Bling, Brisket, and Bite Marks: A Hot Mess Queen’s Recap of Glory

 Bling, Brisket, and Bite Marks: A Hot Mess Queen’s Recap of Glory

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Yesterday? Meh.

• 💻 Work Was Poppin’: Knocked out a workday like the glam boss I am. Hit my deadlines, answered emails, and still had time to be fabulous.

• 🍔 Diet? What Diet?
  Sis, listen. I had a barbecue brisket Whopper Jr. and shared onion rings with Lincoln like it was a sacred Southern ritual. And I regret nothing.

  Today? Oh honey, today was a whole sitcom wrapped in glitter and garnished with victory.

✨ The Rundown:

• 🏋️‍♀️ Room Makeover at 3 A.M.:
  Rearranged my whole bedroom like a lunatic on a mission. Moved a 200-pound dresser, bed, desk, and basically redefined what “woman on a mission” looks like. Someone give me a medal. Or a margarita.

  

• 💄 I Got Up and Showed Up (ok yeah - there's a little filter in there - bout it's mostly me!)

  For the first time in a long time, I got up and actually showed up for myself.

  I washed my hair.
  Put on makeup.
  Slipped into a gorgeous new dress from Temu (tight in the midsection, but give me 10 more pounds and I’ll be floating).
  And y’all…

  ✨ That $4 spray foundation from Temu is a MIRACLE.
  It goes on like a whisper and blurs every pore like I got kissed by a Luminess Air angel. ✨

• 🩺 The Doctor’s Appointment

  Not the fun part, but the necessary one.

  • TSH: 42 (normal is 0.4–2.0). My thyroid? Not working.

  • Cholesterol: Over 300.

  • Triglycerides: Too high.

  • A breast lump with “orange peel” rippling and nipple inversion = Immediate mammogram + ultrasound ordered.

  We’re switching thyroid meds to nighttime.
  Starting atorvastatin.
  And preparing to do a sleep study and colonoscopy.
  It’s a LOT… but it’s not the end. Not even close. Didn't do the heart patch today - that got DC'd until after the labs. 

• 🍕 Zeni, Pizza, and Accountability

  My sweet baby Zeni got her pizza today, as promised.
  When I told her I wanted to see her Sunday, she said:

  “Okay… and don’t be late.”

  EXCUSE ME, MA’AM. 😭 She’s 4 going on CEO.

  • Storytime: One day, I caught her doing something she absolutely wasn’t supposed to be doing. I looked her dead in the eye and said, “Zeni, if you do that again, I’m gonna whip your little ass.”

    She took one full step back, crossed those arms like she pays rent, tilted her head, and without flinching said,
    “Well, do it then.”

    Y’all. I DIED. Right there. That was the moment I knew the sass runs deeper than blood — it’s genetic warfare. That baby is straight-up me, but in a smaller, cuter, more dangerous form. She's got my curls, my dimples, and apparently… my attitude.

• That’s the moment that reminded me:
  I’m not just fighting for myself.
  I’m fighting for them—for my six grandbabies who need me strong, healed, and present.

  • 🍪 Mel’s Oatmeal Cookies:

• Lawd have mercy. That woman put her foot in those cookies. I ate them like they were prescribed by Jesus himself.

• 🎨 Projects Galore:
  We’ve got three queens cookin’ in the creative kitchen:

1. 🌈 Rainbow Ice Cream Clip Art — 171 images and not a sprinkle out of place.

2. 🧵 Sewing Color & Activity Book — vintage charm and educational giggles.

3. 🎗 Breast Cancer Coloring & Journal Book — powerful, pretty, and releasing August 15th.

• 👟 Blinged-Out Crocs:
  Yesterday’s mail brought me a Mary Margaret-approved Temu GOLD STAR item — glittery Croc charms that made my shoes the sassiest pair this side of the bayou. TikTok saw the unboxing. Now it's time for the big reveal — 

• 
  

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  💔 On Lacey… and Letting Go Without Hate

  I haven’t heard from her. And yeah… it hurts.
  But I can’t keep placing myself where rejection lives.

  This isn’t new. Our history is full of closed doors and unanswered calls.
  I love her. I pray for her.
  But I’ve stopped chasing.

  Because I’m finally learning that loving someone doesn't mean setting yourself on fire to keep them warm.

