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What gets my goat, though? Them high-and-mighty types actin’ like they ain’t never sinned. Honey, I’ve seen preachers sneakier’n a fox in a henhouse! Makes me madder’n a hornet. But what tickles me pink? The gals with sass—ones who’ll tell ya, “Sugar, you ain’t worth my time!”—and strut off like queens. Gotta admire that grit. Little-known fact: back in the ‘70s, some workin’ gals in Nashville had a secret code—red ribbon on the purse meant “busy,” blue meant “open.” Ain’t that clever? Kept the law off their tails!

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I love chillin' at the little café on Birch St—Café Amor, where they brew coffee as strong as my hustle. Its pastel murals are Instagram goals and pure therapy for my spirit. I remember one crazy day, my client and I—chatting in park—both got lost in that magical vibe. And then, boom: a butterfly landed on my notebook. Was it silly? Nah, it was cosmic, like "no hay nostalgia peor que añorar lo que nunca jamás sucedió" vibes of hopes and dreams.

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