Once upon a time, there was a girl with very big hair and a very small rebellious streak.

She followed the rules, said please and thank you, worried about disappointing people, and occasionally thought drinking Boone’s Farm made her a wild child.

Spoiler alert: It didn’t.

That girl was me.

Class of 1993. Big hair. Good manners. Rebellious streak still under construction.

Growing up, I was the quintessential goody-goody. Girls were supposed to be polite, respectful, and not make waves. Be seen and not heard. Keep the peace.

And I was pretty darn good at it.

But don’t let that innocent graduation smile fool you.

There was a little rebel hiding underneath all those curls.

Granted, my teenage adventures weren’t exactly the stuff of legendary family scandals.

Sneaking into an R-rated movie? Check.

A little Boone’s Farm before 18? Oh, the horror!

And I’ve always had a thing for the bad boys. Although, let’s be clear, they still had to be respectable enough to bring home to Mom.

I had standards, people.

Apparently, I wanted just enough trouble to make life interesting without actually getting into trouble.

The rebel had rules. And probably a backup plan.

The Goody-Goody Grows Up. Sort Of.

Fast-forward a few decades, and here I am in my 50s.

Still responsible. Still organized. Still a rule follower.

Still capable of overthinking something that probably required approximately 30 seconds of thought.

It’s a gift. 😂

But somewhere along the way, I discovered that being responsible doesn’t mean I have to be predictable.

Sometimes I can throw out the schedule, embrace a spontaneous adventure, or do something for no other reason than it sounds fun.

Case in point: a recent Friday.

Dan woke up and suggested an “F Off Friday.”

The responsible side of me could have come up with a dozen reasons to stick to our usual routine.

Instead, we headed to Disney Springs, did a little shopping, enjoyed lunch, and met up with friends.

No agenda. No elaborate planning. Just a spontaneous day together.

And you know what?

It was fabulous.

Apparently, not everything needs a plan.

Who knew? 😂

Sweet, With a Side of Mischief

Here’s something that might surprise people who only know my responsible side.

I can be a bit of an instigator.

Not the kind who creates actual trouble. More the kind who makes a suggestion, raises an eyebrow, and then sits back to see what happens.

Purely innocent, of course.

My closest friends know this about me.

There’s the polite, organized, thoughtful Wendi.

And then there’s the Wendi who enjoys a little playful teasing, a ridiculous idea, or an unexpected adventure.

Sometimes both versions show up at the same time.

Which can be confusing for innocent bystanders. 😂

Dan certainly knows them both.

He’s pretty good at encouraging spontaneity, and I’m pretty good at finding reasons why something might be a great idea.

It’s a partnership.

Occasionally a very entertaining one.

And while I still love a good plan, I’m learning that sometimes the best stories begin with two little words.

Why not?

I’ve Got a Little Stitch in My Snoopy

If you’ve spent any time in the Dandi world, you know there’s a lot of Snoopy and Stitch around here.

Stitch was mine. Snoopy was Dan’s.

And as Wendi and Dan became Dandi, those two became friends, too.

Their collection has grown, and now you’ll find them hanging out together throughout our home.

Which is pretty fitting when you think about it.

Snoopy is sweet, loyal, imaginative, and occasionally a little mischievous.

Stitch? Well, Stitch has never been particularly concerned with behaving himself.

But he’s lovable, loyal, and has a good heart underneath all that chaos.

And somewhere between the two, I think you’ll find me.

Sweet? Usually.

Responsible? Absolutely.

Mischievous? More often than some people realize.

Apparently, I’ve got a little Stitch with my Snoopy. 💙

And I’m perfectly okay with that.

Although, judging by the way those two hang out together in our bedroom, I suspect they’re plotting something.

Neither is talking.

Good Girl. Not Always Agreeable.

Here’s the thing about being a lifelong goody-goody.

I still believe in rules. I believe in boundaries. And I believe there’s usually a good reason they exist.

But somewhere along the way, I got pretty good at finding creative loopholes.

Even professionally, I’ve become someone who looks for a way to say yes instead of immediately accepting no.

Within reason, of course.

The rebel still has rules. She’s just gotten better at reading the fine print. 😂

For years, I thought being good meant being agreeable.

Don’t rock the boat. Don’t disappoint anyone. Keep everybody happy.

Turns out, that’s exhausting.

These days, I’m much more comfortable having an opinion, asking questions, challenging something that doesn’t make sense, or simply saying, “No, thank you.”

Politely, of course.

Let’s not get carried away.

I’ve learned that being kind doesn’t mean always saying yes. And following the rules doesn’t mean you can’t occasionally question them.

Being a good girl doesn’t mean I always have to be an agreeable one.

And maybe that’s my favorite kind of rebellion.

So no, turning 50 hasn’t suddenly transformed me into some wild child.

I still say please and thank you. I still like a plan. And I’m still probably going to read the instructions before assembling something.

Okay, maybe twice.

But I’ve also learned to leave a little room for the unexpected.

For spontaneity.

For mischief.

For fun.

Because life is short, and I don’t want to spend all of it being perfectly behaved.

Once a goody-goody, always a goody-goody.

I just reserve the right to be a little naughty every now and then. 😉❤️