Category: The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

Becoming Real: What The Velveteen Rabbit Taught Me About Love, Loss, and Life

March 21, 2025

Eat, Pray, Love, The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

There’s a moment in The Velveteen Rabbit—one of those children’s books that wasn’t really written just for children—where the Skin Horse lays it all out plain and simple. He tells the Rabbit what it means to become Real. Not just a toy. Not just something pretty or useful. Real.

And mercy, if that part doesn’t hit you right in the gut as a grown-up.

“Real isn’t how you are made… It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time… then you become Real.”

Y’all. That line takes me straight back to my childhood. A time that, if we’re being honest (and Lord knows I always am), was no picnic. My younger years were a whole mess of chaos, instability, and trying to survive things no child ought to experience. I learned early that people don’t always stick around. That not everyone is gentle with hearts. And that being tough wasn’t optional—it was necessary.

So when I read this part of the book, especially as a grown woman who’s done some livin’, it stops me cold.

“It doesn’t happen all at once… You become. It takes a long time.”

Whew. Ain’t that the truth?

See, I didn’t come into this world with a soft cushion of safety and love. I had to earn every ounce of peace I carry today. Becoming “Real” for me meant surviving the storm—and not just surviving, but finding a way to still love in the middle of it. To still let people in, even when my edges were sharp and I didn’t trust the ground under my feet.

It meant years of heartache, therapy, deep talks, ugly cries, and hard, hard healing. It meant letting my guard down enough for my friends—the one’s that give “Friends” a run for their money—to love me in the places I didn’t think deserved it. It meant watching my sons become men, knowing I did the best I could with what I had, and that somehow, grace filled in the gaps.

“Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby.”

Amen, Skin Horse. My joints creak. My hair ain’t what it used to be. Lord help me, some days I wake up and wonder if anything’s still where I left it. But I know I’m Real now. And you know what? That means everything.

Because being Real is not about perfection. It’s not about always having it together or being the prettiest package in the room. It’s about having lived. About having loved and been loved in return. It’s about showing up, even when you’re tired. Even when it hurts.

And the older I get, the more I realize this—Real people recognize Real. We find each other. We see past the worn edges and into the soul. And we don’t mind the scars, because we know what it took to earn them.

So if you’re out there, feeling like you’re falling apart or not enough, let me tell you something:

You are becoming.

Bit by bit.

Heartbreak by heartbreak.

Breakthrough by breakthrough.

One day you’ll look in the mirror, maybe a little more worn than you used to be, and realize… you’ve become Real.

And honey, ain’t nothing more beautiful than that.

XOXO, Jani

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A Sister’s Love: Grief, Reflection and the What-if’s

March 14, 2025

Eat, Pray, Love

Me, Cari and our Daddy

Some losses cut deeper than words can express. Losing my sister, Cari, has been one of those losses. Nearly a year has passed since she had one foot on Earth and one in Heaven, yet the ache of what could have been lingers just as much as the pain of what was.

Cari was the cutest little girl—smart, sassy, full of life. In so many ways, she reminds me of AJ, which I think is part of why I feel such a deep bond with her. Cari and I were robbed of a childhood together as sisters. I wish, more than anything, that she had been able to escape the chaos that surrounded her. I wish she had been given a chance at normalcy, at peace, at a life free from constant strife and bitterness.

As an adult, I longed for her to be part of our family, to feel the warmth of unconditional love—the kind of love that doesn’t waver or bend, that simply holds you at its center. But for Cari, that kind of love always seemed just out of reach. Whether by fear, by circumstance, or by choices made, she remained on the outside looking in.

Grief is a tangled thing. It’s raw, unpredictable, and often intertwined with regret, love, and unanswered questions. Could we have tried harder? Pushed more? Found a way to break through the walls she built? I don’t have those answers. I only know that we did what we could, and at some point, self-preservation became necessary. To protect my own heart, my own sanity, my own ability to love those who would let me in.