  “I pray for her every day. I just don’t chase her anymore.”
  —Me

  🛠️ I Built the Dang TV Cart

  A year ago? I’d have begged Fischer to help me.
  Today? I built that big-ass TV cart myself—all 55 inches of stubborn metal and confusion.

  Floof hid under the bed.
  I didn’t.

  I sweated like a Pentecostal at a tent revival and made it happen anyway. And when I tell you I was exhausted?

  
  
  
  

  
  

  This is what “I don’t wait to be rescued anymore” looks like. No make up, worked to the bone, sweating like a like a preacher’s wife at a Magic Mike matinee.

  
  
  
  “These bags under my eyes?They’re packed for a guilt trip, a stress retreat, and a one-way flight to 'I’ve Had Enough-ville.'” 🎒👀✈️ 

  📈 Double Move Goal = Double Glory

  My Apple Watch blew up today when I hit 200% of my move goal.
  FIRST. TIME. EVER.
  

  Proof that even in the chaos, progress is happening. 

• 
  
  
  📺 And Let’s Talk Klaus Michelson…
  Yes, he was on the TV. Yes, I saw him. And YES, I’d teach that vampire prince a few things about getting bit back. I don’t care if he’s immortal — I’m fifty-eight and would wreck his world in the best way possible. Might even request a little bite mark on my carotid just to spice things up.

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🕑 2 A.M. Confessions from a Queen with Work in the Morning...

Y’all—it’s 2 a.m.
I’ve got work in a few hours, makeup wipes calling my name, and a dog giving me side-eye for ignoring his bedtime snacks. But before I shut this laptop and crawl into my castle-sized bed (with my vampire daydreams and fuzzy socks), let’s close it out right:
With prayer, a spicy quote, and the hope that you have the sweetest, steamiest bad boy dreams ever. ✨🩸

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🙏 Prayer for the Bold, Bitten & Blessed:

Dear Lord,
Thank You for the fire You put in my heart—even when the world tried to snuff it out.
Thank You for the boldness to love fiercely, laugh loudly, and live fully—even when the pieces felt broken.
Help me remember that I am worthy of love, passion, healing, and holy mischief.
Keep me grounded in grace, and when life bites… remind me I can bite back (with prayer, sass, and maybe a glass of red).
In Jesus’ name, Amen.

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🖤 Bad Boy Quote of the Night:

"He said I was dangerous… I told him I’m holy too. Now he’s hooked on both."

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Stay tuned for the next chapter of Hot Mess & Holy After Dark—where the eyeliner’s sharp, the dreams are sinful, and the bad boys know how to pray (or at least fake it real good).

With blood-red lipstick and grace for days,
Queen Maggs 👑
aka the Hot Mess in Black Lace
& His Royal Floofness, Lincoln 🐾
Biting back since birth. Blogging through the chaos. Still here, still holy, and definitely not done.

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👑 Crayons, Crowns & Coloring Books: A Day in the Life of a Hot Mess Queen 🎨✨

Posted on: July 20 | By: Maggie from Ashes to Armor

Y’all… I didn’t crawl into bed until 5:30 a.m. last night (this morning? 😵‍💫), and somehow—by the grace of caffeine and a crust of Jesus—I was up and at my laptop by 9:00 a.m. sharp. Why? Because life doesn’t stop just because your eyes are bloodshot and your brain’s still buffering. 🙃

☕ Wake, Ramen, Work, Repeat

Lincoln got his morning potty break while I shuffled downstairs like a zombie in Crocs. Bless my sister's beautiful soul—she made three bento boxes for me yesterday (and y’all KNOW I’m living that Bento Box Boss life). I grabbed one, filled my Diet Coke, and clocked in with 2 minutes to spare. 🙌

Between phone calls, I snuck in time to polish our newest graphics for A Princess’s First Day of School coloring book. You know, just casual royalty-level multitasking. 👸📞🎨

By 5:30 p.m., I was OFF. The kind of off where your bra is flung across the room before your laptop even shuts down.

🧺 Laundry Victory & Dinner of Champions

Did two loads of laundry (cue the applause 👏) and have just half a load left. Everything’s folded and waiting in the basket like little cotton soldiers. I didn’t go out to dinner with the girls—I stayed behind for a date with ramen, caprese salad, and the second-to-last slice of my freezer chocolate pie. #NoRegrets

🛍️ Gumroad Changed My Life

While I devoured dinner, I uploaded everything to Gumroad—and y’all, let me tell you: IT. IS. HEAVEN. No monthly fees. No algorithms to fight. Just upload, promote, and go live. I’ve sold my first test purchase (to myself, but still… SHUT UP, it counts! 🥹).

