Where I Find God When I’m Not Looking for Him

Posted on July 29, 2025July 30, 2025 by gigis ramblings

I don’t always go searching for God, but somehow—He always finds me. And most of the time, it’s not during a church service or a formal prayer. It’s in the small, sacred moments I never expect.

He Shows Up in the Silence

It’s funny how loud the world is. There’s always something buzzing, ringing, or demanding attention. But sometimes, in the middle of a chaotic day, everything gets quiet. Maybe it’s early morning before the house wakes up or that hush that follows a thunderstorm. And in that stillness, I feel something I can’t explain. A peace that doesn’t make sense. A knowing that I’m not alone.

I See Him in People

It’s not always in the obvious “church folks” either. I’ve seen God in the kindness of strangers, the patience of a friend who lets me ramble, and the hug from a grandchild that melts every worry away. He’s in the tired woman at the grocery store who still smiles. In the man who holds the door just because. In the person who forgives even when it’s hard. Those glimpses of grace—that’s God all over it.

He Meets Me in the Mess

Let’s be honest. Life gets messy. There are seasons when I feel burnt out, sick, behind on everything, or just plain lost. I’ve questioned Him. I’ve gotten mad. I’ve begged for answers. But even then—especially then—He shows up. Not always with a solution, but with comfort. With reminders that I’m held even when I don’t feel strong. Sometimes it’s a verse that pops into my head out of nowhere, a song on the radio, or a memory that brings tears and healing.

He’s in Nature, Too

I might be from Texas, but God’s not just in the Bible Belt. He’s in the way the sky turns pink just before dusk. He’s in the scent of honeysuckle on a warm day. In the rhythm of the waves when we finally make it to the beach. He’s in the birds that show up just when I need a sign and the wildflowers that bloom where nobody planted them. His creation whispers His presence even when I’m not listening for it.

Unexpected Conversations Bring Him Near

Some of the most God-filled conversations I’ve had didn’t start that way. A simple “how are you?” can turn into a holy moment. A phone call with a friend who just gets it. A heart-to-heart with my husband after a long day. Sometimes those talks turn into confessions, prayers, laughter through tears—and I walk away feeling seen, known, and loved. Not just by the person—but by God Himself.

I Don’t Always Look, but He’s Always There

I’ll admit—I don’t always wake up with my Bible open or my mind on spiritual things. Life happens. But somehow, God doesn’t wait for an invitation. He meets me where I am. On the couch with a headache. At the kitchen sink. In my car on a backroad. In the middle of grief. In the middle of joy. I’ve come to believe He’s not just with us when we call—He’s already there, gently nudging, waiting, comforting.

Final Thoughts

I don’t think we have to chase God down. I think we just have to be willing to notice Him. He’s in the background of our everyday life, weaving Himself into the ordinary. And maybe that’s the most sacred thing of all.

Lisa Crow contributed to this article. She is a true crime junkie and lifestyle blogger based in Waco, Texas. Lisa is the Head of Content at Gigi’s Ramblings and Southern Bred True Crime Junkie. She spends her free time traveling when she can and making memories with her large family which consists of six children and fifteen grandchildren.

Why I’d Rather Clean a Bathroom Than Answer a Phone Call

Posted on July 22, 2025July 27, 2025 by gigis ramblings

Image by Markus Spiske from Pixabay

We all have things we avoid like the plague. For me, it’s phone calls. Give me a rubber glove, some bleach, and a dirty toilet any day—just don’t make me answer my phone. It sounds dramatic, I know. But if you’re an introvert, a chronic overthinker, or just plain overstimulated by life, I bet you get it. Here’s exactly why I’ll scrub tile over taking a call every single time.

Phone Calls Feel Like an Ambush

First of all, phone calls are intrusive. They don’t wait for a good time. They demand your attention immediately, ringing with an urgency that makes your heart race even if it’s just your cousin calling to chat. Texts and emails can wait. They don’t expect you to drop what you’re doing, throw on your customer service voice, and perform a verbal tightrope act.

Cleaning the bathroom, however? It’s on my time. I can scrub, spray, and wipe down surfaces at my own pace, no performance required. The toilet never asks, “Did you get my message?” or “Are you free to talk right now?”