I wonder if she ever truly knew how deeply she was loved. I hope she did. I pray that in those last still moments, when the world was quiet, she felt it. That God wrapped her in it, even if she had spent so long keeping it at bay.

Grief doesn’t just live in the loss itself—it exists in the years stolen before the final goodbye. It lingers in the missed moments, the what-ifs, and the longing for a different story. But through it all, I am grateful for my village, the people who have surrounded me with love and understanding.

If there’s anything loss has taught me, it’s that we each need to be a little more gentle with ourselves through the pain. The weight of grief is heavy enough—we don’t need to add blame to it. We do the best we can with the circumstances we are given, and sometimes, despite all the love in the world, we cannot pull someone into the light if they are not ready—or able—to step into it. That doesn’t mean our love wasn’t real, or strong, or enough.

Cari’s story is hers, but her memory will always be ours to hold. And as much as it hurts, I choose to believe that somewhere, somehow, she finally knows the depth of the love that was always hers.

XOXO, Jani

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The Magic of the Great American Road Trip

March 13, 2025

The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”, Travel Advice

By Jani Aylsworth-Gunter, Take Time To Travel

I don’t know about y’all, but some of my favorite childhood memories don’t involve five-star resorts or elaborate itineraries. No, sir. My best travel memories are packed into the floorboard of a big truck, sprawled out with my sister, rolling down some highway in the middle of nowhere, USA.

See, when I was a kid, road trips were a thing. And not just a “get in the car and drive straight to your destination” type of thing—no, no. They were an adventure. A slow, meandering, pull-over-at-the-weirdest-tourist-traps type of journey.

When I traveled with my maternal grandparents, my Gramma was the queen of the map. And I mean a real map—the kind that took up the entire front seat and folded in ways that defied the laws of physics. She would instruct my Grampa on the proper way to go, how to get there, and exactly where he was supposed to turn. He, of course, would pretend to listen, and I’d be in the back just enjoying the show.

Then there were the trips with my Daddy, riding in his big ol’ truck, delivering furniture to different parts of the country. My sister, Cari and I were so little, we could curl up in the floorboard and sleep, which sounds slightly questionable now but was perfectly normal back then. Stopping at gas stations was a big deal—because let’s be honest, the best part of a road trip is the snacks. And gas station snacks hit different when you’re a kid.

Now, speaking of questionable things we did as kids, let’s talk about the ultimate road trip setup—the kind that would give today’s safety experts a heart attack. Again, there was no seatbelt law back then, and one spring break, my Daddy took full advantage of that fact. He had just bought a brand-new, black Chevy Silverado (which, by the way, was basically the Cadillac of trucks in his mind). He put a camper shell on the back, threw in a mattress, covered it with blankets, and that was it—our very own rolling clubhouse. Cari and I rode all the way to the beach—Myrtle or Panama City, I honestly can’t remember—in the back of that truck, tucked in with our Barbies, coloring books, and whatever else we could pack into our little mobile fort. It was heaven. No seatbelts, no iPads, just pure childhood joy.

When we traveled with my paternal grandparents—Chubby and Pa—it always meant staying overnight at a hotel that I swear was always next to a Cracker Barrel. Back then, Cracker Barrel wasn’t on every corner like it is now. It was a true Southern institution, always planted firmly beside a roadside hotel where you’d check in for the night after a long day on the road.

Now, why am I telling you all this? Because road trips matter. When we plan travel, we get so caught up in the where that we forget about the how. And sometimes, the how is the best part.

A road trip doesn’t have to be a cross-country expedition (though those are great). It doesn’t have to have a strict itinerary or a luxury destination at the end. Some of the best trips are the ones where you just go—stop at the funky roadside attractions, eat at the hole-in-the-wall diners, and let the road take you where it wants.