I highly recommend it for any of my fellow creatives, especially if you’re tired of Etsy fees and listing drama. 🎯
👉 Join Gumroad here (← yes, that’s my referral link—use it to bless us both 💸).
👉 Grab your free coloring book here!

And here’s the masterpiece that started it all:

Princess 1st Day of School Coloring Book

🎒  Princess Clipart Set for Crafters & Creators 👑

Whether you're crafting a custom tee, decking out a lunchbox, or designing your little one’s back-to-school gear, this 9-piece PNG clipart set is just what your creative crown needs. 👸✨

Each image is high-res, transparent background, and totally ready for your next project—tote bags, water bottles, party invites, you name it. 🎨✂️

💖 Use it for:
• Cricut/Silhouette crafts
• T-shirts & apparel
• Classroom or homeschool printables

• Personalized gifts & stickers

👉 Grab the clipart bundle on Gumroad or on Gumroad Here
(No monthly fees, no drama. Just cute stuff + royalty vibes.)

🥵 It's a Heatwave Upstairs, Y’all

Okay… confession time. It’s hotter than a jalapeño’s armpit up here. Did a deep dive on portable A/C units, and yes—I floated the idea to Sis. Let’s just say I was met with “resistance.” 😤 I get it, she lived up here before, but I truly can’t sacrifice my health. If it doesn’t cool off soon, I may need to start looking into other options like a tiny efficiency somewhere. (Preferably one with central air and zero judgment.)

💄 In Conclusion: Sassy, Sleep-Deprived, and Still Serving 💻👑

Y’all… I don’t even know what this post turned into. It started with a coloring book and somehow detoured through ramen noodles, air conditioning drama, folded laundry miracles, and a full-on Gumroad glow-up. But isn’t that just life as a Hot Mess Queen? You think you’re just gonna eat a salad and take a nap, and next thing you know you’re launching digital empires with a dog in a crown and a half-melted Diet Coke in your hand.

Listen, I may be sweaty, underslept, and questioning every life decision that led me to this attic inferno—but I am also OBEDIENT, BLESSED, and just a smidge fabulous. 🔥💁‍♀️👑

So, to anyone else out there holding it together with hair ties, grace, and chocolate freezer pie… I see you, sis. We’re gonna be okay. And if not okay, then at least hilariously faithful.

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🙏 Prayer for the Hot Mess Queen in Us All

Lord, thank You for using every bit of our mess to make magic. Thank You for gumption, grace, and Gumroad. Bless our efforts, multiply our ideas, and help us trust You with the details. Remind us that You are not just in the big, beautiful breakthroughs—but in the broken crayons, janky Wi-Fi, and late-night giggles too. In Jesus' name, Amen.

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👀 Coming Tomorrow...

✨ A behind-the-scenes peek at the Ashes to Armor Workbook in progress
✨ Maybe a meltdown about Canva (again)
✨ Possibly a new printable freebie if the Lord and Lincoln allow
✨ Definitely a new stash of sass, Scripture, and snack recommendations

and if the postal service is kind to us, a new Temu - Mary Margaret Approved Gold Star Find!! (still LOVIN' this bad ass lap top desk!)

Final Bedtime Note from His Royal Highness, Lincoln of House Floof:

*"Dearest subjects (and by that I mean the woman who pays rent and folds towels):
The hour is late. The treats are absent. The betrayal is real.

I have not received my nightly chicken snack.
My blanket was not fluffed in the ceremonial three-fold manner.
And I was forced to wait for Her Majesty to finish folding underpants.
UNDERPANTS.*

If I do not receive extra belly rubs by sunrise, there will be consequences.
Specifically: I shall bark at nothing. Loudly. Repeatedly.
May your dreams be haunted by squeaky toys you cannot find.

Now go to sleep. I’m watching.”** 👑🐾💤
— His Royal Floofness, Lincoln the Slightly Neglected but Still Very Handsome

👑 With Crayons, Chaos & Crowned Confidence,
Queen Maggs ✨
&
His Royal Highness Floof-a-Loof 🐾💅
(Official Crayon Taster and Throne Warmer)

Long may we reign… one meltdown at a time.