Awkward Silences Are Torture

In-person conversations come with body language, facial expressions, and gestures that fill in the blanks. On the phone, it’s just voices—and sometimes, it’s just silence. And not the good kind.

When there’s a pause in a phone conversation, my brain immediately spirals: Did I say something weird? Are they distracted? Should I fill the silence? It’s exhausting.

Meanwhile, when I’m elbow-deep in cleaning supplies, I can enjoy actual silence. Peaceful, productive silence that smells like lemon-scented disinfectant.

Bathroom Cleaning Has Clear Goals

Cleaning a bathroom is gross, but it’s straightforward. There’s a beginning, middle, and end. You know when the job is done. There’s satisfaction in watching grime disappear and seeing everything sparkle when you’re finished.

Phone calls, on the other hand, are unpredictable. You don’t know how long they’ll last, what they’ll be about, or whether they’ll end on a weird note. One minute you’re saying hello, the next you’re hearing about someone’s dog’s pancreatitis or being guilt-tripped into something you didn’t sign up for.

I Can Multitask When I Clean

When I’m cleaning, I can pop in my earbuds and listen to a podcast or blast some music. I can zone out and still be productive. It’s oddly therapeutic.

But when I’m on the phone? I’m stuck. I can’t do much else besides pace around the house pretending to sound engaged. Multitasking during a call feels rude, and let’s be real—holding the phone with your shoulder while scrubbing the sink isn’t exactly ergonomic.

I Have Anxiety and Phones Are Triggers

This one might hit home for more people than you think. Phone anxiety is real. It’s not just being shy or antisocial. It’s the genuine panic that creeps in when your phone rings or when you know you need to make a call.

Sometimes, even thinking about answering makes me nauseous. I start sweating, rehearsing what I’ll say, and convincing myself I’ll sound ridiculous. The bathroom? At least I know what I’m walking into. And I can wear gloves.

I’m Not Alone in This

If you feel this way, you’re definitely not the only one. More and more people—especially millennials and Gen Z—are ditching calls for texts and DMs. We grew up with caller ID, voicemail, and the sweet relief of “Do Not Disturb.” And we learned to love communication on our terms.

It’s not about being rude. It’s about managing mental load, energy, and boundaries.

Final Thoughts

So yes, I’ll gladly choose a toilet brush over a phone call. Not because I love cleaning (trust me, I don’t), but because it gives me control, clarity, and calm—three things that phone calls rarely offer. If you’re like me, know that it’s okay to screen your calls, text back later, and protect your peace. Just maybe light a candle after cleaning the bathroom, too. You’ve earned it.

Lisa Crow contributed to this article. She is a true crime junkie and lifestyle blogger based in Waco, Texas. Lisa is the Head of Content at Gigi’s Ramblings and Southern Bred Crime Junkie. She spends her free time traveling when she can and making memories with her large family which consists of six children and fifteen grandchildren.

How I Clean When I’m Mad

Posted on July 21, 2025July 22, 2025 by gigis ramblings

Image by svklimkin from Pixabay

Ever been so mad you could scrub the paint off the walls? Same. When I get fired up, I channel every ounce of that frustration into something productive—cleaning. It’s not just about tidying up; it’s therapy with a mop in hand. So if you’re the kind of person who needs to do something when you’re mad, this one’s for you. Here’s how I clean when I’m mad and how you can turn a bad mood into a clean house.

First, I Let the Rage Pick the Playlist

Before I touch a single sponge, I grab my phone and put on a playlist that matches my mood. We’re talkin’ angry girl anthems, Southern rock with some bite, or old-school rap that makes you feel like you can throw hands with the dust bunnies. This isn’t a soft, easy listening kind of clean—we’re deep cleaning like our feelings depend on it. And in a way, they kinda do.

I Start With Whatever’s Bugging Me Most

I don’t follow a routine when I’m mad. I go straight for the mess that’s bothering me the most. If it’s the kitchen counter stacked with dishes, that’s where I go. If it’s the laundry that’s been sitting in the dryer for two days, I’ll yank it out like it personally offended me. When I’m in a mood, I let that emotion guide me, and honestly, it works better than any chore chart ever has.

