Every time someone says, “Oh my gosh, I got food poisoning there!” I swear my eyes roll so far back I can see my own common sense.
Now don’t get me wrong, real food poisoning is awful. Miserable. Nobody’s arguing that. But let’s talk about the other 70% of cases that sound a whole lot more like: I drank six frozen margaritas, forgot to eat all day, and then had a plate of shrimp fettuccine under the setting sun.
Yeah. That kind of food poisoning.
Punta Cana, Exhibit A
When we were in Punta Cana …beautiful resort, gorgeous beach, staff working their tails off, people kept saying they got food poisoning. And I’m over here thinking, really? Or did you just melt in the sun and chase tequila shots with piña coladas until your stomach filed for divorce?
Because unless your doctor used the actual words “food poisoning,” I’m gonna go ahead and guess you might’ve just been a touch hungover, dehydrated, or allergic to your own bad decisions.
The Rich-Food-Rookie Move
Let’s not forget this one: you eat barely anything all day, your body’s running on sun and pool water, then you go eat a five-course dinner full of spices, sauces, and cream and BOOM. Your stomach revolts. That’s not bad food, sweetie, that’s your gut screaming, “What are we doing right now?!”
Real Talk
I’m not saying people never get actual food poisoning. It happens. It’s just that for every real case, there are ten more that are, shall we say, self-inflicted. You know who you are.
So the next time you’re tempted to declare a restaurant guilty of “food poisoning,” ask yourself:
Did you see a doctor? Did anyone else eating the same thing get sick? How many fruity drinks with umbrellas did you have yesterday?
If the answers are no, no and seven, maybe the only thing you got poisoned by …was vacation enthusiasm.
All I’m saying is, before you hop online to warn others, maybe pop open a Gatorade, grab some crackers, and consider that the only thing you got poisoned by, was your own good time.
There are certain things that hold stories even after the people are gone. For me, one of those things is this little sword-shaped letter opener that once belonged to my Gramma.
I can still see her sitting at the table, sunlight hitting her coffee cup just right…or whatever she had in that cup! She would be opening her mail with this very piece of metal. She handled it with that kind of calm precision that only grandmothers seem to have, as if she were opening tiny doors to the outside world.
Everything came by mail back then, letters from friends, bills (the kind you wrote checks for), maybe a catalog or two. The world moved slower, and somehow, it felt kinder.
This piece was from her time at Temple University. I believe it was one of those gratitude gifts from the school, though honestly, it feels more like a little sword of connection now…a link between her world and mine.
Today, it sits on my desk. Whenever I open mail with it, I’m instantly back in that kitchen with her. I can smell Tide and Downey, hear her southern drawl and for a split second, it’s as if time folds in on itself.
It’s funny how something so simple can bring back so much love.
When social media first came along, it felt like a fun little toy, something shiny and new that helped us reconnect, share photos, and peek into each other’s lives. But fast forward a decade or two, and that “toy” has turned into a full-blown social experiment. Only problem is, we’re the lab rats.
We’re raising kids who measure their worth in likes and adults who get their validation from hearts and follows. Social media isn’t all bad; it connects us, educates us, entertains us. But it’s also quietly reprogramming how we see ourselves and each other, and it’s hitting every generation in different ways.
Young Girls: The Mirror with Filters
Sweet girls, those “perfect” people you see online? They don’t even look like that in real life. There’s makeup, editing, angles, lighting, and a whole lot of pretending. Don’t chase that illusion. You are not a product, and your value is not based on how many likes you get.
The world needs your real laugh, your messy bun, your goofy grin, your voice. You’re not supposed to look or act like everyone else; you’re supposed to be you. Be kind, be curious, be brave, and don’t let a screen tell you who you are.
Young Boys: The Highlight Reel of Toughness
Boys, somewhere along the way, social media decided to redefine what “strong” means, and it got it wrong. You’ll see people flashing money, flexing muscles, and acting like they don’t care about anything or anyone. But real strength isn’t about control or cockiness. It’s about character.
You can be tough and still be kind. You can have feelings and still be strong. You don’t need to broadcast your life to prove your worth. The quiet confidence of a good heart will outlast every trend.
Teen Girls: The Pressure Cooker of Perfection
Oh girls, my heart breaks for the pressure you’re under. Social media makes it seem like everyone else has it figured out, the perfect skin, the perfect friends, the perfect life. But no one posts the hard parts. The heartbreaks. The bad grades. The lonely nights.
