resent the fact I can be triangulated using someone else’s social media. I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t agree to it.
Second, along the same lines as numero uno, it unfairly creates a profile of my family, notably family members without social media, especially those too young to engage in it. They should never be held to whatever standard I inadvertently created for them in a growing digital world. Employees, educators, and acquaintances have access to them. And it can be used against them. Just no.
Third, growth happens in private. Behind closed doors. Recognition of growth is admirable, celebrated. I’m all for it! But not at the expense of what quietly achieving my goals is worth to me. So I’ll share the nuggets, the brief glimpses, but the big reveal comes when I’m ready, comfortable with the outcome. Not as a response to what I “should” post.
Not posting has nothing to do with shame, or hiding. For me, it’s all about protection of my peace, my family, and my growth. Conversation with others happens when electronic devices are silenced, the focus shifts, and real connection is made. It’s a hard lesson – to be willing to escape societal norms but I’m finally starting to understand it’s where real peace lies.
And wherever there is peace is where I want to be.
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I ask you –
How often do you post on social media?
Do you inadvertently (or intentionally) post family members?
(The post Grow out loudfirst appeared here at Running on Fumes.)
Truly, I believe everyone has those showstopper moments. Those moments in life so powerful they could bring you to your knees, and they run the gamut of emotions. Joy, pain, sorrow, grief. The list is endless.
Aunt Mary Catherine is my showstopper. I’m sure I could name other people or experiences with similar ease yet she was my first. And dare I say best.
These photos mean everything to me. “If pictures were possessions, these would be my most coveted.” I never want to forget the feel of her hand in mine. I never want to forget her smile. I never want to forget the recognition in her eyes despite the inability to verbalize my name. The feel of her lips against my hand as she kissed it countless times, the feel of her soft cheeks against my own lips, the numerous I love you’s back and forth. The love I have for her nearly brings me to tears. But all I could do was smile.
As her voice now fades to a whisper, I promise her to sing with my whole heart, the beautiful, showstopping baritone voice she has but only a memory in my mind. Yet, when I sing, I lift my voice as strongly as hers.
Although some of her sentences were the ramblings of years of thoughts and memories which have become tumbled onto endless paths, her eyes are still so alive with important things to share, observations of an intelligent woman who still desires to serve others.
And her sense of humor is off the charts. She offered to get up from her wheelchair to let me “use the car”. She also said “I reckon we could leave but they might catch us”. Fortunately for the women in my family, and unfortunately for the men, we tend to outlive our counterparts, spouses, and anybody with testosterone.
But if you ask me about the most profound thing she said, I’d tell you this: “I’m waiting on my husband to come get me. He says I’m not done here yet.” Selfishly, I want her here 99 more years. As impossible as it is, every moment with her is a blessing and she is the true heart of love I envisioned when naming mini. My showstoppers.
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I ask you –
Who is your showstopper?
Who is the oldest living person in your family?
(The post 99 Years Young first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)
Turns out I’m allergic to patterned carpet. Dramatic much, Kel. Obviously I’m not allergic. More like averse to it. The patterns are optical and often symmetrical enough to prompt a very dizzying effect. Hotels, classrooms, and educational training sites often utilize this type of carpet which really causes issues with my brain. Or equilibrium. You know what else causes all the sneezing? Beautiful, resilient, blooms, like these flowers. How can something so gorgeous create so many issues?!
CMSgt Fabrienne Burnett
This incredible woman made a few last minute stops on her way to retirement and I was so humbled to be a part of her waypoint. You see, she just returned from deployment in a war-torn, volatile area. Sure, she’s done her fair share of deployments but the emotion I felt in her presence was stained with exhaustion, and dare I say, an undercurrent of hurt. The sheer fact that she took it upon herself to say goodbye rather than fading into R&R without a rear view speaks volumes of her commitment. CMSgt Burnett is one of a kind. I’ve seen some good ones, but she is a great one. And to say she will be missed is an understatement. At a recent commander’s call, our commander asked for a raise of hands to indicate who knew or had been impacted by Chief. Nearly the entire room had a hand raised. As I looked around at the faces of those with their hands up, it was apparent the impression she had made. People were smiling. And that’s what people did when they saw her in her office, out and about, in their spaces. They smiled. She cared. And she will be missed.
All this to say, the empathic part of me accepted her emotions. As the day went on, I kept coming back to those emotions, visible in her eyes and the long hug – needing connection, stability, and a listening ear. The next day, I had grand plans to run, to do things, to be productive. Instead, I couldn’t find the energy. I knew if I didn’t sit with the emotions, my mind and body would eventually force me to do so. When it hits, there’s no pause button, no “please schedule a time…”. So I sat. I rested. I felt. This is the resilience we often speak of. The acknowledgement to ourselves we are strong, even when weak.
Even as the flowers are beautiful, they are equally resilient. If only my nose was the same.
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I ask you –
Have you someone in your life who embodies the core of resiliency?
I’ve started, restarted, paused, abandoned, and now wait for the finality of a draft post, titled The Day I Had Coffee with Her. Some time ago, there was a social media trend of the same title, basically stating what you would tell your younger self. A few posts that came across my feed were very deep, mentioning trauma and abuse, while some just shared encouraging memories. I jumped on the proverbial wagon, but I didn’t finish it. Yet.
In a way, this is my homage to the unfinished post.
I sit alone. And I am unafraid. Never lonely. Yet alone. Some events make me question myself. Some even bring back very tough memories or experiences. Some I thought I was over. Turns out I’m not. So I sit alone with the pain.
Even when the fear ebbs and wanes, I am unafraid. Fear is psychological and I am aware of my limitations, my weaknesses, my inability to turn away from feeling it. Fear is not failure. And words do not own me. So I protect me by sitting alone.
Those old patterns are tempting. Too easy to return to my old ways. But I know every curve in the road, every pothole waiting to derail me. Swerve. I sit alone, in the driver’s seat, in control.
It’s lonely at the top. When the decisions rest on my shoulders and hard news is hard on everyone. I sit alone, pondering how much easier it would have been to gloss over the truth, to abandon what must be said. I could invite others to sit with me. Yet the consequences are far too great. I sit alone out of self-respect.
I’m not sorry for choosing to sit alone, when the choice is mine. I’m not a failure for sitting alone when the choice is made for me. Sitting is an opportunity to rest. And no one knows me better than me. So I sit alone.
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I ask you –
Are you familiar with the “Coffee with Her” trend?
(The post I Sit Alone first appeared here at Running on Fumes.)
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