I Clean Harder, Faster, and Meaner

I don’t gently wipe things down—I scrub. I vacuum like I’m mad at the carpet. I slam trash bags around and toss clutter into the trash like I’m tossing ex-boyfriend hoodies (no offense, Santiago). And I swear, the more I clean, the more the anger melts away. It’s like I’m sweeping up my feelings and dumping ‘em out with the crumbs.

I Talk to Myself While I Do It

Don’t judge me, but when I’m mad-cleaning, I talk it out. Sometimes I mutter under my breath. Sometimes I full-on rant while wiping down the fridge. And every once in a while, I’ll laugh at how ridiculous I sound—but by then, I’m already halfway through a deep clean. Bonus: no one wants to interrupt me, so I get to clean in peace.

I Use It As a Reset

By the time I’m done, I usually feel calmer. My house looks better. My mind feels clearer. And even if the thing that made me mad is still lingering, it doesn’t feel quite as heavy. Cleaning when I’m mad gives me a way to reset without taking it out on anyone (or texting something I’ll regret).

I Don’t Aim for Perfection—Just Progress

Let’s be honest: angry cleaning isn’t always methodical. Sometimes I miss a spot. Sometimes I forget to pop in a wax melt or put things all the way back where they belong. But I’m not chasing perfection—I’m just channeling energy. And progress, especially when you’re fired up, is better than sitting around stewing.

Cleaning when I’m mad isn’t just about having a cleaner home. It’s about doing something with the anger instead of letting it eat me up. Plus, nothing feels better than slamming a cabinet shut knowing the junk drawer inside is finally organized.

So next time you’re mad, don’t doom-scroll or fire off that text. Grab a rag and turn that rage into sparkle.

Perimenopause Is Kicking My Ass: A Survival Story 11 Years in the Making

Posted on July 17, 2025July 20, 2025 by gigis ramblings

Image by Kenny Holmes from Pixabay

When It All Started

If you had told me back in 2014 that I’d still be riding the perimenopause rollercoaster in 2025, I would’ve laughed in your face. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t—because I’d be too busy squinting through an ocular migraine, bloated like I swallowed a watermelon, and Googling “what does a stroke feel like?” at 2:30 a.m.

I hit puberty early, had kids early, and pretty much ran my reproductive system like a demolition derby. So yeah, maybe it makes sense that the “change” kicked in sooner than average. But 11 years? That ain’t a change—that’s a damn lifestyle.

The First Symptom: What the Hell Was That?

My periods were once like a Swiss watch—every 28 days, no fuss, no drama. I naïvely assumed menopause would be the same. Spoiler alert: it is not.

My first warning sign? An ocular migraine. I wasn’t even a headache person, so when I suddenly started seeing through what looked like a vibrating Coke bottle, I panicked. I thought I was having a stroke. That led to my first of many ER visits, CT scans, and puzzled doctors who all patted my head and told me I was “fine.” Except I wasn’t.

Heart Racing, Bloating, and Full-On Night Terrors

Not long after the migraines, I started waking up around 2-3 a.m. with my heart racing like I was being chased by something invisible and terrifying. My stomach would swell up like I was nine months pregnant, and the acid reflux would hit like a freight train. The cycle always ended the same: me freezing cold, shaky, and sure I was dying.

Turns out, these were nocturnal panic attacks—but they weren’t just “in my head.” I later learned the connection between gut issues and the vagus nerve. When my bloated stomach compressed that nerve, it triggered heart palpitations and panic. Vicious cycle, right?

These episodes led to countless EKGs, a panic disorder diagnosis, and one incredibly unhelpful doctor who refused to believe hormones were the root cause. I bought a KardiaMobile (a portable EKG), taught myself how to read it, and started using Calm magnesium powder and beta blockers at night. That combo has helped a ton—but those episodes? Still scary as hell.

Overachiever Hormones: Because Normal Would Be Too Easy

Most women my age with thyroid issues develop hypothyroidism. Not me. I went full throttle with hyperthyroidism. Racing heart? Check. Sky-high anxiety? Check. It took a kind-hearted ER doc following a hunch to even catch it.

A couple years in, things got real weird. I had a full year of bizarre neurological symptoms—brief waves of heat through my tongue, weird little patches of chill bumps (always near my right knee), and eye floaters that looked like black worms swimming across my vision. Then came the daily headaches. Three months straight of head pain and a doctor who thought 800mg of Advil every six hours was a sustainable plan.

