To Mom (Margaret Frances) and to Mom (Lydia)

This is a favorite photo I have of my mom. Margaret Frances was born into a rambling Victorian farmhouse in Tallapoosa Ga. I’ve driven through that small town – right before you cross over into the land of Elephants and Tigers (Alabama – University of Alabama and Auburn University). I so wish I could ask every question that I can think of about her childhood, growing up, her mom, her relatives. She had one sister, Lucille and one brother who she absolutely adored. Uncle Henry. I do not remember much about him. He drove a 500 SL convertible Mercedes. He owned a jewelry store in the area known as Lakewood Heights. He was killed on my birthday when I was about 6 I think. Maybe 7. It was the year I begged for a pup tent so that I could sleep in the backyard much to my mothers dismay. I’m sure she hoped I would forget about the pup tent. I did not forget I assure you. I got the tent, but the day was so heavy with tears, crying and grief I dont’ remember much about the pup tent. I didn’t know him well, Uncle Henry. He was married to gee….., I don’t even know her name – my mother didn’t care for her is all that I can think is the reason I don’t remember much about them. I have a pretty good memory when it comes to houses, places and people, but I don’t think I spent any time with them. I never visited their home. I do remember visiting the jewelry store with my father when I tagged along with him on his weekend trips to visit friends all around Atlanta. My father knew everyone. Uncle Henry was killed by his wife. I seem to recall talk of smokers, heavy drinking, arguments, jealous rage from his wife. My mother was none of that. Uncle Henry was very handsome. My mother raised him I seem to recall. Her mother (my grandmother) worked quite a bit. My mother I feel thought of Uncle Henry as her own child. So many unanswered questions.

My mother was kind, gentle very much a Southern lady. She was very lovely. I miss her. I so wish I could talk to her, which I do from time to time. The last time I tried to find my parents graves I could not for the life of me locate the headstones! It was as if they had moved to another section of the cemetery. Like a practical joke on me or something. Which is kind of funny if you think about it. Them thinking ‘hey lets move closer to the gazebo in that section and see if she can find us!’.

I found the photo of Margaret Frances post her passing. It has her at about 16 years old. Who took the photo? I love her dress. Her hair is all twisted on top. She had beautiful hair and cheekbones. Large brown eyes. She wanted a child so very much. They adopted my sister first, she’s 5 years older than I am. Unfortunately we are not close. That’s OK. I’ve completely resigend myself to that. They had another girl before me, but they sent her back for some reason. Luckily they found me!

I remember the first meeting. I was 2. I only remember fragments before that but not really people. The social worker took me to South Dekalb Mall, and walked me through the mall so that my mother and father could see me. I had no clue as to who they were or why I was there of course. But I LOOKED AT THEM and did not take my eyes off of them. I actually turned my head and tried to walk to them but the social work pulled me along. Did I mention I am extremely senstive to people – I know things.

Luckily, they liked what they saw, obvsiouly, and boom. Kimberly Ann Kennedy was in the HOUSE.

Which brings me to my birth mother Lydia. Thank you sweet Lydia for being who you are. I am careful not to press for questions too much with my birth mom – I think we both are still merging how we fit together. A delicate dance. I think I can be overwhelming with questions. I’m a seeker of knowledge. I do however have two incredible half sisters (SISTERS) Jenni & Wendy.

That brings me to my petite bebe’s. The Doodle and Andrew. Doodlebug made me a mom – Andrew is the youngest. Love them both DEARLY.

Life is what you make of it. There are highs and lows. You must have lows to fully appreciate the highs. I believe that with all my being. Love hard, forgive and savor each day.

Happy Mothers Day!

xoxoxo Kimy

Waving goodbye to a friendship

This is not NEW information that i’m going into. I’ve been very blessed and lucky in my life when it comes to friends. I’m proud to say I have a very diverse friend group of every shape size you can imagine. I simply love people. They are their own walking talking work of authentic art. Just like art, some you like more than others.

I have an insular group of best friends as we all do . I had one who I’ve known for decades. I won’t go into details ….. it’s not importnant ‘who’ this person is although some of you can probably guess, and those who know me very well know the serious decision on my part to end the friendship. I’m at that POINT in my life…… that it’s NOT OK to behave a certain way especially if you don’t apologize for the behaviour. An apology goes a LONG way with me. Some people think there’s no need to apologize. I highly disagree. If I’m wrong about something, you’ll get one from me I assure you.

I awoke this lovely March 31st morning with my scotties running around excited to run outside to spot a squirrel or two. I’ve had my morning cup of Joe and I’m busy working. This friend popped up in my head because I was rearranging something on my office wall and the art was from one of our many trips together. I smiled. We’ve had some AMAZING trips together through the years. I look at those years as great memories. I’ll alwasy treasure them. I wish her the best in life and hope she’s truly happy.

That’s when you know you’ve made yourself a proud human being when you wish no ill will on a prior friendship or relationship. That counts to all relationships really, ex spouses (well….except THAT ONE….) Business partnerships, boyfriends in my case.

I hope you get a point you wish people well. It’s a GREAT feeling.

I’m just being all happy and high about life today.

I think hard work, digging in the dirt, dogs and friends make it that for me. Happy.

That’s all I needed to send out to the world this morning.

Happy Friday. I hope you have a great upcoming weekend. Filled with the wonder of the world.

There’s good bad and the ugly out there. But the joy comes from simple things. Travel, dinner with a friend. Digging in the garden. Snuggling with a pet. Wine…..there is that.

Toodles my friends.



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