You are enough. You don’t owe anyone a “filtered” version of yourself to be accepted. You are beautiful even when your hair’s a mess and your mascara’s smudged. The people who truly love you don’t care about your online version; they care about the real you.
Teen Boys: The Alpha Illusion
Gentlemen, let’s get one thing straight. The internet is full of people shouting about what it means to “be a man,” and most of them don’t have a clue. You don’t have to be loud to be respected, and you don’t have to be mean to be strong.
Respect women. Respect yourself. Own your mistakes. Apologize when you’re wrong. That’s what makes you a man, not how many followers you have or how fast your car goes.
Real confidence isn’t about dominance, it’s about decency.
Adults: The Scroll Hole We Built Ourselves
And yes, even us grown folks fall into the trap. We roll our eyes at “kids these days” then lose an hour arguing in a comment section about politics with someone named TruckDaddy72. We’ve traded conversation for comments and connection for comparison.
We’re so busy scrolling through other people’s lives that we’re missing our own. And that’s not living, that’s existing on autoplay.
The Real Impact
Social media isn’t evil. It’s a tool. But just like fire, it can warm your home or burn it down depending on how you use it.
If it’s making you feel angry, anxious, or “not enough,” step back. The world will still spin if you log off for a while. Go outside. Read something real. Sit across from someone and talk, with your eyes, not your thumbs.
Because the truth is, the best moments in life can’t be captured on camera.
The Reflection – From Journeys With Jani
The more I travel, the more I notice something. The happiest people aren’t the ones glued to their phones. They’re the ones looking up. The ones who actually see the sunset instead of trying to photograph it. The ones laughing with strangers, tasting new food, getting lost on purpose.
Social media will show you the world, sure, but travel will let you feel it. Real life is in the sound of waves, the smell of street food, the way people smile in every language.
So go live your life, not for the post, but for the story.
Because life’s not meant to be scrolled through. It’s meant to be lived through.
Last week marked a milestone that made me smile bigger than Snoopy on top of his doghouse …the 75th anniversary of Peanuts! On October 2, 1950, a then young Charles Schulz introduced the world to Charlie Brown, Snoopy, Lucy, Linus, and the gang. That very first Peanuts comic strip appeared in just seven newspapers nationwide and the rest, as they say, is history.
From that moment forward, generations have laughed, cried, and nodded along at the wit, humor, and truth tucked into Schulz’s little treasures. Peanuts wasn’t just a comic strip. It was a mirror. A reminder that life is funny, awkward, sometimes lonely, but always better with good friends (and a loyal dog).
I have loved Snoopy and his friends since I was very little. There was just something about that black & white beagle dancing across the page, or Linus holding onto his security blanket for dear life, that resonated with me. Maybe because, like all of us, I’ve had my Charlie Brown days …feeling like the football’s been snatched away one too many times. And I’ve also had my Snoopy moments …dreaming big, living in my own imagination, and occasionally just needing a nap on top of the “doghouse.”
What amazes me is how timeless it all is. 75 years later, Peanuts hasn’t aged a bit. The humor still lands. The wisdom still holds true. And the nostalgia? Well, it’s wrapped up like a warm blanket on a chilly fall night.
So here’s to Charles Schulz and the gift he gave us. Here’s to Charlie Brown, who kept trying no matter how many times he missed the kick. To Snoopy, who proved every day that being a little quirky is actually a superpower. To Lucy, who reminded us that sometimes we all need a little “psychiatric help” (preferably for 5 cents). And to all of us who still love them, just as much today as we did when we were kids.
Happy (belated) 75th, Peanuts. Thank you for teaching us that happiness really is a warm puppy.
I’ve decided to slowly clean out my wardrobe and head toward something I’ve always admired but never fully committed to—a capsule wardrobe. Simple, streamlined, and (hopefully) stress-free.
My new base? Black, white, grey, beige, and sage. Those are the anchors. Clean, classic, and timeless. The fun and personality? That’ll come in the pops of color—shoes, bags, jewelry, and maybe a scarf or two when I’m feeling fancy.
This won’t be an overnight process. Nope, I’m treating it like weight loss—slow and steady, with a long-term goal. End target? Spring 2026. By then, I want to open my closet and see a curated little collection that makes getting dressed easy and packing for trips even easier.
