OKC NBA CHAMPS! 2025

OKC won the Championship last week, and somehow, I’m completely exhausted. Why exhausted, you ask? Well, it’s not like I left my couch or anything. Instead, I’m wiped out from watching them play. It was INTENSE. Even Dennis couldn’t handle it. He got up and started doing chores—actual, productive chores—as if scrubbing the microwave would somehow improve our odds. Meanwhile, I barricaded myself with headphones, watching Friends on loop, occasionally peeking at the score like it was a horror movie jump scare.

If we were winning? Deep breath, back to Rachel and Ross. Losing? Cue full-blown panic...while still watching Friends. (Apparently, my coping mechanism is sitcom-induced stress layering. Highly recommend.) Dennis even declared, “I’m so over basketball! I just need it to be OVER so I can relax!”

Same, Dennis. Same.

Apparently, we weren’t the only frazzled ones. A few friends confessed they felt the same stress spiral. We even considered going to a game—but when we checked ticket prices, we laughed so hard we nearly pulled a muscle. They had a parade afterward with over 500,000 people. Five. Hundred. Thousand. Do you know how many that is? That’s, like, 499,997 too many for me. I barely tolerate three other people on the same grocery aisle as me, so a crowd that size? Hard pass. Anyway, it’s been a wild ride, and honestly, I think we all need a nap. Congrats OKC and as always.... THUNDER UP!

 Don’t be average, be savage!

Take Five or…. Take a Sunday!

Nature has a knack for serving up what you need, exactly when you need it. For me, it was a much-needed pause after a whirlwind of chaos. You see, I’ve been burning the candle at both ends since February, prepping for a center accreditation. Sounds simple when summed up in one sentence, right? But when you’re managing an 11,000-square-foot building, 177 students, 30 staff members, and an actual life outside of work, it’s anything but.

Here’s a snapshot of my days during those three months of madness: wake up, work by 10, grind until 6, head home, make dinner, and then spend the night buried in accreditation paperwork until four in the morning. Sleep? Overrated. Then rinse and repeat. For three solid months. (Yes, I may have lost my mind somewhere along the way.)

I even scheduled an early accreditation date, thinking I’d be clever and rip the bandage off sooner. By Wednesday, we’d had our big visit. By Thursday, my body had apparently decided, “That’s enough out of you,” and I was so sick I needed a doctor-ordered intervention. My immune system waved the white flag, and honestly, I didn’t blame it. I was worried I wouldn’t make it through Friday’s after school campout, but somehow,with sheer determination and a good dose of an antibiotic, I was ready to tackle Fridays camp out!

The campout turned out to be exactly what I needed! It was all about good vibes, a gentle breeze, and a comfy hammock under a canopy of trees. My "job" (and I use that term loosely) was to make sure everyone else was actually doing theirs—which, coincidentally, I could manage just fine while lounging in said hammock and playing an intense round of Bop It with a friend. I thought scheduling a campout right after accreditation prep was a monumentally dumb idea. Yet somehow, it allowed me to slow down and a brief reset.

Saturday came, and Dennis and I when to our granddaughters’ dance recital, followed by a joint lunch-dinner celebration for my youngest son’s 30th birthday.

And today? It’s raining, which feels like nature breaking out her soothing "you’ve earned this" playlist. All I want to do is curl up with a good book and soak in the peace, but I did household chores that I haven't done is months, swept the pool spending some time outside and then made a yummy meal. I think without Friday, I would have been on Empty going into next week.

What "Me TIme"?

Alright, hold on to your coffee cups because what I’m about to say might ruffle some feathers. When exactly did this whole “I need me time” mantra become the anthem of adulthood? I mean, seriously, where did all these “woe-is-me, I-can’t-handle-it, life-is-hard” vibes come from? Don't you understand the assignment? Once you’ve got your own kids, or your own family, the concept of “me time” takes a backseat faster than a toddler spotting a candy aisle.

Look, life shifts gears once you step into the adult realm. Your “free time” is now spent cleaning the house you work 40 hours a week to afford. Your evenings? They’ve been overrun by little league games and recital rehearsals. And that mythical “me time” everyone keeps chasing? Guess where that is found? That was me sitting on the dryer, sneaking a few pages of a romance novel between laundry cycles. Glamorous, right?

Raising a family isn’t some choose-your-own-adventure game where you skip to the restful chapter. It’s life on loop with a soundtrack of “Mom, can I have?” and “Dad, where’s my?” The job description is clear: housework, kids, activities, repeat. “Me time” didn’t get the memo. But hey, those nighttime moments, when everyone else was asleep and I finally got to slide into bed? That was as good as it got, and honestly, it wasn’t half bad.

Now here’s the thing, and yes, this is the part where I grab the mic for a reality check. If you’re raising a family, congrats, you’ve signed up for a 24/7 gig with zero PTO. There aren’t extra hours hiding somewhere in the day; believe me, I’ve checked. It’s not about you anymore. It’s about the people you’re raising. And every time you moan about needing “me time,” your kids hear it. Loud and clear. The message you’re sending? That they’re some kind of burden. Ouch, right?

Here’s the deal, my fellow adults-in-training. It’s time to ditch the melodrama, lace up your big-kid shoes, and step onto the field you willingly signed up for. Parenting is chaos. It’s messy, exhausting, and relentless. And yet, those crumb-covered kisses, those sticky hugs, that moment when your kid lights up because you’re there? That’s the music. Time to stop fighting the beat and start dancing to it. S

Highty Ho, Linus!

 Why do I always end up with the "Linus" neighbor? You know that little kid from Peanuts? The one who seems to carry his own weather system of dirt, a perpetual whirlwind of grime that follows his every step? Yeah, I’m pretty sure he’s my neighbors spirit animal. We always seem to attract that neighbor RIGHT NEXT DOOR TO US that acts like their yard is auditioning for a post-apocalyptic film! It doesn’t matter where I move. It could be a quaint little town or a cozy suburban street, but sure enough, I’ll land right next to the person who views "mowing the lawn" as an optional lifestyle choice.

Their yard is either a jungle of knee-high weeds or a graveyard for broken-down furniture and mystery items that probably contain at least one raccoon family. Meanwhile, my yard looks like it could grace the cover of Better Homes & Gardens! We keep the grass trimmed, the flowerbeds pristine, and the whole space squeaky clean. Yet, here I am, living diagonally across from someone who seems to think their house is better suited as a storage unit than as, you know, a place to live.

But you know what? Maybe it’s fine. After all, they’re the ones creating the perfect rodent and snake bed-and-breakfast. I just wish it didn’t come with a front-row seat to Wild Kingdom every time I open my curtains!