How times have changed

 Sometimes I sit back and think about how much the world has changed — and not always for the better.

When I was a little girl, things were just… different. I remember gas being 59 cents a gallon. Sometimes even 57. That sounds like a fantasy now, doesn’t it? These days, you’re lucky to find gas for under $3 — and that’s on a good day. It’s hard not to feel the sting of that when you’re living paycheck to paycheck.

Groceries were cheaper too. Back then, my mom didn’t work — she couldn’t. She was disabled, and the check she received was small. I think it was around $200 or $300 a month. But somehow, she stretched it to feed us. My adopted dad (my mom divorced him later) had to pay child support for me and my sisters — just $150 total for all three of us. It wasn’t much. But in the late '80s and early '90s, we made it work. Somehow, we always found a way.

Fast forward to today, and everything costs more — way more. My husband and I live in a house that was once a foreclosure. The company had bought it back, and we paid just $2,000 for it. I know, that sounds like a joke in today’s market. We did some work on it, made it livable, made it ours. Eventually, the value went up to around $50,000. By 2020, it was valued at $125,000. I was shocked. That number might look good on paper, but all I could think about was the increase in taxes and the pressure that came with it.

Thankfully, because my husband is disabled, we don’t have to pay property taxes right now here in Alabama. The house is in his name, and that gives us a little breathing room. But if anything were to happen to him — well, then it’s all on me. Every bit of it.

I work full-time at a school, and I don’t even think I make $30,000 a year. That’s the reality. So I work during the day, and then I Spark or DoorDash at night and on weekends just to keep us afloat. Just to make sure there’s food on the table and the lights stay on. And still, I struggle. Every month. Every week. Every day.

It’s exhausting.

Sometimes I wonder, when is it going to get better?
When will people like me — people who work hard, people who show up — finally get a break?
When will we stop having to sacrifice so much just to survive?

I’m not writing this for sympathy. I’m writing it because I know I’m not alone. I know there are countless others out there feeling the same squeeze, asking the same questions. Wondering when this endless uphill climb will finally level out.

I miss the days when life felt just a little bit easier. When the future didn’t feel so uncertain. I’m holding on — for my family, for myself, for the hope that maybe someday soon, we’ll all catch a break.

Until then, I’ll keep going. One day at a time.

~Billie-Jo

Welcome to My Old Lady Era: How My Tastes Changed with Time

 

I used to despise English pea salad. Those tiny green peas, that creamy dressing—it was a firm “no” from me as a kid. Same with pear salad. You know the one: a canned pear half on a leaf of lettuce, with a dollop of mayo, shredded cheddar, and a maraschino cherry on top. I couldn’t stand it. I'd push it to the side of the plate like it might bite me first.

Now? I eat it with a smile. I even look forward to it.

Somewhere along the way—maybe right around the time I turned 47—I realized my tastes had done a quiet little shift. That pea salad? It's crunchy, sweet, savory, and completely satisfying. Pear salad? There's something bright and oddly refreshing about it now. I used to think it was weird; now I think it’s charming.

And it's not just food. My music tastes have done a full 180. I used to change the station the second I heard George Jones or Merle Haggard. Classic country felt slow and dusty. Not anymore. These days, I’ll play it loud with the windows open. Something about that old-school twang feels honest now. Grounded. Like sunshine on a worn-out front porch swing.

I’m in my Old Lady Era, and I’m surprisingly okay with it.

It’s not that I’ve given up on new things—it’s that I’ve grown into old ones. What once felt outdated or bland now has richness. Depth. A little mystery. My younger self was all about bright flavors, loud beats, and bold opinions. But now I’m seeing the magic in the middle ground. The soft stuff. The unexpected favorites.

Honestly, it’s fun.

There’s joy in rediscovering things you thought you didn’t like. It’s like making peace with your past taste buds and saying, “Hey, maybe we were just a little impatient.”

So yes—give me the English pea salad. Pass the pear. Crank up that George Jones. I’m living in full color at high noon, and everything tastes a little better here.

~Billie-Jo

The Winding Road of Cottaquilla

As I wind along Cottaquilla Road, tracing the curves of the mountain pass, I'm struck by a familiar feeling. It reminds me of a song—“On a dark desert highway…” The rhythm of the road, the hum of the engine, the quiet solitude—each twist and turn feels like a metaphor for life itself.