Because honestly, how many times have I stood over my suitcase, thinking, “Why do I have twelve tops that don’t go with anything?” A capsule wardrobe fixes that. Every piece plays well with the others, and the extras are just sprinkles on top.
Travel has taught me that less really can be more—fewer decisions, fewer regrets, and more room in the suitcase for the good stuff (like souvenirs, let’s be real).
So, here’s to cleaning out, scaling down, and building a wardrobe that feels just as practical as it does polished. And if you see me in black pants and a sage sweater for the third time in a week? Just know my shoes are fabulous.
PS: I’ll probably start posting some clothes in a few months as I clean things out. I’d love to say shoes too, but come on—do y’all even know me? Shoes are sacred. They’re not going anywhere!
The South is a land of contrasts. You can sip cocktails on a rooftop in Atlanta one night and be knee-deep in Appalachian holler country the next morning. Our region is stitched together by highways and backroads that carry you from bustling cities to quiet valleys where life slows to a crawl. And both? They’re equally Southern.
The Big City South
Southern cities aren’t just growing—they’re thriving. Atlanta, Nashville, Charlotte, Birmingham—they pulse with culture, innovation, and a whole lot of grit.
In Atlanta, skyscrapers gleam, traffic crawls (bless it), and you can find everything from five-star dining to hole-in-the-wall BBQ. Nashville hums with music pouring from every doorway on Broadway, but also cradles deep roots of Southern hospitality in her neighborhoods. Charlotte blends banking towers with barbecue joints, while Birmingham’s rebirth is all about food and art layered onto its steel-town history.
Big cities in the South bring energy, opportunity, and a melting pot of cultures—but they never lose that undercurrent of Southern hospitality. You’ll still hear a “ma’am” from a waiter and catch a stranger holding the door open.
ATLANTA!
Life in the Hollers …better known as small town!
Then there are the hollers. Little tucked-away valleys between Appalachian ridges, where neighbors are family, traditions run deep, and the mountains feel like both shield and sanctuary.
Life in a holler is slower but not simpler—it’s hard work, tight-knit community, and an unshakable connection to the land. Folks here pass down stories, songs, recipes, and a resilience that outsiders might not understand until they see it for themselves. The accents are thicker, the stars shine brighter, and the sense of belonging is stronger than Wi-Fi will ever be.
BLUE RIDGE!
Where the Two Meet
What makes the South so magical is that these worlds coexist. You can spend your morning in a gleaming downtown office and your evening listening to bluegrass on a back porch up in the hills. You can brunch in Charleston one day and sit at a church picnic in a holler the next.
The South’s beauty lies in this balance—its ability to embrace progress without letting go of tradition, to celebrate the rush of the city and the quiet of the holler with equal pride.
SEC FOOTBALL!
Travel the Contrast
Want to experience it? Take a road trip that mixes both. Fly into Atlanta, soak in the city, then head north to Dahlonega or the North Georgia mountains for a taste of holler living. Visit Nashville for the music scene, then escape to eastern Tennessee’s tucked-away valleys. Let Charlotte’s skyscrapers wow you, then wander through Appalachian small towns where time moves differently.
Because whether you’re in a big city skyscraper or a tiny holler, the South still greets you the same way: with grit, grace, and a whole lot of charm.
You know that first morning in late September when you step outside, take a deep breath, and suddenly the air’s got that little nip to it? The kind that makes you think about sweaters, pumpkin bread, and maybe sneaking a blanket onto the porch swing? That’s my cue—it’s time to pack a bag.
Fall is hands-down one of the best times to travel. The leaves put on their sparkly evening gowns, the food gets a little heartier, and best of all—you don’t have to fight off the summer tourist stampede just to grab a table at dinner. So if you’re craving scenery that will knock your socks off, food that hugs your soul, and fewer crowds in your way, here are some of my favorite fall getaways.
Let’s talk about it…
🍂 Southern Comfort & Beyond
Asheville, North Carolina – Blue Ridge Beauty
God must’ve had a paintbrush in His hand when He made the Blue Ridge Parkway in October. Every bend of that road looks like it belongs in a coffee-table book. Asheville seals the deal with its foodie scene: farm-to-table restaurants, craft beer that will make you forget Bud Light ever existed, and mountain-town charm. Cozy cabin, fire crackling, glass of red wine? Now that’s fall therapy.
