Don’t React

Reacting is being human. Learning to not react instantly is something you develop. I’m still working on my non-reacting self. Hope this finds you doing well. I ususally post here when I’m moved by something in particular. So hello again! Hope this finds you doing well. Happy holidays and all that entails.

I’ve always been one to react quickly. I’m hyper sensitive – I’m hard wired that way. My younger years were trying to mask that and cover it up – the older I get I try to understand and judge my reactiion – if I feel like giving one at all. There’s nothing more completely irritating than someone telling me ‘don’t be so sensitive’. Well I am – so don’t be so insensitive! Geez!

I’m sure we’ve all responded with a quick caustic text or email or phone call to someone who struck a nerve. ::::raising my hand —–GUILTY::::::::: What I’ve learned is to wait in lieu of that gut reaction. Feelings change. Always. You may circle back around to that level of intense hurt/pain in the beginning from whatever it is that triggered your initial feeling – but usually it melds into something else. For me reflection as of late is something I try to really focus on. The ‘why’ it made me feel that way :::blah blah blah:::: to looking at it from their perspective ::::::::::even if they are wrong – obviously -kidding – not kidding – maybe lol :::::::::::

I won’t say what happened recently – but it’s a doozy for sure. BUT —— It’s already happened – nothing can change the outcome. However my reaction is something I CAN control. That’s the ONLY thing I can control in any given situation. Which is really quite empowering. Even if the hurt feelings are still present — that too fades. At least you hope it fades…… and it will – truly. Trust me.

You are your own wee universe. You control only you. No one else. You have no power over anyone else – nor do they over you. Unless you let them.

Oh. My. Gosh. I’m feeling all Yoda today.

xo Kimy





The old adage stands true………..

My morning routine goes something like this….. I stir out of a wonderful slumber to birds chirping and my three scottie girls starting to move around. Bumble the youngest takes advantage of me being on my back at this point and decides to make a nest on on stomach. Not good. Bathroom calling! I always gently pick her up and remove her from said bladder snuggling her up next to me. Then Cricket the blonde scottie girl does her flip onto her back wanting belly rubs. I lovingly oblige. Pip my oldest and brightest of the bunch walks up to get nose and back rubs.


I shuffle from bed trying to find adequate clothing (still chilly here in the South) then opening the back door so said scotties can run, prance and chase any bird or Nazi squirrel in their site. THEN squinting looking like a blonde Albert Einstein (seriously) into the kitchen to put my hands on my french press and filling up the electric tea kettle. My morning has officially begun when this happens.


I grab phones (yes multiples – I’m gifted you know) and begin email glances, text glances and social media perusing.


I was catching up with a dear friend (who will remain nameless for this story) about something that recently happened on one of the FB neighborhood groups. A person had posted some unfortunate things that had happened to them. This is a family who posted this. With kids. We’ve all struggled at some point in our lives – I know I have!!! Several people were commenting and posting their help and concern as my friend did. But something unfortunate happened – some people were being negative – about the situation. As if they had brought it on themselves. :::::::shaking my head:::::::::


Who has heard this age old saying before??? :::::raising my hand::::::::: It’s pretty natural to judge people I think. It’s human nature. I do it. We all do it. But does it have to exit your mouth and through your fingers into someone else’s world? Think about that for a moment. It’s the ‘what if.’ What if instead of being negative and throwing stones I said nothing? What if I had offered my empathy. What if I had offered help? I understand we can’t help everyone. However are your words an unending source of pain or pleasure? I’m not wearing rose colored glasses here. This isn’t political (I’m extremely SICK of saying that but feel I must always insert that too). It’s common sense. WHAT IF I chose to be kind. WHAT IF I chose to be a cottonheadedninnymuggen? EXACTLY.

My friend was disappointed by some people she knew personally and was aghast at their negative response to this family in need. She wanted to know if she should say something to them? My gut response was NO. Everyone’s entitled to their opinion. We can’t control ANYONE but ourselves. But what you CAN DO…… is blow sunshine up their arses. Literally. Killing them with kindness so to speak. MEANING…. continue to give positive responses. Continue with kindness. BE AN ENEMA of SUNSHINE with a mission to dispel UNFORTUNATE peoples comments. Hopefully once you’ve used your SUNSHINE ENEMA enough they’ll be clean.

