jQuery(document).ready(function($) { $('img[title]').each(function() { $(this).removeAttr('title'); }); });

๐’๐จ๐ฆ๐ž๐ญ๐ข๐ฆ๐ž๐ฌ, ๐ข๐ญ๐ฌ ๐›๐ž๐ฌ๐ญ ๐ฐ๐ž ๐ฌ๐ญ๐š๐ฒ ๐ข๐ง ๐œ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฉ๐จ๐ฎ๐ง๐.

Awe, those seasons in our lives it seems as though we are living at a snails pace. Times it appears there is no excitement, no adrenaline, very little motivation; times when we feel we are navigating about in compound.

In my pre-teen years, I learned to drive a 1950โ€™s pickup. It was one that had a brake, a clutch and a gear shift on the floor. My dad called it his feed truck. Weโ€™d load the bed down with hay, grain and cake. A little side note for those of you who arenโ€™t familiar with feeding cattle, I am not talking about the sweet goodness we celebrate our birthdays with. The cake ranchers feed their herds are little 3 inch pressed cubes of nutrients which bovine of all breeds love as much as I do a dark ganache drizzled in raspberry sauce.

Anyway, one particular time, in the beginning stages of learning to steer and change gear, both, in unison, I was instructed to put the pickup in compound and drive through the open gate while my dad corralled the calves.

My heart raced; with reluctance, I placed one foot on the clutch, the other on the brake, reached for the gear shift, and not so gracefully jolted forward, coming face to face withโ€ฆthe gate post. It was evident I could not be trusted in any gear other than compound.

Maybe, just maybe, itโ€™s a good thing there are times in our lives we live in compound. Compound gives us an opportunity to restructure, to learn, and to mature, preparing us for the next leg of the journey.

Donโ€™t curse compoundโ€ฆlive, learn, enjoy and then change gear.

No matter what gear I am in, Iโ€™m gonna do it in a GiGi Pip hat. #gigipipambassador