All tagged kristy kelly
I’m starting to understand all the Florida jokes. From fog that seemed unfazed by the sun to a power outage in a parking garage, my day was one long string of minor inconveniences that managed to feel much bigger than they were. It really did start with wearing the wrong shoes.
If I had judged the year by how it began, I would have written it off before it even got started. January dragged me into 2025 while I was sick, exhausted, and quietly wondering if my body was about to fail me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Nothing felt steady. Nothing felt hopeful. I thought I was bracing for the worst year of my life.
As Thanksgiving arrives and the Christmas season begins, the Magic Mile Media, Neuse News and partner teams reflected on gratitude in their own words. Their responses show the range of personalities behind the work, from heartfelt to humorous.
If I had judged the year by how it began, I would have written it off before it even got started. January dragged me into 2025 while I was sick, exhausted, and quietly wondering if my body was about to fail me in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Nothing felt steady. Nothing felt hopeful. I thought I was bracing for the worst year of my life.
Needing a welder to lose weight was not on my 2025 bingo card, I admit—but alas, here we are.
With municipal elections set for Tuesday, Nov. 4, Neuse News Managing Editor Kristy Kelly and Magic Mile Media President BJ Murphy sat down to reflect on a year of unexpected filings, budget debates, and public controversy that helped shape local races across Lenoir and Greene counties.
Magic Mile Media, the parent company of Neuse News and NC Political News, has announced two leadership promotions as it moves into what CEO BJ Murphy called “an exciting new season” for the organization. Aleatha Thrower has been named vice president of Magic Mile Media, and Kristy Kelly has been promoted to managing editor of Neuse News.
Charlie Kirk did not deserve to die. Full stop. We do not live in a society that condones vigilante justice, and yet, a man was executed in public view.
Yesterday, I witnessed a handful of adults berate the city council and call for the reallocation of police funds because an officer allegedly abused his power and was caught on video doing so. The police department gave a canned “we are investigating the issue” statement, and the mayor co-signed their message by way of copy and paste.
I thought I was the adult—until the adult child touched the holy grail: the thermostat.
Living with adult children is the fastest path to prison for a parent just trying to stay sane.
“You never invite me to your house,” and, “You never come to mine when I invite you,” are two complaints I hear more than I care to admit.
There’s something deeply humbling about being wrapped in the love of an entire town—a thousand small acts that made our wedding day unforgettable. From the moment my eyes opened on the morning of June 13, it was clear that someone had already come through and smoothed the way.
When asked what I’d wanted for Mother’s Day, my answer was simple: To be left alone.
In previous years, I had done all the work to make sure my children were able to give me the Mother’s Day they thought I deserved, and quite frankly, every year it was annoying and exhausting.
Depending on how one quantifies success, the BBQ Fest on the Neuse was either a resounding triumph or a disappointing flop. From the viewpoint of an author hoping to sell books, it may have felt like a failure. But as a columnist, the festival renewed my confidence and reminded me why it's important to keep talking about mental health.
At about 3:45 AM, I knew I was in no condition to go to work. I held off as long as I possibly could before calling out—because calling in sick always makes me feel guilty. I flipped my phone over to keep the light from waking me and crawled back under the covers. That was the calm before everyone else’s very bad day.
In what feels like another life, my days were strategically planned around working the required eight hours, and then going home to tend to little humans in various stages of chaos. I understood the assignment. As long as they didn’t die of starvation or filicide, I was doing a good job. That was my parenting barometer — survival.
What should have been an exciting announcement about Kinston rising to the occasion and becoming a finalist for the 2025 All-American City Award turned into a gathering of the Out-of-Towner-Hater Club—egged on by people too disillusioned to see what’s in front of them.
Being in a woman in her 40s is like playing emotional roulette. Which level of crazy are you going to get when you act foolish toward me? Spin the wheel and find out!
Some years start off fresh and full of promise. This was not one of them. Instead, 2025 kicked in my door, dumped a bucket of germs on my household, and made itself at home. For almost a month the doctors could only seem to tell us what it wasn’t. Just as I finally started feeling human again, I walked straight into an event that reminded me why I’d rather be heard and not seen.