I think I’m channeling Mahatma Gandhi today or something. Holy snap.






Thanksgiving – I’ll have sushi please.


Does anyone REALLY like turkey?  Let’s be honest.   As a squirmy 8 year old I can remember stuffing the large portion of turkey my mother placed on my plate (right next to the cranberry jelly looking blob)  into my sock then making sure our Poodle Mandy was well fed when my mother wasn’t looking.   Turkey always seems so dry to me.  It’s just not something I enjoy.  Don’t get me wrong.  I completely love the thought of a Thanksgiving Day spread with everything one could possibly make beginning at 4:30 in the morning as my mother always did.  The turkey just wasn’t my cup of tea.  I did however enjoy the crusty skin which I would stealthily pick off quickly when my mother wasn’t looking.    I think she knew I was doing this when I think back on the mischievous action.   In my minds eye she would turn for long enough that I could reach up on my toes and snatch a crunchy sliver stuffing it quickly into my mouth before she turned back around smiling at me.    I miss my mom greatly during the holidays.  


I cherished the week of Thanksgiving as a child.   My older sister and I would set up the card table in the basement and play a week long game of Monopoly or Life.   Leaving the game only to watch the Macys Day Parade or a movie or food was involved.  Food was a major player for my sister.  Me not so much.  She was 5 years older than me.   I was a July 4th, 1965 baby.   We were complete opposites.  I irritated the hell out of her just because I was alive I think.   She never warmed to the idea of a younger sibling (we are both adopted).  The week of Thanksgiving was a very special time for me because she acknowledged me as a sibling and the monopoly game was my only interaction with her until Christmas came around.   I worshiped her.  Her long shiny brown hair was stunning.  My hair was always in a little Dutch boy cut (which I completely love actually).   I woke up early ready to explore the day where as she slept in until my mother called up the stairs for her.   That week of monopoly was a delightful part of my childhood.   ::::smiling::::::::   When the Macys Day Parade began I would sit glued to the TV.  Mom would bring my favorite scrambled egg sandwich which I then promptly smushed as flat as I could between my hands.  I would nibble the crust off first then work my way into the middle until just a bite was left.   I savored that last bite greatly.  

IMG_0470Everyone has their childhood memories.  Mine come bubbling up at unexpected times during the holidays.   I like to turn them around in my head and explore any meaning or detail that I may have missed or haven’t thought about in a long time.   There were the neighborhood friends who many I am still in touch with because of FB and social media (thankfully).  During this bizarre world of the thing we shall not name and hopefully it will go away (Covid 19) staying in touch with one another is extremely important.    I got up way too early this morning searching for something in my memory.   I found this photo from a Thanksgiving recital in Atlanta.  I was 5 years old here so basically 1970.   I remember being so cold in this wee outfit.  There were hundreds of children at this recital.  Why were there so many children I have no idea.  My shoes were a wee bit too tight but I loved the way they clacked clacked when I walked so I didn’t say a thing to my mother for fear she wouldn’t let me wear them.  The skirt in this photograph was corduroy.   It had intricate beading which I found to be quite beautiful.   So many new faces at this recital I was captivated by the energy in the building although at the time I had no idea how sensitive I am to people.   That’s why I thrive at the airport.  So many people and all that energy swirling around!  It’s intoxicating.   

I woke up this morning very early.   Childhood memories are a delightful thing.   Not everything in your childhood is perfect.  Some moments are.  

From my home to you – I hope you are able to enjoy the Thanksgiving holiday in a most wonderful way.  Remember Zoom if you can’t be with family.   We are all connected in some way.   You are not alone!  


Kimy Continue reading

Margaret Frances

Photo May 10, 6 40 51 AMI woke up with you on my mind because it’s Mother’s Day.  Memories have a way of becoming sweeter I think the older you get and the further away they are from reality.  I found a photograph of my mother when she was probably around 15 or so.   No clue as to where it was taken or the circumstance.  It’s an unusual picture in that it’s a strange angle which I liked immediately that’s why it caught my eye – it was unexpected.   I found this black and white window of time in a box of photos I was sifting through mindlessly as one does when you’re not looking for anything in particular; you’re just somehow doing it for no reason.  Just passing time.

