Well, today’s Daily Prompt has me stumped, y’all. What is your favorite recipe? Seriously? That’s like asking me to pick my favorite grandchild—or my favorite vacation destination. Impossible!
Some of my recipes are comfort-food classics that wrap you up like a warm hug. Think:
🐓 Chicken n’ Dumplings – the kind that takes all day and makes your whole house smell like heaven.
🍤 Shrimp & Grits – creamy, buttery, just enough spice to make my ancestors proud.
🌶️ Dirty Rice – because Cajun flavors never disappoint.
Then there are the quick-and-sassy ones that show up at parties and tailgates:
🧀 Tailgate Pimento Cheese – creamy, sharp, and gone before halftime.
🍇 Prosecco Grapes – fancy little gems that say, “yes, I do bring the fun.”
And let’s not forget my sweet tooth:
🍋 Lemon Pound Cake – fresh, tangy, and perfect with coffee.
🗽 New York Classic Cheesecake – tall, creamy, indulgent.
🍫 Brick Street Chocolate Cake – rich enough to cure any bad day.
🍹 Wash it all down with a Pineapple Margarita, and I’ve just described my whole personality in recipes.
So no, I can’t pick just one. Recipes are like stories for me—they hold memories, comfort, and a little bit of flair. Some are quick fixes for busy days, others are weekend projects that bring everyone to the table.
And maybe that’s my real answer: my favorite recipe is whichever one I get to share—with family, friends, or even just with you here.
Watching a show today called True South, a man struggling with his weight said, “Addiction is a taste for something you can’t quit” …those words make you think!
Addiction isn’t always the monster in the shadows that we associate with dark alleyways and whispered confessions. Sometimes it’s a whole lot sneakier, dressed up as a daily ritual or a guilty pleasure that feels too harmless to call out. But let’s be honest: addiction is simply a taste for something you just can’t quit—in all things.
For some folks, it’s that first sip of coffee in the morning, like oxygen disguised in a steaming mug. For others, it’s scrolling their phone at midnight, convincing themselves that “just one more video” won’t matter. Addiction wears many outfits: food, work, shopping, drama, alcohol, love, validation, even grief. Sometimes it’s as heavy as a mountain on your back; sometimes it’s a quiet little whisper you almost welcome.
And here’s the kicker—addiction doesn’t always have to destroy to exist. It’s not always about rock bottom. Sometimes it’s about the way your mind craves consistency, or your soul aches for comfort. It’s about patterns we build, habits we cling to, and the little highs that keep us running back for more.
The truth is, most of us are addicted to something. Maybe it’s not the scary kind, but it’s still the thing you can’t quite put down. It’s the cookie you reach for even though you swore off sugar. It’s saying yes when your plate is already too full. It’s the drama you swear you’re above but somehow find yourself smack in the middle of again.
Addiction isn’t always about weakness—it’s about being human. We are creatures of appetite, of desire, of habit. Some addictions hurt, others help us cope, and a few might even bring us joy in small doses. But they all have one thing in common: they hold on tight, and they don’t let go easy.
So maybe the question isn’t, “Am I addicted to something?” Maybe it’s, “Which flavor of addiction is running my life today?”
Because at the end of the day, addiction is just a taste you can’t quit. The real power comes in admitting it—and deciding if that taste is worth the hold it has on you.
If you wake up early on any given Saturday here in Cartersville, you’re in for a treat. Honestly, you don’t have to go far to fill your day to the brim—it’s all right here in our little town.
Morning at the Farmers Market
The Cartersville Farmers Market is my first stop. Picture this: steaming cups of coffee in every flavor imaginable, the smell of fresh sourdough bread in the air, pies and croissants calling your name, tables loaded with farm-fresh veggies, blocks of creamy cheese, jars of homemade jellies, and some of the best local body products you’ll ever get your hands on. Add in a local musician strumming out a tune, and it’s just the perfect Saturday soundtrack.
Some of my favorites?
Sugar’s Pimento Cheese – creamy, spicy, and Southern through and through. Stilesboro Sourdough Bread – the kind of loaf you don’t just eat, you savor. Creative Organics lotions & soaps – heavenly little luxuries I always stock up on.
And don’t even get me started on the flowers. Bright bunches wrapped up just right, practically begging to come home with you.
Shopping the Square
Once you’ve had your fill of the market, it’s time to wander the square. Cartersville’s boutiques are full of treasures—jewelry, clothes, unique gifts, and plenty of knick-knacks that make you say, “Well, I didn’t know I needed that, but I sure do now.”
Hungry again already? No problem. Grab a chewy bagel at Nagel’s Bagels, a piece (or three) of fudge at Kilwin’s, or step into The Jerks. This old-fashioned soda shop is as nostalgic as it gets, serving up ice cream along with lunch classics that’ll hit the spot. And then there’s Dreamweaver… if you know, you know.
