Author: Jamie Pitts

The Multiverse of Happiness

Jamie PittsLeave a comment

Think of a time or place that makes you happy, and then multiply that feeling by one million, and that is the tingling sense that does not come around often, but is the emotion we strive to recreate all of the time to reach Peak Delight (this is kind of like a twisted version of those pesky people who keep telling us for many dollar bills and many mind-sucking moments we can “Go Clear.” Tom Cruise fell for it, but we can innovate our own version, free of our souls being stolen from us, and without the risk of our brains getting a full round in the washer).

Many people suffer when searching for the smile and the jitters. They take it one step past where their mental boundaries were planning to go. Thus they become addicted to a happiness-inducing substance (I am no angel), turn to other people for the answer, or completely give up and fall into the wormhole known as work to mask the fact that happiness even exists. Similar to money, being happy is just as dangerous.

Being content is where the sweet spot lies. Being satisfied. That is the goal we are trying to reach if we really want to make the magic happen.

My dad’s favorite song is “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” by The Rolling Stones. Listen to it, rock to it, and continue to shake your tailfeathers to it because we all go through this cycle with our lives where we find that whatever we do, we will never be fully taken with the thrill of it all. As humans we are constantly in search of the next best thing. And we uncover disappointment often. But we discover contentment more than the aforementioned emotion. Alas, finding a way to being content instead of happy is the key to really living life.

Being able to recognize that you will always want more out of life will help you realize that what you have is pretty damn amazing. Sometimes magnificence is not the case, and when things really spiral out of control, well that is when you thank Life for providing you with a grading scale.

Hey, that getting-fired-from-my-job dealio was a shitty spot to be in. I give it a 2 out of 10 stars. My life is pretty dumpy.

Let’s turn that bus around though, people!

But had I not had that 2-star situation happen, I would view most events as a 7 through 10 situation. Thank you for giving me that lower feeling of deep, droopy desolation to help me better define my lows and highs. An upside to being canned.

And that, my friends, is how you incorporate optimism in your life. Living life as a 7, 8, 9, or 10 all of the time produces numbness. It gets boring, it gets tedious, I run out of reasons to smile, happiness becomes routine, and habitual delight is a death trap to boredom.

Embrace the horrible, lavish in the misery, use the sadness to propel you into the Multiverse of Happiness. Bathe in the sadness so it makes the good times glow. Sounds weird, but it works for this starving artist who pretends like her life is a black hole sometimes just to strengthen her responses to nonsensical moments in time.

The Golden Minute

What is your favorite cozy spot to submerge in when no one is around or when you were strong enough to push all of the bullshit aside in your mind and make time for some time for yourself?

What is that time and place where your body goes limp with relaxation, completely content, balls to the wall comfortable?

In my personal journal (not this blog, although it has sort of turned into a personal writing block), I have a list of these dimensions of space and time where life was as sweet as can be. Every day I strive to travel to one of these dimensions, bonus points if I can make it into multiple, but that is sometimes a feat that requires Olympian strength that I do not yet possess but work towards constantly. Sometimes I have to threaten to send my family on a bus to an unknown land in order to get that Golden Minute, and sometimes I have to beg them to be around me to get it. It depends on the day, it depends on what hat I am wearing, and there are even days where the Golden Minute vanishes and absolutely nothing can make me come out of my hobbit hole. Not often, but it happens to the best of us.

This morning I only got thirty seconds into this entry before my “Golden Minute” vanished into thin air and sailed away into the ether like a smoky inhale and exhale at Red Rocks, but I at least got thirty seconds, better than twenty-nine seconds, eh?

What’s Your Flavor?

My guilty pleasure is sitting in one particular corner of the couch, adorned with several comfy pillows and always a quilt from my grandma (or both grandmas; both were exceptional at making lovely yet snuggly blankets), a big cup of coffee (tea is preferred but sometimes I get sloppy and forget to keep a tight inventory in the pantry from my go-to tea shop in FoCo), all of my curtains open to the south-facing lawn that opens up its throat and chugs that Colorado sunshine damn near every morning (our weather is our best kept secret, but I will be bold enough, and dumb enough, to share this tidbit with you all in hopes that you will migrate your clan out this way, at least for a small vacation, so you can see all of the gut-punching views and beautiful days that you have been missing out on all of these years), and last but not least, on the cushiony throne that I lounge upon, I always, and I do not use definitive terms lightly, I always have a book.

The finale to my Golden Minute is when my three-year old walks down the stairs, messy hair, squinty eyes, and she waddles over to me with a smile, a snuggle, and a good morning that includes bad breath and a almost potty-trained pee-soaked diaper. It is almost as good as puppy breath.

Social break:

Currently reading: The Moviegoer by Walker Percy

Currently listening to: Roly Poly by Mt. Joy. Just listen to the whole damn album while you are at it here. These guys (and gals) recently toured with one of my favorite bands, Trampled By Turtles. Both bands were so good they had to arrange a deal where they would swap who opened each show on the tour. No, I did not get to go to the show. Yes, I have zero regrets in life but this is one of them (not really though, there is a reason that Life did not allow me to go).

Books are Life. And You Should Too.

My husband is a Moviegoer, which is coincidental (or is it?) in that it is the name of the book I am reading at this very moment.

In my twelve years of dating him, fourteen years of knowing him, I have not once observed him reading a paperback or a hardcover. He has glamoured me with many moments of his nose deep into an article on his phone, he fills me in with world news on the regular, and he has a vast knowledge of popular culture that allows me to filter out the nonsense and focus on the meaty part of Hollywood. But never once has he dazzled me with sitting on a couch and reading a juicy paper-made item.

Yet he is the smartest person I know, and he has an absurd knowledge of plots to books and references to novels. It is mind-boggling, especially since his brain also houses specific details to all of the vehicles ever made. If you must know, he learned most, if not all, of this information from the Simpsons, and for all of you Homer-haters out there, just know that not only is the show a masterpiece, it teaches you about popular culture in a way that you might have never known. I have living proof.

The Genius of My Universe (aka my partner, husband, or person who deals with all of my nonsense and has pushed me to be my best self) also knows that the books are always better than the movies. And for that reason, he keeps me around. By combining our superpowers of book knowledge and movie references, we can take on the world one tagline at a time. Watch out, bitches, we are coming for you next Jeopardy audition.

Get It, Girl

“The scariest moment is always just before you start.” 
― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

My point here is to fall into your passions, learn what makes your heart get hot, and carry it out. Make time for it. Stop saying that work has been too crazy or you have been too busy or you are waiting until next week to start doing what you want to. Quit making it part of your one to five year plan. Make it a plan for the next hour or minute. Take action, and stop merely thinking about it.

The longer you wait, the less time you have to enjoy it.

For example – I try to squeeze in at least an hour of book-molesting per day, fondling whatever pages I can get my hands on, ogling at the font types, feeling up my bookmarks. Did you see that sweaty reference coming just then? I hope you enjoyed me turning books into a sexual endeavor, because sometimes it can be just that. And I have never read 50 Shades of Grey. I have zero time for pieces of information that do not further my learning about the world. Regardless, I strive for an hour per day to satisfy my need for speed…speed-reading, that is. Do not be fooled though as that hour is scattered throughout the morning, day, evening, and night like a mad egg hunt. Nevertheless, I find the time. Or rather, I make it.