Mother had already left us at this point when I came across this photograph.   There was no one to really ask about it.  Daddy said he had never seen the photograph.  Her sister and brother were long gone as well.   She had no relationship with her sister, Aunt Lucille.  I never knew why they didn’t speak.  When I quizzed mother she would shake her head and say she didn’t know.  Surely she had an inkling.  Her brother, Uncle Henry who I never really knew was killed tragically on my 6th birthday;  I believe it was my 6th.  It could have been a year before or after.  It’s all fuzzy now.  That was the year I wanted a pup tent so badly I thought I would die if I didn’t get that pup tent.  How or why I was focused on a pup tent is beyond me but darn it I was obsessed.   What woke me up that birthday was a scream.  More of a wailing scream when I go back to that day.  I was puzzled and immediately unsure if I should get up or wait and see if it came again.  I ended up cautiously opening my door and listening seeing if I could figure out what had happened to make someone pierce my morning birthday slumber.   I heard muffled noises from the kitchen as I silently tip-toed down the stairs.    My father came out and put his hands on my shoulders I knew something was horribly wrong from his ashen face.  He turned me around but not before I saw my mother.   She was bent over sitting in a chair at the kitchen table.  Her hands in her hair.  She was rocking back and forth.  I tried to keep my head turned to see but my father ushered me into the living room.   I don’t remember much about the day.  I did get my pup tent but it seemed very insignificant at that point.  I wasn’t sure why.  I didn’t know why everyone was so upset but I could feel that something horrible had happened.   I later found out my Uncle Henry’s wife had shot and killed him then killed herself.   My mother adored my Uncle Henry.   He drove this sporty little Mercedes convertible.  His wife who I cannot remember her name for the life of me as I sit here in bed typing this sipping my morning coffee with Scotties scattered in various stages of napping.  I don’t recall either of them.  I think they were partiers of sorts which my mother was NOT.   I have a very good memory of younger days so not remembering anything of them means I wasn’t exposed to them in the least.  I don’t recall ever going to their home. I do remember going to my Uncles jewelry store in Lakewood Heights.  Who knows – he could have been in the mafia for all I know.  I remember seeing a photograph of them.  His wife had jet black hair and maybe was Asian but I’m uncertain.   I just know that my mother didn’t like her even though she never said she didn’t like her.  It was more of a feeling on my part.   How did I go down this rabbit hole?  I’m rambling – sorry.

Back to this photograph- my mother was beautiful. Everyone always commented on her beauty.  They surely had American Indian heritage because of the cheekbones.  My mother had large brown eyes, very pale skin and lovely brown hair.  Her mother was stunning.  Pale skin with high cheekbones, intelligent cornflower piercing blue eyes and shiny black hair.  When I see pictures of them they were so tiny waisted I wondered where their internal organs were kept.    Mother grew up in Tallapoosa Ga.   A large farmhouse.  Wish I could find it.   I’ve driven through the town on the way to Birmingham.  Quaint.  So many questions – no answers.  Hm.

What do I remember the most on this strange mothers day of quarantine-ville?  I remember your pound cakes.  You always saved extra batter for me so that I could lick the bowls and blender.   You never did this for my older sister because she tended to be chubby whereas I was skinny.  I was the only member of our family who loved blackberry jam.  You kept the jar on the bottom shelf of the refrigerator door so that I could easily find it.   When you made biscuits you always made a special pan for me with petite biscuits.  You didn’t do that for my older sister which may explain why she hated me for all of my childhood.  Well…. I was a pesky kid sister so it was more that I’m certain.   I remember the way your skin looked and felt.   You were religious about your skin being soft.   Morning creams nightly creams.  Your hands were velvety.  I never wanted to forget your skins unique fragrance.

I was so independent.  Forgive me for not being the best daughter I could have been.  I have no idea what you thought of me but I knew you loved me.  And I loved you.   I was so ready to be in the world and go do see.   I wanted freedom.   All you could do is watch me leave.