Still need that coffee buzz? Pop into Noble & Main for another caffeine kick—you’ll thank me later.
Museums, History, and More
Now that you’re properly caffeinated, it’s time to decide what kind of adventure you’re after. Cartersville is blessed with some of the best museums in Georgia.
Booth Western Art Museum – where cowboy art meets pure Americana. Tellus Science Museum – perfect for science lovers, dinosaur fans, and star-gazers alike. Savoy Automobile Museum – my current favorite, and a must for anyone who swoons at the sight of classic cars. Bartow History Museum – a beautiful step back into our local roots. Rose Lawn – history, architecture, and charm all wrapped up together.
Fun for the Kids (and Kids at Heart)
Bringing the little ones along? Cartersville makes it easy.
Petit Creek Farms – adorable animals and wide-open spaces. Dellinger Park – swings, slides, and plenty of room to run. Crayon Panda Playground – bright, safe, and loads of fun for littles. LakePoint Station – games, mini-golf, and activities inside and out. For the older kids (and let’s be honest, us grown-ups too), check out Game of Throwns—axe throwing at its finest!
The Great Outdoors
Of course, sometimes you just want to get out into nature. In that case, skip the museums, grab a kayak from Euharlee Outfitters, and float down the Etowah River for a few glorious hours. Peaceful, scenic, and the best way to let the world slow down.
Why leave town when you’ve got it all right here? From coffee at the Farmers Market to museums, history, parks, and rivers, Cartersville makes Saturdays feel like a mini vacation without ever hitting the highway.
And you can bet your biscuits, you’ll see me out there—coffee in hand, flowers under one arm, and probably fudge tucked away for “later.”
Sure, I’ll always be ready to help you plan your next big getaway (and you know I love to do just that!)—but sometimes, the best trip is the one where you stay right here at home in Bartow County.
There are a few different versions floating around about where my name came from. The first one, and probably the most respectable, is that my mother’s family was Catholic. In a Catholic family, “Mary” is always a solid, go-to name. My mom is Mary Catherine. My grandmother was Catherine Haynes. So on and so forth. Basically, you’re either a Mary or a Catherine — those were your options.
My MotherMy Daddy
Now, as for “Jane,” the waters get a little murkier. I’ve heard plenty of stories, but the one my mother tells is that my daddy wanted to name me after a high school girlfriend named Jani Neal. Needless to say, my mother wasn’t about to let that fly. Still, my daddy called me Jani anyway. Is that the gospel truth? Who knows. That’s her story, and I let her keep it.
Ah…Young Love in the 60’s
My story, though? Oh, it’s my favorite — and probably not one my daddy would currently tell, considering he is a Sunday school teacher with a master’s in theology. Here’s how I see it: I’ve seen my parents’ wedding photos. My daddy looked like one of the Beatles. My mother looked like a flower child. They drove off in a Volkswagen with peace signs all over it. Add to that the little detail that I was born in 1969, right in the heart of the hippie movement, and well… let’s just say naming me Mary Jane feels a little too on the nose to be a coincidence.
And cute little me!
So, where did my name come from? According to my mother, it was tradition. According to her version of my daddy’s story, it was a girlfriend. But according to me? It was the Summer of Love, a VW bug, and a name that fit the times just a little too perfectly. 🌸✌️
For me, writing has never just been about putting words on paper—it’s about leaving little breadcrumbs of my life behind. Some days it’s a way to stretch my creative muscles, to play with words until they sound just right. Other days, it’s the only way I know to hold onto a memory that might otherwise slip through the cracks of time.
I’ve lived enough life to know how easily days blend together. Writing lets me freeze them in place—those big, joyful milestones, sure, but also the quiet, ordinary ones that mean just as much. One day, my grandchildren will be able to read these words and see not just the places I’ve traveled or the things I’ve done, but who I really was—sass, sarcasm, heart, and all.
Writing also feels like a gift I get to share. Sometimes it’s a story that makes someone laugh, other times it’s a reflection that helps someone feel a little less alone. Whether I’m jotting down travel tips, sharing memories from my own winding road, or just rambling about life’s absurdities, I like to think that maybe, in some small way, it helps.
So what do I enjoy most about writing? It’s the mix of all of it—the creativity, the record-keeping, the connection. Writing is my way of saying, “I was here. This mattered. These words are mine, but they’re also for you.”
Well y’all, I think it’s safe to say our Agent Training Day this past Saturday was a huge success! Not only did we pack a ton of information into the day, but the simple act of gathering together, laughing, and swapping stories was a win in itself. There’s nothing like the energy of being surrounded by people who love this business as much as you do.
