J's Place

Category: Uncategorized

  • Take your shoes off, stay a while.

    Let me set the scene.

    The year is 2014. I have lived in Midland for a little over 18 months. I am fresh in the profession I currently hold.

    A group of, lets call it 10 ladies, all of us in the same line of work, are in a “team building/life coach,”mandatory meeting. We sit in a circle. The “O” shaped chairs are set up in a large office with floor to ceiling windows, brown carpet and muted colors to keep everything to a minimum, or so it feels. No flair.

    I removed my shoes and got comfortable. We were goal setting. It seemed like a relaxing and reassuring setting to do so. I crossed my legs and started in on what I wanted to accomplish by the end of 2015.

    After the meeting, a smartly dressed woman with a slight heir about her, 20 years my senior, slowly, but confidently approached me.

    “You know,” She stated as she looked down at my feet with disdain. “You should probably leave your shoes on during a meeting like this. It doesn’t show much class when you remove them.”

    When she turned around to walk away, I stood there, frozen. I was mortified. I felt guilt. I felt shame. Gosh, was I that TRASHY? With my eyes and head lowered to the ground I went down a rabbit hole. What did I get myself into? Was my entire life a lie?

    Shoes were a necessity growing up on 80 acres. Without them, you risked being impaled by multiple bright green goat-heads (stickers.) Obtaining a stone bruise from a sharp rock. Or stepping in a huge pile of animal feces.

    If none of that bothered you, which, to a kid, meeehhhh….how many times did all of that happen, a couple hundred, I still refused shoes more often than not. Because kids are smarter. ;)

    Fast Forward. The year is 2025. Same City. 11 years later. I am now happily divorced. I am blessed with two beautiful little girls. I am once again, in a group setting. In a circle, coincidentally just South and across a major intersection from the barefoot shaming incident.

    I attend a weekly class on self help, free therapy if you will. A consistent self improvement gathering to remind myself I can always be better. That Wednesday, I removed my shoes, crossed my legs and got comfortable. When it was my turn to share I remembered the above mentioned moment of embarrassment, or what I TOOK as embarrassment. I cried a little bit because of the freedom I now feel and ended the share with a laugh about being shoeless.

    In this class, we are reminded that “what others think of us is none of our business.” How dare I think that I can control someone else’s thoughts about me?

    Read that again. “What other’s think of me….IS NONE OF MY BUSINESS.” Pretty profound.

    As a people pleaser by nature, we are always looking out for how others feel. Are we satisfying their needs? Are they happy? To be honest, being a people pleaser is exhausting. Yes, I am in sales. Yes, I have always liked to make people happy but what happened to making myself happy? Where did that get lost? When did that emotion turn it’s back on me and walk over the hill, not asking if I was coming with it?

    In Don Miguel Ruiz’s, The Four Agreements, the 2nd or 3rd agreement, depending how you read it, is , “Don’t take anything personally.”

    I was given The Four Agreements book in 2022 by a wonderful friend who was going through a divorce. At the time, I was in a downward spiral, attempting, very adamantly, to survive a failing marriage.

    I loved the book and the Agreements. I ate them up. I ordered quite a few paperbacks and handed them out to select friends. I felt like this was a game changer for me and that it could be for others too.

    I lived by the teachings of Ruiz for a little while, I felt them. I spoke about them. I actively practiced them.

    In 2023 after years of trying to be happy in my partnership, my tryer, tried out. My soul focus was not on the Four Agreements anymore, but figuring out a new way of life for myself and my children. A better path forward.

    Starting over, I started practicing the agreements again. I was reminded of the “Always do your best agreement.” As long as you do your best, and YOU KNOW, without a doubt, it is your best, then FOR REAL…..

    What others think of you, is NONE of YOUR business, so, quit taking it personally.

    I loved how all of these thoughts and practices tied in together. In 2023-2024 I cannot remember exactly when it was, but I fired a client. Shit. Jessica, what did you do? I definitely over thought it, as I do most intrusive thoughts, but I executed a plan. The people pleaser said “NO.”

    I had spent gobs of money on the original listing. Then re-listing. Paying for photos, videos, drone shots, Broker opens, open houses and subscriptions to specific websites that marketed the community.

    NOTHING was good enough. It appeared it was my fault that their decor choice was horrific and that they continuously over leveraged themselves on the price of another home they were wanting.