That little plan destroyed my gut, left scar tissue on my liver, and killed my gallbladder. My food started going through me undigested—yes, as gross as it sounds—and I was sick for two full years while everyone shrugged.

The Gallbladder Saga

My gallbladder wasn’t your typical lazy slacker. Oh no, mine was hyperkinetic—constantly dumping bile, whether it was needed or not. My white blood cells were sky high, my face was flushed, and I was running out of energy and patience. It took forever to get a diagnosis, and even then, most surgeons in my area wouldn’t touch it.

Thanks to the internet and some life-saving Facebook groups, I figured out how to manage it myself with TUDCA, ox bile, and digestive enzymes. If I skip my enzymes for a couple days, I feel it immediately. But with them? I can function like a semi-normal human.

Weight Gain, Anemia, and the Ice Cravings from Hell

I gained weight—some from the hormonal chaos, some from steroid treatments, and all of it against my will. Then the heavy periods started turning into hemorrhages, and I became severely anemic. I ended up needing iron transfusions. Anemia brought its own party favors: hair loss, constant dizziness, and an uncontrollable craving for ice. Like, I go through two 10-pound bags of Sonic ice every single week.

Normal Symptoms? Yep, Got Those Too

Joint pain? Sure, but I knocked that out with collagen peptides. Mood swings? You bet. Brain fog? Constantly walking into rooms and forgetting why. Random body aches, brittle nails, dry skin, hormonal acne, sleepless nights—you name it, I’ve probably had it.

Hot flashes, though? Strangely, I’ve never had one. That’s one thing I hope stays off my perimenopause bingo card.

Why Don’t Women Talk About This?

I spent years thinking I was losing my mind. My doctor dismissed me. My symptoms didn’t fit the neat little boxes. I joined several perimenopause Facebook groups, and finally—finally—I stopped feeling so alone. Turns out, millions of us are silently suffering because nobody wants to talk about the reality of perimenopause.

So now, I talk about it. I make sure my daughters know exactly what this phase of life can look like. I even keep a spreadsheet to track my cycles, symptoms, supplements, and mood swings. You know, like a hormonal war journal.

Will It Ever End?

The average woman spends 4–5 years in perimenopause. Some are lucky with just a year or two. And then there’s me—year 11, holding strong, breaking records, and earning gold stars in reproductive overachievement.

Maybe one day I’ll write a book about this whole chaotic journey—assuming I survive it. But for now, I’ll keep managing my symptoms, advocating for myself, and sharing my story so other women don’t feel as lost as I did.

Because if perimenopause is going to kick my ass, the least I can do is drag it into the light and give it a name.

What It Means to Be Okay with Stillness

Posted on July 16, 2025July 17, 2025 by gigis ramblings

Image by Kirill Averianov from Pixabay

In a world that praises hustle and constant movement, stillness can feel like laziness or wasted time. But being okay with stillness isn’t about giving up—it’s about learning how to be present without needing to fill every moment.

Let’s talk about why stillness matters, what it really means, and how you can start to feel comfortable with it.

Stillness Isn’t Emptiness

Stillness isn’t the absence of productivity. It’s not doing nothing—it’s allowing your mind and body a chance to just be. That could look like sitting on the porch watching the wind blow, or lying in bed without reaching for your phone.

It’s in these quiet moments that we often hear the thoughts we’ve been drowning out. Stillness gives space for clarity, reflection, and even creativity.

Why We Resist Stillness

Many of us were raised to believe that doing more is always better. So when we sit still, we start to feel guilty. Our brains whisper things like:

“You should be doing something.”
“This is lazy.”
“You’re falling behind.”

But none of those things are true. They’re just the noise of a world that equates worth with busyness.

How to Start Embracing Stillness

Learning to be okay with stillness takes time. It’s a skill, just like anything else. Here’s how to ease into it:

Start Small

You don’t have to sit in silence for hours. Try taking five minutes a day to pause—no screens, no music, no multitasking. Just breathe.

Redefine Productivity

Stillness can be productive in its own way. It’s where you recover, recharge, and reconnect with yourself.