And the best part about doing what you love to do right now is this:

If you become content, others will too. Create a pandemic of satisfaction.

Full Send

What went well today (two entries for today because I am feeling extra spicy):

Colette started yelping and singing when “Without Me” by Eminem came on in the car today. We have a playlist started for each of our girls that we add to whenever they react to songs. Colette’s playlist, titled Cuckoo for Cocopuffs, received an addition by the white-rapper himself. Proud of my little Coco. The Carmellicious playlist will have to be examined next.

A friend recommended a book to me while I was in my Golden Minute. The book came with many shining strings attached – it was from my favorite author, Stephen King. It was her first time reading him and she dug his style. It was a book I had recently picked up as hardcover for $4 in mint condition while thrifting (another passion). And I am almost done with my current book. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am, four situations of high awesomeness.

What did not go so well: I took the gremlins to a transportation museum today, which went super well, but they would not allow me to read any of the signage, which is something that makes me happy. I must go back with more helping hands.

What will I start doing differently: I have a few books to send to people. I have been lazing on that and need to take on that task. A friend once told me that they never recommend books to anyone anymore because no one actually ever reads the books. I decided to read their book right away, and it pleased them so much. It was instant kindness. So now I not only try to send books to people in hopes they will read them, but I try to read recommendations within the year of the comment coming my way. And I loop back with the person on how the book changed my life, because it always does. And I rarely use definitives.

Shout out to everyone giving yourself a damn moment. I am proud of you.

“You can, you should, and if you’re brave enough to start, you will.” 
― Stephen King, On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft

Do Not Mistake My Kindness for Confidence, Nor My Confidence for Weakness

Jamie PittsLeave a comment

I have not always been this way.  I have not always been confident and brave enough to share experiences and perspectives that are somewhat sensible.  It took me awhile to get to this place, and it has taken me by the month, wee, day, hour, minute, and second to keep my assertive self in check.  

Sometimes I find myself slipping back into that frustrated version of myself. The one who used to get nudged over smaller ant-sized things. Situations that would not matter in five days or less. But it takes practice to be able to learn people, to be able to appreciate a different perspective.

My wise not-so-old mentor once told me that people are very similar to laboratory instrumentation, and that theory has stuck with me to this day. Like lab analyzers (aka the big machines that run tests on your blood, urine, stool, and other bodily fluids) require more calibration and attention while others are self-sufficient, run their own QC internally, and file their own reports. Some lab instrumentation requires heavy maintenance, constantly getting clogged or gunked up with remnants from the past (aka old blood or urine).

Dear Laboratory,

You Are Sexy and You Know It

When people speak “lab,” many people have no idea what the hell is going on.

And so now is the time in my blog where I take this as an opportunity to share with you the ongoings of a hospital laboratory, and the true activity of clinical laboratory scientists.  

First thing – we cannot get enough of people calling us laboratorians.  Because, come on, who would not love that title?  Bonus points if you can swing “scientists” in a conversation piece or nod to us, we will fall at your feet no problem.  Because you have aptly nabbed the accurate (and precise) definition of our mysterious profession.  Note that people only call us laboratorians and scientists on solar eclipses where whales are also floating in the sky, but we take it when we can get it.  Oftentimes we answer to hey-lab-person (all one word, mind you), lab rat (great aunt of Pizza Rat), labbie (this one does not bother me, but it feels like I am supposed to shoot a basketball or throw a baseball after hearing it), “that person that draws my blood whenever I am required to endure that painful activity.”

While we are on the topic, let us have a moment of silence for my fellow Warriors with the Needles. Phlebotomists – the word I always have to use spellcheck on, the vampires of the hospitals, the people who are always short-staffed but damn if they do not show up and make it happen.  Phlebotomy is a fine art.  A love language that creates so much distress and anxiety, yet makes a strange and deep connection. Always a good conversation with that role.  Without phlebotomy, medicine would be in a deep ditch of disappointment as there would be no way to extract the fluids needed to diagnose your ailments.  

Some of you can relate with me on being a phleb in the middle of drawing a cancer patient who is a super tough stick, your nose itching or hair falling in your face, sweat suddenly showing up in awkward and inconvenient places. You are down on one knee filling up ten tubes of blood on this kind person who has been stuck over twenty times that week and please help us if we miss this time because they need another bruise like they need a hole in the head, and hopefully these results will help them figure out a way to feel better if not even a little bit.  And you nail the stick, and you also landed a meaningful conversation about someone who is living a life full of uncertainty, fear, and who can even imagine what else.  

A very tiny percentage of you are nodding your heads in full swing right now because you understand this event down to the second.  

Did You Say Lobotomy?

If I am being real with you, which I normally am but only wanted to say that for the hell of it, phlebotomists are an underpaid, under-recognized, barely-supported group of workers I have come across, and I have worked in a variety of professions in my short yet fulfilling life.  They get skipped over a lot – please help them if you are able to.

The Song of the Laboratory

Fun fact – only a small percentage of clinical laboratory scientists draw blood – I would wager a guess of 10% or less do the phlebotomy thing.  Phlebotomists land the sticks, they are the bomb.  

The laboratory is a forest of drains, cords, and songs.  The decibel level is often times questionable, sometimes you can find instruments hidden in cabinets if space is tight, thus you can sometimes find laboratorians hidden in refrigerators or in stock shelves, the world is your oyster.  We put on the labcoat, we become superhuman.  That is all it takes, and we rock it.  We make minimal mistakes, we are on our game, and we care.  It is that simple.  

We really do not want to answer the phone, but we will never ignore it, and we will always be helpful when a question comes our way, because we know things, and we want you to know that we know things, but mostly we want to help.  We just want to help, so please let us, and you will not be led astray.

Lab instruments are our domesticated animals.  We, as scientists, have trained the instruments, learned the instruments, loved the instruments.  We have studied their habits, dissected (and sometimes rebuilt) them, fed them, bathed them (and sometimes electrocuted them on accident), dare say we have pressed their buttons, have inspected their undercarriage, have coaxed them into making terrible decisions via peer pressure (Yes, please rotate the wheel, even though I know a tube is jammed in there), we have scolded them, displayed our disappointment, we have neglected, we have dismembered, we have prayed for a successful initiation, we have sold our souls for a final solution to their wreckage.  We have lived lab, and oh we have loved it.  

Hate On Me

Medical laboratory scientists are also some of the most underpaid, under-recognized, misunderstood group of folk I have ever met.  This pain is sometimes self-inflicted as they tend to stay in the lab, not branching out and mingling with the other heroes of the hospitals, sharing their stories and offering their perspectives.  However, the dearth of attention is a real thing, and it can lead to a side-effect known as festering and burnout.  It is no one’s fault.  Everyone in healthcare is burnt out, and I was one of the few who was able to take a back seat for a while.  And I am grateful for that.  And guilty for that.  Now is that the fourth stage of grief?  Guilt?  Because that is kind of how I am feeling at this point in time. 