Every switchback mirrors a decision, a detour, a sudden change. Some bends are sharp and jarring, others gentle and slow. Just like life—unpredictable, yet purposeful. My own journey has been full of these turns. Some days were steep climbs, others free-falling descents. It’s been winding. It’s been interesting. It’s been fun. And yes, it’s also been sad.

We all ride this road, don't we? Through sunrises and storms, laughter and loss. We share a common truth: good days and bad days will come. But the beauty lies not just in the ride itself—it’s in how we choose to finish. How we keep going. How we hold onto hope that the road will eventually level out.

And it does.

When I reach the stop sign at the end of the pass, the road straightens. The tension releases. The drive becomes easier. Clearer. Simpler. Life feels lighter on that stretch.

And in that stillness, I hear the whisper of a truth that’s carried me through so many turns:

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding…”

Because I’ve tried leaning on my own understanding before—and it got me nowhere but stuck in the switchbacks. But when I surrendered control, when I gave my maps and detours and dead ends to God, something shifted. The road didn’t always get easier, but it did get clearer.

“In all your ways submit to Him, and He will make your paths straight.”
— Proverbs 3:5-6

So if you’re in the middle of a curve—unsure, afraid, tired—just keep going. Keep trusting. Because that straight path? It’s still ahead of you. And it leads exactly where you need to be.

~ Billie-Jo

Angels Among Us

I try to make my home a clean, toxic-free environment. That’s difficult — I know — especially when you’ve got nine dogs inside. Yes, nine. Little babies, each with their own personality, forming our own little pack. Add to that my daughter, my husband coming and going, and, well... sweeping the floor becomes a full-time job in itself. And mopping? That usually has to wait until tomorrow — or the next tomorrow.

But no matter how much I do, or how hard I try, it sometimes feels like it’s never enough.

And today, that feeling hit me especially hard. But something happened — something personal — that reminded me of something far more important than a spotless floor or a to-do list that never ends.

Today, I met an angel.

Not one with wings or a glowing halo, but a real, living, breathing angel — the kind that quietly shows up just when you need them the most. She didn’t shout about what she did. She didn’t want praise or attention. But what she did for me… and for my family… was nothing short of a blessing. And I am so deeply thankful.

It reminded me that we really do have angels among us. Sometimes they’re hidden in plain sight — coworkers, friends, neighbors. They don’t walk around announcing their goodness. They just are. And when they give, they do it from the heart.

While that moment filled my day with gratitude, there was heartbreak too. We lost a student today — not to tragedy, but to transition. He moved on to a different school. And while it’s a good move for him, my heart still aches. This student was one of the bright spots in the hallway. He’d always say, “Hey, Ms. Maxcey! How are you today?” Always smiling, always kind — no matter what was going on in his world, which I know wasn’t always easy.

Those are the kids who stay with you. The ones who’ve seen more than they should, but still lead with kindness. And when they leave, they take a little piece of your heart with them.

So today, I’m holding both: the weight of goodbye, and the lift of grace.

To the angels who helped that student along the way… and to the one who helped me today… and to all the quiet heroes who do what they do without fanfare — thank you.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you.

— Billie-Jo

Homemade Egg Rolls: Crispy, Customizable, and Totally Worth It

 

There’s something undeniably satisfying about biting into a crispy, golden egg roll. That crunch gives way to savory filling, warm and packed with flavor. For years, I thought egg rolls were the kind of thing you only ordered with takeout—until I realized how easy they are to make at home.

These egg rolls are simple, fast, and fully customizable. You pick the protein. You control the flavor. You can fry them or pop them in the air fryer. And yes, they freeze like a dream if you want to make a big batch.

🥩 Pick Your Protein

The best part? These egg rolls bend to your cravings. I’ve used ground chicken, turkey, pork, and even rabbit (don’t knock it till you’ve tried it). Whatever you have in your fridge will probably work just fine. Just cook it up and season it simply—you’ll add more flavor with sauce and veggies.

🥬 Shortcuts Are Your Friend

No need to shred cabbage and carrots by hand. A bag of tri-colored coleslaw mix does the job beautifully. Toss it in the pan with your cooked meat and a splash of soy sauce and sesame oil, and you’re already halfway there.