    I am not saying this is a best practice but a little known Real Estate fact: You can spend thousands listing a home, trying to get it sold. However, the #1 rule in sales always prevails. The client is always right. Even with suggested staging, painting, price drops and fixes, if the client doesn’t agree, sometimes the house does not sell, if the house does not sell; you do not get paid.

    When I knew I was doing my best and that there was nothing else I could do to please them, I let myself go. I did not take it personally and to be honest, the next time I saw them, I gave them a hug and we were more forward and friendly than when I had their home on the market.(PS, I did re-list it for a 3rd time because I am a glutton for punishment. It didn’t work in the end. I did my best.)

    Let me tell you something that happened today. 7/13/25 around 8:30 AM.

    I ventured to the ATM to get cash out to pay a baby sitter from this weekend. The local ATM at Chase Bank didn’t work; shocking, I know. This new precious sitter doest have Venmo, which, at this day in age, I appreciate. She only accepts cash. Smart girl.

    Since I was NOT planning on getting out of the car I did not put a bra on. Now, unexpectedly, I was going to drive to the Gas station and get out of the vehicle. Oh Lord. I might see someone I know. Midland is a small town. May not seem that way to a newcomer. Just wait.

    Old me would have gone home. I would have delayed getting this sweet new sitter paid due to my potential embarrassment. I would risk her not coming back because of the possibility of seeing someone I knew, crouched down by the ATM, hiding like a troll in a ratty t-shirt, without a bra.

    Today I did not think twice. I proudly walked….. OK, I definitely didn’t look around to see who was there. I scurried in and kept my head pointed at the ATM. But I got the cash out, I came out alive. With my head held high in the sunlight walking back to my car. Braless and all.

    On a positive note. At least I wore shoes. ;)

    Peace- J.

    PS: You cannot control what others think. You dont live in their reality. You only live in yours.

    “When you argue with reality, you lose, but only 100% of the time,”-Byron Katie.

  • Always stop at the water station.

    Ahhhhhhh. The Aid Station.

    Will they have Water? Gatorade? Beer? What is waiting for us in the magnificent mirage ahead?

    At the local Brewery here in Midland. We have two, just for reference. The third, unfortunately, was lost to the land of failed service establishments. As one highfalutin beer snob, who is a very good friend, referred to it: The Sanford and Son’s Brewery. Eccentric Brewing served it’s time here.

    On the Island of Misfit Toys. I imagine them there now.

    I actually preferred their limited selection of complex full bodied beers. Can my brewer contact please check me on that description?

    I am curious if there is a correlation between ADD and a full moon. Let me know if any of you also see a significant shift, you know who you are. ;)

    As of today, Midland has two craft beer taverns.

    Tall City Brewing Company. Industrious, the big Mama Jamma. Open air concept with a massive patio. The Waystone. No TV’s, board games, decent trivia and where I imagine Gandalf would hang out.

    For the majority of Early Spring- Late Fall, TCBC, with Midland Run Crew, hosts Thursday Night Beer Runs. We have 1,2 and 3 mile options.

    I love the Midland Run Crew family.

    I cherish the friendships I have developed and continue to build since coming on board in 2015.

    I love the support we have for each other.

    I love the camaraderie.

    Phrases and expressions that we speak of include new goals, drool worthy gear, the newest gadgets and healthy gaits. If you don’t run. You don’t understand. No judgement.

    We are family. :)

    I met Cruz Murillo in Midland Run Crew! I asked his permission to mention him.

    Among many others; I really like running with Cruz.

    He is fast.

    He keeps me fast.

    He allows me to jabber on and on. Being able to carry on a conversation while running is considered a success by the way.

    He listens and acknowledges that he has never heard the story I am telling. I am 100% aware I have mentioned it at least once. I am genuinely appreciative for that kind of friendship.

    We had an early long run a few weeks back. For the 8th time I asked Cruz what his goal was for the Energy City Half Marathon. Did you know Midland has a qualifying course :) WE DO!

    There is a Half option, Kids Fun Run, 5K and 10K.

    This year’s date has yet to be posted. It is usually late October. https://www.energycityrace.com/

    The Weather is NEVER predictable. One year the wind was miserable and the cold, it cut like a knife. The next year, it was slightly overcast and humid but the PERFECT temp. I have done so many I have lost count. But in the end, the weather never seems to matter.