**Note, the first part of this entry was an homage to the medical laboratory science profession. The remainder of this blog is dedicated to my journey as a Dinosaur Supervisor.

**Also note, Dinosaur Supervisor is an actual line in the credits of Jurassic Park. If you were the person in this role, you have landed the ultimate gig. Search no longer.

**Triple note, I am a velociraptor manager, but I deal with two to four of them at a time, depending on who is in the mood, and I have a fierce handle on the situation, or at least I think I do. I know nothing, John Snow.

Corporate Corpse Check-In
Current Mood:  Guilty

For some reason, I NOW (current day is 8/24/22) feel like after leaving my leadership position, I now feel guilty for stepping out.  This came out of my typing fingers at this very moment.  I really have not been thinking or feeling guilty much (or not as much as I thought, I guess), and I now at this very moment feel guilty.  Weird.  

Help, Not Just Anybody

If I had to throw something out there, I would say that it feels like I am not helping people as much as I used to.  

Helping others is a part of life I crave on the regular.  Helping people is my jam.  I am the person who is telling people as I am holding the door for them that it is my part-time job.  Freaking nerd.

I am the person picking up whatever it is you dropped even if it seemed like it was miles away and not part of my life at all.  I just eat that up.  It is absolutely thrilling to assist someone with a task and create a positive outcome.  Even if it is a mere sentence.  

Getting Crazy With The Cheeze-Whiz

My grandmother and I have a hobby in common – we try to compliment someone daily.  Many people do this, probably everyone compliments someone daily. (Wait…I am being told my expectations are too high….standby for another update).  Whether it be their shoes, their hair, their name, their child’s names (people’s names are awesome to discover and also give you a peek into their world), their ideas, their perspective, their take on a serious topic, I like to go nuts with it every now and then with the questions and inquiries. I ask a ton of questions.  Being curious has never let me down.  

By complimenting someone everyday, you see their reaction, and you understand that it revs the positivity up a notch. Sometimes I will send a thank you note at work, and people approach me verbally and say thank you and how it made them feel. People who prefer to be in quiet and non-confrontation, knocking down my door to tell me how that gave them a dose of energy. So cool to experience. Try the compliment thing out, you will not be disappointed.

Listening to: Lucius – On the Run (These ladies are dynamite.)

I Am Full of S#!t Most of the Time.

Feedback has propelled me forward, that is, if people are brave enough to give it to me straight. Rarely people ever do. My mother has the best tactic, and I am still not sure exactly what it is, but I know that when she tells me how I am being perceived, it makes me contemplate whether or not I want to take that direction again, and I am not salty about it, even though I may act that way in the moment. The truth hurts, and we all know it, but by opening ourselves up to the real deal, you can usually find more ways to be content with life since you start to understand your own ways better.

Small bits of commentary and criticism have come my way, and the most impactful ones tend to be simple. This one time, a woman I deeply admire, said to me, “You are a trailblazer.” And that is all I needed to hear before I sped down the Superhighway of Thought. It opened up another door for me, to hear a word like that from a person who I have tried to emulate (hell, the person who told me the importance of emulation). In a good way, obviously. My fearless mentor once told me that it was cool finding out I was an alien like the few others out there, like him. It made sense. I have since started to identify with people and become aware of my superstrengths.

Supa-Dupa Fly

I suggest we all do the same and become more aware of our superpowers. Power is a bitch to harness, and it can really mess with you. Own it, tame it, and become familiar with your thirst for it. If you know your triggers, then you can recalibrate yourself when you are about to make that same mistake the umpteenth time. It is also quite entertaining to see the look on someone’s face when you react completely different from your normal behaviors.

And might I also recommend that you give someone a small dose of Confidence tomorrow and each day thereafter. Make it tiny, but mighty. It makes a difference, and you will understand what I mean once you give it a go.

I am starting the below segment (for now) because it seems like fun and it might bring joy to your life. Back when I was a corporate droid, an executive leader was regularly asking us to perform this practice, and I do agree that this exercise is a step forward in the right direction. I would always think about doing the daily list of questions, and one time I found a journal I had bought in the gift shop in the center console of my car, and it only had one day of questions filled out, and the date of the next day, but no content. Super sad. Like a deflated inflatable guy – his name says it all. But hey, I got a blank journal out of it.

Do It On the Daily

What went well today – Listened to Mason Jennings, “Crown” twice today. The sick harmonica, the killer vocal inflections, the heartbreaking lyrics. Delish.

What did not go so well today – Too many bean dishes. Also could be incorporated into the “what went well today” section, but leans more towards this one.

What will I do differently tomorrow – Tomorrow I am going to propose a Spotify playlist swap with someone. Like a gift exchange but with music. Someone mentioned to me they needed more new music in their life, and I felt similar. I have been racking my brain on how to do this, and now I am heading straight for the CD swap. Send me that mixtape, please.

What Have You Been Up To Lately?

Jamie PittsLeave a comment

Chitter Chatter

Here are random responses I have received from people after deciding to quit my job and pursue a life of parenting, passion-projects, and publicizing my life (had to fit in another “p” word to keep it consistent).

Comments about parenting:

  • “You won’t regret spending that time with your kids.” (Haven’t had any regrets other than I should not have put that purple marker in my pocket last week and forgotten about it when washing clothes.)
  • “If you can swing it financially, it is the best decision you will ever make.” (Well I cannot swing it financially, but that does not stop me.)
  • “You can never get these years back.” (Spot on. Right on. Rock on.)
  • “If I could do it again, I would be content cleaning toilets instead of chasing the almighty dollar as long as it meant spending more time with my family.” (This was the gut-busting quote that took me over the edge and made me take the leap. This came from my mentor, who has kids that have rapidly grown into adults, and I trust this opinion so much because it came from someone who has already lived this part of their life and has reflected on the have’s and the have not’s.)

Comments about work and my future business ideas:

  • “Sounds like you are doing art projects that I used to do in fifth-grade.” (Damn straight. Do you want a tie dye shirt or a non-functioning candle that I am still learning how to make? Or how about a houseplant that I am attempting to propagate? Or maybe some smoked cheese, or a used book or a vintage vinyl? Your choice, and sometimes I can be smarter than a fifth grader.)
  • “You can always go back into leadership.” (But do I even want to do that?)
  • “I am living my life vicariously through you.” (By all means. I am living mine through you, too.)
  • “How is life unemployed?” (If you define unemployed as parenting two small gremlins by day, creating in the crevices of my free time, and working as a scientist by night and weekend, then I have so many questions for you.)
  • “There is no money in the record store or book store businesses.” (This one came from a close friend who knows me all too well. However, she forgot one thing, I am no longer concerned about the almighty dollar. At least for today, tomorrow, and the foreseeable future. Who knows if my greed will return at a later date.)

Comments about finances

  • “You will save so much money on daycare.” (See above comment about not being able to swing it financially but doing it anyway. See alternate comment about how I do not care about money anymore.)
  • “If you can afford it, then do it.” (Shoo, Money. You always seem to find your way into any conversation or situation, don’t you? I have no need for your small thoughts and your made-up connection to happiness. Go use your mindless tactics on someone who gives a damn.)

