When I was a kid, we didn’t go on road trips—we lived them. Like a lot of folks my age and those before me, flying was a luxury, not a standard. If we were going somewhere, it was by car—windows down, radio blasting, and a backseat full of Mad Libs, Etch-a-Sketches, a deck of cards, and maybe a few coloring books rolling around the floorboards.
There were no iPads or cell phones keeping us entertained. Game Boys? Switch? Honey, those weren’t even a twinkle in anyone’s eye. My sister and I knew every single word to whatever was playing on the FM radio—because that’s all we had! And let me tell you, when “Islands in the Stream” came on, we performed it like we were on stage at the Grand Ole Opry.
Maybe it’s those memories that sparked my deep love for road trips today. And now, as a Take Time To Travel Advisor, I’ve fallen head over heels for planning them for others. Whether you’re chasing sunsets along the Pacific or hunting down the best roadside pie in the South, there’s something magical about hitting the open road.
So if you’re feeling the itch to pack a bag, load up the car, and chase a little adventure, here are The Five Best Road Trips—no matter how much time you’ve got!
For Two Weeks (The Big Bucket List Trips)
1. Pacific Coast Highway – California Dreamin’
2. The Great American West – National Parks Loop
3. The Deep South – History, Hospitality & Hushpuppies
4. New England Fall Foliage – Leaf Peeping Perfection
5. Alaska by Land – The Final Frontier Adventure
For One Week (The Perfect Getaways)
1. Blue Ridge Parkway – Appalachian Magic
2. Route 66 Highlights – Retro Roadside Fun
3. Florida Keys Overseas Highway – Island Vibes All the Way
4. South Dakota’s Great 8 – Wild West Wonders
5. Oregon Coast – Wild, Windy, and Worth It
For a Long Weekend (Quick and Unforgettable)
1. Nashville to Memphis – A Music-Filled Escape
2. Texas Hill Country – Wine, Wildflowers, and Charm
3. Northern California Coast – Rugged Romance
4. Smoky Mountains – Cozy Cabins and Mountain Air
5. Charleston & Savannah – Sweet Tea and Southern Charm
Ready to hit the road? I’m just a message away from turning those old FM radio dreams into your next unforgettable adventure. And hey, I’ll even make sure there’s a solid playlist involved—because some things never go out of style.
My Mother’s Senior Photo, 1967My Senior Photo, 1987
Mother’s Day is one of those days that, for me, comes wrapped up in a whole mess of emotions—some sweet, some heavy, and some I just tuck away and try not to unpack. I know I’m not alone in that. You see, I haven’t spoken to my mother since 2013, and truth be told, our relationship was never what you’d call “motherly” to begin with. She wasn’t a momma. Not really. I don’t think she had it in her.
That’s a hard thing to admit out loud, isn’t it? That the very person who should have taught me what unconditional love looked like never quite managed it. And before anyone asks—yes, I tried. Lord knows I tried. But our time together was always a roller coaster of ups and downs. And not the fun kind of roller coaster.
With her, it was always a competition. And let me be real clear—I wasn’t even in the game by choice. But she was determined to be the star, the center, the one who mattered most in her parents’ eyes. And the truth is…she wasn’t. I was. I did all the “right” things in their eyes, and she never quite lived up to their expectations. I don’t know what they wanted from her exactly. Trust me, she was beautiful, smart, talented. Now whether she meant to or not, she poured every ounce of that resentment onto me. That’s a heavy weight for a child to carry.
Occasionally she was the proud mother. Any photo opportunity that gave her the chance to brag about what a great job she was doing …she showed up for that!
My High School Graduation Day ‘87
It’s hard for most people to grasp how a mother can look at her daughter and feel anything other than pride and love. But I lived it. And it shaped me.
Maybe that’s why, when Jake and Jarrett were growing up, they became my entire world. I treasured every little moment with them—the late-night feedings, the sticky kisses, the scrapes and bruises, the teenage eye-rolls, all of it. And with each passing year, my love didn’t stay the same—it grew. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be? Isn’t that what being a momma is?
💙 One of my fave photos 💙
That’s what’s “normal” to me. Wanting your children to have a better life. Cheering them on when they succeed. Praying over them when they struggle. Hoping they go further, do more, and live a life filled with love and goodness.