I am thankful for so many things you gave to me.  Mainly love.   I remember daddy telling me that there was another little girl before me you were thinking about adopting.  For whatever reason it didn’t work out.  Thankfully I was next in line.

Thanks for loving me even though I wasn’t the easiest teenager to love I’m sure.   Thanks to my grandmother and Aunties who let me run free in the summers in Powder Springs at their farmhouse.  Thank you to women who have played the role of mothering me through the years.   You are near and dear to me.

And to my birth mother – Lydia – Thank you for loving me more than anyone.

I need more coffee.

An extrovert during Covid 19

il_570xN.393169228_pirsFirstly and completely coming from my heart I truly hope everyone is OK during this morbid crisis we are experiencing as THE WORLD – I almost said nation but NO it’s the WORLD —  as a species I suppose.  I know people have died and will die.  I worry every day about health industry (my daughter who is a nurse) service industry all these fine people.   But I’m ready for it to be OVER.  God I feel as if I’m on a weird movie set just waiting for someone to yell CUT!  CUT ALREADY!!!

It was the dream that started all of this.

I had a very bizarre dream last night.  I’ve always had very vivid dreams – this dream began as a trip of some sort – I can remember being on a very long plane ride. I had my books, my Baily’s on ice, my itty bitties, friends – when we finally exited from the plane we were in Europe somewhere – maybe Italy.  The sun was warm when we walked out of the airport.  A feeling of happiness and excitement.   I was driven to a lovely home where I unpacked.   I then drove the friends who were traveling with me to another location dropped them off but I then realized I couldn’t recall how to get back to the house I was in.   Suddenly I realized I’m going to miss my flight home.  I frantically tried to find my way back to the house to gather my passport and itty bitties (these are very petite animals I travel with – small stuffed ones- I know I know – eight year old here – ANYWAY)….  at some point the dream morphed into I was part of this family from Victorian times – I was very limited in anything I could do.  I was a young girl around 10 maybe. My clothing itched and was uncomfortable.  Very strict schedule – I was always looking out the window longing for freedom.    When I woke up this morning I let the girls out (my three wee Scotties) made coffee came back to sit in bed and look through my emails texts and social media which is my usual schedule.  This dream continued to pop up in my head then I realized I must write about it here on my blog.    It’s obvious now – I’m feeling completely TRAPPED!! I know I’m shelter in place in a safe place but for someone who is an extrovert I’m about to go BONKERS.

I am incredulous that we can’t continue our normal lives.  I understand how this happened I’m just whiny today and wish for it to be over NOW!!!!!  :::hurling myself on the floor and having a proper hissy fit::::::::

For the introverts out there it’s business as usual.  Don’t get me wrong – I adore my house.  I’m fine being at home for a bit.  But for a month??? Please do not let it be MORE.  Luckily-  I have my wee Scotties running around like banshees which is very comforting. I have my books, my writing projects, tons of movies, YouTube, my art collection, my shoes (thank goodness for shoe shopping right?)   I have so many lovely people I have the honor to call friends.   Thank goodness for ZOOM and others who are posting videos and shows to keep me entertained (especially new friends Douglas and Dewey who are a GODSEND).   I don’t HAVE to be entertained – But I DO need to be around people places and things.  I need to travel.   And yes – it’s a NEED.  I’m hard-wired to GO DO SEE.   I get high at the airport – because of all the wonderful people bustling about.  I’m very sensitive to people – always have been.  As a young child I didn’t understand it – as a 54 year old I now get it – some people are just sensitive in a way others are not.   I get people instantly – the good bad and the ugly.   The ugly ones I steer clear of – but I get you.   Almost like speed reading but not a book its a person.  I love people!! At this moment even the ugly ones!!!

I’m a survivor – so I’ll be fine.  I wonder how many other extroverts are coping with this caged feeling.   The good thing is that I can open the door and go for a walk drive somewhere.   I can manage the caged feeling when it peeks.

On a good note – I have many projects I can bury myself into.  Writing, videos I’m working on for both business and another project called Two Cab Gab.  Just wait!  See what I did there – I distracted myself and it worked.  I’m smiling now.  I’ve always been able to play well by myself – I just REALLY enjoy playing with others! Snap.