A Day in the Life

It is impossible to describe a typical day for me since every day feels so different from the next. The bulk of my time is spent hauling around a shopping cart-sized stroller that seats one kid on the front and has an adventurous bench and a platform on the back for the thrill-seeking three year old. We go to and from one of the four parks in our neighborhood, we spy on the geese at the retention pond, we seek out new playgrounds and look for cool lawn ornaments to ogle at. We eat snacks, we swing, we slide, we dance to Disney songs, and we thank the musical gods on the regular for sending us Lin-Manuel Miranda and his melodious and motivational lyrics. Seriously, I think half of my mid-life crisis can be contributed to listening to the Encanto soundtrack on repeat.

I devote my soul, energy, and mind to the gremlins as much as I can. It has taken a lot to minimize my screen time (I finally took the plunge and set time limits on most of my apps), and it is a constant struggle to not focus on keeping the house clean or work on the boring budget. I have to keep telling myself that I am the responsible party for my children, and I am the Keeper of the Experiences. While none of us are capable of changing a person’s character, we can at least open as many doors of possibility as we can and show the big-minded miniatures what is out there in the world. And oh, is there a great deal out there. My word.

During nap time, which tends to be nonexistent these days, I try to make some time for myself. Tie dye has become a creative outlet, and I am really digging the fact that I get to be a scientist again, plus I get to go thrifting for white clothing and throw a sustainable spin on things. Candlemaking has been another wormhole of delight, but damn if I cannot get those wooden wicks to work. I am, however, becoming quite skilled at mixing colors, but the scents still have a lingering smell of musty old house. Hmmmmm…..perhaps lavender and cedarwood in fact do NOT have the best relationship? Moving on to more science experiments.

As a couple, Frank and I have been exploring the scene of cold-smoking cheese, and I feel as if my love for cheese has gone to a whole other level….a kind of love I did not know was even possible, and this is coming from a person who has had two babies laid on my chest for the very first time (this can be defined as the Ultimate Moment of Love). Yeah, the cheese is that good, folks. Now for those pesky FDA regulations, figuring out how to ship cheese, pricing, infusing, etc. So much to learn, certainly not enough time.

Last but not least, I have been writing.

On Writing Emails.

Come to find out, writing is something I love to do but never gave it the attention it deserved. My reconnection with writing was awakened after I did a survey at work with my team. The survey asked the team (of around 75 people), what were my strengths as a leader, and what were opportunities for improvement (a polite way to say, “What annoys me about you, and how can I be nice about saying this?”). The cheers and jeers that were sent in my direction were a tad life-changing. Lab folk are a certain type of people who do not normally wear their heart on their sleeves, but this survey was anonymous, so people were allowed to be honest, and I feel like this technique for evoking detailed feedback was somewhat effective (until someone came up with a strange rumor that I was targeting and identifying people by the responses. Wow, wish I had that kind of time).

The team gave a vehement response in the opportunity section in regards to the length of my emails, which felt were my only true method of communication to the staff since we were working in a 24-hour operation. They said my emails were too long. And they were not wrong. My emails were way too long.

Small background – We did this survey for all nineteen of the leaders on this team. This survey was a brain baby of mine that was supposed to be a 5-year project to promote self-awareness and personal growth. Over five people in this group took me to HR for this project, demanding I be stopped, the fear of being exposed was in their realm. They did not stop me, and I hope they learned about themselves after enduring this “painful” experience. The truth can be scary. I bet they are still consoling themselves on how the data was skewed or false. Or maybe it has helped them in some microscopic way (that is the dream). Oh how hard it is to be accountable.

They had other things to say about me in the survey, like my attendance was poor (this one was hard to swallow, still to this day – I was salaried, I worked 40-50 hours a week, and I did not realize I was being spied on.), I should learn the bench and technical work (fair point; training we did), I cared too much about feelings, I was too emotional. All true, all helpful.

But the emails being too long comments kept festering in my brain like a boyfriend from the past that you cannot stop wondering what in the world compelled you to make a decision as such. What was the driving force? Still a head scratcher until this day….anyway, back to the emails. I could not stop thinking about this critique on my character. The feeling was not anger, but mere suspicion and curiosity. Why was I writing these long ass emails? What motivated me to do so?

And of course, I came to the conclusion later that I was trying to write for an audience, and emails were my vehicle for having a voice. Simplifying this down…I knew I needed to have a writing vehicle in my life, and I was over this vessel being a manager role where no one has time to read nor is the coaching resonating. Work is work, and I tried to turn it into a motivational speech. Ain’t nobody got time for that. But I gladly thank whoever was brave enough to write me about my writing.

Honk for Brain Space

Part of me quitting my job was to allow my brain more space to do the exercises it truly longed to take on. And I was doing the same thing for my heart. Both of them pay me by the hour, offer great benefits, and they are direct yet empathetic to my needs. Sounds like one heck of a boss. Since I have shown them more kindness than ever, they have blossomed into colorful, sparkling fireworks that have shown me that if I trust the process, do the right thing, and care about the world around me, life will be good no matter what setting you are in. The universe is listening, and I have stories crammed in from 4-year old Jamie Pitts (the OG Jamie) that are pounding at the door to get out and boogie. And we will be dancing very very soon.

The ultimate point of this long ass blog was to be good to yourself, and give your brain some damn space. Because there is probably something there that you have always wanted to do, but never looked past the first five minutes of how to do it because there were too many barriers in the way.

I can speak from experience.

If money were no object, what would you have done for a living?

Now find a way to do that in a smaller manner without giving anything up.

Then keep on going.

Office Zoos, Innovation Incubators, and the Mother of All Schedules

Jamie Pitts1 Comment

Ladies and gentlemen, this game is called, “Name The Perfect Work Schedule.”  The winner gets a pat on the back to go back to work instead of reading this.  And let’s begin.

I will start this game out in an assertive (do not get that confused with aggressive) manner.   

Can’t Read My Poker Face

Being direct and decisive is my communication style, so it might as well be my playing style – I fondly remember being victorious in multiple poker games with my brother’s friends during house parties (at our home of course), way back when I was an innocent/blind warrior, shortly before I knew that vices were available to me, and prior to me figuring out that I was welcome to try any one of those vices that I was curious about. In poker I would start out sort of safe, observe everyone’s style, and then rock and roll after a few rounds.  I sucked at having a poker face, and I never wanted to stay up late wasting the night playing poker, there was too much else to observe at these parties, so I tended to bow out before the final one or two victims were left.  It taught me patience, which I still lack, and it also taught me that seventeen and eighteen year old boys are not intimidating, and they can get their ass-kicked by a 15-year old girl on any given day.  

This story might not seem fitting for this post, but it was a way for me to let you know I am coming out swinging with how I define flexibility in the workplace.