    I digress. Cruz was talking about his goal. He stated, “One thing I am going to do differently is stop at the water station.”

    I smiled. YES! ALWAYS stop at the water station.

    About 7-8 years ago I was reading a Runner’s World Magazine.
    I do not subscribe to that publication anymore. I find it far too politically influenced, as so many periodicals are now. A shame really.

    One of the spreads was about a very successful distance runner. The answer he gave, when asked what the best piece of running advice was:

    “Always stop at the water/aide station.”

    I never forgot those words.

    If you properly stop and hydrate, you will loose some seconds off your time. 10 max, for a couple of minutes.

    That significant choice will effect the ease in which you became empowered. You will feel elevated and your run will become effortless. OK, maybe not THAT enchanting but you get the point.

    The perceived stolen time will come back to you ten fold.

    Yes, even in a 5K!

    So, I stop. Every time. Trust me. It works.

    After stopping at 800 water stations in my running career the precious hydration pause took on a different meaning. So many occurrences bring a different meaning these days.

    In order to perform well at anything, we have to dedicate time to it. Our skin,bones, muscles, blood, brain and nervous system, MUST be taken care of.

    When we push our body to the limit physically, we need water, nourishment and the occasional massage.

    When we drive our vessel to the limit mentally, we require sleep, quiet and space to recover. We owe it to ourselves to reflect and rebound from what ails us.

    We must choose to help ourselves. To better ourselves. To look within. Look around. Focus on what really makes us happy and healthy. Stop worrying about how “fast” we are going when we aren’t even sure where that point is.

    “Rushin Rushin till lifes no fun.” – Alabama “I’m in a Hurry(And Don’t Know Why.)”

    The world spins fast enough, it doesn’t need you to help.

    See that water station? It is coming up fast. Slow down. Stop. Take a long drink.Take a deep breath. Start again.

    Look at that. The world is still spinning.

    Peace- J.

  • Cover me with honesty.

    This is NOT a story about song covers.

    I’ll get to where I am going but It requires a pathway which can only be understood by someone with severe ADD. So, buckle your seatbelts, it will only be a little bumpy.

    From the backseat, with her window rolled down, my youngest, her “raised with wolves,” hair in a braid from the night before and 800 flyaways in her face, asked me a question. In the most natural way her four year old brain could muster.

    “Mom, is this the person that sings this song or is this a new person?” Our car rides usually include music and recent discussions have focused on whether the song is an original or a cover. A sign of the times I suppose.

    I squinted at her in the rear view, smirking, more proud than I have ever been. I mean, first steps and word sounds are a big deal but processing if a song is an original at 4 years old……….

    “Take My Breath Away.”

    I am a music nut. I come from good stock. George and Shryl Bray, who I get to call my parents, have perfected the art of enjoying music. My first memories are centered around hearing classic songs, laughter and enjoyment.

    This Spotify recommendation showed up yesterday and I give it an A+. Talented artists covering Neil Young songs. Please don’t get political. I don’t give a shit about what end of the rainbow someone stands on. Harvest was a great album.

    Alright. I am ready to circle back to the task at hand now. Squirrel trip finished.

    Yesterday was a very special friend’s Birthday. She turned 47. 😘

    I asked her permission to “mention,” her in my blog.

    I had been struggling the last few days on what to write.

    After opening my mind and asking for clarity. I knew she would be the focus.

    This picture was taken in the fall of 2014. I obtained my Real Estate license and graciously accepted the role of working as Victoria’s Marketing Director. I loved that job. I excitedly arrived early, always dressed up. The desk I was assigned to was intentionally placed across the small hallway. We were face to face on a daily basis.

    In total, the distance was about 12 feet. Far enough away but close enough to the action.

    When she assigned a task, she made contact with her ice blue eyes and explained the mission thoroughly. Her communication impeccable.

    Since 2014, between the two of us, a lot of life has happened. Externally from Real Estate.

    Those stories will stay between us for now. Victoria’s story isn’t mine to tell. But if you ever want to solve world problems at Far West, Jujis or Aldridge Gardens, I am game. All of those places slightly emulate what would be, a J’s Place vibe.

    Marinating on the subject of covers, my brain wondered to the ABBA classic, Dancing Queen. To me, this song embodies Victoria. Because, if you are not in the know, she also competes in ballroom dancing. This dancing diva also owns and operates a studio in Midland. She is not just a Real Estate magnate.