Check on your friends – especially the extroverts – we may appear normal and all happy and optimistic – which I am for the most part.  But we are still human – and this caged feeling sucks beans.  BEANS I TELL YOU!

I feel much better now.   Thanks for listening everyone!

If you need me – I am completely here for you.  ZOOM is a godsend.  Truly.

xxoo and more xxooo from Speckled Egg Cottage in Frog Hollow of Atlanta or my other home Thistle Patch Cottage of Woodlawn in Birmingham. I go between the two secretly.  Because I can! :::::bwahahahahah  ::::::wiggling toes merrily::::::

Love you mean it.

Oh! The other images I found this morning that reflect some of the weirdness of this shelter in place zone.  Good grief please end soon.

I’m a very visual person – I love finding images that reflect mood – Thankfully mine passed quickly this morning – just talking to my dearest one Julesbee (thanks girl love you mean it) and my daughter the Doodle makes me smile. Last night I had a special one pop over for a distanced cocktail ( we were careful I assure you).  She has to remain a secret.


I feel as if I’m stuck in a weird movie…..

A3827102-0327-42FA-BA81-EEBC681FF3E3Life for everyone has gotten a bit wonky and twisted all of the sudden due to the Carona Virus sweeping our world.  Quarantine,  toilet paper hoarding,  grocery store shelves empty – I feel as if I’m on a set of a Jordan Peele movie gone very wrong.  Que the zombies.  Although I am happy to report the shoe ads on my FB feed have been FABULOUS ::::beaming::::::::  Always look for a silver lining – or shoes in my case.

The urge to flee seeking sandy salty and beach has been overwhelming.  We have plotted to make a small escape but safely so. If anyone fusses about it I’ll get Jenny to spray them with Lysol.  So.   We high-tailed it out of Atlanta after stopping at The Uncles for a can of Lysol (Jenny insisted) and the new book by Pam Scholes called Under the Mulberry Tree.  With toilet paper and vodka we are SET!  Jenny sprays anything I even look at outside of the car.  I stopped for gas and in the flash of an eye her wee self appeared spraying the entire pump.  She’s quick. I then got back into the car and almost suffocated because she had sprayed the car.   Lysol is my new perfume.   ::::sigh::::::  We dropped off supplies at her parents home leaving them on the steps as we waved and blew kisses but keeping a respectable distance.  Jenny would have sprayed them with Lysol if she could have gotten close enough I think.  I had to hold her back.  She’s like a cowboy out of the old Westerns with a can of Lysol on each hip ready to draw and spray.  ::::music from the movie High Noon in the background::::::::: Short people do the most particularly adorable things.  Don’t you wish Jenny was one of your besties ?  Yeah well… back off.  :::pulling my can of Lysol out:::::::  Teasing. I’ll share!

We arrived in SC wistfully wishing one of our favorite shops would magically be open for a quick run in.   It’s called Grayco Hardware & Home in Beaufort –  it’s a hardware store but they also carry high end furnishings, clothing and housewares.  I could live in this shop. They have a great array of Scout bags too.   The stores were in usual shopping mode much to our surprise!  We plotted to keep our distance from everyone with a can of Lysol in Jen’s purse.   We didn’t actually buy anything however just being in a retail settings was worth it.   I don’t think SC got the quarantine message.  Ahem.   We stopped by Walmart same thing.  Full shopping mode business as usual.  We loaded up (already with the most important things we brought with us Vodka and TP) breakfast and food items,, creamer for coffee etc.   We headed on towards Fripp stopping at the Seafood Market to grab a few lbs of shrimp (or Shrimps as the locals say).   Nearing the gates I turned to Jen to say “wouldn’t it be a perfect day if Mangoes was open!”  Mangoes is a boutique here on the island – and yes! They were open! Squeeeeeeeee!  We both found wonderful items on the 50% off rack!  I found a lovely dress, two tops and a wonderful sweater.  Jen found wee things for wee folk.

That was yesterday.