Mother’s Day is a mixed bag for me. I’ve spent years longing for that mother-daughter bond that so many of my friends have. I envied the phone calls, the shopping trips, the easy conversations over coffee. But that ship? Well, it sailed a long time ago.
And yet—here’s the hardest truth of all—if she ever called and needed something from me, I would help. Without hesitation. Because that’s what a momma does. And despite everything, I learned to be a momma by knowing exactly what I didn’t want to be.
So today, I’ll sit in the quiet and honor the kind of mother I became. The kind of love I gave—and still give—to my boys. That’s the legacy I’m proud of. And that’s the Mother’s Day I choose to celebrate.
To every woman out there whose heart is a little heavy today, know this—you’re not alone. And sometimes, the greatest love stories are the ones we write ourselves.
Today Show Travel Talk: What You Need to Know Before You Get Too Excited.
This morning, I was sipping my French roast and watching the Today Show (you know, my daily dose of news and life lessons), and Vicky Nguyen was on chatting all about travel. Y’all know I leaned in for that! She had some great tips and insights, and I was loving every second of it…BUT. And you knew there was a “but” coming, didn’t you?
Let’s have a little real talk. When you hear those magical price tags floating through the air—Atlanta to Chicago for $67 round trip or Los Angeles to New York City for $99 round trip—go ahead and assume this: you’re not flying Delta, United, or any other major airline that lets you sip your club soda with a little legroom and dignity. Unless you’re sitting on a nice pile of SkyMiles or frequent flyer points, those kinds of prices usually come with some fine print the size of a gnat.
Don’t get me wrong, if you’re willing to rough it a little—think red-eye flights, economy seats, carry-on only, and maybe a connection that feels like a scavenger hunt—then yes, those deals do exist. And hey, sometimes the adventure is in the journey, not the seat that reclines a whole inch.
Now for some good news: travel costs are down compared to last year. But let’s keep our feet on the ground here—we are not back to pre-COVID prices, and honestly, we probably never will be. The world has changed, friends, and so has the travel industry.
So what’s the move? Let’s start thinking a little differently about our travel plans.
🤠Go off the beaten path—those lesser-known gems often bring the most unforgettable experiences.
🗓️Consider off-season travel—the crowds are thinner, prices are better, and you get to experience destinations in a more authentic way.
✈️ And if you must have that Delta flight with a checked bag and a comfy seat, let’s plan ahead and use those miles or look for bundled deals that actually make sense for your budget.
Bottom line? You can still see the world without selling a kidney, but it’s all about how flexible you’re willing to be. And if you need help navigating all of this, well—you know where to find me.
Well y’all… apparently I’m about to be 56. On Thursday. And honestly, I’m not even sure when that happened. One minute I was trying to master the big hair of the ’80s and the next I’m putting readers on top of my head trying to remember where I left my other pair. Life moves fast, doesn’t it?
Now let’s get one thing straight—I’ve never been one of those women who dreaded the big birthdays. Thirty? Fabulous. Forty? Bring it. Fifty? Honestly, I was feeling myself. Sixty? Hmm… I’ll get back to y’all on that one.
But truthfully? I’ve earned every single one of these years. Every laugh line, every stretch mark, every gray hair (well, I don’t know if I have those and you’ll never know either). They’re all little badges from a life well-lived—and still living, thank you very much.
When I look back, I’m proud. Mostly. Occasionally those Facebook memories pop up and I find myself whispering, “Jear Desus… what was I even thinking?” A cringey dude, an overshare, maybe a questionable post. No wait. What? But that’s life. You take the good with the bad, learn what you can, and keep it movin’.
That’s the real secret, isn’t it? The lesson. Not perfection. Not staying young forever. But learning from every wild twist and turn life throws at you.
I feel pretty sure my Gramma and my Chubby would be proud of the woman I’ve become. Oh, they’d roll their eyes at me sometimes—especially when I get mouthy or add a little flair where there’s supposed to be “decorum”—but they’d be proud. Because I know how to act. I love my pearls. I know which fork to use at a fancy dinner.
But let’s be honest… where’s the fun in always being proper?
So here’s my advice as I tiptoe (in wedges) into 56:
Embrace your age.
Embrace your story.
Embrace life—even the messy, complicated, beautiful parts of it.