    Researching, I stumbled upon Kelly Clarkson performing a decent slow rendition, think “Beautiful Disaster” vibes. It is worth taking the time to listen. However, there is not a notable copy cat.

    Main thought of this entry:

    There will never be a cover of Victoria.

    There may be a false prophet or two but there will never be one to speak of, one that makes any real waves.

    As I reflect on my journey with Victoria over the past 11 years, I think about her prevailing qualities, what draws me to her and what makes her a true friend.

    1:) She is honest. Always. And you know it. I don’t know about y’all but I appreciate some damn honesty.

    2:) She is a teacher. She loves hard. She believes in you. She keeps up with you.

    3:) She is a shark. I learned from the best. Yes, there were times where I was put in my place. I am so grateful for those moments. Looking back, I would not have become the business woman I am today had it not been for her brutal, consistent honesty.

    She taught me to play to win, we are 100% commission in this business.

    Remember who pays your bills. (Looks hard at self in mirror.)

    4:) She has epic taste. A true classic and class act. From day one I have been spending hard earned cash sifting through her designer clothing and posh accessories that did not make it to The RealReal. The collections are on point. Elegant. Pure Victoria.

    • In 2015 I recall wearing a dress I found at Cavenders to a Fashion show at Julian Gold. She complimented it heavily and I revealed its original home. She said to NEVER tell anyone and it looked very expensive. It was $19. I always appreciated that advise. Never give away too much. Yet here I am spilling my entire life on a blog. Thanks https://www.instagram.com/brenebrown/ . That feeling of raw vulnerability though, whew GAME CHANGER!

    5:) She shows no fear. If VP has any, she hides it well. Like the Nike slogan, she “just does it.” She is that friend, that if you will get to know and allow into your life, will empower you, build you up and shine a light for you in your dark times.

    6:) Phenomenal gift giver. For all occasions. Nothing fancy. Just a small token to know she is thinking about you. Isn’t that what we all want, to be thought about and appreciated?

    These six reasons are mine alone. Others will have a completely different list.

    I try to incorporate a theme in these posts, hoping they help someone in any kind of way.

    This post’s prevailing perception? Always be grateful to the hand that feeds you. Remember where you came from. As younger musicians cover classics, they wouldn’t have that chance had there not been an original.

    Victoria has raised phenomenal Agents and Brokers. She groomed us. Shaped us.

    We have journeyed on our own crusades. Victoria continues to lead her own empire, as no one else will do a better job. I will continue to maintain a friendship built on respect and honesty with Victoria. Just like the desk placement, it has and will always been intentional. Be that friend.

    Peace- J.

  • Really Local. Really good. Really Rileys.

    One of the top questions asked in the Permian Basin: “So, are you from here?” Me? No, but I call this dusty place home. Landing here in March of 2013 I told myself I would give it a year. Three days before accepting a job offer to manage a franchise in Midland, I asked God to show me ANY signs NOT to move 5 hours away. I kept my eyes wide open. Nothing appeared.

    At the time I was 27 years old, making a living in Seguin, Texas.

    Let me paint a picture for you. Tall Trees. Rivers. Green Grass. A far cry from mesquite bushes and flat surfaces. Growing up, our Uncle Andy(dad’s fraternity brother,) ran a pipe company and I can account for a couple of trips from Weatherford, where I was born and raised, to the land of big skies and pump jacks.

    If you have kids you may have watched “Inside out.” That is what my memory is like with these Interstate-20 voyages. Grasping a marble from the Fun House scene in the dimly lit pathways of my child brain. Dad worked at a dealership in Fort Worth. He was always able to get demo cars. A fun surprise coming home to a new vehicle we would get to cruise around in for a few weeks at a time.

    On one particular journey to Odessa, he chose a new white two door Acura with leather interior. I can still recall the smell.

    Mom did not go with us on this trip.

    I do not know whether is was that she needed a break or that she didn’t care for the views. I suppose it might have been both. My sister and I argued about who had shot gun. Dad reluctantly allowed us to play our cassette tape “Jaws of the Jurassic,” over and over.