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Simple Homemade Egg Rolls

Ingredients:

• 1 lb ground meat of your choice

• 1 bag tri-colored coleslaw mix

• 1–2 tbsp soy sauce

• 1 tsp sesame oil (optional)

• Salt & pepper

• Egg roll wrappers

• 1 beaten egg (for sealing)

• Oil for frying or brushing

Instructions:

1. Cook the Filling:
   In a skillet, brown your meat and season with salt and pepper. Add the coleslaw mix and stir-fry until just softened. Add soy sauce and sesame oil. Let it cool.

2. Assemble:
   Lay an egg roll wrapper in a diamond shape. Spoon about 2 tbsp of filling in the center. Fold the bottom up, tuck in the sides, and roll it tight. Seal the edge with beaten egg.

3. Cook Your Way:

   Deep Fry Method:
   Heat 2 inches of oil to 350°F. Fry egg rolls in batches for 3–5 minutes, until golden and crisp. Drain on paper towels.

   Air Fryer Method:
   Lightly brush or spray the egg rolls with oil. Air fry at 375°F for 8–10 minutes, flipping halfway through.

4. Serve:
   Let cool slightly and enjoy with sweet chili sauce, soy sauce, or spicy mustard.

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Tips & Tricks

• Meal Prep: These freeze uncooked beautifully. Just wrap tightly and freeze. Cook from frozen, adding a couple of extra minutes.

• Make it vegetarian: Use tofu or mushrooms instead of meat, and go heavy on the seasoning.

• Dipping sauce idea: Mix mayo with a little sriracha and honey for a creamy, spicy dip.

Once you make egg rolls at home, you’ll wonder why you didn’t do it sooner. They’re crunchy, savory, and endlessly adaptable. Perfect for parties, meal prep, or just because you feel like rolling something up and frying it.

Got your own favorite filling combo? I’d love to hear it. Tag me if you make these—I want to see your crispy creations!

 

🏡 Homemade Cinnamon Crackers – Old-Fashioned Goodness from Scratch

There’s a certain kind of magic that happens when you slow down, grind your own flour, and bake something warm and simple from scratch. These Homemade Cinnamon Crackers are one of those old-time recipes that bring comfort with every bite. They're crisp around the edges, gently sweet, and full of rustic flavor thanks to freshly milled soft white wheat.

Perfect for tea time, lunchboxes, or nibbling by the fire, they’re a humble reminder that homemade is often best.

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🌾 Ingredients (Yields ~30 rustic crackers)

• 2 ¾ cups fresh milled soft white wheat berries (or use soft whole wheat flour)

• ½ teaspoon baking powder

• ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon

• ½ cup butter (softened, not melted)

• ⅔ cup brown sugar (homemade if you’ve got molasses and cane sugar on hand)

• ½ cup water

• Drizzle of local honey (optional, but adds a lovely earthy sweetness)

✨ Fresh-milled flour brings a wholesome texture and deep flavor that store-bought flour just can’t match. If you mill your own grains, soft white wheat is ideal here—mild, tender, and perfect for baking.

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🥣 Directions

1. Preheat your oven

Set your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease a large baking sheet or line it with parchment if you prefer.

2. Mix up the dry goods

In a medium bowl, combine your:

• Freshly milled flour

• Baking powder

• Ground cinnamon

Whisk them gently to blend. Set aside.

3. Cream butter and sugar

In another bowl, beat the butter and brown sugar together until light and creamy. A wooden spoon works just fine here if you’re going old-school (though a hand mixer saves time).

4. Bring it together

Slowly stir your dry ingredients into the butter mixture. The dough may seem dry at first—fresh flour absorbs more liquid—so be patient. Add your water a little at a time until the dough comes together soft but not sticky.

5. Let it rest

Wrap or cover your dough and refrigerate for about 30 minutes. This gives the flour time to fully hydrate and makes rolling easier.

6. Roll & cut

Lightly flour your counter or board. Roll the dough out to about 1/8 to 1/4 inch thick, depending on how crisp you like your crackers.

Use a knife, biscuit cutter, or even a mason jar ring to cut into squares or rectangles—no need for perfect edges. Rustic is beautiful.

7. Bake till golden

Lay your crackers out on the greased baking sheet. Bake for 11–13 minutes, or until they’re golden brown around the edges.