I Wish For…

If someone came to me a year ago and asked what type of schedule would make me stay in my role, I would instantly choose the option to have a hybrid work schedule.  And let me make sure the people in the back hear this one – I am not talking about a measly one remote day a month setup.  Not a chance.  This could blow your mind, but I am going with a minimum of one remote day per week.  Yes I said it, a minimum.  Meaning your leader would be holding you accountable for taking that remote day during the week.  

Bold you say?  Lazy you say?  I say this: 

Innovation requires incubation.

Our House in the Middle of Our Street

I shall elaborate.  Most, if not all of my best work came out when I worked remotely, It was either that, or  I had to recreate the zone of creativity at work by being shelled up in my office (or shared space) either early in the morning or late in the evening, when my brain was not working at full capacity due to interruptions, demands, venting, supporting, listening, and addressing in all directions, even sometimes in multiple dimensions.  Needless to say, on the office bunker days, my work was sub-par.  As an aspiring director stuck in a manager’s body, I had my eyes set on multiple long-term goals.  See previous post about being able to strategize past the five-year plan.  Working from home was an ability to get into that ambitious headspace and keep the ball rolling.  But people do not want ambition, people do not want you to have ideas, they want the ideas to be their ideas, and if it sounds too weird to them, they will shut your ideas down faster than you ever thought possible.  

When I work from home, I have my inspirations surrounding me. I blare vinyls on my record player, the harmonica filling up the room while I bust out a game-changing strategy that will help the team propel into the colorful space of success. I have my home decor around me, pictures of Jimi smoking a J, Beatles being Beatles, Jim Morrison giving me the eyes, pictures of mountains I have visited but not climbed, photos of my bitching wedding day, concert posters, bookcases at every corner, the rows full of Stephen King’s words of wisdom and Neil Gaiman’s views into the world of fantasy. My house is my brain space. It makes me happy, and the work I do in it reflects that happiness.

The Tribe Has Spoken

In my previous role (not all of my roles), I brought this hybrid idea up to an HR executive, and I heard, in the Charlie Brown teacher voice, “You were hired to be in an office.”  Like an animal in a cage at the zoo.  And trust me, I am not as exciting to watch as a hippopotamus taking a dip or an orangutan teaching her baby how to climb.  I also asked said HR bigwig if I could have more support and get a supervisor on my team to receive delegation from the manager, and I was told this:

“We’ve always done it this way.  We’ve tried the supervisor model in the past, and it has not worked.” 

How’s that for innovation and science, folks?  That very moment was when I made my started making my descent into unemployment.  If the higher sector of Human Resources believes in stagnation, than the poison has spread much further than I originally had perceived.  Yikes.

Vote for Hybrid

I am a campaign manager for the Remote Work Act – I firmly believe that people do their best work when leaders are not around.  If you find a way to help elevate your team to where they can do the work without you there, then you have won the game.  Not this game that we are playing right now in this blog, but rather the Game of Autonomy.  If you can trust your people to do the work and not need you to be there at their beck and call, then a cohesive team has spawned, and you have witnessed a damn miracle.  Cohesion and independence are not the norm, and it is difficult and takes persistence to achieve, but my goodness it is worth it.  Those are the teams I tried to create, but I was then snapped back into the office by the tentacle of the business suit.  Can’t say I didn’t try.

People work better when bosses are not around, and people are happier when bosses are not around.  Those are facts that I just made up, but I would bet you a few dollars that if you collected the data, I would not be far from the truth.  Bosses are not necessary, but they are a link to the outside world if they know how to do their jobs right, and sometimes, just sometimes, they are willing to put in the energy it takes to inspire into the room a melody of self-awareness, open communication, and encouragement for people to have brain babies (defined as sparkling ideas that change the world).  Allowing employees do their thing is the most magical experience you can have at work.  When you see someone finally take it to the next level and gain confidence and life skills, well that is what it all is about, baby.  That is the golden ticket.  And if you work in healthcare, you go on knowing that you helped make a happy employee, thus sparking cared-for patients, which then you have met the criteria for your WHY of joining healthcare in the first place.  

But my friend, let us not be so naïve to think that corporate leadership would allow this kind of happiness to run amuck.  This kind of innovative and curious behavior is only tolerated in crevices of the corporate world, where you find leaders who speak the same alien language as you.  That 3% of awesome people who “get it” that I mentioned in my post “Scary Happiness and the Corporate Corpse Revival.”  Those are the leaders who let you choreograph the dance, cheer you on from the sidelines, and bring you flowers afterwards.  I have met those people, I have tried desperately to work for them, I talk with them to this day, and I now know that they did not have me work for them because they knew it would clip my wings.  I get it now, and I am thankful for these people.

If bosses supported, did what the employees told them to do, and also threw in a sprinkle of motivation and inquiry from time to time, the world would be a better place.  Instead, most bosses tell and not ask, respond before listening or understanding, and shy away from the stinky piles of elephant poop found in all corners of the room (not to mention they have not yet said a single word about the actual elephants that left it.  Multiple elephants.).  This is what I have witnessed.  I strive(d) to not be like those bosses.  Told you I was blunt, I hope you can deal with it.

The Ultimate Request

Getting back to the remote work/perfect work schedule game.  Here is what I would ask for:

  1. A minimum of one remote day per week.
  2. If the day presents with more virtual meetings than there is downtime, this automatically becomes a remote day.
  3. The ability to leave early whenever shit came up.  Guilt-free.  Seriously, please stop making me feel like I am doing something wrong here.
  4. The ability to come in late whenever shit came up.  Guilt-free.  Seriously, please stop making me feel like I am doing something wrong here.
  5. The promise that my remote days will not be revoked if a deadline is missed or if a mistake happens.  Instead of revoking, inquire on my state of mental health, because I do not normally miss deadlines.
  6. The openness for leaders to admit that people in the office do not work a full eight hours.
  7. A Working-Mom program.  This is the mother of all asks (no pun intended).  As a working mother, I had to quit my job in order to be with my children.  I was paying $30,000 in childcare.  Read that again.  I was paying to not see my children.  My idea of a working-mom program would be to allow the moms to put their children in daycare part-time, be able to watch them on certain days, and allow the moms to work on the evenings or weekends (remotely) to make up the 40 hour week.  This idea needs to be fine-tuned, but I would have paid for part-time care in an instant if it meant I could keep my full-time gig and still see my kids.  (People would define this as “having your cake and eating it too,” which is frowned upon).

Your turn. 

Scary Happiness and the Corporate-Corpse Revival

Jamie Pitts3 Comments

I quit my effing job…

The year is 2022, the month is May. Enter me, Jamie, an eager, energetic, seasoned for seven years manager in the healthcare industry. A female leader who put 110% into developing people, thought beyond the five-year plan, stressed the importance of psychological safety, and valued transparent communication.

Enter the other 97% of zombies in the business world: People who put 110% into staying themselves and being correct, made decisions based on personal benefit, thought only within the week or month, avoided conflict, talked smack behind backs, and valued keeping secrets from the underlings.

I say 97% because the other 3% are the people who “get it.” The 3% are the people I stay in touch with. The 3% are the people I treasure and are the only people who probably could (if they wanted to), talk me into returning to this fiery furnace of nonsense.

