Storytime – J-Dub's Grin and Bear It

Writer’s Workshop: Just Fridays Again

Published on 06/18/202606/17/2026 by J-Dub12 Comments

What is your favorite day of the week?

Friday.

I’m a power-through kind of person. Always have been. I can do just about anything for a temporary amount of time if there is a goal at the end of it. Head down. Make a plan. White-knuckle my way through.

Somewhere around middle age, I started putting myself out there more than comes naturally to me. Taking chances. Saying yes. Participating.

My natural state is lone wolf.

Not cool lone wolf. Not majestic wolf silhouetted on a mountain at sunset lone wolf.

More like a lone wolf whose heart reacts like teeth on tinfoil.

The kind that learned early that needing people is risky business.

So what does any of this have to do with Friday?

By Friday I’ve done the work. The week has taken what it wanted from me and I get to go home.

The Lone Wolf loves Friday.

The Sweet Baby Girl isn’t so sure.

“What if we’re missing something?”

“Missing what?”

“I don’t know. Something.”

The Lone Wolf rolls her eyes because that’s how trouble starts.

Saturday is easy. I can distract myself with gardening, baking, writing, podcasts, music, movies, or whatever shiny object catches my attention.

Sunday can go sit in the corner and think about what it’s done.

There was a time when Sunday supper with the brain trust made Sundays worth showing up for.

I still miss that.

Lately I’ve been swinging between two extremes.

I’ve got this.

And:

Just plan my funeral now.

For the record, I’m not dying today. This is what experts refer to as a slight overreaction.

But I am raw.

A few things have landed lately that hit harder than they should have.

When that happens, the Sweet Baby Girl starts asking questions.

Why would anybody do that to another human being?

The Lone Wolf has an answer ready.

“People are who they are. They don’t owe you anything.”

The Sweet Baby Girl keeps asking anyway.

And apparently neither one of them is getting the last word.

PS: For a brief window, Fridays became more than the finishing point. They were celebrations. Now they’re just Fridays again. Left in lone wolf territory.

My Writer’s Workshop Entry: 4) What is your favorite day of the week? The rules and pingback are here . Badge/feature image by Patty, http://anothercookieplease.com

Tuesday Tales: Unbreakable

Published on 06/16/202606/16/2026 by J-Dub12 Comments

I’m going to cobble together a quick story because I have changed my mind on what I wanted to share today. Suffice it to say I’m yet again going through some stuff.

He’s savage but don’t get it twisted.

When I saw that caption on an Instagram post four years ago underneath a picture of my father, I felt a mixture of pride and revulsion. You know because it either meant that I come from hardy stock, resilient people or my ancestors were cruel & savage.

If there’s anything that I like about myself, it’s my ability to always be kind. To lead with that. I’m not always nice, I’m human but I have enough decorum not to act on unkind feelings.

Back then, I was just beginning to understand my roots. I didn’t want to think that there’s bad blood in me. If there is even such a thing as “born bad” for anyone. The debate is ongoing whether we are inherently good or evil. Nurture versus nature. All that jazz.

Anyway, this little “short” story is turning into a long one so I’m gonna get to the point.

I have my appointment today and I’m a little concerned. It’s about my bone health. A dexa scan shows my osteoporosis is severe and my risk of fracture is in the highest category. The sweet assistant said, “if you were my grandma, I would bubble wrap you.” The appointment today is to teach me how to inject myself. Oh, and insurance is still pending for this $2800 a month treatment. They’re going to give me a 30 day sample then appeal until it’s approved. They have the literature to support this aggressive treatment is necessary, my only chance to reverse the decline.

In typical fashion to avoid thinking about any of this, I am distracting myself.

For some reason, my bones breaking made me think of the movie Unbreakable with Bruce Willis and Samuel L Jackson. I don’t think it’s an original story. I think it was a comic book. Anyway, Bruce is unbreakable and Samuel is Mr. Price. A fragile character who I relate to. I need to see if I can find this streaming somewhere. In the meantime, I’m dropping the clip.

OK now I’m gonna continue my walk. I don’t leave for the appointment for another 2 1/2 hours. Time to get those steps in as long as I can.

As always, more to come.

