Summer is slipping away

Bare feet in the grass

Long days melting into dusk

Gone before we know

Maybe Don't Take Relationship Advice from Karen

I’m convinced the internet has become the world’s most unqualified relationship counselor.

It doesn’t matter what someone posts. The advice is almost always the same.

“Cut them off.”

“Go no contact.”

“Give them an ultimatum.”

I swear, if someone posted, “My sister forgot my birthday,” half the comments would be, “She’s toxic. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life.” Your husband leaves his socks on the floor? Divorce. Your mom calls too much? Block her. Your brother borrowed your ladder three years ago and still hasn’t brought it back? Clearly he doesn’t respect your boundaries.

At this point, I’m almost afraid to ask what kind of laundry detergent people recommend because somebody’s going to tell me my washing machine is gaslighting me.

Now, before anybody gets mad, let me say this. There are absolutely relationships that need distance. Some people are abusive. Some relationships are unhealthy. Sometimes walking away really is the healthiest thing you can do.

But I also think we’ve become way too comfortable telling complete strangers to make permanent decisions based on one paragraph on the internet. We don’t know the whole story. We don’t know the thirty years that came before the post. We don’t know if this is a lifelong pattern, a misunderstanding, or just one really bad Tuesday.

That decision belongs to the person living it—not to people scrolling Facebook while eating chips on the couch.

What concerns me is how often boundaries and ultimatums get lumped together like they’re the same thing. They’re not.

A boundary says, “This is what I need to do to protect my peace.”

An ultimatum says, “Do what I want, or else.”

There’s a difference.

Sometimes an ultimatum is nothing more than an adult version of standing on the playground with your arms crossed saying, “If you won’t play my game, I’m taking my toys and going home.” I’d like to think we’ve outgrown that.

Relationships are messy because people are messy. We misunderstand each other. We get hurt. We say things we wish we could take back. Sometimes we apologize. Sometimes we forgive. Sometimes we agree to disagree. And sometimes, after you've communicated, tried, prayed, cried, set healthy boundaries, and done everything you reasonably can, walking away really is the right decision.

But that decision should come from your heart, your experiences, and your circumstances—not because a hundred strangers typed, “Cut them off,” before they finished their morning coffee.

So by all means, listen to advice. Consider different perspectives. Learn from people who have walked a similar road.

Then close the app.

Because the people in the comments won't be sitting beside you five years from now wondering if the relationship could have been saved.

You will.

Protect your peace. Set healthy boundaries. But make sure the decision is yours.

Because while some bridges truly do need to be burned...

A whole lot of them just need a little maintenance.

Do you Think It's Allergies?

Why am I tired… like all the time… except apparently from midnight to 3:00 in the morning when my body decides, “You know what sounds fun? Being wide awake!” 🙄

It can’t be boredom. I stay busy. I’m not sitting around staring at a wall waiting for the day to end. I have things to do, places to go, grandkids, projects, a house, a husband, and about 47 thoughts running through my head at any given moment.

I even had labs done. Everything looks fine. Nothing out of whack. Which is great news… except part of me is like, “Okay, but could you find a tiny something so I have an explanation?” 😂

I always blame my allergies. Always.

My head hurts? Allergies.

My ear feels weird? Allergies.

My arm hurts? Probably allergies.

Random bruise I don’t remember getting? Well obviously it's my allergies!🤣

At what point do you stop blaming allergies and start wondering, “Is there something secretly trying to take me out that just isn’t showing up on blood work or ultrasounds?”

Am I a hypochondriac? Probably a little. I like to call it being hyper focused and in tune with my body with a splash of dramatic imagination. There’s a difference. 😂

But seriously… why am I so sleepy? I can want a nap while I’m actively doing something. That shouldn’t even be possible. My brain is making plans and my body is over here looking for a blanket.

Tomorrow we’re getting a new roof put on the house, and instead of just being happy about having a new roof, my first thought was…

“Great. There goes my nap.” 😑

Apparently I have officially reached the stage of life where construction projects are judged by how badly they interfere with my sleep schedule.

Now excuse me while I complain about being tired all day… and then suddenly find energy at 1:30 a.m. to reorganize a drawer, research a random symptom, and solve problems nobody asked me to solve. 🤦‍♀️

I Think I’m Becoming an Old Lady… and I’m Surprisingly Okay With It

Somewhere along the way, I became an old lady.

Not overnight. It kind of snuck up on me.

One day you’re buying cute shoes, and the next you’re genuinely excited about finding a face cream that’s on sale… even though you know good and well it’s not going to erase 61 years of laughing, worrying, and squinting.

I actually like the idea of sleeping with a few curlers in my hair. I have an entire lineup of anti-aging creams, all making promises they have absolutely no intention of keeping. I fill my pill organizer every month and feel ridiculously accomplished when it’s done. It’s weirdly satisfying.

I also never expected certain smells to become comforting. The smell of Noxzema, baby oil, and Mentholatum has a whole new effect on me now. They don’t just remind me of my childhood anymore—they remind me of where I am today. They’re the scents of scraped knees, sunburns, grandparents, sick days… and now achy muscles and bedtime routines. It’s funny how life comes full circle. The very things that remind me of my youth have somehow become the comforts of my aging. It’s a full-circle moment for all of my senses.