Jackson Hole, Wyoming – Golden Aspens & Cowboy Charm
Here’s the deal: the Tetons in fall are straight-up show-offs. Aspens turn to gold, wildlife struts around like they’re in a National Geographic spread, and the summer tourist buses are long gone. Add in western comfort food—bison steaks, trout, and cocktails with a kick—and you’ll understand why this spot makes my list.
Northern Michigan & the Upper Peninsula – Lake Life, Quieter Vibes
The U.P. in autumn feels like a well-kept secret. Fewer crowds, more waterfalls, apple orchards galore, and those Great Lake views that could make a poet out of anyone. Traverse City and the lake towns ease into a slower rhythm—perfect for sipping a cider and staying put for a while.
Napa Valley, California – A Toast to Harvest Season
Harvest time in Napa is magic. The vines go golden, the grapes are ripe, and the air smells like possibility…and wine. Vineyards host dinners, festivals pop up, and yes—you can stomp grapes Lucy-style if you want to. And since the summer crowd has vanished, the valley feels a little more yours.
🌍 For the Passport Crowd
Kyoto, Japan – Autumn Magic
Everyone goes crazy for cherry blossoms in spring, but give me Kyoto in fall any day. Ancient temples framed in fiery red maples? Yes, please. Add in steaming bowls of ramen and delicate tea ceremonies, and you’ll wonder why you didn’t book Japan in October years ago.
Tuscany, Italy – Harvest Heaven
If fall had a love language, it would be Tuscany. The hills glow in shades of gold and green, the pace slows down, and the food…well, let’s just say truffle pasta and Chianti don’t need a sales pitch. This is where you linger, sip, and sigh in the best way.
Istria, Croatia – Mediterranean Flavor Without the Madness
Want the charm of the Mediterranean without shoulder-to-shoulder tourists? Head to Istria in fall. The air is scented with olives and wine, the seaside towns are blissfully calm, and oh yes—truffle season. A plate of truffle pasta with local wine here may just ruin you for all future meals.
Iceland – Northern Lights & Wild Beauty
Fall in Iceland is like stepping onto another planet: mossy lava fields, roaring waterfalls, black-sand beaches. And then, as if that wasn’t enough, the Northern Lights show up to remind you Mother Nature likes to show off too. With summer’s crowds long gone, you’ll have more quiet moments to soak it in.
✈️ My Takeaway
Fall isn’t just a season—it’s an invitation. To slow down. To watch the leaves put on their best outfits. To eat meals that comfort and warm you. And to remember that sometimes the sweetest journeys happen when the rest of the world is rushing past.
So whether you’re cruising the Blue Ridge Parkway, sipping wine in Tuscany, or watching the Northern Lights dance across the sky, just remember: autumn waits for no one.
And darling, neither should you. 🍁✨
Ready to Go?
If this has you daydreaming about your own fall escape, I’d love to help make it happen. At Take Time To Travel right here on Main Street in Downtown Cartersville, we do more than just book trips—we create journeys with heart. So message me today, and let’s start planning your autumn getaway.
In what ways does hard work make you feel fulfilled?
Hard work isn’t just about rolling up your sleeves and getting it done—it’s about pouring a piece of yourself into something that matters. I’ll be honest, some days it feels like my brain is doing cartwheels and my heart is hanging on for dear life. This past week I’ve been a little quieter because, well, work has been non-stop.
We’re planning a big adventure for April 2026—an 8-night Australia Wine Cruise aboard the Celebrity Edge, followed by a 10-night New Zealand land tour. And here’s the kicker: it’s not just a handful of travelers. This is a large group. Think dozens of flights, cabins, hotel rooms, transfers, excursions… all moving parts that need to click perfectly into place. It’s the kind of planning puzzle that can make even the most seasoned advisor want to hide under the desk with a cup of coffee and a prayer.
And here’s the part most people don’t see—this kind of project doesn’t pause our day-to-day. While we’re building this massive group journey, we’re still planning sunny Caribbean getaways, family vacations, Disney getaways, Hawaii escapes, and anniversary trips for our regular clients. The juggling act is real.
And yet, I wouldn’t trade it.
Because here’s the part that fills me up: I know the end result. I know that all the late nights, the checklists, the back-and-forths will lead to that moment when my clients are sitting on a balcony with a glass of Australian Shiraz, or standing in awe of New Zealand’s mountains, living a once-in-a-lifetime trip that started as just an idea in Tammy’s notebook.