This morning I’m nested in my usual spot and Jen is in hers.  We have our routine.  I get up early write as I sip my morning coffee.  She’s nested upstairs then she meanders down to nest beside me like a small bird in her blanket.  Her blanket this trip is white with pink flamingoes.  Wee folk kind of things.

We are headed to sit on the beach, read sip an all day cocktail.   People are playing golf (I think you can play golf as long as you spray the golf ball down with Lysol who knows).  We will keep a respectable amount of distance between us and the people here.   Maybe we are immune (I’m completely kidding but wistfully wishing it was so).

Quarentined with my wee Jenny – it will give me strength to go back to city life and try to support with optimism and whimsy.   And shoe selection.



**make sure you follow my blog so that you don’t miss a wacky moment!  Stay safe out there!  Lysol and Vodka! 

P.S.  On a very serious note — prayers go out to families affected by this bizarre virus.  WTF China!


Yes.…… and……

1_Ail0W9VMg0CEGG-2i8DkeQI recently signed up for an Improv Class taught by a friend (he’s a new friend and I’m just smitten with him!).  Now…. you may ask why in the world would YOU take an improv class? You’re not trying to break into standup comedy (maybe I am! – just kidding – maybe- maybe not – the suspense is killing you isn’t it).  You’re not in the film industry (I live in Atlanta so I’m in the industry just by geographic location so there).   Anyway….. back to the original point.  I took an improv class for several reasons.  #1 I was extremely curious what in the world is improv I knew sort of but not really and what I thought it was wasn’t it at all.   #2 all knowledge is good knowledge in my book. What can I learn from this class? #3 I love taking classes.

I was not nervous in the least.  That’s a wonderful thing I’ve always had – I’m not nervous in front of other people, strangers, groups, etc.   Instead of worrying about what they think of ME – I’ve always been of the mindset they need to worry what I think of THEM.  Not that they need to worry at all – I enjoy new situations meetings etc.   Dewey who taught the class (great job too Dewey!!) took our group of 5 through several exercises etc to get us into the real meaning of improv.  Our group of 5 consisted 3 millennials, a new friend who is probably in her 40s (maybe 30s I’m horrible at telling age)  and myself.  I was the oldest even by a few years on Dewey – interesting when I look at that.  I still feel 8 years old most of the time thus its surprising when I’m the oldest.   Fun thoughts everywhere!

AF7A58DC-063D-415C-B2E5-8E92F95A7913 2What’s the most important one thing that I took out of this class???  You may ask???? is saying YES instead of saying NO.   By saying yes you continue the circumstance and actions if saying NO it shuts it down immediately.

Example that came up in class.

Person one:  Clean up the cat poop

Me:  No

what COULD have been….

Person one: Clean up the cat poop

Me:  Yes….. and then I’ll take Benadryl because I’m allergic to cats!


Me: Yes….. and then I’ll wash my hands thoroughly and vomit!

Me: Yes…. and then I’ll make you throw it away!

See what just happened there?

Improv teaches you skills in every facet of your day.   It makes you think about how you’re responding.

Anyway…… I’m telling you all of this because it’s important to get out there and try new things!   Take a chance!!! You may learn something new in spite of yourself.

Did I mention I can’t wait for the advanced improv class?? #almostfamous #improv

Go onto and find something fun to do – there’s something for everyone!!!



Kimysworld 2019

AF7A58DC-063D-415C-B2E5-8E92F95A7913 2Looking back on my year of 2019 – a whirlwind of activity.

My year in review click HERE 

The video is about 20 mins long — I did my best to keep it at a minimum just so much to share!

From book clubs, to travel, to moving – it was quite a year! The biggest trip was to Galapagos Islands with the Uncles.   Travel is my life force.  I enjoy being at home but love packing a bag and heading out.  Then coming home is the best too!  My pups are my wee loves.  Pip, Cricket & Bumble.  Work hard play hard.