If you’ve never taken your kids on a proper road trip—the kind where you roll the windows down, blast some questionable music, and let them pick out ridiculous snacks at a gas station—then you are missing out. They won’t remember the perfect vacation itinerary. But they will remember the road.

So go on, pack the car, grab a map (or, okay, at least pretend to look at one before using GPS), and hit the road. There’s a whole country out there just waiting for you to drive through it.

And if you pass a Cracker Barrel, you’d better stop. It’s tradition.

Jani, your go-to-gal at Take Time To Travel

The Take Time To Travel Team – Cindy, Jani, Tammy, Trisha, Krystal

Life is one big journey—and I’m sharing mine, one mile and one moment at a time. Subscribe to follow along.

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Life Ain’t Got An Instruction Manual—So We Wrote Our Own (Southern Style)

March 11, 2025

Eat, Pray, Love, The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

Wouldn’t it be nice if life came with an instruction manual? Something like “Step 1: Be born. Step 2: Have your life together by 25. Step 3: Coast comfortably into retirement with perfect skin and a fully stocked bank account.”

Yeah, well, bless your heart if you think that’s how it works.

Down here in the South, we know better. We were born into chaos, raised on porch wisdom, and seasoned with a whole lot of trial and error. Life didn’t come with a manual, so we just went ahead and wrote our own—probably on the back of a napkin with sweet tea rings on it. And honey, it’s way more entertaining than anything Ikea could come up with.

Step 1: Mind Your Manners—But Also, Mind Your Business

In the South, we were raised to say yes ma’am and no sir, send thank-you notes, and always offer somebody a plate of food before asking why they even showed up in the first place. But let’s get one thing straight—we are polite, not passive.

We might be smiling at you, but if you hear a “Well, ain’t that nice?” in a certain tone, you should start backing away slowly. We wrote the book on Southern hospitality, but we also added a whole chapter on how to read between the lines.

Step 2: When in Doubt, Fry It or Fix It with Duct Tape

Life throws curveballs, and we don’t have time for breakdowns—unless they involve broken air conditioning in August, in which case prayers and funeral arrangements might be necessary. Otherwise, the solution to most of life’s problems is either deep-frying it or duct-taping it back together.

Car won’t start? Duct tape that battery wire.

Bad haircut? Tease it and add some hairspray.

Relationship on the rocks? Sit down with some fried chicken and see if you can’t work it out.

And if nothing else works, grab a mason jar, pour yourself something strong, and let Jesus take the wheel.

Step 3: Know When to Raise Hell and When to Just Sit on the Porch

Not everything is worth fighting over, but some things absolutely are. Down here, we know the difference between a bless-your-heart situation and a somebody-better-hold-my-earrings moment.

We let a lot slide, but if you come for our family, our football team, or our grandmother’s recipe for cornbread (sugar does not belong in it, by the way), we will absolutely take you to the front yard and settle things the proper way—with a mix of passive-aggressive comments and possibly a well-placed sandal.

On the flip side, sometimes life just calls for rocking chairs, a cool breeze, and remembering that not every battle needs to be fought today. Some things sort themselves out when given time and a little sweet tea-induced wisdom.

Step 4: Laugh, Even When It Ain’t Funny

If there’s one thing Southerners do best, it’s finding humor in even the most ridiculous situations. Whether it’s laughing at ourselves, at life, or at that one uncle who always starts a sentence with “Now I ain’t one to gossip, but…,” we know that if you can’t find something to smile about, you’re doing it wrong.

Because at the end of the day, life’s instruction manual is just a collection of stories—some of them good, some of them messy, and some of them so downright unbelievable you couldn’t make ’em up if you tried.

So go on, write your own manual. Just make sure it’s got a little sass, a little grace, and a whole lot of Southern charm. And if all else fails, remember—everything’s figure-out-able… except how to fold a fitted sheet. That one remains a mystery.

