In the blink of an eye, it was out of control. Where did the flowers end and weeds begin? I thought I knew, but could I just start pulling things out? What if I accidentally weeded the important stuff? I was frozen. This is when my mother-in-law single handedly turned my garden back into a thing of beauty (which did involve a minor cactus injury).

Sometimes clients have been planning their website content or blog ideas for years. They have Evernotes that go on forever. Then they are so weighed down by weeds, they can’t see the flowers.

Let me help you. I’m not decisive about everything—if we ever go to a movie together, can you please pick?—but I’m reliably clear on your most-authentic direction and how to represent yourself to your ideal clients.

The point?
When we work together, your word-garden will be beautifully pruned and planted to highlight the blooms.

Every time I’m at the supermarket with my full basket, I think:
Sure, I can do self-checkout. Heck, I used to work at a supermarket!

But every time I’m in the midst of self-checkout, I realize how naïve I am. Like yesterday…

The supermarket is empty. I start scanning my items. Suddenly self-checkout is overrun with people. A man (with just three items) hops in line behind me. Stay calm, Deidre. You can do this. As I try to separate the edges of the yellow plastic bag, it won’t open. Panic thumps in my chest. Serves you right for forgetting your eco-friendly tote!

I start sweating while simultaneously embarking on a one-woman comedy show in attempts to garner goodwill with Mr. Three Items. I frantically swipe what feels like 600 Kind Bars. None will scan. Save them for last. Just breathe.

Oh dear God…produce! My face is redder than these apples (“BEEP—item not recognized!”) and WHAT IS THE CODE FOR BUTTERNUT SQUASH?! With plastic bags flying everywhere, another man gets in line, already looking irritated. Run away, Deidre! Drop your stuff and run!

Flabbergasted, I eventually leave with my groceries.

Forevermore I will be going to a register manned by a human being. I learned my lesson. For my own sanity, I can’t check out alone.

The point?
Sometimes we just need help…from a real, live person. If writing makes you want to abandon your Kind Bars and run, I’m here to lend a hand.

The only spider I ever squished was crawling on my arm while I was driving.

I was startled, and I didn’t have the compassion or reflexes to save him (or her). It was a panic-squish. Yes, I still feel bad.

All the other spiders get vacuumed up in my dust buster to “make friends” or “hang out” for the day—and they get released into the wild in the evenings.

The truth is, I dislike spiders very much. I worry they might crawl into my hair and make a spider-nest if I’m not vigilant.

My family makes fun of me because I have a “witness relocation” program for spiders—but I just see it as a small thing I can do to be nice, and at the same time, to cope with something that I’m scared of. Alas, being adults in the world, we occasionally find ourselves face to face with a spider—and we’ve got to cope somehow. This is how I cope.

The point?
It’s my firm belief that people want to work with humans, and sometimes it’s our quirks that make us human. So, all else being equal, if you want to work with me because I catch and release spiders, let me know. (I think that would be the very first time in history that has ever happened.) Or, if writing simply makes you want to panic-squish your keyboard, I can help release your fears.

Save the spiders!

Radiohead was playing. I inhaled the smell of Auntie Anne’s pretzels, and I got a passing whiff of something like Drakkar. For a moment in the mall today, everything aligned and suddenly I was 17 again. It was perfect.

Then I snapped back into my semi-disgruntled, errand-running reality. Why was I disgruntled? In that split second, nothing had changed at all.

Now, I wouldn’t want to be 17-year-old Deidre again (too close to the mullet years), but I loved that feeling. It was freedom. Everything was so new, so exciting. The world was my oyster.

The point?
With cologne-filled nostrils, it hit me that youth is a feeling, a smell, a moment—a state of mind. We can be young, unburdened and lighthearted whenever we choose. If only we stop being so damn serious.

For me, creativity thrives on joy. This means that talking to chipmunks is pretty much a business necessity.

Just for a moment, what if we forget about life’s responsibilities and start thinking about its possibilities? Well, that’s exactly what I did. I ditched my errands and bought this youth-invoking reminder.

In one of the many joys of homeownership, I had to get my driveway resurfaced. Frank, the driveway company’s owner, gave me a few options at different prices. I said, “Well Frank, I don’t want the driveway to fall apart. If it were your driveway, what would you do?”

And he said, “Sweetheart, my driveway is stone. Asphalt driveways are too much damn work!”

The point?
I believe in engaging website words.
I believe in them so much—that I use them myself.

Ready to pave the path to your business with golden words? I’m in!

Grateful word-paving doesn’t require wearing tar-covered boots,

Evidently chickpeas, body wash and vitamins aren’t the only things I hoard. (Thankfully I didn’t lose them too. Only one safety net at a time!)

Want an idea vault for yourself? Here’s how:

Finding a house would be like it is on HGTV’s House Hunters. We’d find three suitable homes and agree on the perfect one over a glass of wine—all while my hair looked perfect. Plus, I’d be far less annoying than the usual house hunters. I don’t care about granite countertops, I’m not scared of a little wood paneling, and I’d never utter the term (that makes my fists rise in fury), “price point.”After seeing the world’s most claustrophobia-inducing box (house #12), only Cadbury Creme Eggs could keep hope alive. Realtor, hubby and I ate them while I muttered, “At least there’s chocolate…”