I’m a workaholic and I’m completely at peace with this.  I love what I do!  My estate sale companies are doing very well.  Birmingham Estate Sales in Alabama and Atlas South Estate Sales in Atlanta.   I have homes in both cities and go between the two (only a few hours apart).  My home in Birmingham is in Woodlawn – a historic area making a comeback!  I named Thistle Patch Cottage a 1918 cottage.   I sold my beloved La Petite Maison in Historic College Park and bought an enchanting home I’ve named Speckled Egg Cottage where the scottie girls roam freely to bark at squirrels and birds.  It’s an 1919 cottage.  Can you tell I love older homes?  It’s a labor of love to own an older home.  I would have it no other way.

I’m so completely blessed to have a vast circle of friends who I consider family.   My kids are happy and thriving.  Life is very good indeed.

I’m excited for 2020 – a year of self-adjusting.  We have a wedding to prepare for – my daughter is getting married to an incredible guy who I completely adore.   Highlands NC will be the setting – how romantic!

2020 setting work goals, personal goals and travel goals.  It’s all about having the goal in place and working towards it.  Fine-tuning who I am, what’s important.   I’m so very happy to be who I am, quirks and all – I’m an entrepreneur, I’m a writer, I’m a very loyal friend, I’m a lover of animals – I’m an 8 year old inside of a 54 year old – I see joy and silliness when others may not – that’s who I am.  I’m a helper. I’m a giver.  Now the song from Steve Miller band is stuck in my head (I’m a joker).  he he he

From my home to yours – sending love hugs and a kick ass 2020.  Boom

xoxo and more xoxo





Thankful Grateful Hopeful Peaceful

AF7A58DC-063D-415C-B2E5-8E92F95A7913 2Thanksgiving Day I completely revert back to the 8 year old sitting on the sofa in the den covered in quilts in the house I grew up in.   My sweet mother already had quilts in place, a scrambled egg sandwich with toasted bread and extra butter and a very big frosty glass of milk waiting for me to watch the Macys Thanksgiving Day Parade.  Oh the parades the people watching and the floats had me captivated.  One of the many reasons I love NYC to this day is the parade and growing up on Sesame Street which I associate with NY.  I was always up early regardless of what day it was but this day especially I was smiling silently still in my footy pajamas ready to sit glued to the television waiting for the parade to begin.   I was serenely happy in my quilted nest not moving until lunch or bathroom breaks.  A smile will immediately appear on my face when remembering these Thanksgiving days in my younger years.  A scrambled egg sandwich also has the same effect being it was presented to me by my mother on special occasions and to only me.  My sister was either never awake or absent on my early morning special occasions.  Scrambled egg sandwiches were also given when I was ill – the time I had pneumonia around the age of 12 I existed off these scrambled buttery delights for weeks.

This Thanksgiving I’m oh so grateful for things big and for things small.  I’m sitting here in my rather new home to me although an older home (1920) I’ve recently purchased after selling my beloved chalet that’s just a mile away from this one.   It was time to turn the page.  Coffee by my side in a Starbucks mug printed with North Carolina (that was the trip to get my vintage 1970s Frolic Camper – I love Starbucks mugs).   The girls Pip, Cricket and baby Bumble are scattered among my bed watching for squirrels running by on the trees outside my bedroom window.  I can hear the wind blowing outside as the wind chimes tinkle tinkle oh how I love that sound.  The leaves are rustling.  My windows are the wavy glass you see in older homes if the original windows are still in place.  The heat is on and humming because its 41 degrees in Atlanta on this 2019 Thanksgiving Day!

I am so very THANKFUL today.  A short list of my thankfulness – family, friends, dogs, work, art, life, curiosity, learning, books, travel, estate sales and so much more!

GRATEFUL for this life I was given.

Hopeful for our country- hopeful that communities come together Hopeful that people see it’s OK to be different be respectful of others HOPEFUL people use kindness and learn from one another.

Peaceful.   This is something fairly new to me in recent years.  I’m at peace.  I’m at peace with WHO I am even though I’m not everyone’s cup of tea and that’s OK!  Being at peace is something I strive for now.  I’m content.  I’m happy.

I’m house hopping today – Giving a quick hug and talk to those that I can then headed on a Thanksgiving Day adventure with some girlfriends ending up at the Uncles who are like my parents.   Thankful for friends who are like family.

Wishing you ALL a very happy holiday.  You are important to me and to so many don’t ever think you are not important to this life and this world.

