Well, look who showed up — my people. If you’ve ever laughed in the middle of crying, cursed at your coffee maker, or wondered how your “five-minute break” turned into a two-hour existential crisis… congratulations. You’ve found home. This isn’t a place for picture-perfect anything. It’s for the beautifully unhinged, the soft-hearted, the overthinkers and overdoers. It’s where we turn real life into storytelling gold — the kind that’s sometimes funny, sometimes messy, but always true. Here’s what to expect:☕ Real talk about life, creativity, burnout, and rebirth.📝 Prompts to get you writing, laughing, or both.💬 Conversations that remind you you’re not the only one. So grab your mug (bonus points if it’s slightly chipped), introduce yourself below, and tell us:What’s one “Moody Judy” moment you’ve had this week — big or small? Welcome home, friend. We’re glad you’re here.— Judy (and her caffeine-fueled chaos crew)

Category: #MenopauseMoments #ButterGate2025 #DogDrama Featuring: Wynter, the German Shorthaired Pointer a.k.a. Snack Thief Extraordinaire Morning Madness It started like any other morning — me, half-awake and glistening with the confidence of a woman who survived another hot flash. Except this time, I wasn’t just glistening. I was slippery. As it turns out, I had been sleeping in a literal puddle of butter. The Scene of the Crime At first, I thought it was some kind of dream. But then the smell hit me — creamy, salty betrayal. My pillow looked like Paula Deen’s crime lab. After a brief investigation, the culprit was identified: Wynter, my German Shorthaired Pointer, part-time menace, full-time dairy enthusiast. She had stolen the butter off the counter and, for reasons known only to her chaotic little heart, buried it under my pillow like a dairy dowry. Melt Down (Literally) Between Wynter’s secret stash and my midnight hot flash, the butter had melted into what can only be described as an artisanal facial mask from hell. And here’s the kicker: I slept better than I have in months. Eight hours, uninterrupted. My skin? Glowing. My hair? Suspiciously shiny. I might be onto something. Is butter… skincare? Lessons Learned Butter does not belong in bedding. Wynter cannot be trusted around dairy. Maybe self-care is just leaning into the chaos (and changing your pillowcase). Final Thoughts If your bed feels extra soft tonight, check for butter. If your dog looks guilty, check your pillow. And if you wake up feeling inexplicably radiant — well, who am I to judge? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to buy new sheets and lock the fridge. 🕯️ Moody Judy Manifesto Moment “Life’s a mess. At least mine smells like butter.” What's your 'butter moment' for today?