    Listen at your own risk ⬆️

    A Saint, now that I think about it. No way I would allow that audible torture all the way to Sweetwater. We stayed at the Days Inn on Highway 80. In fact, I am 99% positive that is where the Fun Dome is now. On that note, unless your vice is meth and prostitution, I’d probably nix that choice for future travel. I’ll cover that in another post. Not my position on drugs and hookers; choosing to stay at the Fun Dome.

    I could not tell you what happened on that trip but I do recall a quieter ride back East with the Cars and the Traveling Wilbury’s playing while I stared out the window, from the back seat this time, observing the vast expanse of cotton fields.

    That excursion and one more, which involved a velvet portrait of a naked woman on a leopard rug, are the only two trips to Odessa I can pull from the marble jar. I know I had to be under the age of 9. I believe the last trip that involved the vulnerable woman in the painting had to be a significant Birthday for Uncle Andy.

    See rendition below. Uncle Andy, I’ll need follow up clarification on this memory please.

    Fast forward to some eighteen years later.

    I decided to make the journey out West when Seguin showed no reason to stay. West Texas was not as I remembered, well, a little bit, but the skies were far more expansive, the personalities very charming and I could see potential through the occasional haboob.

    I was fortunate to have several locals and non-locals show me around town. I now make it my mission to assist clients and friends, a lot who are new to the Permian, to find the “Best of the Best” in the Tall City and Odessa.

    My world looks a little different now, spectacularly beautiful in so many ways, yet different than I had imagined. However, I have learned through many months of counseling and other avenues of self help, my control only goes so far and pivoting in life is necessary sometimes. This Easter, after an early morning egg hunt, the girls were ecstatic to spend the day with their Grandparents and Cousins.

    Me, I got to spend Sunday afternoon with two extremely good looking brunettes.

    Two beautiful souls who are incredibly worldly.

    From a local perspective they are new to Midland. Each one is open to unique situations and most importantly they both posses sophisticated pallets.

    There was an itch that needed to be scratched and I felt it my calling to introduce them to the best Bloody Mary in the world.

    This pitcher of nourishment can be found at Riley’s Bar and Grill.

    Located at 3421 W. Wall Street, next to an old tire shop and a questionable Motel, this Midland staple gets 4.5 ⭐️’s out of 757 Google reviews. After doing a few minutes of digging, I THINK, Rileys has been in existence since 1991, if anyone can shed more light, please let me know. There is still a jukebox. Dad, I played the Travling Wilbury’s in your honor. You can buy vapes or cigarettes out of a machine. You can order a steak. You can enjoy fried catfish. You can try your hand at pool. The people watching is epic. But the #1 attraction at this local joint, hands down, is the Bloody Mary.

    The bar tender that day was Donna. Her hair was as white and fluffy as the snow we never saw fall this winter. Donna can make a superb Bloody Mary, I imagine she has been making them for eons. When I asked one of my date’s, who is a non local, for their honest feedback, his take was, “True dive bar, hole in the wall, really cool place, wish I had tried some food, Bloody Mary was great and the beer was cold,” maybe he can make that review #758.

    If you have not been to Riley’s, go.

    If you have visited, take the time to enjoy it again.

    You can check an answer off your list when asked by a local if you have experienced Rileys. Added bonus, you can sit outside, soak up some sun and your hair wont smell like cigarettes.

    2013-May.

    Carol Holloway, Boss Babe supreme and one hell of a Woman- Previous Owner of Servpro Of Midland/Odessa.

    Peace- J.

  • For the LOVE of Teeth.

    Cue the “Jaws” theme song.

    My girls are super stars at the Dentist. My sister needs a tranquilizer for her visits, mom seemed to oddly enjoy the torture and dad could care less, it is basic oral health for him.

    Myself, I was in and out of the Orthodontist through out childhood. Our parents made sure our teeth were always healthy. I would excitedly sneak “junk,” when visiting a friend’s home due to the lack of sugary snacks under our roof.

    I never had an issue with the Dentist, until I did. My issue was not with the Dentist, the cleaning process or potential issues.

    My issue was me.

    I had an eating disorder.

    This life sucking disease took hold of me my senior year of high school, I allowed myself to stay in it’s clutch, on and off for 15 years.

    Yeah. 15. FUCKING. YEARS.

    Potential origins that have surfaced through therapy sessions will be covered in a later post. Grab the popcorn.