No need to read between the lines here – I became and am fed up with the corporate world.

I am being very direct in saying that I was sick of the BS (aka bullshit) that comes with working for “the man.” I would dare to call myself a cynic in this current stage of life, or perhaps growing older naturally brings on skepticism. Cynic or not, I did what I had to do – I quit, and I did it in a blaze of glory. I quit for my understanding and adapting husband, Frank. I quit for my two out of this world daughters, Carmella and Colette. I quit so I could see them more than four hours a day. I quit so I could be a teacher for my children, I quit so I could bask in the sunshine of LIFE.

I even would say I quit for my dog, Rigby (named after the sad Eleanor Rigby, since this dog is a healer of all doubt). And I definitely quit for our first dog, Scout (named after Jean Louise Finch from To Kill a Mockingbird). Scout was our first baby who I recently had to euthanize in February due to an invasion of bone cancer. Bone cancer, or any other cancer for that matter, can go straight to hell and then further down to the depths of the core of the universe. A large piece of my soul was lost when Scout went into the ether, and I am still searching for it to this day.

Retirement = Ass-backwards thinking

Quick rant – I recently read a survey about what benefits people wanted more of in my workplace. The majority said they prioritized retirement benefits over flexibility, better pay, better vacation benefits, better healthcare, so on and so forth.

Read that again. Here is my translation: People prioritize living their best in the second-to-last and final parts of life over living their best in the earlier parts of life.

Call me crazy, but is this not the most ass-backwards thing you have ever heard?! People pound out thirty or more years of hard work, only to retire and have a limited window to live their best life before they have aches and pains and really only want to relax and spend time with the people they love.

When you retire, you are entering an era of rest and relaxation, at least that is what I hear from the retirees of life, but what about the time during your thirties, forties, and fifties? And hell, what about the twenties too? Are we supposed to work fifty hours a week during those decades, when we are in prime shape and physically can handle just about anything? This makes zero sense to me. Is there a way we can live our full lives twenty through sixty-five, all while working and making enough money to enjoy life, so that when we “retire” we can look back and say, “Job well done, my friend! You have successfully gotten to experience what life has to offer, you maintained financial stability, you did not work yourself to tears, and now you rest, also with financial support!.”

How about the fact that you are responsible for teaching your children how to live during your “working years?” Ahh, I see, so we are supposed to be superheroes. We are required to work 50 hours a week in our thirties and forties and educate our children, all at the same time, expected to be top-notch teachers after a rugged 10-hour day, be present for our kids, and love them unconditionally….but only for 4 hours a day, since we are working said 10-hour days and get home only for a wee bit of time to hang out before bed time. That is the limit we give ourselves.

Let me say this loud enough for the people in the back: This is all bullshit.

But what do I know? I am merely a 34 year old complainer and quitter.

I have only had two months to acclimate to live outside of the office, and I can honestly say that on this very hot day in August 2022, if I had to identify my thoughts on my past life in leadership, I am stuck between the second and third stages of grief , which is ANGER and BARGAINING, and the needle is dancing more towards the former rather than the latter.

Why is this lady so angry, you ask? Well, I am mostly angry because of the time that was wasted with people who prioritized toxicity. I was bullied. I was the target of someone else’s stress and unhappiness. I was taken down by the soldiers of the dark side who had nothing better to do with their time than control and suppress my creativity and my craving to innovate and empathize. Evil monsters are in my “room,” and I WANT THEM OUT. But they will leave when they are damn well ready.

Not even $90K could make me stay

You see, I left my job, that was underpaying me around $90,000 a year. To many, that would look like a dumb decision to give that money up. In reality, I was being paid (underpaid might I add) to be overworked, overstressed, and limited with the time I could allocate for my magical family. 100% NOT WORTH $90K, 100% NOT WORTH MY TIME. Although I did meet some living gems that I still keep in touch with (remember the 3% I mentioned earlier?). Alas, allow me to be the forever optimist and throw a positive spin on my past jobs in the leadership department – the entire experience was a growth opportunity, I learned great skillsets, I saw the inner workings of a large corporation, and I learned how to empathize, yada, yada, yada. Spoken like a true businesswoman.

Giving up something you are good at

Oh, and get this – I was pretty damn good at my job.

Notice how I said “job” instead of “career.” Yes, I was a manger for almost ten years. Yes, I had as many as 75 direct reports. Yes, I was climbing that ladder to the top, and damn if I wasn’t good at it. That is the hardest part of all of this. I had to quit something that came fairly simple to me, just because people tried to suffocate me. But breathing is a requirement of life. This job was no career, it was a way to suck out my soul and leave me depleted and down on the ground day in and day out. It was a way for my company to put others in a social stranglehold where they were not paid fairly nor given time to really live. I had to escape the madness, and that is exactly what I did.

I once read Michelle Obama’s Becoming, and in it, she talks about how she gave up her kickass lawyer role that she excelled at for a lower-paying job in philanthropy where her passions were living. Now, I am no Michelle Obama, nor am I wed to and have the intellectual or financial support of Barry the Beloved (Frank is a good substitution, though), but I do believe that she speaks truth with this life transition, and I listened to her very closely.

I’ve escaped the corporate underworld. At least for now.

Now that Love is the number one priority, many decisions have become easy to make. I am at the point where I feel so content and present that I am worried there is a dark cloud waiting to encapsulate my world and take me under again. I call this feeling “scary happiness,” although I am certain I will come up with a better name moving forward. Scary Happiness might be coming to eat me alive, however, I have trained myself to ignore that nagging shadow and immerse myself in the present. Life will still have downs, and those downs will be appreciated, Now that I have a stronger sense of purpose, I can endure those rides to the bottom knowing that they will make the high-flying times that much more exciting.

This corporate corpse has been revived! And it is no longer a corporate body, it is a family-driven soul.

I write about this journey not to slam anyone or burn any bridges, but rather to tell my story. For some reason, I have a sneaking suspicion that others have gone or are undergoing something similar, and I am here to tell you that there is life after death, but you have to be determined to resurrect.

This Car Drives Itself (Literally)

Jamie PittsLeave a comment

[2022 EV Roadtrip – Post #4]

It has been awhile since we last spoke. A lot has happened, but not so much that we cannot write about it. This morning I sit in a hotel lobby located in the sweaty and sweet Nashville suburbs. The temperature is a decent 75 degrees but feels more like 85 with the 95% hovering humidity. The vegetation is lush here, and I’ll choose to admire it from the air-conditioned lobby instead of a bench in the parking lot.

I’d prefer I were typing this out on my laptop instead of my phone. I have a fervent wish that all hotels had private balconies for all of the people who need a minute of peace time. For all of the mothers out there longing for ten minutes of silence in the morning before the kids, dogs, and husbands wake up to inquire of the whereabouts of their belongings, which they should have been keeping track of the entire time, but who needs to remember when we’ve got a mom around? Alas, hotels do not care about us mothers. They know we are creative and can make a secluded space out of a used Kleenex and a reusable straw if we had to, but we believe we deserve better.