Pay Attention to What Shows Up

When you sit still, you might feel discomfort at first. Let it come. Notice it without judgment. The more you practice, the easier it gets.

The Quiet Moments Hold Power

Stillness doesn’t mean you’ve stopped growing. In fact, growth often begins in the quiet. It’s in the pause that we find strength, balance, and sometimes even answers we’ve been chasing for too long.

Being okay with stillness means giving yourself permission to rest, to listen, and to just be. Not because you earned it—but because you deserve it.

How I Know Someone Is My Kind of Person

Posted on July 14, 2025July 15, 2025 by gigis ramblings

Image by Olya Adamovich from Pixabay

You know that feeling when you meet someone, and within five minutes you’re thinking, Yep, we could absolutely cause a little trouble together? Not in a let’s-get-arrested way—though I won’t rule that out—but in a we get each other kind of way. That, my friend, is how I know someone is my kind of person.

It’s not always obvious at first. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, like when you bond over the same childhood snack or a mutual hatred for folding laundry. But there are a few telltale signs I’ve learned to spot over the years. Let’s get into it.

They Laugh at the Same Ridiculous Stuff

If you can cackle over the same offbeat meme, sarcastic one-liner, or poorly timed dad joke—I already like you. I’m not talking about fake politeness laughter either. I mean the deep, belly-shaking kind that makes you wipe tears and say, “Stop, I can’t breathe!”

Bonus points if they can deliver a joke just as well as they can appreciate one. My kind of people know how to be both the comic and the audience.

They’re Not Scared of a Little Real Talk

Listen, I don’t have time for surface-level small talk all day. If you can go from “How’s your day?” to “Here’s what keeps me up at night” in one conversation—we’re gonna be just fine.

I like people who can shoot the breeze about reality TV one second, then flip the script and talk about their biggest fears or deepest dreams without skipping a beat. Life’s too short to fake it, and my kind of folks? They keep it real.

They Love Food Like I Do

Food is my love language. I can tell real quick if you’re my people based on how you react to a plate of nachos or always ready to make a late-night taco stand run. If you’re the type who sends pictures of what you’re eating or invites people over just because you made too much banana pudding—you’re in.

Also, if we both agree that late-night snacks hit different and there’s no such thing as “too much cheese,” you might as well go ahead and move in.

They’re Loyal Without Even Trying

I don’t need someone who’s perfect. I need someone who’s solid. If you’re the type to show up without being asked, defend your people without hesitation, and still check in just because—it’s already settled. You’re one of mine.

My kind of people don’t keep score. They give, they love, they stay—and not for attention or points. It’s just who they are. That kind of loyalty? Rare as a gas station with clean bathrooms. And when I find it, I hold on tight.

They’re Just the Right Amount of Weird

Let me tell you, boring people stress me out. If you can be weird with me—like we make up songs about the dog weird—you’re my kind of person. Life’s already hard. I want the kind of friend who sends me random voice memos, talks to plants, or names their car.

It’s the quirks that make the connection. I don’t need polished. I need genuine. And a little weirdness? That’s the secret ingredient.

They Show Up in the Little Ways

It’s not just about grand gestures. Sometimes, it’s the text that says, “Thought of you when I saw this,” or the person who always tags you in stuff because they know it’ll make you smile.

It’s remembering your favorite scent or calling you out (lovingly) when you’re being dramatic. My kind of person knows the power of small things done with a big heart.

They Let Me Be Me

This one right here might be the most important. If I can fully be myself around you—no code-switching, no eggshells, no overthinking—you’ve passed the ultimate test.

Whether I’m being loud and silly or quiet and deep, you never make me feel like I need to shrink to fit in. You see me, flaws and all, and still stick around. That’s everything.

Final Thoughts

At the end of the day, my kind of people make life easier. They bring peace, not pressure. They make me laugh when I feel like crying and remind me who I am when I forget.

They’re the ones who feel like home, even if we’ve only just met. And if you’ve got someone like that in your life—hold onto them tight. Tell them. Celebrate them. Because finding your kind of people? That’s one of the best parts of this whole messy, beautiful life.

