When taking on a mountain…

…sometimes, in the midst of the enormity of it, I’ll tackle a molehill in order to feel accomplished.

Last week we came through hurricane Irma, for the most part, unscathed. Our yard, on the other hand, went through quite a bit of updating in its landscape. And the clean up from that… has been a dentist visit short of fun!

Also, I found myself finally getting the bug my daughter, my boss and, two of my friends were hayel bent on bestowing upon me. Typically, I do everything in my power to avoid getting sick, however when it hits I then do everything in my power to get over it oh so quickly. Which became challenging last week with rest difficult to find while storms raged outside my hot hot house that had lost power the moment the wind gust was up over 30 miles per hour.

All and all, gratefully, we manged through successfully and have emerged feeling better, with our house in tact, a cleaned out restocked fridge, and once again a cool bed to rest our weary heads.

Yet even with the lights restored and my energy (sluggishly) returning I’ve had no desire to face the kitchen renovation (the mountain). So I took on a molehill and boy howdy if it is not the cutest lil ‘ol molehill. Continue reading

Life after a hurricane…

 y’all, it is messy.


There is water everywhere except coming from the kitchen faucet or found in bottles at the stores.

Trees and huge tree size branches have fallen over or broken off, blocking our already flooded streets.

Which in some ways is okay, since there is nowhere, city-wide, to purchase gas. Making staying put the best option.

Our beautiful beaches are eroded away FullSizeRender

Power outages are far-reaching, making the difficult task of being a lineman even more so (thank YOU ALL for the outstanding service you provide. It is most appreciated).

Kids are out of school for DAYS, no need to elaborate on the mess this can cause.

And no one, I mean no one, other than perhaps a new-born has slept good or had a good cup of coffee (not even the new-born) for days. 

But, and this but is huge…

 there is also beauty in it all.


For when a community comes together in the midst of the messiness…beauty is seen.

Friends step in with chain saws to cut the fallen trees off driveways and roofs.

Generators, hot showers, and cool beds, are provided from those who were fortunate to have their power restored.

First responders, leave their families to help others at the most desperate.  And while thank you never seems enough for their dedication and service, the gratitude is still deeply felt every time those two simple words are uttered.


Shelter, is offered from those whose homes withstood the storm, to those whose home were flooded in the deluge.

You talk or text (once cell service is restored) to absolutely EVERYone that you love most in the world.

Walks on the beach, when once again allowed, offers an immense bounty of beautiful sea treasures. Plus my gal and I became rescue workers, aiding in returning 16 creatures to their home in the sea.


And the sun and all its stunning glory shines itself out over all our new water front properties. 



*Photo credit to TC Palm for the first eleven photos

* Photo credit to me for the other two


“Oh my heck!!!”~

Anyone that knows me well or even not so much, knows “oh my heck” comes out of my mouth or from my feverish thumbs tapping out those three simple words, often

So often in fact I’ve thought they deserved their own acronym. Even considered campaigning on OMH’s behalf, with the expectation, that in time, OMH might hold the same ranking as OMG.

However currently there is far too much on my plate, namely a wild hair project …

“just a small”

“wont take but a minute”

“I soooo got this”…

kind of painting project, that would make taking on a campaign, even one as worthwhile as OMH’s, just down right silly.

Here’s the deal y’all, I had no real idea what I was getting myself into when I began this project. 

Absolutely NONE!

I mean, how could I?

I’ve never undertaken a project of such magnitude.

Yet, that small, seemingly necessary fact was not, nor has it ever been, a determining nor deterring factor of mine. When I get a vision, jumping right on into it, brings my life undeniable excitement and ever-increasing happiness.

This reckless abandonment serves me well. Turning each of my modest homes and salvage yard finds into comfortable, beautiful, livable works of art. And while, yes, trials and even from time to time, errors do occur, there is a great deal of learning that takes place and provides knowledge and wisdom that might have only been gained through this type of apprenticeship.

However today as I stare a bit glossy eyed, slightly overwhelmed, muttering OMH, OMH, OMH, by the magnitude of what I am facing today…

no, not hurricane Irma churning its way to my beloved state, for with her all I can do is prepare and pray…

but by that which is my kitchen for all intense and purpose.

 Ground zero of the wild hair project…

Continue reading

Went a got myself a wild hair~

Now folks this phenomena happens often, so there’s nothing to be alarmed about.

In fact my family grew accustomed to often walking into a rearranged home.

Having unusual concoctions come from the kitchen, based on whatever I fancied that day.