8. Finishing touch

While they’re still hot from the oven, use a fork to poke a few holes in each cracker. It’s traditional, and it helps them stay crisp.

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🍯 Serving Ideas

These crackers are simple, versatile, and full of charm. Try them:

• With a slather of butter and honey

• Alongside sharp cheddar or apple slices

• Crumbled over plain yogurt or a warm mug of oats

• Paired with homemade apple butter or jam from last summer’s harvest

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🌿 Simple Pleasures

There’s something deeply grounding about working with your hands, using flour you milled yourself, and turning out a tray of warm, homemade crackers. This isn’t fast food—it’s real food, the kind that feeds both the body and the soul.

Next time you’re craving something sweet and simple, skip the store and bake up a batch of these. Your kitchen will smell heavenly, and your heart will feel a little fuller.

Tonight I’m Crying. I Broke My Glass Tea Pitcher.

 

*stock photo from online

I didn’t plan to cry tonight. I didn’t plan anything, really. It was supposed to be one of those uneventful evenings. You know the kind—quiet, simple, a little tea, maybe a book or a scroll through something brainless on my phone. Just enough to take the edge off a long day.

But life has this sneaky way of surprising you with emotion when you least expect it. Not with something big, not always. Sometimes it’s the tiniest shift that tips the whole emotional Jenga tower. Tonight, for me, it was the sound of water hitting the floor.

My glass tea pitcher cracked.

It doesn’t sound like a tragedy. And I know it isn’t. But also? It kind of is.

Let me explain.

This wasn’t just any pitcher. It was a large glass tea jug I bought at Walmart. It was perfect. Thick, clear glass. Sturdy, but not clunky. And best of all, it had a stainless steel spout that never dribbled or clogged—a detail I appreciated every time I poured from it. It made tea feel like a small ceremony instead of just a drink.

I used it constantly. Especially during warm months, when iced tea was practically on rotation. And tonight, I was making tea for Paisley. I thought I had warmed the jug up enough—a little trick I always do when pouring hot water into glass. But something went wrong this time.

I lifted the kettle, started to pour, and heard it.

That sharp, sickening crack.

Right around the bottom, a full circle split in the glass. A clean break that turned the pitcher into a leaky disaster in seconds. Hot water rushed out, pooling under my feet, dragging tea leaves and frustration with it.

I froze.

There’s that moment when something breaks and time slows down just a little—not enough to stop it, just enough for you to register what’s happening before you can react.

I moved fast after that. Grabbed towels. Mopped up the spill. Checked to make sure no glass had scattered—it hadn’t, thankfully. It wasn’t a shatter, just a failure. A clean, quiet betrayal.

And then, when the floor was dry and the mess was handled, I sat down at the table and cried.

I cried because that jug was perfect. Because I had just wanted to make tea for someone I love. Because the moment was supposed to be easy and peaceful and it turned into something else entirely. I cried because I’d lost something that, while small, had meant something.

We get so used to the objects that carry our lives. They become background players in our daily stories. But when they go missing or break, they leave gaps. My jug wasn’t just a container. It was part of a rhythm, part of my routine. And I didn’t realize how much I leaned on it until it was gone.

It’s funny how something so ordinary can feel like an anchor. That jug had been with me for dozens of slow mornings, for pouring tea in silence when I needed to think, for offering something cold and refreshing when the day was long. It was never just glass and metal. It was comfort.

So yeah. I’m crying over a tea jug.

But I think it’s more than that.

I think it’s about everything we try to hold together—the stress we don't talk about, the tiredness that builds quietly, the expectations we put on ourselves to just keep going. And then one small break, and all of it spills out. Like hot water on the floor.

I’ll find a new pitcher eventually. But tonight, I’m giving myself a minute to feel this. To miss something that was good and worked well and made things easier.

There’s value in that. There’s grace in pausing. There’s nothing wrong with mourning the small things.

If you’ve ever cried over something that cracked or chipped or vanished when you needed it most—you’re not alone. These objects hold more than we realize. And when they go, it’s okay to feel the weight of that.

So I’ll drink my tea from a mug tonight. It won’t be the same, but it’ll be enough.

And maybe tomorrow, I’ll start looking for another perfect jug. Or maybe I’ll just take a few days to sit with the emptiness where it used to be.

Thanks for listening.

Goodnight.