Julie Brown

There are few phrases in the English language that sound more relaxing than, “We’re heading to our beach house this week for a staycation.” You can practically feel your blood pressure dropping just saying it. No airports. No delayed flights. No rental cars. No tiny hotel shampoo bottles that somehow leave your hair feeling both greasy and dry. This week is just us, the beach, two dogs, a stack of books, and absolutely nowhere to be. And, it was going to be so peaceful. Or…that was the…

Last week Bentley was neutered. Which, if you’re a dog owner, you know is usually a fairly routine procedure. Except Bentley decided routine was for other pet parents. While they were in there, the vet also repaired two umbilical hernias, which means my sweet little velociraptor didn’t just come home with one surgical site. His entire tummy is basically stitched together. So for the last week and a half I’ve been living with one full-time job: Preventing a puppy from being…a puppy. If…

If you’ve been around here for a while, you know I have a completely unnecessary obsession with Tudor England. I can’t explain it. Give me a documentary about Henry VIII, Anne Boleyn, Elizabeth I, or Mary Queen of Scots and I am absolutely locked in. One of the things that has always fascinated me is how royal marriages worked. Imagine someone telling you: “Congratulations! We’ve found you the perfect spouse.” “Wonderful! What’s he like?” “Well…here’s a painting.” That’s it. Somewhere…

People often assume my job is standing on stage. It’s not. That’s just the part everyone sees. The last six weeks I’ve been off the road, and while it might look like I’ve been taking a little break…I can assure you, my laptop would strongly disagree. This morning I finished the first draft of The BOLD Factor. Which sounds exciting…until you realize what “finished the first draft” actually means. It means it’s time to tear the whole thing to shreds. And honestly? It deserves it. Because…

Four weeks ago I broke and dislocated my toe. Not stubbed it. Not bruised it.Broke it. AND Dislocated it. Badly. How badly, you might ask? The kind of bad where you look at your foot and immediately know: “Oh. That’s not supposed to look like that.” At first, I thought I had one problem….It turns out, I had two. Because my husband took one look at my foot…and promptly passed the F&CK out. Which is honestly a wild thing to witness while you’re in excruciating pain. There I was trying to…