A Quiet Day That Didn’t Feel Quiet at All

Posted on July 5, 2025July 6, 2025 by gigis ramblings

Photo courtesy: Jessica Silcox

It’s been raining non-stop here. The kind of steady, gray rain that keeps everything still. I stayed in bed most of the day—worked a little, prayed a lot, and kept the news on the entire time.

The Hill Country Is on My Mind

The rescue efforts out of the Hill Country have consumed me. As of right now, there have been 50 confirmed deaths—14 of them children. Most of those little ones were from Camp Mystic. That number keeps hitting me like a punch to the chest. It’s not just a tragic story on the news—it’s personal.

I See My Grandgirls in Their Faces

Every time I see a photo of one of those girls, I think of my grandgirls. I can’t help it. I see their faces. I think about how excited those campers probably were just days ago. I think about the parents who trusted they’d be safe. And I think about the families now living out their worst nightmare. My grandson was just at church camp last week! My anxiety has been through the roof. I can’t stop thinking about the what-ifs.

Just a Few Months Ago…

We were in that same part of the Hill Country just a few months back. I’ve talked before about how much I love it out there. It’s one of my favorite places in Texas. At that time, it was bone dry. The rivers were too low to float. No swimming. No boating. Nothing. And now—just like that—it’s completely different. The weather turned deadly in hours. It’s hard to wrap my head around how fast it all changed.

A Day of Grief and Prayer

I didn’t do much today in the traditional sense. I didn’t clean the house or run errands or even leave my bed for long. But I felt everything today. I prayed harder than I have in a long time. I cried for people I don’t know. I sat with the weight of it all and tried to process something that doesn’t make sense.

I Won’t Forget

Even when the news coverage slows down, I won’t forget today. I won’t forget those children or the families left behind. I won’t forget the fear I felt watching it unfold or the helplessness that settled in my chest. The next time I’m in the Hill Country I will make sure I pay my respects like I always do when visiting the Devil’s Backbone.

July Horoscopes with a Side of Grits

Posted on July 1, 2025July 2, 2025 by gigis ramblings

It’s hotter than a billy goat in a pepper patch, and the stars are actin’ up again, y’all. July’s bringin’ some cosmic chaos with a side of sweet tea. Whether you’re settin’ off fireworks or settin’ boundaries, this month’s horoscopes come with a little Southern twist—because even the zodiac deserves some charm and cornbread.

Aries (March 21 – April 19)

Mood: Firecracker with a fuse
You’re feelin’ bold and bossy, like your meemaw when someone messes with her deviled eggs recipe. Channel that energy into something productive before you burn a bridge or bless someone’s heart a little too hard.

Southern Sayin’: “Don’t start nothin’, won’t be nothin’.”

Taurus (April 20 – May 20)

Mood: Porch sittin’ and pie eatin’
You’re all about comfort this month—whether it’s comfort food, comfort TV, or just a good nap with the fan on high. Don’t let folks guilt you for takin’ it slow. You’re preservin’ your peace and your air conditioning bill.

Southern Sayin’: “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Gemini (May 21 – June 20)

Mood: Two-step between chaos and charm
You’re busier than a mosquito at a nudist colony. But sugar, try to focus. July’s got opportunities comin’ in hot, but if you don’t pick a lane, you’re gonna miss the exit—and maybe a BBQ invite, too.

Southern Sayin’: “You can’t ride two horses with one behind.”

Cancer (June 21 – July 22)

Mood: Soft shell, spicy center
You’re extra tender right now, and that’s okay. Wrap yourself up in something cozy (preferably monogrammed), and don’t be afraid to cry over country songs or grocery store commercials. Lean into feelin’ it all.

Southern Sayin’: “Sometimes you just need a good cry and a casserole.”

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

Mood: Pageant queen energy
It’s your season, darlin’, and you are feelin’ yourself. Take the spotlight, but try not to hog the mic at karaoke night. You’re magnetic, loud, and just the right amount of dramatic—but don’t forget to share that shine.

Southern Sayin’: “You ain’t gotta be loud to be seen—but it sure helps.”

Virgo (August 23 – September 22)

Mood: Blessin’ messes left and right
You’re organized, focused, and absolutely done with everyone else’s disorganization. But slow down, sugarplum. Not everybody folds their towels the way you do—and that’s okay (even if they’re wrong).

Southern Sayin’: “Fix your own plate before worryin’ about mine.”