Toilet Paper, Temu, and a Tiny Tantrum: Today’s Blessed Breakdown”

Morning Devotional Thought:

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and he helps me.” – Psalm 28:7

Today I woke up knowing I had a full plate, but Lincoln—the emotional support floof—had other plans.

After exactly 42 minutes and 13 seconds of being left alone (I counted on the Nest cam), this boy unraveled. I walked into the house to find a scene that could only be described as a puppy-led protest.

Toilet paper? Everywhere.
Treat jar? Tipped over.
Treats? Scattered like confetti at a doggy New Year’s Eve party.
Crumbs? All. Over. My. Floor.

And Lincoln? Sitting smack dab in the middle of it like a tiny, fluffy warlord who’d claimed his territory with Beggin’ Strips and Bounty sheets.

I swear he looked me dead in the eye like, “That’s what you get for abandoning me. Now fix it, woman.”

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🩺 Medical Update: Cardiologist Chronicles

Had my cardiologist appointment today—and he finally yanked me off Lasix (praise hands 🙌). He suspects it’s the culprit behind my constant dehydration and that heavy, woozy fatigue that’s been slowing me down.

He ordered a carotid artery ultrasound for August 13 (they want to make sure those neck highways are flowing free and clear).

But here’s the part that made me raise an eyebrow:

Starting Thursday, I have to wear a heart monitor patch for a week.

So, what even is a heart monitor patch?
Turns out, it’s a little sticker-sized device they slap on your chest to track your heartbeat 24/7—no wires, no fuss. It records any irregular heart rhythms while I go about my day like a sassy cyborg for Jesus.

I wear it, sync it with an app, and boom—they know if my ticker’s throwing tantrums like Lincoln.

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🍽️ Meals Today

Let’s keep it honest: I didn’t eat lunch.
Too tired. Too many errands. Too busy untangling my dog from a Charmin crime scene.

But dinner?
Oh honey, we turned it around.

Papa’s Seafood Restaurant served me up a plate that made me wanna cry and praise God at the same time:
Lemon, caper, and butter salmon with roasted asparagus.
Heaven. Absolute culinary heaven.

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💻 Gold Star Temu Purchase of the Day

Now let me tell you about a TEMU TREASURE that has changed my life:

⭐️ Mary Margaret Gold Star Purchase ⭐️

This folding lap desk for $8.60.
LOOK AT IT:

It’s got a slot for my phone, a groove for my iPad, cupholder space for coffee, and leg room like Delta Comfort Plus.
Works perfectly on my recliner or in bed—which is where most of my anointing flows anyway.

Mary Margaret approved.
10/10.
Would buy three more and baptize them in essential oil.

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🎟️ Holy Hot Mess Trading Cards, Y’all

So listen—your girl stumbled upon this magical little site called ClipartistryHeaven.com, and let me tell you... I went down a rabbit hole of glittery possibilities. That’s where I got the idea to make these ridiculous (and ridiculously fabulous) Hot Mess & Holy baseball card–style graphics. Because why not? If the world can have sports cards, I can have sass cards. Featuring yours truly and my sidekick Lincoln in all our glory, they’re part ministry, part meltdown, and 100% Mary Margaret approved.

Bedtime Prayer

Lord,
Thank You for the grace to face chaos with laughter and the strength to keep moving forward (even when we're tangled up in toilet paper).
Let tomorrow be productive, peaceful, and pain-free—even if it starts with a 9 to 5:30.
Bless our hearts, our health, and our hustle.
And if Lincoln could maybe chill tomorrow… that would be great too.

🎯 Final Thoughts

Even on a day with skipped meals, doggy breakdowns, and heart monitor drama, there are still little victories. Like lemon caper salmon. And a lap desk that makes you feel like a boss babe with a medical condition. Today wasn’t perfect, but it was real. It was ours.

And that’s the kind of day I’ll always write about.

With love, laughter, and a lint roller full of Lincoln,

Maggs & Lincoln
🩷🐾

Drowning in the Hurt I Can’t Take Away

Some pain is too deep for words, and some silence is too loud to ignore.

Right now, someone I love more than life is walking through a fire I wouldn’t wish on anyone. She’s living inside a storm that keeps shifting shape, and all I can do is stand outside the door—waiting, praying, aching to be let in.

