My first thought is that I don’t want to complain.
I giggle, because in my mind I immediately start complaining about this particular prompt. So… off to a great start.
Let’s try again.
I complain about the weekend being over. You know the feeling, the Sunday night blues. Nooooooo, I don’t want to go back to work, even though my commute is literally just across the hall. I feel like saying, you can’t make me, while stomping my feet like a dramatic toddler with principles.
Then reality clears its throat.
The response would be something along the lines of: You are absolutely right. You don’t have to work. We also don’t have to pay you. Now get to getting, you complaining subordinate.
Who has asked or been asked this question? Show of hands? I’m waiting. That’s right, everyone. Since we all like what money provides, it makes sense to enjoy talking about the what ifs.
It’s fun for us to play with imaginary money, huh?
Let’s dream big, shall we? It can’t be a million dollars; we need a bazillion in today’s economy to do all that we want to do. No, I am not greedy, just dreaming big.
Before getting into any of it, I’d hope I would start with gratitude. I’d be thanking God, especially since I didn’t even buy a ticket. And yet, here I am swimming in the lottery pool.
Anyway,
Let’s get the obvious out of the way. Debt, gone, including that of my friends and family. And speaking of friends and family, pack your bags, we are going on an all-inclusive vacation. Maybe a couple, maybe more. How fun! There will be one stipulation. We all must have a good time and bring our best for one another to avoid drama. Wouldn’t it be formidable if buying drama-free environments were possible?
Okay, let’s move on from the obvious to some more good stuff.
I would hire the best publishers, writers extraordinaire, editors, and anything else I need to help me write well.
I still have so much to learn. What an adventure it would be.
Do I want to be on the best sellers list? Heck yeah, especially since we are dreaming.
In reality land, I write for the craft of it all, but we are in a different land now.
My fantasy land would also include volunteering, orphanages, food banks, soup kitchens, working with wild animals. All would be so rewarding.
For me, giving back has always mattered, and I’ve found it’s one of the best things we can do for ourselves, let alone others.
Talk about a worthwhile legacy, right? If I didn’t have to clock in, just imagine the opportunities.
Like this… I would love to go around and watch people at Walmart or other random stores. I’d find a way to pick random people to spoil, but without them knowing the source. What was that show long ago? Oh yeah, “The Millionaire”. Someone would get a large check, but they could not tell anyone where they got it. Yes, that would be so fun. Who wouldn’t want to do that?
I would ensure I too was on the receiving end of generosity. I’m picturing it now. My silver with black accents Jeep Gladiator or maybe a Rubicon sitting in front of my quaint cabin with large windows and all the modern amenities. Flowers everywhere, a body of water nearby, four seasons, but the mild kind.
Wait, look, my future lab wants to go for a walk.
Finally, there is one more thing I might consider if I had oodles to spare. This one is a little harder to admit because it shows my vanity. Oh well, I’ll just say it. A little nip and tuck would be tempting. Maybe I’d opt out because I don’t want to chase youth, but dang it, gravity has gone a little too wild.
This question feels a bit like being asked what food I want to eat. Holy moly, where do I even begin. Peanut butter, fruit, BBQ protein chips, so many good options.
The best answer to this question might be almost all of them.
From the classics, like My Cousin Rachel, to anything by Nicholas Sparks, to a longtime favorite genre of mine, cozy mysteries.
I’m currently reading one now, The Kidnapped Bride by Steve Higgs. I love his simplicity and humor. I don’t think I’ve ever read his work without laughing, which feels like a small gift every time.
Sometimes my first go-to is to write, when what I actually need is to balance that impulse with reading, and lots of it.
My writing journey has nudged me further down the road of reading even more. Reading widely, soaking up different voices, rhythms, and styles is one of our greatest resources as writers. It has helped me, and continues to help me, decide what kind of writer I want to be, besides a prolific one.
The only ones that come to mind from my own upbringing are putting up the Christmas tree on Thanksgiving night and everyone getting Christmas PJs on Christmas Eve. I’ll be honest, I never really thought traditions were that important, that is, until I began seeing how my daughter’s mother-in-law operates.
At first, I thought it was excessive to have so many traditions, this from someone who thinks matching Christmas pajamas are perfectly reasonable. She has been calling our grandkids every year on the first day of school to sing them a traditional song, School Days, one her mom sang to her growing up. Also, if it were not for her having Blayk read The Night Before Christmas every year on Christmas Eve, it probably would not have happened. In fact, since he will be 18 this year, he has handed the torch to his sister.
Even though the grand wee ones are not religious or tied to a faith, every year they participate in Lent with her. How cool is that? Very.