Learning, Laughing, and Leveling Up
We had an incredible lineup of guest trainers who brought their A-game. Mousumi with Delta Vacations gave us a much-needed refresher on SkyMiles—how to use them when booking packages and even smarter ways to work the platform for marketing and training. Let me tell you, it’s always good to be reminded of those little tips and tricks that make such a big difference for our clients.
Then came Clarence with Norwegian Cruise Line—and let’s just say, wow. Between the gorgeous ships, exciting destinations, and the insider info he shared, my bucket list may have grown by about five cruises in the space of an hour. More importantly, we all left better equipped to help our clients find that perfect fit at sea.
And of course, our very own Julie, our fabulous BDM with Hyatt Inclusive. If you’ve traveled with me—or followed along on my trips—you’ve probably seen me in and out of some of Hyatt’s incredible properties: Secrets, Breathless, Dreams, Ziva, Zilara, Zoëtry… the list goes on. They truly have something for everyone, from budget-friendly to full-on luxury. Bonus? Julie is also my neighbor here in Taylorsville, proving that “buy local” doesn’t just apply to produce at the farmer’s market.
Looking Ahead
One of the most exciting takeaways from Saturday is the launch of our quarterly training sessions. These are going to give us even more opportunities to dig deeper into destinations, marketing strategies, and industry updates. Because here’s the truth: the more we know, the more we can do to help YOU plan unforgettable vacations.
So, cheers to a successful training day and to many more ahead. I can’t wait to see how what we learned translates into even better adventures for our clients.
Do you remember your favorite book from childhood?
Oh, this one’s easy. I adored my Trixie Belden collection—I tore through those mysteries like they were chocolate truffles. But if we’re talking about one book that left a mark? That would be Watership Down.
I was in fourth grade, minding my own business in the school library, when that big, bunny-filled adventure practically leapt off the shelf into my hands. I checked it out… and, well… I never checked it back in. Yep, I became an unintentional literary outlaw at age nine. That book sat on my nightstand for years, its cover worn and pages slightly crinkled from my endless rereads. And no, I don’t regret it. Those rabbits became my friends, my heroes, and—let’s be honest—my first brush with epic storytelling that didn’t involve princesses or fairy godmothers.
The truth is, I’ve always had an absolute love of reading. As a kid, the worst punishment possible would be to take my books away. When my daddy built our new home, he even made my bed into a little reading nook just for me. I lived for that space. For all the things my mother did wrong, she gave me that love of books—and I’m grateful. Honestly, I think it was in my blood. My Gramma and Grampa (her parents) were always reading, too.
When my boys were little, I made sure that love of reading was passed on. Every single night, I’d read to them. When Harry Potter first came out, I decided it would be our bedtime book. Jarrett was still a little young to follow every twist, but he loved it anyway. Jake was about five and soaked up every single word, especially since I read with full animation like I was auditioning for the audiobook. At the end of each chapter (we did one a night), I’d turn the page, read the first paragraph of the next chapter… then snap the book shut. Oh, the dramatic groans I got! But you know what? They were always more than ready for bed the next night to find out what happened next.
Some kids had Charlotte’s Web. I had a band of rebel rabbits, a reading nook, and a family tradition of falling asleep to the sound of a good story.
Yes, no doubt, I’ve dealt with a whole lotta crazy in my life.
The kind of crazy that would make a great miniseries—equal parts drama, dark comedy, and “did that really just happen?” moments. But here’s the thing… who hasn’t been through something?
Life is a buffet of hard knocks, served with a side of “you’ve got to be kidding me.” We all have our share of trials—some folks just get them supersized.
And I’ve noticed something about those of us who’ve had our plates overflowing more than once:
We tend to handle the unexpected better.
We’ve learned to pivot.
Now, I’m not talking about the frantic kind of pivot—like Ross from Friends yelling PIVOT! while wedging a couch through a too-narrow stairwell, all arms, panic, and poor planning. That’s the pivot of people who have never been in that hallway before.
I’m talking about the kind of pivot you learn from experience. The calm “turn here, shift there” move that comes when you’ve been in enough tight spaces to know where the corners are. It’s changing course when the map gets ripped in half. It’s laughing when you want to cry and making a new plan when the old one blows up in your face.
Truth is, those curveballs life throws? They don’t feel quite as catastrophic once you’ve already survived a few fast pitches to the head. You start to realize you can take a hit and still move forward—sometimes even in a better direction than before.
And here’s my take:
If you’ve lived through chaos, heartbreak, loss, betrayal—or all of the above—you develop this unshakable confidence that you’ll figure it out. That’s the gift. Not the mess you went through, but the knowing that you can land on your feet no matter what.