And most importantly… never forget where you left your readers.
Every weekday morning, I turn on the Today show. It’s my background noise while I sip coffee, squish in-between Cash and Shelby on the couch, and try to convince myself that leggings still count as pants. But in between all that, I catch up on the world—what’s happening, what matters, and sometimes, what we’ve forgotten matters.
This morning, they featured something that hit me square in the heart: Head Start, with Jennifer Garner as the voice behind it. Now y’all know I love her anyway—America’s sweetheart with just the right amount of grit—but today she was spotlighting something bigger than herself: helping kids.
And before we go any further—this is NOT a political post. I don’t care what side of the fence you sit on. I’m not talking to your political beliefs. I’m talking to your humanity. I’m on the side of the kids. Period.
Because here’s the thing: this is America. Why are children still going hungry? Why are we still debating whether a child deserves a decent breakfast?
When I was at Valdosta State, I worked at an elementary school for six weeks—paid internship, helped cover tuition, and changed my whole outlook. That school had free breakfast and lunch. For every single student. It didn’t matter where they came from or how much their parents made. What mattered was that they were children—and children need to eat. End of story.
The staff didn’t stop at breakfast and lunch either. They made sure food went home with kids on Fridays. They kept the programs going through summer. And how did they do it? Donations. Volunteers. Pure heart. A community that cared enough to say: not on our watch.
And yes, the government plays a part. But so do we. Each of us. Every time we look the other way or assume it’s someone else’s job—we’re letting kids fall through the cracks.
That’s why I want to shout out one of our own Jennifer’s: Jenny Petersen. If you live in Bartow County and don’t know Jenny, I’m convinced you’ve been buried under a rock. She’s the woman who shows up. Time after time. Volunteering, fundraising, organizing, and doing the work—real work—that keeps kids fed, families supported, and communities thriving. And she has been doing this while raising kids herself and working at a regular job!
For me, WWJD doesn’t just stand for “What Would Jesus Do?” It’s also “What Would Jenny Do?” Because Jenny? She gets it done. And honestly, we need a whole lot more Jennys in this world.
So here’s my ask: let’s keep pushing, Bartow County. Let’s do even more. Not just for the kids who make the honor roll or play sports. But for every child—because their future is our future. Let’s stop thinking “someone should do something” and start realizing we are someone.
Jennifer Garner reminded me of that this morning. Jenny Peterson lives it out every day.
And now I’m challenging myself—and maybe you—to do a little more.
Who told you I had direction? Was it someone with a clipboard and a dream? Because unless we’re talking about GPS directions to the nearest Target or the quickest way to get home without hitting every red light in Bartow County, I’m gonna need you to clarify.
See, I’m not one of those folks who popped out of the womb with a five-year plan and a color-coded binder (I got that later). Nope. I’ve been out here flying by the seat of my pants since 1969, and I’ve somehow managed to land on my feet—most days—with a coffee in one hand and multiple planners in the other that usually get ignored.
A day out of my digital planner…
If anything gives me “direction” in life, it’s a curious mix of gut instinct, caffeine, grandbaby giggles, and occasionally asking myself, “What would Dolly Parton do?” Spoiler: the answer is usually “put on some lipstick and mascara, and keep going.”
Sometimes my direction looks like a well-planned calendar and sometimes it’s just a Post-It note that says, “Don’t forget pants.” And yet, here I am—still navigating the chaos, still laughing, still loving hard, and still pulling together last-minute travel plans like it’s a competitive sport.
So what gives me direction? Faith. Family. And a whole lot of wingin’ it with flair.
Because while I may not know exactly where I’m headed every day, I do know this—I’m going somewhere, and I’m gonna enjoy the ride. Preferably with good music, a biscuit, and the windows down.
XOXO, Jani
Now tell me—what gives you direction, or are you out here with me, cruisin’ without a map?
This whole blog was born from a conversation with my sweet friend Mary—one of those rare Southern women who just is the South. From the way she walks (like she’s got a secret and a pie in the oven), to her gentle voice with that lilt that somehow commands attention without ever raising an octave, to her green-thumb gardening and effortless charm—Mary is Southern through and through. She’s the type who could read you for filth and still get a “yes, ma’am” in return.