Also, we, she and I, have also made new traditions. I go over on Christmas Eve and stay the night at my son-in-law and daughter’s home. After the kids open their presents on Christmas morning, we all climb into our vehicles and head over to Gama’s and G Daddy’s home to open more gifts. But before the opening begins, there is a Who Made the Best Omelet contest, because apparently Christmas morning is not complete without a little friendly competition. Of course, Gama has already prepared the winning prize, complete with a trophy every year. It is quite fun.
I remember feeling a way at times because she does so much with them. Boy, was I silly, but now I know. She has taught me not only the value of traditions, but also how they naturally bring our family together, creating moments that feel like “our thing” rather than anyone’s alone. She has shown me how to show up a bit more for my loves in this way, and I am so grateful. I believe she has helped instill traditions in our grand wee ones’ lives so deeply that they will continue them for many years to come.
1. Sharing time with a dear friend It’s Friday night, and I’m meeting a dear friend for a drink and appetizers. We share and laugh like we’re being paid. No pretense, no judgment, just a safe place to call home, away from home. Friendship is such a sacred place to go. How sweet it is.
2. Coming home to a cozy house There is nothing quite as fun as a comfy moment. A house picked up, laundry tended to, and everything in its place has a way of settling the soul into a place of peaceful bliss. How sweet it is.
3. Reading before the world wakes up Before the crack of dawn, I start reading. It is fun, not just in a let’s go on an adventure today way, but in the I always feel accomplished when I read way. Even a cozy mystery counts. I think it’s because reading feels like a valuable pastime, so my actions and values are lining up. What do they call that, cognitive consonance? Whatever the name, it brings comfort. Us readers are so blessed with the endless entertainment stories bring. How sweet it is.
4. Slow mornings with birds and wonder I do not pour a cup of ambition. I pour, instead, a cup of awe. I have no obligations, and there is nowhere to go today except outside to listen to the birds. I like to believe they enjoy my company as much as I do theirs. I speak of them often because they are so much more than just birds. The language barrier works for us. I do not try to figure out what they are thinking. No need. I simply let these little creatures delight the senses. How sweet it is.
5. Walking with my ball of sunshine, Dolly It is that time. Dolly, are you ready? Her joy is pure and abundant, round and around, her exuberance cannot be contained. Sometimes she spins so much she wobbles just a bit to gather her balance. We do not explore far. We have a usual path, one that works perfectly for us. She knows exactly where that first fire hydrant is, and when it comes into view, her tail speeds up and her whimpers of excitement cannot be contained. How sweet it is.
Well, that is five. However, I believe in going the extra mile, so one more.
How can I not bring forward the fun writing brings? It is a fun and exciting adventure of my own making. Though sometimes it feels more like a need, even a chore, writing almost always finds its way back to fun. Just open the laptop and see where it takes me. How sweet it is.
Now, it is time to go find the next fun thing to do. There are so many.
I have often been told, “Charli fits you.” I am not sure exactly what people mean by that, but I hope it is a good thing. When I think about how I inhabit the now common name Charli, a few words come to mind: free-spirited, fun-loving, and young at heart. I am those things, just not all the time. I tend to think too deeply and analytically to feel truly free all the time, but I am learning how to let analysis serve me, not run the show.
As for etymology, Google and other sources are far better historians than I am, so I will happily leave the official origins of the name to the curious reader and their search bar. What matters most to me is not where the name came from, but how it keeps nudging me in the present, reminding me to loosen my grip, soften my seriousness, and occasionally tell my inner analyst to take a coffee break while Charli goes out and plays.
I could imagine working with animals like dolphins, elephants, bears, and lions. Or being a paid writer. Or even working with Dolly Parton, doing whatever she wanted me to do. The truth is, I am a dreamer with no bounds. I should have been a philosopher, as I tend to ponder things deeply and often. In an ideal world, I would be an independent thinker with flexible hours, able to work from home or travel, while still getting the work done.
If I am honest, my dream job would offer meaningful work, great hours, and enough flexibility to live well. In that sense, I already have much of what I once dreamed of. A lot about my current job feels tailor made for me.
That does not mean every day is perfect. Some days are a nightmare, though those are rare. And while I do not make dream earnings, I do have stability, purpose, and sometimes room to breathe.
Overall, I am grateful. Because often, it feels like I am living the dream, one grounded in responsibility and possibility.
And Dolly, I am still waiting for your call. Shoes on. Bag packed.
Let’s start with what it is not. It is not intimidation or fear induced through micromanagement and unrealistic expectations. A good worker knows that while guidance and instruction may be needed for improvement, they still yearn to be trusted with the job at hand.