XOXO, Jani

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Daylight Savings Time: A Useless Ritual We Can’t Quit

March 9, 2025

Eat, Pray, Love, The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

Ah, Daylight Savings Time. That magical moment when we all collectively agree to gaslight ourselves into thinking we have more daylight—when in reality, we’ve just shifted the numbers around on the clock like a toddler rearranging puzzle pieces that don’t fit. Twice a year, we’re forced to endure this pointless tradition, and for what? A little extra sunshine in the evening? A fresh dose of sleep deprivation? Chaos and confusion for absolutely no reason?

Let’s be real—Daylight Savings Time is the equivalent of rearranging your furniture in the dark and then acting surprised when you stub your toe.

A Brief History of This Nonsense

The concept of Daylight Savings Time dates back to World War I when someone decided that moving the clocks would save energy. That’s right—this whole ordeal was originally about fuel conservation. Fast forward a century, and we’re still messing with time like it’s some kind of life hack. Except, plot twist—it isn’t.

And let’s talk about the farmers, who often get blamed for this mess. Contrary to popular belief, they hate Daylight Savings Time. Livestock doesn’t care what the clock says—cows want to be milked, chickens want to be fed, and I’d like to sleep in peace, thank you very much.

The Real-Life Consequences

If losing an hour of sleep was the only downside, we might be able to cope. But no, Daylight Savings Time comes with a whole list of problems, including:

☕ Miserable Mornings – Because nothing says “productivity” like an entire country collectively sleepwalking through the week.

❤️ Health Risks – Studies show a spike in heart attacks, strokes, and car accidents right after the time change. That’s right—this nonsense is actually dangerous.

🐾 Confused Pets – Try explaining to a dog that breakfast is now an hour later. I dare you.

🕰 An Outdated Tradition – We live in an era where we can turn lights on with our voices, but we’re still manually adjusting clocks like it’s 1918. Make it make sense.

Why Are We Still Doing This?

Great question. Every year, politicians talk about getting rid of it. Every year, nothing changes. We’re stuck in an endless cycle of time manipulation, fueled by tradition and an inability to just pick a time and stick with it.

Can We Just Stop Already?

I don’t ask for much—just a world where I don’t have to question what time it is twice a year. Let’s pick Standard Time or Daylight Time (I’m flexible, just let me know), and never speak of this foolishness again.

Until then, I’ll be over here, clutching my coffee, dramatically sighing into the abyss, and counting down the days until we do this all over again in the fall.

#DaylightSavingsSucks #PickATime #LetMeSleep

XOXO, Jani

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MS Warrior Spotlight: Meet Sallie 💙🧡

March 4, 2025

Eat, Pray, Love, The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

Today, I want to introduce you to Sallie, a true MS warrior who has been fighting Relapsing-Remitting Multiple Sclerosis (RRMS) since July 22, 2002. Her journey is one of strength, perseverance, and determination.

Sallie”s MS story began with vertigo, nausea, and muscle weakness, mainly on her left side. Over the years, she’s faced multiple flares—some temporary, others leaving lasting effects, like optic neuritis, which caused blindness in her left eye in 2004.

Despite these challenges, MS does not stop her. She continues to run, walk, lift, and practice yoga almost daily—proving that movement is power. Since 2015, she’s had no new lesions, though she remains on treatment for now. When the time comes, she plans to transition off MS therapies, knowing that the fight is still hers to own.

Sallie’s advice for those newly diagnosed?
✨ Advocate for yourself.
✨ Change your diet & exercise.
✨ Cut out alcohol if you can—it’s terrible for MS.
✨ Stop smoking.
✨ Above all, give yourself grace.

Sallie is a reminder that MS is a battle, but it doesn’t define us. Her story is one of resilience, self-care, and unwavering strength. Let’s lift her up and honor all MS warriors this month!