Writer’s Workshop: Smoky

Published on 06/11/202606/10/2026 by J-Dub17 Comments

Meet Smoky, our company’s Pawsitivity Officer and resident expert in tail wags and morale boosts.
She is an English Labrador Retriever with a gift for making every day a little brighter.
Whether she’s greeting visitors, checking on coworkers, or offering silent support, Smoky takes her job seriously.
Her presence reminds us to slow down, smile, and appreciate the moment.
What many people don’t know is that Smoky was named after a famous wartime dog.
The original Smoky was a tiny Yorkshire Terrier who served alongside American troops during World War II.
Despite her small size, she became a symbol of courage, companionship, and resilience, becoming the first recorded therapy dog.
In her own way, our Smoky continues a legacy built on bringing comfort to those in need.
Some heroes wear uniforms, and some have four paws and a wagging tail. 🐾

My Writer’s Workshop Entry: 2) Write a post in exactly nine (9) sentences. The rules and pingback are here. Badge/feature image by Patty, http://anothercookieplease.com

As always, more to come.

Writer’s Workshop: Jilly 2.0

Published on 06/04/202606/04/2026 by J-Dub5 Comments

My coworker Denise and I are garden girls. Her husband Chris and my husband B are very similar people. We’re two couples who “grow groceries” and trade planting tips.

Today I was telling her about my recipe when she asked me what our trick is for getting peaches.

They’ve planted several trees, get blooms, then no fruit. I told her we have the same issue. Peaches need a few cycles before a tree produces reliably. Plus they need a good freeze, and it’s not cold enough here, like it is in Fredericksburg, TX, known for its peaches. We’ve had multiple trees over the years, blooms and no fruit too, until finally we do—but then the damn squirrels would get them.

This year we planted a tree that already had peaches on it, all we had to do was keep watch for squirrels. We “cheated” and ended up with peaches from our year one.

My Mamaw taught me everything I know about baking, gardening, sewing—the whole pioneer thing. So when we got a boatload of peaches off our tree, I made a peach cobbler using her method: just throw it together, never quite the same twice.

I looked at a few recipes and “cobbled” together my own version, which I’ve now made twice. I bake when I’m stressed—it relieves tension—and I love watching people enjoy the fruits of my labor.

The recipe itself is simple: flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, milk, vanilla, butter, fresh peaches, and—because I apparently can’t help myself—double the cinnamon. (I got called a Yankee on YouTube for that, but I ain’t no Yankee. If a recipe calls for cinnamon, I’m using it.)

The peaches get peeled, pitted, broken apart by hand, and tossed with sugar and cinnamon. A stick of butter melts in the baking dish, the batter goes over the butter, the peaches go over the batter, and that’s it. No stirring. That’s why it’s called a no-stir cobbler.

45–55 minutes in the oven at 350, until it’s golden brown and bubbling like nobody’s business.

B can barely wait for it to cool. I tell him the same thing every time—not yet! unless you want to burn the roof of your mouth.

I always bake it in my prettiest 40-something-year-old baking dish, and I mix it in my mushroom bowl, wedding gifts.

I could do this all day. Too bad I can’t make a living at it. Maybe when I retire, I’ll become Jilly 2.0.

@jill9679

Finished Product

My Writer’s Workshop Entry: 3) A recent favorite recipe. The rules and pingback are here. Badge/feature image by Patty, http://anothercookieplease.com

As always, more to come.

#1linerWeds.

Published on 06/03/202606/03/2026 by J-Dub11 Comments

As I was organizing my clutter on Saturday, I found an empty envelope — the kind with the address window. It must’ve been included in a bill, but I pay my bills online. I do recycle the envelopes for making grocery lists, but this time I had “saved” it because of a line I jotted down.

As soon as I saw it, I knew it’d be my one line this week.

I have to give a little backstory, though. I have no idea if this is a line from a book I read, a TV show I watched, or something a person I knew once said. What strikes me as I read it now is my resurgence of something that brings me peace.

Drum roll, puhleese …

rat-a-tat-tat
rat-a-tat-tat

My car is my womb “Molly”

Now that the photo was snapped, the envelope went into the recycle bin.

I’m off the chain y’all.

The blue ink was my scribble from yesterday morning because I worked from home before my doctor’s appointment to complete month-end reports. The black ink is my original note. I googled it — ya know I did — but with unmentionable results, except to say I found no verifiable historical or literary source.

I LOVE to drive.

Road trips are my favorite. I will be doing more of that in the years to come. Pretty sure that is why I wrote the note.

I feel safe in my car.

I can blare the music and scream-sing along at the top of my lungs or just cruise and enjoy the views of this big, beautiful world. There is freedom on the road.