Libra (September 23 – October 22)

Mood: Floatin’ like a paper fan in church
You’re tryin’ to keep the peace, but July’s got drama poppin’ up like uninvited cousins at a cookout. Set some boundaries, drink your water, and remember: mind ya business. Stay safe out here, my fellow Libras!

Southern Sayin’: “You ain’t gotta attend every fuss you’re invited to.”

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)

Mood: Mystery with a mason jar full of secrets
You’re broodin’ like a storm over the Gulf, and folks are curious what’s brewin’. Let ‘em wonder. July’s a good time to be strategic, play it cool, and maybe plot your next big move in the shadows like a catfish waitin’ for bait.

Southern Sayin’: “Still waters run deep—and probably hold grudges.”

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

Mood: Wild like a bull out the gate
You’ve got the travel bug worse than ever. If you can’t hit the road, at least hit the drive-thru for somethin’ fried and smothered. Just don’t let that restless spirit make you reckless with your words. Mind your manners, even when you’re wildin’.

Southern Sayin’: “Don’t let your mouth overload your ass.”

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19)

Mood: Workin’ like it’s harvest season
You’re stackin’ goals like Granny stacks her coupon drawer. July’s got money moves and responsibility written all over it—but don’t forget to take your boots off and rest a spell. You’re no good to nobody runnin’ on fumes.

Southern Sayin’: “Even tractors need to cool off now and then.”

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18)

Mood: Wacky, wild, and a little wonderful
You’re beatin’ to your own drum, as usual, and July only encourages that. Keep innovatin’, keep dreamin’, but maybe tether yourself to reality before someone calls Mama to come get you off the roof again.

Southern Sayin’: “You ain’t right—and that’s what we love about you.”

Pisces (February 19 – March 20)

Mood: Sensitive like a biscuit in a rainstorm
You’re extra intuitive this month, pickin’ up on vibes nobody else can feel. That’s a gift, sugar, but it can wear you down. Protect your energy like you protect your grandma’s cornbread recipe.

Southern Sayin’: “Not every pot’s yours to stir.”

Whether you’re sweatin’ through your tank top or leanin’ into some big life shifts, July’s a wild ride, honey. Let the stars guide you—but remember, down South, we trust our gut and our Mammaw’s advice just as much.

Now go on, check your moon sign and grab some watermelon.

I’m Not a Morning Person, But Here’s What Helps

Posted on June 25, 2025June 27, 2025 by gigis ramblings

Image by Marfa Bogdanovskaya from Pixabay

I wake up at 5 a.m. most mornings—not because I want to, but because my husband has to be at work before sunrise. And since I’m the unofficial unpaid family Uber driver, I don’t have a choice. I’ve never been a morning person and probably never will be, but I’ve figured out how to survive the early hours without being a complete gremlin.

If you’ve got a job, a spouse, a kid, or a dog dragging you out of bed before the sun even thinks about rising, here’s what actually helps.

I Set My Alarm to Something That Doesn’t Scare Me Half to Death

No sirens. No buzzing. No angry robot sounds. I set my alarm to a soft tone that gently wakes me up. It’s still awful, but it doesn’t make me throw my phone across the room. I’m already getting up before most humans—I don’t need a mini heart attack on top of it.

I Don’t Think—I Just Move

If I sit there even five seconds too long, I’ll talk myself out of getting up. So I have one rule: don’t think. I roll out of bed like it’s a fire drill. Groggy? Yep. Grumpy? Probably. But if I just get my body moving, my brain eventually catches up… around the time I hit the driveway.

Lights On Immediately (Even If I Hate It)

My eyeballs hate it, but I turn the lights on the second I stand up. No dim cozy vibes here—this ain’t a spa. Bright lights flip the switch in my brain that says, “Fine, I’m awake.” It works faster than caffeine. (Which I don’t even drink—bless all y’all coffee folks, but I’m not one of you.)

I Keep It Quiet and Calm (I Ain’t Got Words Yet)

I don’t want to hear the news, a podcast, or even happy people talking before the sun comes up. Instead, I ease into the day by reading or just silence. Santiago knows better than to ask questions that require real answers before I drop him off. Early morning peace = survival.

