I’m the mother effing boss

Before I sit down to work on all sorts of good things for the day (mostly eight hours of pretending that what other people on Facebook are doing isn’t that cool. Anyone can ‘scale’ Mount Kilimanjaro, Bill, sheesh.), I make a cup of tea. It goes in my awesome Unleash Jacksonville mug, made for me by Allie Cheatum at The Apothecary Bee. Her stuff was featured last year in our FRESH issue, (“Fresh Finds,” page 32). That there writing on the mug is actually her handwriting! Some people just ooze cool talent, eh? (Some people ooze other things … different post, different time.)

The other side of my mug says I’m the mother effing BOSS. Awwww hell yahhhh, I am! When I glance over at it sittin’ pretty on my desk, I feel so many feels. Pride. Freedom. Happiness. Fear.

I’m the boss? Heart palpitations. Heart palpitations! … no one else is steering this boat? … I look over my left shoulder, then my right … then the left again—I don’t know how to steer a freaking boat! This thing looked so pretty and easy to navigate when I was standing over there—on shore—I wanted nothing more than to get in and GO! But … how do you make it go? Is there a key? Can I get some extra paddles and a team of hot strong men, please?

(I did specify hot, right? Lest there be any confusion.)

I do keep having my tea in this mug even though it can scare me some days. Once I calm down the freak, I realize this is actually what I want—to be the mother effing boss of my time. I am creating a life that I feel good about—promoting local businesses, helping my community, helping animals, and educating other people on how to help animals. Guess what! There are many times I don’t know what to do, and in those times I think, WWJD. (Wow! Wow! Just Drink. Beer makes everything clear—hot entrepreneurial tip right there, your welcome. Also, entrepreneurial is really hard to spell, don’t try that one on your own.)

I want to tell you something. Lean in close. Closer, damn it, I have an Alexa. I’ve had a secret fetish for a long time. (Shhhhh, be cool, man—and don’t tell my mom.) I get off on hearing about people who love their jobs. It nearly draws me to tears when I’m talking to someone and they lighten and brighten as they describe what they do. (How weird, right? I’m a disgusting deviant.) I absolutely love it … it makes me happy when others are happy (with their jobs. I have intense rage when people are fulfilled in their personal lives—why so many freaking photos of Kilimanjaro, Bill). I’ve been working since I was 12 years old (9, if you count picking stones from fields for farmers for 50 cents an hour in the hot Wisconsin sun—is it too late to call child services on that?). I have never loved what I do for the majority of the day. And it was nobody’s fault but my own. I didn’t make it happen.

So! I was very honored last week when a friend told me he used Unleash as an example during a high school career day talk. Brian told the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed (and also the slumped-over and disengaged) teenagers to follow their passions and do something that makes them happy. I was told he held up our latest issue and told them how I came to start the magazine and about my love of animals, photography, and writing. (I’m glad he didn’t tell them that after every issue goes to press I say, this is the last one!, or that I have to pass up the expensive cheese at the grocery store, or that I say, what am I doing with my life!, at least three times a week—it isn’t all orchids and expensive delicious cheeses, kids.) You still gotta work. You maybe gotta be frugal for a long time. You gotta find your tribe and your groove and your flow. You have to do it. (Next time I talk to you, I want to hear about how much you love what you do.)

Most of all, you need to find a good mug—don’t miss this very important step in making a life that doesn’t dim your beautiful mother effing spirit. Get a mug that reminds you of who you are, let it remind you how strong you are, let it scare you a little—and drink a lot of tea (or whatever) out of it.

 

…you are my sunshine

It’s raining. Did you notice? Did your dogs notice?

God, we needed some rain, huh? Quite a relief for the parched grass and trees and the people affected by the wildfires. A cozy rainy day is a nice way to mix up the boring monotonous string of perfectly perfect beach and golf days we’ve been having in Northeast Florida, sheesh.

I have one dog who is not scared of storms—she’s the easy one. Self-assured always—she’ll even poop in the rain if necessary, no problem. I don’t give a duck, she says. Rain is fun. (She doesn’t like to swear, such a lady.)

I have one dog who isn’t sure if she should be scared of storms or not. She’ll shake a little and look at me, her eyes saying, What should we do now? Should we hide or maybe get some chips? — No. Don’t be scared. You’re ok, little one. You’re safe. And you don’t need chips …  neither do I. Saying those words and giving her a hug is really all she needs—well, that and keeping me in eyesight—she’s fine. (Sorry to those of you with storm-sensitive dogs … if you’re starting to feel jealous … wait! There’s one more dog to discuss.