    The eating disorder I chose was Bulimia. https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/bulimia/symptoms-causes/syc-20353615

    Want to take a guess at what repetitive vomiting over the course of 15 years does to your teeth? Acid wears your teeth down. Irony in the form of a demon.

    A normal looking gal with a dark secret. Sounds like a tagline to a murder mystery thriller.

    Bulimia is a tragic disease, like alcoholism. As my wise Father would say, “It is that 800 pound Gorilla that sits at the front of the line, every time.”

    in 2017, through the help of innate self control that had been absent and the realization that I was now in charge of another soul surviving, I was able beat that Gorilla to a pulp. Slit it’s throat. Then burn it. Leaving nothing, not even ashes; those blew away in the West Texas Wind. Why not just bury it? Because, I could dig that up.

    What a FREE FEELING. To have something so sinister let go of it’s claws around your soul.

    I can live. I can love myself again. and I do.

    In December of 2024, I finally made a decision to fix my teeth.

    The reason it took me to long to take care of the canines? Your psyche get affected when you tiptoe over shards of glass for so long. We can jump into that hole at a future point.

    However, I was finally ok to look someone in the face and tell them my teeth were a mess.

    I was ok to tell them WHY.

    I was ok to break down and helplessly cry in the dentist office.

    The wall of shame that was so high, hard and humiliating could finally crumble down into the rubble, where it stays.

    I am forever grateful for the love, compassion and empathy that Colleen and her staff showed me. The vivacity I have for my Dentist is undeniable. They will ALWAYS hold a special spot in my heart that no one else will touch. They will hold that spot because they helped heal it.

    Cue the “Rocky” theme song.

  • 7 year old wisdom.

    Braces on a 7 year old, WHAT THE HECK?!? Yeah, that is what I said too when the girl’s primary Dentist, who is also a good friend and client, told me I needed to get them into the Orthodontist. However, it all makes sense now, why not align their bite when they are younger so the teeth come in correctly rather than wait until later in life.

    I had braces when I was a senior in High School, the prom dress I chose was yellow and black sparkle, I matched the brace’s bands to that dress and my teeth looked like a yellow jacket, “Hey mom, can you find that picture please?”

    Little Red’s eating habits went from full vacuum to only eating what felt good in her mouth, now that her retainer is out, her choices have improved but there are still things she LOVES that feel great on her teeth; see picture posted above, and to her credit, who wouldn’t take advantage of ice cream?

    This morning as Scarlett and I were racing to school, why are we always RACING to school? Two Geminis with major ADD? More to come on that later. I digress,Tommie, our toy Schnauzer, ran into the garage, as she normally does, to scarf down the cat food.

    Returning Tommie inside then scurrying back into the car, Little Red said “Mom, I know why Tommie likes to eat the cat food, it feels better on her teeth, it is softer than her dog food, I know because I listen to the crunch it makes when she chews it.”

    I sat there amazed, like Doug Stone sang, “Why Didn’t I Think of That?”

    Because, I am not 7 with braces. Because over one billion thoughts a day take up our adult brains and none of those are “What our dog’s chewing sounds like.” Yes, I understand when our animals are hurt or what they might need but the discernment of why Tommie likes the cat food better, I just thought it was tastier.

    Silly mom, put some thought into that.

    Let us take a lesson from the 7 year old, stop and be intentional with our thoughts today.

    Peace- Jess.

  • J’s Place-Let us see how this shakes out.

    J’s Place-Let us see how this shakes out.

    Someone once asked my what my dream job was, well, ladies and gentlemen, I have two….besides Real Estate of course, wink wink.

    1:) Funeral Director/Mortician.

    2:) Owner of a small organic wine bar(called J’s Place,) with a VERY limited menu. A cozy, relaxing venue with a lot of natural light, plants, mahjong/ card tables and a great playlist. A happy place where we can discuss life, no judgment and everyone is welcome.

    Open from 10:30 am-7:00pm Mon-Thursday.( In a dream job you don’t have to work weekends.)

    However, my youngest isn’t even in kindergarten so going back to school for Funeral Director is on the back burner and while kids are in the academic years, running a bar isn’t really on the forefront of goals, mind you, when asked, DREAM JOB, not practical job.

    So here I am, for now, the best platform to chat about real life, issues, lessons and whatever else y’all want to throw at me, would be J’s Place, a real space for REAL life.

    Welcome to J’s Place, a jump into the realm of being REAL.

    Peace- Jess.