So today, in honor of Mary and every steel magnolia out there, I’m sharing a roundup of my favorite Southern colloquialisms. Some are funny, some are a little shady, and most of ’em make you stop and say, “Wait, what now?” But sugar, they’re all spoken with love, wit, and just a splash of sweet tea.
My Friend Mary
If you’ve ever spent any real time in the South, you know we don’t just talk—we spin a yarn, we paint a picture, and Lord help us, we can insult you and make it sound like a compliment. Bless your heart.
Southern colloquialisms are our love language, our passive-aggression delivery service, and our go-to comedy routine when life gets weird—which is often. So in the spirit of good humor and cultural preservation, here’s a roundup of my favorite Southern sayings—each one as colorful as a church hat on Easter Sunday.
The All-Purpose Blessings
“Bless your heart.” Translation: Could mean anything from “You poor thing” to “You absolute idiot.” Tone matters.
“Well, I’ll be!” Translation: I am genuinely surprised… …or pretending to be.
“Ain’t that the berries?” Translation: That’s just wonderful (but with a little bit of sarcasm).
Food for Thought (Literally)
“Grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater.” Translation: Lookin’ mighty pleased with yourself.
“Full as a tick on a coonhound.” Translation: I’m stuffed. I regret nothing.
“Nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.” Translation: Anxious with a capital A.
“That boy’s got more issues than a Southern Baptist potluck.” Translation: Run, don’t walk, away from that mess.
Sass with a Side of Sweet Tea
“She’s about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.” Translation: Completely and utterly useless.
“If brains were leather, he wouldn’t have enough to saddle a junebug.” Translation: Not the sharpest tool in the shed.
“She could start an argument in an empty house.” Translation: Born to stir the pot.
“He’s all hat and no cattle.” Translation: Talks a big game but can’t back it up.
The Weather Report (Southern Style)
“It’s hotter than blue blazes.” Translation: It’s so hot, Satan’s fanning himself.
“Colder than a well digger’s butt in January.” Translation: I need a blanket and possibly a prayer.
“It’s comin’ up a storm.” Translation: Thunder’s rollin’ in, y’all better take cover.
People, Bless ’Em
“She’s got a hitch in her get-along.” Translation: She’s limping… or moving a little slower than usual.
“He couldn’t pour pee out of a boot with instructions on the heel.” Translation: Not equipped for life’s basic tasks.
“She’s snatched up tighter than a pair of pantyhose two sizes too small.” Translation: She’s either tense… or just plain mean.
Southern Logic & Life Lessons
“You can’t make chicken salad out of chicken poop.” Translation: No matter how hard you try, you can’t polish a turd.
“That dog won’t hunt.” Translation: That idea is useless or not going to work.
“If the good Lord’s willin’ and the creek don’t rise…” Translation: I’ll be there… unless God or nature intervenes.
Just Plain Hilarious
“Madder than a wet hen.” Translation: Furious. Possibly cluckin’ up a storm.
“Drunker than Cooter Brown.” Translation: Legendarily intoxicated. (Cooter Brown is a mythical Southern icon known for staying drunk through the entire Civil War to avoid fighting on either side.)
“Lookin’ like something the cat drug in… then drug back out.” Translation: You’ve seen better days.
“That’s as crooked as a dog’s hind leg.” Translation: Not honest, not trustworthy.
“Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s rainin’.” Translation: I wasn’t born yesterday.
I could go on, but I need to go fix myself a glass of sweet tea and fan myself like Scarlett O’Hara. These sayings might sound silly, but they are sacred around here—handed down from meemaws, papaws, aunties, and uncles at fish fries, front porch rockers, and church potlucks.
So next time someone tells you “you’re walkin’ in high cotton,” take it as a compliment. And if they say you’re “slicker than snot on a doorknob,” well… you might wanna check yourself.
What are your favorite Southern sayings? Drop ’em in the comments, sugar!
Let’s get one thing straight: I love this country with every fiber of my being. Anyone who knows me knows that. I stand for the flag, I honor our veterans, and I believe in the ideals that make America the land of the free and the home of the brave.
But loving your country doesn’t mean turning a blind eye to reality. It means acknowledging both our strengths and our shortcomings. It means striving to make our nation better, not pretending it’s perfect.
So, when I hear folks proudly declare, “I only buy American-made products,” I can’t help but raise an eyebrow. Really? Are you sure about that?