Find your magic on this day.  Keep the memories close to your heart of Thanksgivings past.  Cherish the ones you make today.  If you don’t make it special, who will?




When I become a Ghost

AF7A58DC-063D-415C-B2E5-8E92F95A7913 2Interestingly enough, I’ve always felt that I would never die.  Peter Pan Complex – never grown up and never grow old.  Terrified of it.  Like most people I suppose.  Maybe it’s my age, or what I do professionally that has softened the blow for me, that yes….. I will absolutely die at some point because that’s just part of life. It’s not a horrible thing – whatever happens next will be quite wonderful I bet.  I think many will be completely surprised at what happens – we all have our own religious ideas of what that might be.  I’ve always wanted to come back as the ghosts in Topper. Remember that old black and white show?  And then of course there’s the fabulous movie my favorite of many favorites called The Ghost and Mrs. Muir.  ::::dreamy sigh:::::: I have ALWAYS wanted my very own ghost Sea Captain.  Sorry guys!! Just give the me salty ghost of a sea captain and I’m a happy camper! LOL  I would consider taking a live one… only if they live up to the one in the movie.  So.

Anyway….  my post this morning has nothing to do with any of the above other than…. my book in my office that I’ve begun called ‘When I Become A Ghost’.  I’ve been up for about an hour or so. Coffee is made, my bed is covered in Scotties (both flannel sheet Scotties and the real kind of scottie dogs). Still in my red and white striped flannel pjs, fluffy socks on.  Jumped back into bed to write this before I started my day.  This was the first thing I wanted to do.  My faithful cup of coffee is by my side in the lovely lemon mug my dear friend Panda gave to me.   I can look out the window and see the most lovely trees that are changing from yellow to a brilliant orange.  I’m smiling.  Happy.  Wiggling my toes every now and then.  Back on to the subject about the ghost book.

My ghost book is for my family.  Instead of “Do this when I Die’ title it’s more humorous I think being called When I become a Ghost.  I told my daughter about this, a few friends, my attorney.  My daughter was completely mortified and showed this by several eye rolls which made me think she was going to levitate or something.  It serves as instructions.  This is very important.  Do you know how many clients I have when I meet them to do an estate sale who are in frantic mode because they don’t know anything they can’t find anything they are in chaos because the deceased did not leave instructions.   Well.  I’ll get a gold star for this when I’m floating around.

My book of instructions entails the following:

  •  introduction with something quippy to ease the loss for my family and friends. Heck, they might be happy – teasing of course. I hope.  Not too sad just a little (although hopefully I’ll still be around just more transparenty)
  • passwords to all my accounts and a list of those accounts
  • bank accounts and information on those
  • life insurance info (boy will you be happier at this point! Live in Paris if you wish!)
  • a few special letters to give to people (I decided NOT to write the ugly ones….. although….. )
  • who gets what specifically houses, property whatever that is at the time
  • a WILL (most important people!!!)
  • instructions for me specifically (cremation baby! Burn baby Burn!) Prepay this if you can
  • What to do with those ashes (boy will you be surprised! One part of it is secret…..)
  • Celebration of life and a signature cocktail (big party coming!)
  • My obituary ….. yes I wrote it myself! There’s even pictures!
  • Throw away anything in my night stand – very important. You wouldn’t BELIEVE some of the very personal things we find in night stands getting ready for an estate sale! Some things we have no idea what in the world you do with them! :::::blushing::::::
  • Instructions for my businesses
  • blah blah blah

anyway…  you get the picture.

Here’s a link to many more things to think about.  Click HERE  

Sure.  People don’t like to think about dying.  It’s scary because we’ve never done it before.  Can you imagine what a relief it would be if we died a few times every few years and get the feel of it.  Exactly. Old hat.   I’ve had too much coffee. lol My mind goes all over the place.

I think for me personally, by leaving specific instructions in my ghost book, I’ve taken a big chunk of the anxiety out of the way.   Peace of mind so to speak.

Now…… I’ve given you something to think about today.  Go forth and do it!!


Not a ghost – yet!

Faithfully yours….. Kimy