What a good leader does not also include a rigid, one-size-fits-all approaches. People are not interchangeable parts. They bring different temperaments, needs, strengths, and limits into the same shared space.
This is where acclimation comes to mind first. It is a skill set I deeply admire because it reflects an understanding of the varied dynamics of different people. Authentic acclimation does not involve putting on facades to adjust to others. It is not deception. It is tapping into our own dynamic personality and adjusting accordingly.
Some people respond best to reassurance, while others do not need it at all. Some benefit from a quieter approach that allows them to express themselves fully. Others simply need space to vent and then move forward. Some are more reserved and do not want to talk much. They are there to do their job and often operate best with minimal oversight.
A good leader recognizes these differences without losing themselves in the process. Acclimation does not mean abandoning core values. It means leading with awareness while remaining grounded in who you are.
I observe my boss in team meetings and am often in awe of her ability to acclimate while still remaining her true self. I can say that confidently because time has revealed her consistency. Her core values do not shift. Her integrity is steady. That authenticity is visible.
At times, she does not always get it right, particularly in how she interprets me. Yet even that has been instructive. Through her leadership, I have learned more about myself, how I respond, what I need, and where I still have room to grow.
In that way, good leadership does more than guide performance. It invites reflection, growth, and understanding on both sides.
She knows I get in my head and that I can be a bit much with my need to be perfect. She listens carefully, offers space to vent, and at times shares her own vulnerability. That openness makes it easier for me to speak honestly about frustrations, fears, and mistakes.
Sometimes I wish I had not. A written evaluation often follows. At first, I felt betrayed, as though my trust had been mishandled. I wanted those conversations to stay contained. But she is my supervisor, and she is doing her job.
Over time, I have come to understand that my transparency does not remove accountability. It requires it. Her responsibility to acknowledge issues professionally does not disappear because I am open with her. In fact, it keeps both of us honest. It reminds me that vulnerability is not a shield, and leadership is not a loophole.
She inspires me to be real, and she expects me to remain accountable, even when I know the consequences.
She has shown me what it is to be a good leader. I am grateful!
This is from a previous prompt; I so appreciate these cool inspirations. I need, though, to quit procrastinating and get back to my very first murder mystery. My lack of experience is a bit of a pickle, but I love pickles, sometimes sweet, sometimes sour.
Anyway…
My instinct is to give the obvious response, to understand how much I love her. However, Dolly-Anna is quite aware, and I am convinced the feelings are mutual.
What I really wish is that I could make her understand how much I yearn to know her thoughts, to ask that she find ways to lessen the language and species barrier. She already lets me know when her water dish needs filling, or when it is time to get back to the task at hand. She knows her human gets quite lost in thought, so she has developed strategies to help me help her.
After work, we go straight to the kitchen, as we both know it is “that” time. I start preparing her delicious entrée when, not always but often, I get distracted. She knows exactly what she must do. She begins howling at me, and when I look at her, she looks at her dish, then back at me, as if saying, Get it together, woman!! I can almost hear her inner “Feed me, Seymour” voice.
When she wants a good pet, she comes as close to my face as she can and sits like a hairy mannequin, not moving even the slightest bit until I notice her. Sometimes, I just stare back at her, because she is the cutest thing I have ever seen.
What I wish I could make her understand is that I long to understand her, her thoughts, her frustrations, beyond my easily distracted self. I want her to humor and help her human, especially when she does not feel well. “Dear Dolly, tell me where it hurts, and what do you need? Mama wants to fix.”
When she is anxious, listening to the fireworks, I would also love for her to understand that it is loud but non-threatening. Mostly, I wish she knew that every howl, stare, and dramatic pause has already taught me something. She may never speak my language, but somehow she has managed to train me anyway.
I really appreciate this prompt because it is something I have been thinking about a lot lately.
For me, the answer comes easily, and it is one I am guilty of myself. Single-use plastics, things like Keurig cups and water bottles. I know I want to be a good steward of my home, my body, and our earth. And yet, time and again, I choose convenience over the more intentional care required to do better.
That choice says something uncomfortable. It suggests that caring for us as a whole does not always weigh as much as my desire for the quick and easy way. I am not proud of that, but I recognize it. And I am far from alone. The cost of these choices is mounting as many of us make them, often without much pause.
Perhaps this small confession does more than simply acknowledge the problem. Maybe it nudges me toward action instead of just consideration. Yes, it would be nice if things that harm us more than they help us had never been invented. Just as it would be nice if I more consistently chose alternatives that do not add to the growing burden single-use plastics bring.
For now, I am noticing the tension, between what I value and what I reach for, and allowing that awareness to linger. Sometimes, that is where change begins.
Charli Renee 