LET’S TAKE A CLOSER LOOK
🛍️ The Reality of Retail
Most of the products sold at major retailers like Target, Walmart, TJ Maxx, and Marshalls are manufactured in countries with large-scale production capabilities, primarily:
China: A leading source for electronics, clothing, toys, and household items. Vietnam: Popular for apparel, footwear, and some electronics. Bangladesh: A key supplier of textiles and garments. India: Known for textiles, home goods, and jewelry. Mexico: Produces appliances, automotive parts, and consumer goods, benefiting from proximity to the U.S.
These countries offer cost-effective manufacturing, which helps keep retail prices competitive. It’s not about patriotism; it’s about economics.
👗 Designer Labels Aren’t Exempt
Even major designer labels manufacture their clothing in various countries based on factors like cost, quality, and brand heritage.
FOR INSTANCE…
Luxury brands like Gucci and Prada often produce in Italy and France. Fast fashion labels such as Zara and H&M source from countries like Bangladesh and Vietnam. Sportswear brands like Nike and Adidas have manufacturing in China and Indonesia. Sustainable brands like Patagonia prefer the USA and Portugal for ethical production. You’ve heard of child labor, right?
It’s a global economy, and companies make decisions that align with their business models.
🇺🇸 Loving America Means Being Honest
Patriotism isn’t about blind loyalty; it’s about holding our country to its highest standards. It’s about recognizing our achievements and acknowledging our flaws. As one article notes, “True patriotism… means holding one’s country to its own highest standards; protest doesn’t dishonor flag or anthem, but rather the opposite” .
So, before you boast about exclusively buying American-made products, take a moment to check the labels. It’s okay to support American businesses, but let’s not kid ourselves about the origins of every item we purchase.
❤️ A Call for Thoughtful Patriotism
Let’s channel our love for this country into actions that make a difference… Shall we?
Support local businesses and artisans. Advocate for fair labor practices globally. Educate ourselves about the products we buy and their origins.
Loving America means striving to make it better—for everyone. It’s not about slogans or declarations. It’s about informed choices and meaningful actions.
Not long after my grandson was born, my son looked at me—tired, overwhelmed, still slightly terrified—and said, “So just like that… I’ve been demoted?”
Ha! I didn’t even hesitate. “Of course you have, sweetie. Welcome to middle management.”
Now listen, I love my children. Deeply. Madly. With a fierceness that only grew over the years. I know people say, “There’s no greater love than when they’re first born,” but I think those people must’ve tapped out early. Because I have loved my boys more and more as time has passed. Watching them grow from tiny tornadoes in OshKosh overalls into sarcastic, successful, sometimes smarter-than-their-mama adults? That’s some BIG LOVE. (And no, not that HBO polygamy mess—I mean the real kind.)
But grandchildren? Oh honey, that’s a whole different category. That’s like going from running the kitchen every night to just showing up, sipping wine, and clapping when the soufflé doesn’t collapse.
Being a parent means sleepless nights, questionable snacks, and constant questions about whether you’re doing it right. Being a grandparent means snacks for dinner are charming, naps are optional (for me), and if they want to wear rain boots with pajamas? Fashion icon!
As a grandparent, I’m no longer responsible for shaping the future of America. I just get to soak up the right now. I’m not stressing about college funds or who they’ll marry or whether they’ll remember to brush their teeth every morning. (Let’s be honest, I’ve seen the state of some of their parents’ mouths—they’ll be fine.)
And when one of my grandkids does something hilariously naughty—like saying, “ Hell yeah!” or hiding a grilled cheese behind the couch or sneaking upstairs just for the thrills, I don’t panic. I don’t lecture. I just smile, take a picture for posterity, and let that quiet little chuckle rise up because ohhhh yes, I’ve seen that move before. Jake and Jarrett were the original rascals, and baby, history repeats itself.
So no, parenthood hasn’t ended. It’s just been… promoted. I get to love my grown kids with pride, admiration, and the occasional unsolicited advice. And I get to adore my grandkids with wide-open arms, zero guilt, and plenty of ice cream.
Parenthood is the masterpiece.
Grandparenthood? That’s the encore.
And you better believe I’m standing center stage, soaking in the applause.
Journeys With Jani 