Yesterday, I got to hold my very first Brave Little Colors books in my hands. What started as an idea to help children with diabetes feel seen, encouraged, and represented is now a real book that families can hold, color, and enjoy together. As I flipped through the pages, I felt so much gratitude. Gratitude for the support, encouragement, and kindness I've received throughout this journey. Gratitude for the children and families who inspired these books. And gratitude that I didn't give up when things felt overwhelming. These books were created to remind kids that diabetes is only one part of their story. They are brave, strong, capable, and amazing exactly as they are. Thank you to everyone who has followed along, shared kind words, and believed in this mission. This is just the beginning for Brave Little Colors. https://tinyurl.com/DiabetesSuperpowerGirl2 https://tinyurl.com/DIabetesSuperPowerBoy2 https://tinyurl.com/MyWheelsMyBraveAdventure

A year ago, most people were asking: "Will AI replace jobs?" Today, I think the more important question is: "Will people who use AI effectively outperform everyone else?" We're already seeing the answer. The gap isn't between humans and AI. The gap is between people who have learned to leverage AI and those who haven't. The professionals gaining the biggest advantage right now aren't necessarily the smartest in the room. They're the ones who know how to: • Turn AI into a daily productivity system • Save hours on repetitive work • Generate better ideas faster • Improve communication and decision-making • Build workflows that compound over time What fascinates me most is that we're still incredibly early. Most people are experimenting with prompts. Very few are building repeatable systems. That's why I've spent a lot of time studying how professionals can move beyond random AI usage and start using it as a genuine competitive advantage. If your goal is to stay relevant, work smarter, and get ahead of the curve instead of chasing it, now is probably the best time to start learning. The future won't belong to the people who simply have access to AI. It will belong to the people who know how to direct it, evaluate it, and turn it into real-world results. What's one task you wish AI could reliably take off your plate today?

I am so excited!😆 pinch me… now to get some more up there!

I tried the Amazon promotion to offer the book free for Kindle users for 6/2-6/4. I didn't get any reads for my children's book My Little Taste Buds. Should I have extended the promotion to be longer. What would you recommend?

Chapter One: The Scream! Feedback welcome. To give you a snippet of some context. 1920s England. Fiction British Mystery for Children ages 8-12. Modeled after a good old fashioned Agatha Christie novel. The scream hit the chandelier first. Then came the crash. A tea trolley going over sounds nothing like you'd expect. Not delicate. A cannon shot of rattling silver, shattering china, and the wet heavy thud of something substantial hitting marble. Then the squelch. Then the smell. Then Matilda Gristlewick's voice, still going: "Something soiled me!" The grand lobby of The Whiffshire Hotel fell silent. Matilda lay sprawled on the carpet in an explosion of quilted satin, crushed pastries, and personal humiliation. One leg was draped over the fallen tea trolley. A strange, steaming blob quivered near her shoulder. It smelled unforgivable. Jimmy Butterwhisk stood three feet away, holding a pudding spoon. ThreadBear was tucked under his other arm, saying nothing, as usual. Though Jimmy suspected he knew more than he was letting on. Jimmy hadn't moved. Partly because his legs had stopped working. Partly because he was already thinking. The smell was wrong. Underneath the chocolate, something sharp and chemical that didn't belong in a kitchen or a lobby or anywhere a person might reasonably expect to stand on a Tuesday evening. He filed it away. "IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?!" Matilda shrieked, pointing a trembling gloved finger at the rug. "Did you… did you do a jobby in the lobby?" She pointed at Jimmy. Gasps rippled through the onlookers. Gags followed. "It's pudding!" Jimmy said. "Honest pudding! No poop! ThreadBear was there. He knows." ThreadBear offered no testimony. His one good button eye stared straight ahead, impartial as ever. But it was too late. From the hallway, Chef Alberto Farfale emerged — face pale, hand still dusted with cocoa. He saw the pudding. He saw Matilda. He saw Jimmy. The chef's eyes didn't go to Matilda first. They went to the floor near the overturned bowl. Then to the blob. Then to the area around the tea trolley.