MSAwarenessMonth #MSWarrior #ThisIsMS #StrongerThanMS

XOXO, Jani

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March is MS Awareness Month: Honoring the Warriors Among Us

March 3, 2025

Eat, Pray, Love, The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

March is a special month for me—not because of spring break plans or the first hints of warmer weather, but because it’s Multiple Sclerosis (MS) Awareness Month. It’s a time to shine a light on a disease that affects nearly 1 million people in the U.S. alone—a disease I’ve been living with since my diagnosis in 2011.

MS is unpredictable. It’s a battle fought daily, sometimes silently, often with a resilience that is nothing short of heroic. That’s why this month, I want to highlight MS warriors—people from all walks of life who refuse to let this disease define them. Every day in March, I’ll share the story of someone who faces MS head-on, whether they’re a local friend, a public figure, or an advocate making waves in the fight for a cure.

What is MS?

For those unfamiliar, Multiple Sclerosis is a chronic illness that affects the central nervous system. It disrupts communication between the brain and the rest of the body, leading to symptoms like fatigue, vision problems, mobility challenges, and cognitive issues. No two cases of MS are the same—some people experience mild symptoms, while others face significant disability.

But what unites every single MS warrior is their strength, determination, and the refusal to back down.

Each day this month, take a moment to lift a MS warrior—someone who embodies resilience in the face of this disease. Maybe it’s someone in our own community who continues to work, travel, and embrace life with passion. Maybe it’s a celebrity like Selma Blair, who has used her platform to raise awareness. Maybe it’s an advocate fighting for better treatment options or a scientist working toward a cure.

Their stories matter because they show that MS is not a life sentence—it’s a life adjustment. And while there’s still no cure, there’s hope.

Are You an MS Warrior? Share Your Story!

If you are one of my Facebook friends and you’re also battling MS, I’d love to share your story—but only if you’re comfortable. Whether you want to remain anonymous or be featured by name, your journey could help inspire and educate others. MS affects us all differently, but together, we can spread awareness, foster support, and remind the world that we are warriors.

How You Can Help

• Spread Awareness – Share stories, facts, and resources about MS on social media.

• Support MS Organizations – Groups like the National MS Society and the Multiple Sclerosis Foundation provide research funding and support services.

• Check in on Your MS Warriors – Sometimes, the biggest battle is the one you can’t see. A simple “I’m thinking of you” goes a long way.

I’m proud to be part of this warrior community, and I hope that by sharing these stories, we can create more understanding, empathy, and support for those of us living with MS.

#MSAwarenessMonth #MSWarrior #ThisIsMS #ShareYourStory

XOXO, Jani

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A Little Nighttime Magic—Planetary Alignment Edition

February 28, 2025

Eat, Pray, Love, The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

Weather App Rendition

Maybe I’m just a geek (okay, definitely), but I just spent a few minutes lying in my yard, staring up at the sky like a kid seeing fireflies for the first time. And y’all—it was different tonight. Not just stars twinkling, but something a little more brilliant, almost as if they were casting light instead of just reflecting it.

Why? Because a planetary alignment just happened! Now, before anyone asks—did I personally identify every single planet up there with my expert astronomy skills? Absolutely not. But I do know that some of them were visible even without a telescope, and what I saw wasn’t just the usual night sky.

Some of the planets in this lineup were playing hard to get, only visible with a telescope (or not even that, depending on conditions). But the ones you could see? Stunning. So if your sky is clear, go outside for a minute and look up. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll catch a little cosmic magic too.

#PlanetaryAlignment #LookUp #SkyGeek

XOXO, Jani

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The War on Books: When Librarians Become Criminals

February 27, 2025

The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

There are certain things in life that should be universal common sense. Fire is hot. Water is wet. And librarians—the dedicated, overworked, and underpaid professionals who curate knowledge and inspire young minds—should not be at risk of going to jail for simply doing their jobs.

Yet, here we are.

A new bill proposed in several states would criminalize librarians who fail to remove certain books deemed “inappropriate.” That’s right—career professionals who specialize in research, education, and literacy could now face jail time for refusing to pull books from shelves.