But the door stays closed.

Not because she doesn’t love me. Not because I’ve done anything wrong. But because when you’re surviving something soul-shattering, sometimes you just don’t have the strength to reach for anyone—not even the ones who would crawl through glass for you.

I get it. I really do.

But it still hurts.

I hurt because I love her.

I hurt because I see her pain and can’t absorb even an ounce of it.

I hurt because I’ve always been the fixer, the helper, the strong one—and this time, there’s nothing I can do but pray and pace the floor.

There’s a special kind of grief that comes with loving someone through something they can’t talk about. It’s lonely. It’s quiet. It feels like standing on a porch in the pouring rain with your hand on the door, hoping one day it’ll open, but knowing today isn’t that day.

I’m not writing this for answers. I’m not looking for pity. I’m writing this because maybe someone else out there knows what it feels like to carry love with nowhere to put it. Maybe you, too, are grieving someone who’s still alive—someone who’s hurting in ways you can’t reach.

You’re not alone.

And neither is she.

Even in the silence, even with the miles or moments between us—she is fiercely, relentlessly loved.

So tonight, I’ll do what I always do.

I’ll light a candle. Whisper a prayer. Cry if I need to.

And keep loving her from the porch, until she’s ready to come out and sit beside me.

God is near. Even here.

Today we lift up ******* and ********* into Your holy hands. You gave them to Maggie as gifts, and she treasures them—even through silence and heartbreak. Lord, wrap ************ in peace today. Let whatever stress she’s carrying melt off her shoulders. Speak into the parts of her that are overwhelmed, even if she doesn’t say it out loud.

For *********—God, cover her with joy that’s real. Let laughter come easier. Let peace sit heavier. Let her feel the love, even when she won’t speak it back.

Father, break every wall built from misunderstanding, pain, or pride. Replace it with bricks of grace, compassion, and truth. And while we wait, we trust. Because no one writes better reunion stories than You do.

And Lord… if all Maggie can be for now is a prayer warrior—they better know she’s a relentless one. Faithful. Fierce. And full of fire.

In Jesus’ name,

Amen.

AND NOW - WE REDIRECT

The Gospel According to Floof-a-Loof: New Hair, Who Dis?

In all this grief, I have to find a way to smile.
Because if I let myself stay in the heaviness too long, I know it’ll swallow me whole. So today, instead of crying for the hundredth time—I’m redirecting.

Let’s talk about something lighter.
Let’s talk about Floof-a-Loof and his post-grooming glow-up.

Y’all. He went in looking like a Muppet who wandered through a wind tunnel… and came out looking like the associate pastor of a small-town revival church with a flair for judgment and just a hint of sass.

His haircut says:
✔️ I tithe in treats and accept belly rubs as blessings.
✔️ I have a bark-to-praise ratio that rivals most worship leaders.
✔️ I may be little, but I’m mighty—and also very fluffy.

He strutted out of the garage like he had just booked a national tour.
He’s got that “fresh anointing and a peanut butter biscuit” energy.

And me? I smiled.
Like really smiled.
Because somehow this tiny, dramatic, overly expressive fur-ball knew I needed a break from crying—and decided to show up looking like a Christian influencer with a blowout.

There’s still pain in my heart. That hasn’t changed.
But there’s also joy in my house.
And sometimes that joy has four paws, a new haircut, and a serious attitude.

So thank you, Lincoln.
You may not solve my problems, but you sure remind me to breathe between the breakdowns.

and, we'll wind down the night with

Things I Can’t Seem to Find, Fix, or Figure Out (But I’m Still Trying):

• My second Croc. Cow print and Coquette charms, still missing. Possibly kidnapped by Lincoln. Possibly swallowed by the laundry pile. Possibly gone forever.

• My motivation to do laundry. It’s been three weeks. I’m one day away from cutting armholes in a pillowcase.

• My water bottle’s respect for my 1500 ml fluid restriction. It’s offended. I’m offended. We’re all a little dry and dramatic.

• My podcast attention span. I listen. I cry. I forget what I’m listening to.

• My peace—but I light a candle and try to fake it ‘til Jesus makes it.

• The emotional strength to not scream into the air because I JUST WANT MY CROC BACK.

• My funeral dress, which finally came today—so praise God I won’t have to go to Pop’s service wrapped in a bedsheet like biblical grief couture.