Get Yourself a Good Hotel Balcony

I once had a balcony at a hotel in Moab. It was an anniversary trip, and bonus points, it was Mother’s Day. A Mother’s Day without my children, with a foliage-drenched balcony, sunshine, coffee, and one of the books from the Dark Tower series. Ask me what the my most comfy spot is and that, my friends, is your answer. But eventually I started to miss my kids, and after some time I was hoping my husband would wake up so we could go explore. All good things must come to and end, right?

I digress. Thank you for letting me vent about the things I enjoy out of life.

The drive to Nashville was shorter for me than for Frank as he drove 80% of the way. I have acquired a new skill set—sleeping in cars without pillows. I’d like to think I’ve gotten quite good at it. I slept around five hours before he asked me to take the wheel. Five hours of half shuteye, with sprinklings of little events taking place mid-sleep. Lobbing back bottles and snacks to the gremlins whenever they rustled, jolting awake whenever the streetlights that shine as bright as those pesky dental chair spotlights shone in my direction as we landed at a charging station to “fill up,” opening one eye whenever I heard the car ride over the rumble strips. Sweet, interrupted snoozing. Nothing quite like it.

Some things that were pleasant:

—Kansas and Missouri scenery > Nebraska and Iowa scenery (for now)

—No manure smell while driving (see aforementioned reference about Nebraska)

—Driving in the twilight = Decreased traffic, minimal road rage, cooler weather (I brought three different jackets, all of different layers and warmth, and I’ve used all three. Thank goodness I did, because it was hard to justify bringing all three until just now.)

—Staying hydrated. Since you have to stop every two hours, you are guaranteed a bathroom break, so drink away my friends! Be that lush we all know you can be.

Some ways the car helped us out:

—Automatic windshield wipers that adjust to the intensity of the rain.

—Heated and cooled seats to accompany all of your hot and cold flashes.

—Bitchin’ stereo, that you are unable to blare when driving since your crew is sleeping during your turn to drive. (Frank connects his headphones when driving so we can sleep, pretty snazzy stuff)

—Built-in sound machine that can play rain or nature sounds. No joke, we used this to calm down the girls, and it worked like a charm.

—Hands-free driving. When you put the cruise control on, the car literally drives itself. It hollers at you if you have your hands off of the steering wheel for over ten seconds or so, but I was able to take my braids out and put my hair up safely while driving (and watching the road). It was delightful. The possibilities with this are endless.

I have no cons, this trip has been amazing so far.

The Dirty Details

Total money spent on “fuel”: Less than $40. We are not able to calculate our travel costs in a precise manner because we got 2,000 free miles of charging from Kia when we bought this car (yet another incentive in addition to the $10,000 we will receive next year on our tax return). We are using free miles here and there, some chargers have been free to use, etc., but we think it has been around $40 all together.

Current national average gas price is $4.52 a gallon. If your car goes 25 miles to a gallon, which more than likely it doesn’t if you drive anything bigger than a sedan, and you drove 1,100 miles, you would have used about 44 gallons of gas, and this trip would already cost you around $200 in fuel. AND, lest we forget, you have contributed to stretching out that ozone hole like putting a small sweater over a large head.

I will return in future blogs to go over what we saw on our journey through the lower Midwest. We have seen things that cannot be unseen.

For now, I must go back to my hotel room. This lobby is played-out.

Garlic Fries

Jamie PittsLeave a comment

[2022 EV Roadtrip – Post #3]

Friday, July 29, 9:00pm Central time

Now Playing:  An unknown scary podcast story

Saw some suspicious clouds on our way to the next stop. After just having seen Nope, we decided that it was definitely an ominous situation. I’ll try not to spoil it for anyone as it was a wonderful flick.

Stopped in Hays, Kansas, which feels like a town of 500 people but probably holds more like 50,000.  We charged, we took pictures, we soaked up the sun in a Walmart parking lot while doing some exercises and twirling in the parking spots.  We charged for about 30 minutes, probably less.  

Saisons Save Lives

The most Yelp-friendly restaurant was a brewing company on main street, which turned out to be a brick road, not yellow, but that would have been something, with historic buildings and giant murals of statues of men on horseback.  Note to self – look up Hays, Kansas and go down that Wikipedia wormhole so deep until you somehow find yourself reading about caterpillar life cycles.  I’ll loop back about Hays once I feel up to reading in the car.  For now, I’ll enjoy the Kansas hills and countryside.

The brewing company was massive, and appeared to be an old school.  I believe we ate in the gym, and the cafeteria was where the bar was.  The beer was tasty (I had the Triason which was an awesome saison) the food was also delicious.  They even featured a fried bologna sandwich on the menu, and I thought I could only order that at my parents house.  I had some garlic fries that I will never forget, nor will Colette, as she was devouring everyone’s food from all sides.  Sweet potato fries, salmon burger, Rueben, garlic fries, she tried for Carmella’s lemonade but decided milk was a better choice.

Our stop was peaceful and good bonding time.  We relaxed with some beers, let the kids be free and stretch out, and we also got them into pajamas because now we are entering the twilight zone.

Ah yes, at this time, we start our descent into the midnight hours.  I am writing this in haste so I can begin my shift of sleep.  My turn to drive is coming up soon.  I forgot a major thing back at the house – a pillow. And our next stop is coincidentally not a Walmart, but a Casey’s, which we can all agree they do not sell pillows, but I should not speak too soon as I forgot about neck pillows being a thing.  Hmmmm, I’ve never tried a neck pillow, but today could be that day.  Just another thing for me to have to bring everywhere I travel.  Too bad I didn’t pack Colette’s Boppy pillow that could probably double as a super bougie neck pillow.  Next road trip, I have a plan.

We did talk about how some electric cars come with blow up mattresses for the backseat. If only we didn’t have two carseats to compete with. They are worth much more than our sleep, we all know that.

Bonus Points

Frank told me some of the EV chargers that we use are powered by solar panels.  Doubling up on our carbon footprint.  Yet the world still limps along, overheating, complete with wild weather patterns and entre environments being wiped away on a regular basis.  Scary stuff.

We put Carmella on the passenger’s side so the seat can recline as far back as possible.  The children are quiet, the night has begun.  We saw a good sunset, let the car sleeping games begin.  We have driven five hours of our nineteen-hour trip.  A third of the way done.   March on, friends.

Dead Wind Turbines

Jamie PittsLeave a comment

[2022 EV Roadtrip – Post #2]

Friday, July 29. Around 6:00pm Central Time

Now Playing:  Comedy Bang Bang podcast

Two stops down, upwards of ten more to go?  Maybe less, maybe more, I like the surprise of not knowing how many we have left.  

This is the First Stop

Our first stop was a flash in a pan – fifteen minutes at the I-70 Diner, in Flagler, CO.   The establishment looked like a stretched-out airstream with windows (super cool), and Frank had been looking forward to the stop, but lo and behold, the diner doesn’t live here no more.  Diner is closed.  But there was a cool pink car on a pole in which Carmella stated, “Yeah, it probably needs worked on” as we passed and admired it.

Flagler, CO also had a sign behind the diner that outlined all businesses present in the town.  Quite impressive to have a legend for your town, I somehow forgot to take a picture of this to share with you.