George, editor of Unleash Jacksonville. (Sorry to rat you out, G.)

George is terrified of storms. He’s shaken so hard in the past I thought he might start himself on fire. His name tag starts jangling wildly, as if to say, I’m with you buddy. I’m scared, too. He’ll start walking deliberately and stiff-legged toward the safe place—because it’s hard to shake that hard and walk normally. He’s headed under the bed, and he’ll stay there a long time. I used to try and hold him tight and would sing, You are my sunshine, my only sunshine … you make me happpeeeee when skies are grey…” Thinking the sound of my angelic voice would calm all his fears. I had visions of him melting into me and falling into a peaceful rest. That never happened. He’d just look up at me and ask if he could go under the bed now, please.

I’m curious what you’ve tried for your storm sensitive dog(s)? I hear thundershirts have helped some and CBD oil (now being sold at Salty Paws Healthy Pet Market) have helped many. Please comment below!

 

Hey, thank you. I mean it.

I was thinking about the power of a thank you this week. It’s kind of immeasurable. (I guess, in all transparency, if pressed … and maybe given a huge floor-to-ceiling chalk board, and a three-year grant, I could come up with a mathematical formula. But I’d like to get this post finished today.) Immeasurable. When you say thank you and mean it … it most definitely has far reaching effects beyond the smile you put on someone’s face, or the opening of their heart.

Let’s consider the absence of a thank you for just a sec (but only for a sec because it’s  yucky) … the impact is immediate. (I’ve already discovered the mathematical formula for this, but I don’t think you’d understand it. It’s really really advanced.) You let someone in front of you on the road and … no wave! What the …?  You open the door for someone and … they whisk past you—all you’re left with is the smell of their stinky dryer sheet which probably causes cancer. Well F you, then. You buy your friend a beer and … not so much as a cheers! You’re so frickin’ rude, dude. The thank you absence births stress, anger, tongue biting, violent hand motions, squelched feelings, and it leaves you feeling less likely to do that lovely gesture for that lovely person in the future. Depending on what it is and the mood you’re in, the anti-thank you can ruin your day.

When you are grateful for the awesomeness of someone or something they did, you can participate and expand on that energy. Thank you, you are amazing for bringing my mail every day (even though it’s just a MINT magazine and a bill for the sewer)—you don’t have to mention that last part. Being appreciated truly energizes people. It’s encouraging to know you have purpose and that you are connected and that someone notices you. The young man at the grocery store took extra care with your produce … Thank you for doing a great job. I appreciate it. I kinda hate your haircut, but to each their own—again, maybe don’t mention that last part. A sincere thank you makes that baggerboy want to keep doing a good job. Your dog leaves you the last piece of pizza because he knows you’ve had a hard day at work. Thank you for thinking of me, Bingo, you’re very kind. Sometimes I think about what it would be like if we were boyfriend girlfriend—I really need to learn to just stop at the thank you part.

Thank you, rain. I mean it. I was feeling your absence.
Everything is connected.

As someone who is connected to some of the most self-less, big-hearted, seemingly-tireless-but-ever-tired animal rescue and advocacy human beings (some personally, some only on the Facebook), it seems like it could be lonely. It seems like it can be heart wrenching, emotionally and physically exhausting, and I see it can definitely be thank•less. It seems to also be rewarding and happy and victorious at times, but it’s never ending. It’s a passion and a calling and something you can’t just up and walk away from. Fuck it, I’m not doing this any more … doesn’t seem like an option (but a thought that I’m sure happens maybe daily?) There’s that big heart—I can see it glowing with goodness—it’s soft and mushy for suffering animals. They’re empathetic beyond what most people can imagine. I have a feeling those in the trenches of rescue physically hurt inside much of the time—mostly in that heart area, but a lot of the time in the stomach, too, because of the things they can’t do. I see them spend their own money even when they have none. They can’t turn their backs, it would go against everything in their being. They do things people say they wish they could  do … I wish I could save that dog. These beings who are rescuers find a way to do it. I wish I could go to the shelter and help, but it’s too sad. These beings who are advocates go, because they don’t want to think about what happens if they don’t. They embody the strength and the forward motion for all of us.

