As someone who lives for the perfect smoothie, let me tell you—not all ice is created equal. For years, I struggled with hard ice cubes from trays that dulled my blender blades and turned smoothie-making into a chore. That is, until I met my kitchen hero: the Frigidaire 26 Lbs Portable Compact Ice Making Machine.
This little powerhouse churns out soft, bullet-shaped ice cubes that are the ideal texture and size for blending. They don’t fight my blades—they work with them, giving me silky-smooth results every single time. Whether I’m blending strawberries, bananas, peanuts, or chocolate, this ice takes the pressure off my appliances—and my patience.
Beyond performance, it’s sleek, easy to use, and perfect for busy mornings or content creation. If you’re serious about smoothies, or just want your ice game elevated, this Frigidaire machine might be your new favorite kitchen companion.
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Growing up, influence wasn’t a trend—it was a way of life. We didn’t curse around our parents, aunts, uncles, neighbors, or any elders. Period. Respect was rooted deep. Even the smallest slip—saying “butt” or “you lied”—was a line we knew not to cross. And if we did? Oh yes, trouble followed.
Our parents didn’t parent alone. They built a village. And in that village, we had second mothers—like Ms. Harris. She didn’t play. She loved us hard and checked us harder. As kids, we joked that she was always “telling on us,” but deep down, she treated us like we were hers. And looking back, that wasn’t snitching—it was love.
I learned that lesson for real when I moved out at 22 with my three-year-old daughter. I was standing in my new kitchen, proud and grown. Hair laid, bad shape SHAPING, smile radiant, pretty face prettying, and feeling good. That’s when I heard God whisper: “You still have Me to answer to.” I knew His voice. I’d known it since I was 14. And in that moment, I understood adulthood doesn’t erase accountability.
Later, I found a new village—a four-family apartment, full of mothers. Ms. Elizabeth, Lorraine, Tonya, La Sonya-* Googie*, Yvette * Kim* we did life together. We shared meals when times got tight, watched each other’s kids, ran errands, cried, laughed, celebrated. We didn’t even have to build a village—God delivered it.
That influence? It passed to my daughter. She never cursed in front of them. She understood respect wasn’t optional—it was inherited. And to this day, respect runs deep through her. As her mother I wouldn’t have it any other way.
So today, when I see adults cursing on Facebook like elders can’t see it… I cry inside, because they have kids too. Just because you’re grown doesn’t mean you throw away your dignity. Being able to search your mind for better language—that’s growth. And me? At 57… I’m just not that grown.
Let’s stop acting like influence is outdated. The truth is: the next generation is watching. So, let’s guide them, correct them, love them. Even if it upsets them. Speak wisdom, carry a spirit that commands respect. Be a mirror of God’s voice, like I heard that day in the kitchen.
Let’s stop being afraid to correct. Let’s reclaim our influence. We may be grown, but we still have Someone to answer to.
My nickname is Zee-Zee, and while I can’t say for sure where it originated, I know exactly where it bloomed — from the heart of my grandmother. She was my mother’s mother.
From her two daughters, my grandmother welcomed five grandchildren into the world — each with a name, and more importantly, a nickname chosen by her own spirit and wisdom. These weren’t just pet names or playful labels. They were personalized blessings.
We are:
🌟 Zee-Zee — that’s me, the eldest of the eldest. 🌟 Dee-Dee — my cousin Dial, named by Aunt Wana, my mother’s only sibling. 🌟 Na-Na — my sister, born Yolanda, lovingly nicknamed with a gentleness that mirrors her soul. 🌟 Bobby — our brother, named after our father Robert, grounding us in legacy and tradition. 🌟 Peedie — our baby sister Electria, whose nickname sparkles with playfulness and youth.
At 57, I’ve learned the importance of paying attention—not just to my surroundings, but to my body’s quiet messages. It’s a daily practice of mindfulness, noticing the subtle shifts that tell me when I’ve had too much pop, when a dinner was a little too heavy, or when my legs feel like they need more care and attention. This isn’t about restriction—it’s about restoration.
I’m a foodie. I love hamburgers. Today, I indulged in a Whopper, Pringles, and M&M’s. Not only was it delicious, but it reminded me how good it feels to satisfy a craving. Here’s the kicker—I haven’t had a Whopper at all this year. So today wasn’t about guilt. It was about joy.
But tomorrow? Tomorrow begins a reset. Back to salads, water, and sandwiches. Because I also stepped on the scale yesterday and saw that I’ve lost 7 pounds. That’s no small thing—and it came from tuning in, being aware, and making gentle adjustments. It’s amazing what we learn when we really listen to our bodies and give them what they need.
My strategy for health and well-being is simple: I pay attention. And that awareness gives me power—not just over what I eat, but over how I move, how I rest, and how I thrive.
There’s something that’s been sitting heavy on my heart—and I know I’m not the only one who sees it. Women will stand by a man who spits in their face, cheats, lies, steals, take and tear up their car, curse their family and friends out, take their money and spend it on other women, eat their kid’s food up in the fridge, cook your steaks, drink your drinks and breaks their spirit over and over again. Yet when a sister-friend makes a forgivable mistake? Silence. Distance. Cut-off.
Where does that grace go when it’s time to love one another?
