Jamie Janosz

My husband often jokes that if he can't find me, I'll be at the lifeguard station a few miles south of us. We stopped there once - when we first moved to Florida - to ask about vacancies at an oceanfront hotel. I started to get out of the car only to see a dozen nicely tanned, muscular men jogging past me. It was like Baywatch come to life. But seriously, the red lifeguard stands dot the Atlantic coast. Most of the time, I do not see an actual person sitting atop the own at our location. Budget cuts mean lifeguards only truly guard the more popular areas of the beach. Ours often sits empty. And while it is beautiful, the beach poses real danger. There have been the occasional shark sightings. And, there are often viscous rip currents. Special flags are used to warn swimmers to take caution. But people don't heed the warnings, and there are too often accidents where someone is swept out into the ocean with no one around to help or rescue. As I passed this empty lif...

It was Friday, and I wanted nothing more than to get back home. I visit Chicago four times a year for work meetings. And, despite the hassles that come with travel, I love those visits. I soak in face-to-face time with my coworkers (not on a little Skype screen), have dinner with my sister Julie, and squeeze in as much girlfriend time as possible. But by Friday I am definitely ready to head home. My introverted self often feels exhausted after a week of non-stop work and visiting. So I headed to Midway airport with plenty of time before my 4:15 p.m. departure time. Tucked safely inside four ziploc bags was a frozen pizza for my husband. He is still in deep withdrawal from Chicago pizza (not the thick crust variety, but thin crust, cut-in-squares, from Aurelio's - extra sauce). My trip was off to a good start. The TSA line was miraculously short. In fact, they had a new bin procedure that allowed four people at one time to empty their bags, take off their shoes, and shutt...

We've heard an awful lot of horrible stories about men recently. Famous men who with prestigious jobs have fallen from grace as brave women stepped forward to tell of sexual harassment and inappropriate behavior in the workplace. One by one their names appear in the news. And each time, I recoiled a bit in astonishment. Really! Another one? But at the same time, it is not altogether unexpected. Is it? Nearly every woman I know can tell a story of sexual misconduct or inappropriate treatment. In fact, today I was sitting next to two young women at Starbucks who were discussing the latest news, that Matt Lauer, of Today Show fame, had lost his job. The one girl said to the other, "It's almost a rite of passage to be harassed." Incredibly, the other one nodded. This is terribly, horribly sad. I am a 52-year-old mom, and I can only hope and pray that my 20-year-old daughter does not have to suffer this type of treatment by her professors, her bosses, or t...

Just a few mornings ago, I was listening to Jen Hatmaker's audio book Of Mess and Moxie as I walked the Atlantic beach. Hurricane Irma was still dancing in the distance, and I was trying to figure out lots of details: evacuation possibilities, canceling travel plans, where to get gas and water, whether or not to pick up my daughter from college. The usually peaceful walk was being marred by my ADD mind of distressful random concerns. But in her "I've got your back friend" kind of way, Jen gently spoke into my earbuds, "We are not to be consumed by a spirit of fear." And then, she said something that made me tear up a little bit, "Remember...fear is a liar." She's right, you know. Fear tells us crazy, horrible things. Fear whispers into our deepest insecurities and shouts that we are never, ever going to make it through whatever trial is ahead. But God tells us something else. Over and over again, we read, "Fear not" in th...

On my morning walk, I saw a 40-something man and woman jump out of their beach patrol van and run to the sand dune about 500 yards from shore. They were checking a sea turtle nest. May to October is sea turtle season on the Atlantic coast of Florida. This is the time when the mamas come ashore to lay their eggs, and Floridians takes this sea turtle stuff very seriously. Volunteers carefully mark and protect each nest, putting wooden stakes in four corners around the perimeter, securing it with a line and a stern warning sticker – not to disturb the protected nest. Almost every day, you will see volunteers trekking up and down the beach stopping to check each and every nest on the miles of shoreline. They’re looking for any damage (there are laws against disturbing the marked nesting zones), and they set up new markers when beach goers call in a sighting. They’re waiting. Waiting for those babies to hatch. When they hatch – it is amazing . The little babies...

Remember those thick, crusty scabs you would get as a kid? My skin-the-knee-years were in the early 70s, and I would often return from a wobbly bike ride with my knee scraped and bloody. Tears streaming down my face, I would park my purple, banana seat bike – with its white flower-covered plastic basket, in the driveway and burst into our ranch-style suburban house in search of my mom. She would get the “cure-all” basket out of our bathroom, wipe the dirt off of my injured knee, and apply Merthiolate (the pinkish liquid applied with a dropper) to my cut, blowing on it to soothe the sting. But the days afterward weren’t pretty either. The scrape would scab over. And it was hard to resist picking at its itchy ugliness. Blood, I learned, was not my friend. Not only did I fear blood, I was terrified of any sort of injury. A safety first child, I dreaded gym class and even opted out of outings to the toboggan hill or roller skating rink. Blood and fear were forever linke...

There's this exercise that isn't really an exercise. It's more like an instrument of pain and torture - called the "plank." I found it when I was googling "exercises for women over 50," specifically designed to get rid of that annoying pooch that resides right at my waistline. And I've been doing them. Kind of. If you know what a plank is, feel free to skip to the next paragraph. Basically, you lie flat on the ground (stomach down). This is my favorite part. Next, you place your palms down, keeping your elbows on the floor (this is my second favorite part . . . it gets harder). Then, you push slightly up, raising your chest, torso and legs off of the ground. Use your upper arm strength, your amazing abs, and your toes. Your body should be straight with your stomach sucked in (more than I'm doing in this embarrassing photo), Your torso should be parallel with the ground. Now you count - oh, and don't forget to breathe. This looks amazi...