This isn’t just about a few controversial titles. This is government-sanctioned censorship wrapped up in a false narrative of “protecting children.” But let’s be honest—this has nothing to do with keeping kids safe and everything to do with controlling what they have access to.

Parenting vs. Policing

The reality is, no book magically jumps into a child’s hands. No library forces a kid to check out a book. Parents already have the power to monitor what their children read. If you don’t want your kid reading a certain book, then be a parent and don’t let them check it out. Simple.

But what we don’t need is a group of politicians deciding that their personal opinions dictate what all kids—and adults—can read. We don’t need the government overstepping into libraries, classrooms, and bookstores to determine what knowledge is acceptable.

A Dangerous Precedent

History has shown us what happens when books are banned. It starts with one or two titles, but soon the list grows longer. Suddenly, classic literature is “too controversial.” Books about history, race, gender, or anything that challenges a narrow worldview are erased from shelves. And who suffers? Students. Readers. The future generation.

When we criminalize books, we criminalize curiosity. We tell kids that learning is dangerous. We tell librarians—those who dedicate their lives to education—that their jobs are a legal liability.

What Can We Do?

1. Speak Up. Call your representatives and tell them that censorship has no place in our communities.

2. Support Your Local Library. Attend meetings, donate, and advocate for intellectual freedom.

3. Vote. Pay attention to who is pushing these bills and vote accordingly.

4. Teach Your Kids Critical Thinking. Instead of banning books, read them with your children and have discussions. That’s how real learning happens.

Let’s be clear—this bill isn’t about protecting children. It’s about control. And when we let politicians decide which books are acceptable, we open the door to a dangerous future.

Librarians should be celebrated, not criminalized. Parents should be responsible for parenting, not the government. And the right to read should never, ever be up for debate.

XOXO, Jani

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Gather ‘Round: The Importance Down for Dinner—No Matter Where You Are

February 26, 2025

Eat, Pray, Love, The Sitcom Called “Mary Jane”

Life is busy—believe me, I get it. Between work, kids, grandkids, travel, and everything else that life throws our way, it can feel like there just aren’t enough hours in the day. But let me tell you something I hold dear: sitting down together for a meal—wherever you are—is something we all need more of. And yes, that means no phones allowed!

Now, I’m not just talking about Sunday dinners (though, let’s be honest, there’s something magical about a table full of food and family). I’m talking about the Tuesday night pizza on the couch, the quick breakfast before the chaos of the day begins, or the burger grabbed at the airport between flights. It’s not about the food or the setting—it’s about being present with the people around you.

These moments—big or small—are where memories are made. It’s where you hear about your grandchild’s new favorite dinosaur, your spouse’s random funny story from work, or just share a comfortable silence over a shared love of mac and cheese. But when we let our phones creep onto the table, those connections slip away. A quick glance at a notification turns into scrolling, and suddenly that moment is gone.

I know it’s tempting—I’ve caught myself reaching for my phone more times than I can count—but I promise you, that message can wait. That email can be answered later. The world won’t end if you’re unreachable for 30 minutes. What is important is the laughter, the conversation, and the love that fills the space when you’re truly present.

And here’s the thing—sitting down for a meal together doesn’t have to be complicated. Order takeout, eat outside, or even pack a picnic when you’re traveling. It’s less about the what and more about the who. Some of my favorite memories aren’t at fancy restaurants or big family feasts—they’re at roadside diners, hotel breakfast tables, and kitchen counters covered in pancake batter.

So tonight, wherever you are—home, on the road, or somewhere in between—take a moment. Put the phones away. Pull up a chair. Look at the faces around you and soak it all in. These are the moments that truly matter.

Life is short, y’all. Make time for dinner.

With love and a full heart (and probably a plate of something delicious),

XOXO, Jani

P.S. Got a favorite mealtime memory? Share it with me—I’d love to hear it!

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