I Reward Myself When I Get Home

The only thing that keeps me from spiraling into a sleepy rage is knowing I’ve got a little reward waiting when I get back. A warm shower, a cozy blanket, maybe 15 minutes of reading, scrolling, or doing nothing before the rest of the day starts. If I can just get past the drop-off, I earn that moment.

I Don’t Pretend to Be a Morning Person

I’m not baking muffins or journaling in the moonlight. I’m not doing stretches by candlelight. I’m up because I have to be, and I make the best of it—but I don’t fake it. If you’re forcing yourself through early mornings, give yourself grace. Some of us aren’t wired to love the a.m. grind, and that’s perfectly fine.

I still grumble. I still hit snooze once. But I get it done. And over time, I’ve built little routines that help make the mornings feel less brutal. I may never love early mornings—but I’ve learned how to live with them.

Crimes Committed During Heatwaves—Coincidence?

Posted on June 19, 2025June 21, 2025 by gigis ramblings

When the heat cranks up, so does the chaos. But is there really a connection between rising temperatures and rising crime, or is it all just a sweaty coincidence?

Let’s take a look at the facts, theories, and real-life stories that make heatwave crime a hot topic—literally.

The Link Between Heat and Crime

More than a few studies have suggested that extreme heat can mess with our moods. When the temperature spikes, so can aggression. Researchers have even coined the term “heat hypothesis”—the idea that hot weather increases irritability, impulsivity, and ultimately violent behavior.

In short: hot people are cranky people. And cranky people sometimes make bad decisions.

Heatwave Crime Stats Don’t Lie

You don’t have to dig too deep to find proof that summer and crime often go hand-in-hand. Here’s what the numbers say:

Violent crime rates tend to increase during the summer months, especially during prolonged heatwaves
Crimes like assault, robbery, and domestic disputes are among the most reported during high temps
Cities like Chicago, New York, and Phoenix consistently see spikes in criminal activity during hot spells

It’s not just about being mad, either. More people are out and about in the summer, which can naturally lead to more confrontations. Mix that with heat exhaustion and a short fuse? That’s a recipe for trouble.

Famous Crimes That Happened in the Heat

Sometimes, the heat even leaves its mark on famous cases. Take a look at these notable crimes committed during scorching weather:

David Berkowitz, aka the Son of Sam, terrorized New York City during the sweltering summer of 1977
The Watts Riots of 1965 broke out during a heatwave in Los Angeles
The 1995 Chicago heatwave didn’t just claim lives due to temperature—it also saw a sharp rise in crime as city services were overwhelmed

Was it all because of the heat? Maybe not entirely—but it certainly didn’t help.

Why Hot Weather Makes Us Act Out

So why do tempers flare when the temperature does? Experts say it boils down to a few key factors:

Discomfort: Sweating, sunburns, and sleepless nights can make anyone moody
Dehydration: Lack of water can cloud judgment and mess with your emotions
Lack of escape: If you don’t have access to AC or a pool, you’re more likely to feel trapped and irritated

Put all that together and suddenly that guy yelling in the parking lot doesn’t seem so surprising.

Is It Really Just the Heat?

Here’s the twist—some experts argue that it’s not just the thermometer we should be watching. They point to factors like:

Longer daylight hours, which give people more time to get into trouble
Increased alcohol consumption, especially at outdoor events and parties
School being out, which can leave teens and young adults unsupervised and bored

So while heat may play a part, it’s probably not the only reason summer gets a little lawless.

How to Stay Cool and Stay Outta Trouble

Look, we all get a little edgy when it feels like we’re baking from the inside out. But staying cool—literally and emotionally—can help you avoid becoming a heatwave crime statistic. Try these tips:

Hydrate like it’s your job
Find air-conditioned spaces if you can
Avoid conflicts—walk away when things start heating up
Check in on your people, especially the vulnerable ones who may be struggling in the heat

Final Thoughts: Coincidence? Maybe Not.

While the jury’s still out on whether heatwaves cause crime, the connection is hard to ignore. Heat makes us uncomfortable, impatient, and on edge—and in the right (or wrong) circumstances, that can lead to trouble.

So next time you feel yourself boiling over during a hot Texas summer, take a deep breath and grab a glass of ice water. Trust me—it’s better than ending up in a police report.