I’ve become a person who loves a routine. I love when it’s just Dennis and me at home. After 33 years together, there’s something comforting about knowing each other’s habits. We don’t even have to talk all the time. Just being in the same house somehow feels like home.

I’ve got wind chimes hanging in the yard. Ceramic frogs that I’ve randomly decided deserve names. Crystals hanging in my trees—one for each grandchild—because it makes me smile when the sun catches them.

I’ve reached the age where birds are suddenly fascinating. I know which squirrel is stealing from the bird feeder. I get excited when a plant I was sure I killed decides to make a comeback. I have opinions about birdseed, hummingbirds, and whether it’s going to rain based on how my knees feel.

I wave at strangers. I get excited over a new kitchen gadget I’ll probably use twice. I tell people to “drive careful.” I compare prices just for the thrill of saving 37 cents. I turn the TV down so I can read the captions. I get irrationally excited when I buy a new sponge or finally find a container that fits leftovers perfectly.

And don’t even get me started on how much joy a good nap can bring.

Twenty-five-year-old me would be horrified.

Sixty-one-year-old me is living her best life.

Growing older isn’t just about wrinkles or gray hair. It’s about finding comfort in the little things. It’s about building a life that finally feels peaceful. It’s about realizing that home isn’t a place—it’s a person you’ve spent the last 33 years laughing with.

So yes… I think I’m becoming an old lady.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go check on my ceramic frogs.

Common Sense Called. It’s Tired of Your Shit,

Oh YES. 😂 And I think it could be bigger than one post. “Somebody Needed to Say It” could be an entire series for your blog—basically common sense with a little sarcasm.

Here’s how I’d open the first one:

Somebody Needed to Say It

I’ve decided common sense isn’t dead.

It’s just exhausted.

It’s sitting somewhere in sweatpants, drinking coffee, watching the rest of us make completely avoidable problems and whispering, “You have GOT to be kidding me.”

Because I’m starting to notice how many things we call problems aren’t actually problems.

They’re consequences.

We procrastinate. We ignore things. We spend money we don’t have. We don’t read the directions. We don’t make the appointment. We don’t save for the thing we’ve known about for six months.

Then the completely predictable thing happens and suddenly—

EMERGENCY!

No.

Sometimes that’s not an emergency.

Sometimes that’s Tuesday finally catching up with Monday.

We wait until the gas light has been on for three days and then act personally betrayed when the car stops.

We ignore the check-engine light because apparently covering it with a strategically placed Post-it Note is now automotive repair.

We know the electric bill comes every month. Yet somehow every month we’re stunned that the electric company would like money in exchange for electricity.

Christmas arrives on December 25th EVERY. SINGLE. YEAR.

Birthdays are even easier. They’re literally printed on the birth certificate.

Your driver’s license tells you when it expires.

Your tags tell you when they expire.

Your prescription bottle tells you when you’re running out.

Your child’s school tells you when school starts.

The dentist has been telling you about that tooth for two years.

And that weird noise your washing machine has been making since Easter?

It did not heal itself.

But humans possess an incredible ability to ignore something for six months and then demand that somebody else fix it TODAY.

And we do the same thing with behavior.

We don’t tell somebody they’ve been bothering us.

We don’t set a boundary.

We don’t say no.

We don’t have the uncomfortable conversation.

Instead, we let it simmer for approximately seven years until they put the serving spoon in the wrong drawer and suddenly we’re screaming,

“AND ANOTHER THING…”

Ma’am.

This is not about the spoon.

Somebody needed to say it.

We complain we’re tired while staying up until 2 a.m. watching people we’ve never met argue on Facebook.

We complain we’re broke while DoorDash is bringing us a $19 hamburger from a restaurant four minutes away.

We complain that our house is cluttered while Amazon is currently locating our residence with three additional packages.

We complain nobody calls us.

Our phone also makes outgoing calls.

We complain our kids won’t get off their phones while we’re typing the complaint from our phone.

We want our children to be responsible while we’re emailing their teacher because little Johnny forgot his homework for the fourth time.

Maybe Johnny needs the zero.

Johnny will survive.

We have become very good at rescuing ourselves and each other from consequences—and then wondering why nobody learns anything.

Sometimes the answer really is that simple.

Go to bed.

Make the appointment.

Save the money.

Return the call.

Read the instructions.

Get gas.

Say no.

Apologize.

Stop buying crap.

Let your kid be disappointed.

And for the love of everything holy, change the smoke-detector battery instead of listening to it chirp for four months.

Not every inconvenience is trauma.

Not every disagreement is toxic.

Not every uncomfortable feeling requires somebody else to change.

Not every bad decision deserves a rescue mission.

And not every problem needs a complicated solution.

Sometimes you already know exactly what you need to do.

You just don’t particularly want to do it.

That’s where common sense comes in.

And apparently common sense needs a spokesperson.

Fine. I’ll do it.

Somebody needed to say it. 😂