So yes, life’s still going to throw the occasional sucker punch. But I’ll be over here doing what I do best…
If you were going to open up a shop, what would you sell?
This one started as a little creative spark from my Daily Prompt on Jetpack via WordPress. The question was simple: “If you were gonna open a shop, what would you sell?”
Well, I couldn’t just toss out, “Oh, coffee and cute things.” No. My imagination packed a bag, grabbed its passport, and went fast and ferocious.
I’d call my shop simply… Journeys.
Because it’s about more than trips on a map — it’s journeys of the senses. The visuals, the smells, the textures, the tastes… and yes, the conversations that just might turn into a plan for your next real journey across the globe.
Here’s the twist — you can enter from either end. Step through the front entrance into a light-and-airy, coastal Maine boutique — sunlight pouring in through big windows, soft blues and whites, touches of driftwood, and a breeze that smells faintly of the ocean (even if we’re nowhere near it). Along the windows, a few small café-style tables — the kind you’d find in a coastal cottage — wait for you to sip coffee, nibble on something decadent, and people-watch.
Or, come in through the back entrance, where you’ll be instantly wrapped in the warm, old-world charm of a Cambridge law library — minus the “shhh” energy. Think rich wood shelves, warm lighting, deep chairs you can sink into, and the faint smell of leather and paper. This is my reading lounge & little library, where folks can grab a book, settle in for an afternoon, or check it out for a week or two. The space would seat 20–30 comfortably — perfect for book clubs, travel talks, or those Wednesday night wine-and-snack gatherings where we pretend we’re there for the conversation but really came for the cheesecake.
Now, no matter which way you enter, you’re greeted with the smells of fresh coffee and the sight of a bakery case full of mini cheesecakes that are just the right size to convince yourself they don’t count, plus charcuterie boards that are the real deal. I’m talking artisanal cheeses, fresh bread, cured meats, fruit, nuts, and little things you can’t pronounce but will forever crave once you’ve tried them. This isn’t a pile of lunch meat next to a sleeve of crackers — no, we’re doing charcuterie justice here.
To one side, you’ll find travel goodies — not the generic, airport gift shop trinkets, but the good stuff: luggage tags that make baggage claim a treasure find, beach towels so cute you’ll never want to get them wet, and travel-size everything… because I know you forgot yours at home.
And because I believe in a little luxury, there’d be a small selection of wines right in the library section — available to open and enjoy while you read or to take home for later.
One more thing — no paper, no plastic. All plates, cups, glasses, and napkins will be real, reusable, and charming enough to photograph. Anything “to-go” will be 100% sustainable, compostable, or recyclable. Because treating yourself should never mean trashing the planet.
And when I do talk travel planning? I’ll be right there in a comfy chair in the library or at one of the café tables — coffee, wine, or charcuterie in hand — helping you dream up your next getaway.
So no, Journeys wouldn’t just sell things. It’d sell moments. The kind you tell your friends about, and the kind you secretly hope become part of their stories too.
Last night started out like any other—until it didn’t.
We came home to blood. A lot of it. In various places.
Honestly, with the way our hounds like to hunt, we thought maybe they had dragged something in, but we couldn’t find a thing. Later, we realized it was Cash—bleeding from his nose, only on one side. Other than that, he seemed perfectly fine, still wagging that tail like nothing was wrong. The bleeding stopped quickly, but my heart didn’t stop worrying.
This morning, Greg dropped him off at the veterinarian’s office, where they’re running a full battery of tests. We love Dr. Moore at Animal Medical Center, and I know he’s in the best hands possible.
Cash isn’t just a dog—he’s my furry best friend. We adopted him when he was just a year old from the Etowah Valley Humane Society, and we were blessed to get his full history. Back then, I was still in the veterinary field—a blessing in disguise, because within months of bringing him home, he got sick.
His red blood cell count dropped to 4. Yes… four.
What followed was months of tests, rounds of steroids and other medications, and research help from UGA, Merck Pharmaceuticals, and Idexx Labs. No one could ever pinpoint an exact diagnosis beyond the fact that he was immune-compromised.
The week before all of that, he had undergone surgery to remove his spleen because it had twisted. (Spleens, as it turns out, are generally overrated anyway.) Through it all, Cash was a trooper—never once anything less than his happy, hound-dog self.
That’s why, today, this feels like déjà vu. We’ve walked the scary path before, and thanks to prayer, love, and one determined dog, we came out the other side.
So, I’m asking again—for love, prayers, and good vibes for Cash. Because if there’s one thing I know, it’s that the power of prayer, paired with the wag of a determined tail, can work miracles. And Greg and I just can’t accept anything less than our boy being back to 100% soon. 💕 —Jani
Journeys With Jani 