If I were stronger and braver, I’d want to travel by motorcycle. My nephew does that. Both actually. Two brothers who no longer speak. I had hoped their love of riding might reunite them, but that is not my story. Or maybe it’s a story for another day.

We road-tripped a bunch when I was a kid as it was cost-effective for such a big brood. I’d go directly to the way-way back of our 1974 Ford Country Squire station wagon and sleep.

It did not matter which route we took.

I slept.

I think I was somehow defending myself.

From what, I do not know.

I missed a lot by sleeping through those journeys, which is why I make up for it now.

I think I have rambled on enough for today.

See ya on the flip side.

10-4, good buddy.

As always, more to come.

Written for #1linerWeds. 6/3/26. Thanks Linda for hosting. The rules and pingback are here.

Tuesday Tales: Repeat Story, Are We Not Surprised?

Published on 06/02/202606/01/2026 by J-Dub10 Comments

My mind is chaotic, and that’s putting it mildly. When I’m in a better frame of mind, I can organize the clutter of my office, which is constant. Sometimes that’s okay, as I do my best work under pressure (cue Queen & David Bowie). Clutter truly stresses me the eff out. The momma who raised me would tolerate no messes!

Anyhow, coming off the retreat, Un-M-Othered: A Revolution in Adoptee Healing, my mind calmed down. A wonderful experience that I will share more of in the coming days. Anyhow times 2, I was able to “get while the getting is good,” as they say. I CLEANED my office!

I have journals scattered everywhere. One is a commonplace book for movie, TV, or book quotes. Some are completely blank, waiting to be filled. Many with the biological family history I collected in a non-linear fashion, all hodgepodge. One has quotes of gratitude, three a day every day.

So in my organizing, not really cleaning, as this house is clean but cluttered, I found the following, which I wrote on March 25, 2024, before I knew my brother even existed. You see, I only learned of his existence on March 29, 2024, Good Friday. The themes are off the chart.

What struck me is how little time has passed. A blink of the eye in my 61 years on this planet. I didn’t change a word of the following. I simply transcribed what I had scrawled.

Isn’t that a good word, y’all—scrawled: means to write or draw something hastily, awkwardly, or carelessly, often resulting in handwriting that is barely legible or messy.

The Unapproved Bus Ride

On my first day of kindergarten, Theresa sat me at the table in the school cafeteria & told me, “Don’t you move from this spot!” She went off to get my brothers to their respective classrooms. Jim likely found his own way, but Paul was going into first grade & needed assistance.

The kindergarten was in a separate “school house” up the hill from the main campus. As soon as “Mom” left, Sr. Irene told me to get on the bus. I said, “I have to stay put!” But she was having none of it.

I wasn’t scared. I couldn’t wait to start school. The bus ride was FUN! Bouncing up the hill with all the other new Kindergarteners & their parents.

When I got there, I went to the entryway where the class rosters were posted. I already knew how to read & write my name, but the list was in alphabetical order by our LAST names. No J’s!!!! I was an almost J.

That’s when I started crying, at about the same time Theresa arrived, flustered that she had to come find me.

I cleaned my office Saturday & found this: “Jill becomes angry when she can’t have her own way.”

Took a picture and then shredded it.

Seems I’ve been sassy my whole life.

P.S. What strikes me is the repetition. That must soothe me somehow. I cleaned some random Saturday in 2024 and then again in 2026. Multiple times in between I hope. I was testing out using “Theresa” instead of mom, though she was my mom and she was a good one, not perfect and some days quite terrible (I was too) but she loved me and I loved her. We did the best we could.

As always, more to come.

TDWC26: Lions Roar Silently

Published on 05/31/202605/30/2026 by J-Dub26 Comments

I had to participate in TDWC26 one last time before the challenge ends today! The photo I chose invokes such feelings inside me. Those words must flow out of my brain onto the page. See, isn’t she a beauty?

Stone lions perched like sentries outside a hallowed space of imagination and learning.

I had a teacher who would tell us, “If you can read, you can do anything.”

For me, reading was automatic. I don’t even remember learning how. I just always could. I read to escape. I disappeared into books. I became the characters. My favorites were detective stories, beginning with Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys.

Now, when I travel, I make a point of stopping at libraries, just to get a sense of what they’re like. And I will say this: they are not your grandmother’s library.