Changing a situation for just one animal can take a chain of events and a slew of people—you are very likely one of them. Even sharing a post can have great impact that you may never know about. Thank you to all, I mean it.

Here is the gist of what I’m getting at today— let’s work on connection through thank you. Gratitude seems to be a buzz word right now, but I hope you’re not tired of hearing it. It’s the way to happiness, people. We are connected (if you don’t feel like it today, try doing something about it). We are a community. Animal lovers. Rescuers. People who want to help. People who do help.

A teeny-tiny act of kindness + gratitude is all it takes. This will take literally 5 minutes (unless you don’t have a piece of paper. Then you’ll have to go to the store—in that case, tack on 30 minutes—pick up envelopes and Doritos while you’re there.) Let’s go old school and write a thank you note today! Unleash Jacksonville has almost 1700 followers … imagine the impact if even half participated in “Hey, Thank You” Tuesday! This week, I’d like us to thank Fawns Small Dog Rescue, who often pulls older small dogs in need of medical care that are dumped at shelters. (They’ve got a lot of younger small dogs as well, so if you’re looking to adopt small—young or old, check them out.) If you follow them on Facebook, you will see some of the sweet dogs they’re working on saving and finding homes for. I’m going to suggest sending them a physical thank you note, even if you’re just learning of them today. If you love animals you can send them heartfelt thanks in an effort toward connecting. Think of the impact we can have as a group if we all send a thank you with a five-dollar-bill (or one dollar-bill or twenty-dollar bill or just a lovely simple thank you note!). Just a little somethin somethin for doing great work for our community.

Fawns doesn’t know we’re doing this—except tagging them may have tipped them off, I guess. I hope they’ll find at least a few thank you notes in their mailbox this week, and it will make them feel loved.

Fawns Small Dog Rescue
PO Box 2607
Orange Park, FL 32067

Hey! Thank you for reading. I mean it.

Unleash … pulling back the dog hair

People ask me every day—ok, not every day, but at least every third day or so—how I came to publish Unleash Jacksonville. They have other fun questions as well: Is it a franchise? How did you know how to publish a magazine—you … a blonde. How many employees does Unleash have? Can I work for you? The answer to all those questions is no.

Wait. That’s too simple and it doesn’t make sense. Maybe I should use our first blog post to pull back the dog hair so you can get to know us better. It’s time. It’s time.

Is Unleash a franchise? Ok. No seems to make sense for this one. Unleash is original to Jacksonville! Aren’t we all lucky? I birthed a magazine called Beach Unleash back in 2014 directly from my brain onto slick pages of recycled paper with eco-friendly ink. I had tried to start several businesses in the past, but had only gotten so far with them before hitting a wall with “I don’t really want to do this” graffiti scrawled all over it. One day I looked at my facebook page and noticed it was all dogs. Dogs that needed homes, dog videos, my dogs … It appeared I had an affinity, if not a passion—for dogs. I had a strong desire to help. I thought, if I could just help get the word out about shelter dogs, especially those who didn’t get exposure or who’d been homeless for a long time, I would be fulfilling my purpose.

I started to put together a plan. I had a degree in creative writing, I had been designing  various magazines for the past 15 years—none of which I felt a true connection to, and I had a strong pull toward animal photography. I could do this! Could I do this? I had to try. While working part time at a publisher in Ponte Vedra, and also designing another magazine all freelance style, I began to put together the first issue of Beach Unleash.  And that is the story of the beginning.

People ask how many employees we have at Unleash. The answer is 5. There’s King George I, our trusty editor; Barklie, The Assistant of Nothing (who is in charge of nothing but she looks cute every single day); Lulu, who’s in charge of grounds security; Deb and Jessie, who help people find opportunities to get the word out about their businesses through Unleash (aka ad sales). We mostly get our editorial through community submission, as one of Unleash’s goals is to have a varied voice. Nobody wants to hear me talk all day long.

Can you work for Unleash? Well, the answer to that is maybe! We’re always looking for good ad sales people. But currently, we have the rest covered, unless you have some time to volunteer. We are flattered you want to work with us, though! That means a lot. Hopefully we will just keep growing and expanding and we can one day have a water cooler surrounded by people chatting about Game of Thrones or whatever the kids are watching these days.

I think that’s about enough for now, what do you say? We all have other things to do today. Thanks for being a person who cares and thanks for reading.

Time to unleash.