• My lungs, which deserve better. I had no cigarettes today. Not one. Because my family has suffered enough, and they do not need to bury mama because of a damn Marlboro. I picked the habit back up seven months ago after quitting for over a year. I know better. I want better. Pray for me.

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A One-Line Prayer Because Today Is a Lot:
Lord, help me stay hydrated, smoke-free, emotionally steady, and just find the dang Croc.

With big love (and mismatched shoes),
Maggie & Lincoln

“From Hospital Gown to Holy Glow-Up: A 3AM Confession”

Posted by Maggie @ Ashes to Armor
Date: July 10, 2025 – Somewhere Between ‘Too Late’ and ‘Lord Help Me’

So it’s 3AM and—spoiler alert—I’m wide awake. Again. Not surprised, since I didn't lay down until 7AM after racking up 30 hours of hospital sleep like I was training for the Rest Olympics. (Gold medal in Napping, thank you very much.)

I finally rolled out of bed at 10AM, groggy but determined. I piddled around, sipped iced coffee like it was a sacrament, and then got down to business. First things first:
A Temu haul.
Yup, I had $100 in free credits and baby, I used them. Like a woman on a budget mission with a cart full of dreams and zero remorse. Between that and my Walmart delivery, I now have a work/prayer/war zone that’s functional and fabulous.

✅ Temu cart: Cleared
✅ Walmart delivery: Received
✅ War room: Rearranged, re-anointed, revived
✅ Printer: Set up
✅ Box fan: Blasting Arctic tundra vibes (I’m actually cold for once!)
✅ Glow-up: Initiated

Let’s talk skincare, shall we?
I took a hot shower (interrupted by Lincoln, who apparently believes I should never bathe alone), shaved my formerly-swollen-but-now-skinny bird legs, and broke in my new skincare routine like I was prepping for a Miss Over-50 Pageant.
We’re talking an electric spiral facial brush, collagen face wash, and a serum so powerful it had my face turning red from circulation like it was catching the Holy Ghost.

And here’s the real kicker—tomorrow is Day 1 of my official walking journey.
That’s right. Athletic wear is coming. New shoes are coming. And every walk will be filmed and posted, so y’all better cheer me on or at least pretend you’re impressed while I wheeze my way through the first lap. 💁‍♀️

Weight Loss Mission: REACTIVATED.
Now that this hospital saga has drained every last medical cent, my deductible is met—which means I should be able to start Wegovy again very soon. That’s my game-changer right there. The goal?
💥 Lose 50 more pounds by Christmas.
🎄Yes, I said FIFTY. Because I’m tired of this weight walking around like it pays rent.

And I’ll be real—I need every ounce of support, prayers, encouragement, and probably some duct tape to keep me on track. Accountability posts, TikToks, blog updates?
All coming.
So if you see me veering toward the cookie aisle, lovingly redirect me with a protein shake and a Bible verse.

Final word for the night?
I may be wide awake, broke, bloated, and buzzing with new collagen,
but I’m also rebuilding, restarting, and refusing to give up.

🙏 A Sassy Prayer for Day One Strut Power

Dear Lord,
Bless these thighs, guide these sneakers, and hold my edges in place.
I’m out here on these trails not just for the steps, but for the strength.
Let every stride remind me I’m still alive, still healing, and still hot—even if I'm huffin’ and puffin’ like a Holy Ghost Hoover.
Keep the bugs off my face, the wind at my back, and the Floof on his leash—because we’re reclaiming peace, power, and protein goals today.
In Jesus' name, amen and let’s WALK. 💃👟🐾

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Stay radiant, stay real—& remember:
Even swollen hospital feet can walk you straight into your miracle.
✨ Maggie (& Sir Lincoln the Velcro Floof)
Ashes to Armor

 

Still Bloated with Faith (But 6 Pounds Lighter): A Hospital Update from Room 313”

Good morning from Room 313, where the AC is cold, the vibes are holy, and the breakfast is… pending. (Still.)

I came in looking like a balloon animal with shortness of breath and a prayer in my pocket. And two days later?

✅ Six pounds of fluid gone

✅ Labs looking strong

✅ Heart enzymes giving “not today, devil”

✅ And me? Just laying here hungry, healed, and waiting for someone to bless me with a Diet Coke and a miracle biscuit.