In some cases, they’re destinations in their own right. The Kansas City Public Library, for example, feels as much like a museum as a library. The same is true of the Seattle and Spokane downtown libraries. Beyond the books, they host community activities, gatherings, and events. They are truly a refuge for many.

I’ve been to New York City multiple times, but not once have I gone inside. There’s always so much to do, always hurry, hurry, hurry to the next thing. You know that New York minute? It’s really a thing, y’all.

But one day, when I have more time, I’m going to walk up those stairs, pass through those doors, and feel everything that has happened in there before me.

I am reminded of the phrase, “If these walls could talk.”

Though…

Shhhhh.

No talking.

A pingback plus things that might be known as rules are here. Thank you, Dan for being a fabulous host. 2026 has to be one for the memory books.

As always, more to come.

Writer’s Workshop: Curve

Published on 05/28/2026 by J-Dub6 Comments

CURVE

Curve of my spine in silhouette aches.
Unseen things have a way of shaping a life.
Roots twisted quietly beneath the surface.
Very little was ever held straight long enough to heal.
Even now, I trace the curve — in bones, in history, in the desire to belong.

My Writer’s Workshop Entry: 1) Write a post based on the word curve. The rules and pingback are here. Badge/feature image by Patty, http://anothercookieplease.com

As always, more to come.

Writer’s Workshop: Deeply Unreliable Search Engine

Published on 05/21/202605/21/2026 by J-Dub16 Comments

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It usually starts with the TV on and B asking, “Wait… who is that?”

Then comes the standoff.

“Can you Google it?”

“No, you Google it. My phone is charging.”

Or my personal favorite:

“It’s too triggering.”

The funny part is even though I say those things, we both know I’m going to do it anyway. I MUST know. Not eventually. Immediately.

B just waits for the answer like I’m some kind of deeply unreliable search engine.

So I look.

One search turns into six. Then somehow, I’m reading unrelated trivia, looking through old photos or videos on my phone, revisiting memories I did not set out to revisit, and uploading random things to my YouTube channel, Bay-King not Bacon. LOL Go ahead, click the link <<<<<<<< @jill9679 >>>>>>>

One day I’ll be a star.

Curious? Come visit me.

“Satisfaction brings it back.”

My Writer’s Workshop Entry: 1) Write a post inspired by the word curious. The rules and pingback are here. Badge/feature image by Patty, http://anothercookieplease.com

As always, more to come.

TDWC26: Robot in Disguise / Tuesday Tale Adjacent

Published on 05/19/202605/19/2026 by J-Dub11 Comments

Even though it messes with me to post on a Tuesday instead of a Thursday—because you know, Thursday Doors—I’m going for it. I already broke my own “rule” anyway by adding two other TDWC 26 posts outside of an official Thursday in May: Whale Watcher and Azul the Cat. And technically, it’s a month-long (Sunday-through-Saturday) challenge. I’m just being silly, making up rules where none exist.

Story of my life 😂

Intro/background for this story: My first reaction seeing the image wasn’t “oh, interesting building.” It was: now, that’s a character. My brain went straight to Brave Little Toaster and just stayed there, unhelpfully committed. Which is absurd, I know—but once you see it that way, it doesn’t really unsee itself. Yep, that stone fireplug in a helmet masquerading as a robot among the trees is looking at me. Well Duh. Obviously.

Robot?

It stands there pretending to be a beacon, but no one’s fooled.

That chimney—too straight, too deliberate—reads less like ventilation and more like an arm. Raised. Signaling. Stop. Halt. Who goes there? Or wait. Or don’t come any closer unless you mean it.
Do you mean it, punk? Go ahead, make my day.

The dome sits heavy on top, a helmet, its weathervane antenna more warning than roof feature. Protective. Ominous. Slightly ridiculous. You expect it to turn, to lock on, to decide.

Danger, danger, Will Robinson.

Except there is no Will. No Robinson. No space. No ocean. No final frontier.

Just hedges trimmed too neatly, windows blinking politely, and this… structure… trying very hard not to reveal itself.

A fire hydrant’s architectural cousin, dressed up in panes and pretending at civility.

Like something that wants to be a lighthouse but forgot the sea and kept the posture anyway.

A robot in hiding, disguised as a structure.

Still not convincing anyone.

A pingback plus things that might be known as rules are here. I continue to love this challenge, Dan. You have created a wonderful space for us. Just what I was looking for, not even knowing how much I needed it.

As always, more to come.