We played Frogger and crossed the dusty road to the gas station, where we did a quick restroom stop and picked up some drinks.  Carmella snagged a fruity drink equivalent to a Squeeze-It, and it had Spiderman for a lid. 

Another absent-minded moment was Frank and I both forgetting to make a bottle for Colettie, so the two-hour drive after was full of squeaking and singing and screaming for crackers and anything else you might want.  Girl has an opinion.  






Electric Kettle





We made it through the earful and parked it at a Walmart in Cody, Kansas.   We bust out our brand-new electric kettle that we plug in to the back of the car while charging.  I fumble with hot water, two bottles, formula, bottled water, and the wind.  Thank goodness we didn’t have a party with formula confetti, the wind gusts were kind to us.  We manage to make two warm and delicious bottles for the Coconut, hand it over to her, and she proceeds to not want the bottle.  Only wants to play with Snoop Dogg, the sloth stuffed animal who likes to party.  





A swift family trip into Walmart later, and we are ready to rock.  Fantastic stop as the bathrooms were in the front of the store unlike all other Walmarts we encountered on our last road trip.  















One thing I forgot to mention – as we parked the car, we were approached by an elderly gentleman who was driving a rusted yet retro pickup truck from the 90s.  He spoke with Frank, and I missed most of the conversation, but he was curious about the EV situation, which was refreshing.  I enjoy when people ask questions about it, because it means they are making an attempt to understand our perspective.  Sure, he had opinions about the EV scene, mostly fake news, but who is counting.  I hope he walked away with a better view of electric cars.  That truck might not make it much longer, and you never know, this run-in could have changed his viewpoint in a positive way.  The other thing he quoted though…”These wind turbines aren’t going to last.  They built them all over here, expecting to save the environment, and they are just going to be broken down and dead in 30 years.”  Touche, my good friend.  Touche.





The fear of electric vehicles is prevalent throughout the country, and I am here to tell you there is nothing to be afraid of.  Ask questions, ask me anything.  I would love to help your curiosities along.  





That stop was around 30 minutes of pure enjoyment.  Done. Done. On to the next one. My butt does not hurt in these seats, the girls are recharged for another leg, and we got the squeaky one to go to sleep.  The other one is coloring on her iPad, because yes, I am not about to entertain my child for 24 hours on manual-mode.  Sometimes you’ve got to get a distraction.  How else would I write this blog?


























			




			
				


	

					
EV Roadtrip:    CO 2 TN
		
				

						 Jamie PittsLeave a comment		


			


	

		

[2022 EV Roadtrip – Post #1]















Friday, July 29, sometime in the early afternoon.





Now Playing: It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia podcast





We meet again. This time we are in a new ride. 










Why are we doing this?





Back in February 2022, we decided to go electric with both of our main vehicles. We traded in our GMC Acadia (my sweet, smooth-rider, orange-seated, Odella) for a 2022 Kia EV6. Right before the gas prices started skyrocketing. This rise of fuel costs also excluded us from several intense conversations about how traveling became unaffordable for many people. These days I wave when I drive past gas stations, never really missing the times when we used to make those short stops to fill up, grab some candy, etc. My problem was that I would wait until the last minute to fill up my gas tank, thus making me late for work at least once a year due to forgetting to fill up the night before – always on a day where I had a vital morning meeting to attend. No, sir or madam, I do not miss gas. 





I am fully aware that I use petroleum in other facets of life, and I acknowledge that my actions are still part of the problem of the Earth burning up at a rapid, gut-wrenching, anxiety-ridden pace, but I’d like to think that our carbon footprint has shrunk a little bit since we bought our electric stallions.





But we couldn’t escape all of the rising prices, and we have been ogling in despair at plane tickets. When the Cartwright family chose the Smokies for our family trip, we were taken aback by the price of flying a family of four (even discounted to a family of three since Colette, our 10-month old, is a free rider) to Nashville, Knoxville, or surrounding areas of our vacation spot. We scoured the interwebs for cheaper options, but even the soul-sucking airlines such as Frontier or Spirit were priced as such that you would have thought you were getting a gilded, plush, first-class seat, but what you are actually getting is a seat that is equivalent to putting your body in a large suitcase for a few painful hours, hoping your knees don’t implode, all while wrangling a baby and a toddler and attempting to read a few pages of your book. Sounds pleasant eh?





Not really.





So here we are, road-tripping to the Smokies in our lovely ride. Frank smothered a nine-year ceramic coat on this baby last weekend, so we are hoping for our car to be so clean but not so clean that it blinds the oncoming traffic. Safety first. 





Several people have questioned our sanity when we tell them we are taking this trip. We are not crazy, we like to ride. Watch and learn. We have taken this pretty lady out for a few rides in the mountains to stretch her legs out. She has done well. We are confident she can do even better on this excursion. 















How Far We’ll Go  





(not the song from Moana, but that is a great song)





We start our journey at 1:00pm on Friday, July 29. Not bad for a family that was aiming to leave around noon. 





The trip is around 1,300 miles, which equates to about 24 hours of travel time, including stopping to charge and refuel our bodies. 











We do not plan on driving straight through (remember, safety first), although the first leg will vaguely resemble driving straight through since it will be about a 20 hour drive. We built in some cushion so if we wanted to, we could grab a hotel tonight for a quick snooze. We are choosing to stop in the blazing town of Nashville, Tennessee to visit friends who just welcomed a new babe in to the world, and because Nashville is a quick 3-hour drive from our final destination. The last day of a dinosaur exhibit will be at the Nashville Zoo, and we are hoping to cram that in right before taking off for the cabin where the 10 person family vacation awaits on Sunday afternoon.





In an effort to keep the weight in the car lighter, we chose not to bring the suitcase and we used packing cubes instead. Maybe saved us about 3 pounds. We brought all of the necessities and wants that we desired to bring, we did not have to skimp, and we have a good starter supply of snacks, including chile-lime pistachios (shelled might I add), beef jerky, mixed nuts, Triscuits, and a handful of dark chocolate-covered espresso beans for those wee hours where we might need a little *zap.*















Let’s Get Rockin’





So please join me in welcoming everyone to the 2nd Cartwright Family Cross-Country Electric Vehicle Roadtrip. The title is boring, but the adventure is real. Denver, Colorado to Sevierville, Tennessee. All aboard. Stats will be shared, laughs will be had, you might get bored, but stick with it. I will try my best to educate you on what it is like to drive an electric car. If you want to stop reading now, I can summarize it for you. It is an awesome and worthwhile experience that I keep wanting more of. It is comfortable, it is snazzy, the radio wails like a front-row seat to a banging concert, and it fits my Wolfpack. 





Current status: Frank is driving, I am typing, Carmella is snoring, and Colettie is singing. Life is good. Rigby is at the doggy hotel, enjoying life, and we gave her some treats and nightly CBD treat to keep her calm. We will miss her furry soul.










And I believe it took me so long to write this first post, that we have almost arrived to our first stop.





Update: Colette is now sqwuaking. 





See you at the next stop.