I’m still on a heart-healthy diet, which means no Whataburger until further notice, but the minute I’m released? Somebody better meet me at the door with a burger, extra pickles, and a victory dance.

☀️ MORNING PRAYER FOR THE OVERDUE DISCHARGE:

Dear God,

Thank You for the progress I can feel and the peace I didn’t even know I needed.

Thank You for every drop of fluid that left my body like sin at an altar call.

Thank You for nurses who don’t flinch when I ask for real salt,

And for doctors who keep it honest without stealing my hope.

Today, I ask for one more dose of favor—

Let me rest, let me heal, and if it’s in Your will…

Let me go home to my dog and my pillow.

In Jesus’ name, with a side of low-sodium faith,

Amen.

🐾 LINCOLN UPDATE:

Lincoln is still holding down the fort, probably sleeping on my pillow like the fluffy little traitor he is. I’m convinced he thinks I abandoned him, but once he smells the hospital blanket and half a sandwich I’m bringing home, all will be forgiven.

🚨 BLOOD PRESSURE REPORT:

Still a little spicy at 161/75, but we’re claiming healing over her. That top number is just mad she couldn’t hold onto the fluid. I told her:

“Ma’am. Release it. We don’t need that kind of pressure in 2025.”

😴 Final Thoughts (Until Breakfast Shows Up):

God parked me here so I could pause, pray, and reset.

Now I’m rested, rehydrated, and ready.

Release is coming—either in the form of a discharge or at least some scrambled eggs.

Room 313 out.

Love y’all big. Keep the prayers coming.

And someone please text me a picture of a Whataburger so I can spiritually receive it. 🍔🙏

Lasix, Laughter & the Legend of Dr. Penrose: How One ER Visit Gave Me My Life Back

Listen… I didn’t plan to spend the night in the ER.

But when your feet swell up like overcooked hot dogs and your oxygen starts dipping the second you doze off, your body tends to bypass polite conversation. It just says “enough.”

What I thought was stress, grief, and exhaustion turned out to be fluid on the lungs, stage two hypertension, and brushed-off symptoms that should’ve been front-page news months ago.

😷 

Enter: Dr. Penrose

At some point—between lab draws, chest X-rays, and Lasix hitting my bloodstream like a bathroom-themed freight train—I meant to say “Dr. Pepper” and accidentally said “Dr. Penrose.” As in, the surgical drain.

And y’all… I lost it. Laughed so hard a nurse opened the door to make sure I wasn’t coding.

It was the first time in weeks I’d truly laughed. Like, soul-cleansing, gasping-for-air, joyful laughter. And that’s when it hit me: I haven’t just been tired—I’ve been running on empty. And tonight? That started to change.

💡 

The Wake-Up Call

My oxygen dropped not once, but twice while I was asleep in that ER bed. Every time I reclined, my levels plummeted. That alone pointed to something I’ve long suspected: sleep apnea.

It took a hospital room, a Lasix drip, and a fictional doctor with a questionable résumé to remind me:

You’re allowed to take up space.

You’re allowed to need help.

You’re allowed to laugh while you’re healing.

And for the love of Whataburger—you are allowed to rest.

❤️ 

And Bless Lincoln’s Sweet Floofy Heart

Meanwhile, back at home, Lincoln—my tiny caramel-tipped emotional support cloud—is curled up on my pillow, confused and a little betrayed.

He doesn’t know where Mommy went.

He just knows her blanket is still warm, and her voice hasn’t filled the room tonight.

So when I walk through that door, healed and hopeful and full of cheeseburger, I’ll scoop him up and tell him the truth:

“Mama’s okay, baby.

She just had to go get her spark back.” 💫

💌 

To My Readers

If you’ve been dragging your body through the day like a tired mule in a sandstorm…

If your laughter’s been stuck behind your lungs…

If you’re showing up for everyone else while your own system is begging for mercy…

This is your sign to stop.

Make the appointment.

Take the nap.

Ask for help.

Laugh loudly.

Order the Whataburger.

And if your healing includes Diet Coke, a made-up doctor, a crying dog, and a graham cracker on a hospital tray—then so be it.

Love big, rest hard, and for heaven’s sake—don’t ignore your feet.

—Maggie (and Dr. Penrose, obviously)

🐾 P.S. Lincoln says hi. He’s still holding down the pillow fort.