Made the decision to take up yoga, purely because it felt so right walking into the studio for the first time.

On a whim, packed a bag and hit the road thirty minutes later for a 10 day road trip with my darlin’ gal. We had no reservations or real thought of where or what we’d be doing…just for the adventure of it.

Will dance a jig in the middle of the street if I feel so moved. Typical, this does happen when accompanied by a live band playing near by, so as not to look like a total spaz.

Was ready to make an offer on the little cottage-home I now live in and am renovating without ever stepping a foot inside.

Even made a decision to hang up a 20 year career, in the time it took to walk across a bank lobby.

To say I navigate my life based on feelings, discernment, and intuition would be a straight arrow hitting the bull smack dab in the eye. Dang if that didn’t just gave me a notion… archery might just be the next hairy ring I step into.

For now, let’s get back to my current, crazy, curly, over the top hair that has taken over my home. Well, mostly the kitchen but aggressively has spilt  itself out into the living room and studio. And while I am not fully ready or able to share the wildness of this hair just yet I will give a glimpse into what is acomin’ down the pike…

Chalk paint….


and dark cabinets…

A match made in wild hair haven


Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right~

Dayum tooting if that beloved Stealers Wheels song, that we’ve all heard so many times, doesn’t give us the ability to sing and dance, all while pointing out those clowns and jokers all around us, without causing offense. Heck we aren’t really calling them out on their clowning or jokery…the song is.

Now I love this song. Enjoy hearing it, as I did last night, by bands brilliantly covering it. Enjoy dancing to it, singing to it, all while surrounded by many a clown and quite a few jokers. But other than the chorus, the song holds little to no meaning for me…

yes I’ve been scared and even fallin off a chair or two. And from time to time I’ve wondered how I’ll get down some stairs. And for goodness sakes any one who knows me, knows there is rarely not a smile on my face and often I’m all over the place.

But the clowns and the jokers they are my squad, my people, my tribe. They seemed magnetised into my life.

After all like attracts like, so they say.

I feel free in the presences of those that let loose, cut free, live life full-out and fully on. My silliness is appreciated amongst such and I become even more myself, more alive, more…

Yet it is the one in the middle that I am stuck with. The middle man. The straight man. The non-clowning. The non-joker. The brilliant man who willingly stays stuck in the middle with me despite all the silly, craziness that the clowns and jokers of my life have provided. He is the one I am stuck with. And boy howdy am I ever grateful for it. stuck_in_the_middle_with_you_by_mazzy12345-d3jdj7p

72% / 28%


How do we reconcile between that which is thoughts in our head when it is so opposing to that which is felt in our heart?

Years ago, discussed this very question with a dear friend.

His response…give your heart 72% of the equation and your head 28%.

Laughing at the specificity of his logic I said, ‘ugh boy… hate numbers and unless, on a sales rack, I dislike percentages even more’. To which he accurately reminded me that I was a banker.

Truth be told, even as a banker, numbers were not (and still aren’t) my speciality. Yet this mathematical solution, indeed, over the years, played out to provide all kinds of beautiful moments. Moments where my heart  made the majority of discussions. Eloquently guiding me, even when it was illogical and naysayers said it was insane, to this exquisitely, beautiful, simple life I now live.

The 72% / 28% was a perfect balanced, well oiled machine…

Until recently.

When my head, no longer satisfied with its allotted 28% began encroaching, sometimes brutally, onto my heart’s 72%. All the while, logically screaming things that my heart had to receive, then somehow lovingly try to counter balance.

Continue reading

Soak in it or soak it up~

Think y’all would agree, unless you are getting home late from a most excellent event, catching an early morning flight to Costa Rica, or yummidly (yes I make up words that suit my need) tangled up in the sheets with someone…

3:42am is not a time that most of us want to be awake.

However 3:42 is precisely the time my eyes, body and more importantly my mind thought it would be fun to emerge from its slumber and most excellent dreams and begin its play date with a word.   Continue reading

Everyone from Stevie Nicks, to Stevie Ray Vaughan, to Stevie Wonder… (A guest post by Krista’s daughter, me, Bella)  



…and ALL who came before, in between, and after.

For as long as I can remember, my momma has always done one thing as soon as she got in the car.

No, I’m not talking about putting on her seatbelt.

The first thing she did (and still does)…

was press the one button that held the power to lead me down the musical path that was my childhood.

The radio came on

a cool tune was found


and only then

the seat beat got buckled.
Continue reading