We talk about loyalty as if it’s exclusive to romantic relationships. But if loyalty means endurance and forgiveness, why do so many women lose patience with their closest friends over a single misstep, while still holding space for partners who consistently cause harm? It’s time we flipped this script. If we can forgive betrayal in romantic love, we can forgive the slip-ups in platonic love, too. Because women need each other. We deserve healing in our sisterhoods, not just in our relationships with men.
So, I ask—who have you been silent toward that maybe deserves a conversation instead of a cutoff?
📍 I’ve seen it happen in my own life. I’ve witnessed beautiful friendships dissolve over things that could have been healed with a conversation. Meanwhile, these same women return to relationships that scar them emotionally and physically—again and again.
The truth? Friendships are foundational. They’re often the ones who hold us up when love breaks us down. So why do we treat them as disposable?
🤲 Real grace looks like:
Pausing before you cut someone off.
Remembering the years, not just the moment.
Giving the same forgiveness you want for yourself.
If we can forgive betrayal in romantic love, we can forgive the slip-ups in platonic love, too. Because women need each other. We deserve healing in our sisterhoods—not just survival in our relationships with men.
One of the most important roles we have as parents is to pay attention. Not just to behavior or milestones—but to what genuinely lights up our children’s spirits. I believe that by watching our kids closely in their early years, we begin to uncover the natural gifts God placed inside of them. These moments of curiosity and passion aren’t random—they’re sacred breadcrumbs leading us to their purpose.
If we take the time to notice what they love—whether it’s drawing, storytelling, building things, helping others, or showing compassion—we can begin to nurture those interests with intention. Why wait until they’re adults to start asking “What do you want to do?” why can’t we guide them now toward creating a life rooted in meaning?
When a child loves creating or organizing, we don’t dismiss it—we celebrate it. Because those passions, when watered by a parent’s belief and God’s timing, can blossom into ministries, businesses, or movements that impact generations.
When the day weighs heavy or the night stretches long, I turn to a ritual that never fails me—ice cream.
Chocolate and strawberry. Haagen Daz. Paired with peanuts and fresh bananas. It’s not just dessert—it’s therapy in a bowl. A small act of self-care that says, “I deserve softness.” And when I’m scooping that last bite? It’s not just about taste. It’s about reclaiming joy. So yes, my go-to comfort food is ice cream. And when I eat it, you truly can’t tell me a thing.
There’s something unsettling about waking up each day knowing you’re headed to a job that brings no joy, no peace, and no passion. It’s a feeling too many people carry quietly—the dread of the daily grind. But what if we’ve been looking at work and fulfillment all wrong?
I believe that within each of us, God has placed a gift. A talent. A passion. Something that doesn’t just make money—but makes sense of our lives. And when we ignore that gift, when we bury it under responsibilities or fear, we start to feel a deep disconnect—not just from ourselves, but from the One who made us.
💬 I’ve met people who are amazing with their hands, crafting, styling, painting. Some who have the kind of voice that moves you. Others who can counsel and uplift you with just a few well-spoken words. These are gifts. Not hobbies. Not side gigs. Gifts from God meant to be cultivated, celebrated, and—yes—even monetized.
💡 So Why Do We Stay Stuck?
Because it’s easier to follow a paycheck than to follow a calling. A paycheck comes with guarantees. A calling comes with faith. And that’s where things get hard—because faith requires trust in a process that isn’t always clear.
But let me tell you something: When you start operating in your gift, the happiness it brings can’t be bought. You might work harder than you’ve ever worked before—but your spirit won’t feel depleted. You’ll wake up with purpose. You’ll look at your life and feel proud of how your gift is serving not just you, but others.
I’m entering planning mode! 🙌🏾 In two years, I’ll be celebrating 60 wonderful years of life, and I want to start building the vision now. Theme ideas? Venue ideas Downtown Detroit or Surrounding Suburbs? Catering ideas? Party IDEAS? I have no experience at all in this area. Please help!!!!
Post ideas even if you don’t live in Detroit. I’ve never had a party because of shyness; I have a big personality and is Blessed to have wonderful family and great long-lasting friendships. I need help!
Too many of us have been conditioned to flinch at the word No. It echoes like failure, feels like rejection, and lodges deep in the heart as if we weren’t good enough, worthy enough, or ready enough. But the truth is—No doesn’t have to be the end of our dreams.
Sometimes that “No” is divine redirection. It’s God whispering, “That’s not what I have for you.” And if we’re honest, some of the things we begged for in the past—jobs, relationships, opportunities—would’ve pulled us away from our purpose had we received them. Thank God for the doors that didn’t open.
But here’s where it gets real: hearing No too often can make us stop trying. We stop asking. We stop dreaming. And eventually, we settle. Not because our dreams weren’t valid, but because we let fear of rejection speak louder than the fire God placed in our hearts.
Saying “keep going” after a No doesn’t mean pretending it didn’t sting. It means trusting that even disappointment can be holy. It means reminding ourselves: our worth isn’t tied to someone else’s approval. And every No we face is a setup for the right Yes.
So dream anyway. Ask anyway. Show up anyway. When No shows up at your door, don’t pack up and walk away. Stand firm. Trust God. And know that sometimes, the No isn’t punishment—it’s protection. It’s purpose. It’s a better Yes in the making.
Inside the mind of cree 