That’s the reward. That’s the fulfillment.
Hard work feels worthwhile because it gives me purpose. It shows me what I’m capable of and it creates experiences for others that they’ll carry for the rest of their lives. It’s not always easy—but it’s always worth it. And at the end of the day, that’s why I love what I do.
If you’ve got a dream trip of your own—big or small—I’d love to help make it happen. After all, the hard work is on me, but the joy? That part is all yours.
I have very few loving memories of my mother. I love her, but she has never been able to love me in the same way I love my children. That truth has softened with age, but it’s still there.
My friend Daryl shared a childhood memory on Facebook and challenged the rest of us to reach back into those early years. When I thought about it, the most precious memory I could pull forward was simple — maybe even ordinary — but it has stayed with me all these years: coloring with my mom.
Me at the Main Street House
We lived in an old antebellum home at the end of Main Street in Adairsville, Georgia. The front door had a beautiful stained-glass oval window that scattered the sunlight into little jeweled beams. I don’t remember much about that house anymore — it’s been updated by different owners over the years and I believe it’s a rental now — but this one memory remains vivid.
It feels like a faded Polaroid in my mind. No sound, no movement, no sense of temperature or background noise. I’m certain music was playing (my mother always had music playing, and I get that from her), but in my mind’s eye it’s quiet. The sun was setting, and the light spilled through that stained glass, filling the foyer with warm, shifting color.
We were lying together on the polished hardwood floor with a fresh box of Crayola crayons and a stack of new coloring books. Just the two of us. No distractions. The light fell across our pages, painting our simple artwork with a brilliance I can still feel. In that fleeting moment, I was completely, unquestionably happy.
Me Again
That’s it. That’s the memory. Simple. Ordinary. Precious.
To this day, nothing thrills me quite like opening a brand-new box of Crayola crayons and flipping through the crisp pages of a clean coloring book. It takes me right back to that sacred little sliver of time when my mom and I were simply together.
Update for Today
Looking back now, almost a decade after I first wrote this, I can’t help but think about what it means to know you are loved. Not hope. Not guess. Not wonder. But to know.
Parents, please make sure your children know without a doubt that they are loved — not just when they’re little, but as they grow into adults. That knowledge carries them through the hardest seasons of life.
I say this because I have far more precious memories with my daddy than with my mom… and he was in prison for 28 years. Think about that. Even behind bars, his love reached me more clearly than hers ever did.
So if you take anything from this memory of crayons and sunlight, let it be this: love loudly, love often, and make sure your children never have to question it.
Oh Lord, you might as well ask me to pick a favorite grandbaby. Impossible! Music is my lifeblood, and every era, every mood, every heartbreak and victory has its album.
Sometimes it’s AC/DC’s Back in Black (front to back, no skips). Other times it’s Led Zeppelin IV because Going to California is pure magic.
Then there’s The Cars’ Heartbeat City, or The Cure’s Disintegration when I’m in that moody place. Don’t forget The Doors’ debut, or the unapologetic punch of NWA’s Straight Outta Compton.
I can drift into Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon or Wish You Were Here, float with Bob Marley & the Wailers’ Exodus, or pogo along to The Ramones’ debut.
I’ll argue all day over which Bob Dylan is best—Highway 61 Revisited or Blood on the Tracks—but both live rent-free in my head. Then there’s Marvin Gaye’s What’s Going On, the anthem-packed The Clash’s London Calling, or the raw honesty of Miranda Lambert’s The Weight of These Wings.
Of course, I still swoon for Prince & the Revolution’s Purple Rain, sing every word of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors, and blast Van Halen’s debut when I need to feel alive.
Sunshine days call for The Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds or the bubblegum brilliance of The Go-Go’s Beauty & the Beat. Blues runs deep with Muddy Waters’ Anthology, while swagger belongs to The Rolling Stones’ Some Girls.
I melt into Etta James’ At Last and can’t leave out The Police’s Synchronicity.
And don’t think I forgot the giants: The Beatles, Pearl Jam, Erykah Badu, and Michael Jackson—because how could anyone live without those?
Lastly, maybe Billy Idol isn’t on any TOPS list, but he’s always #1 to me! So my all-time favorite? Nope. I don’t have one. I have a whole wall of them. My life is a jukebox, and I’m not about to unplug it.
Journeys With Jani 