So people often say, “Shiz rolls downhill as you get older.”

I disagree, man. I mean, completely disagree. As time passes, I’m aging like fine wine. And, if I get to choose the wine, it would be a Reisling (just in case anyone ever wants to send, give or buy me a bottle. I’ll never turn down the gift). Hitting the age of thirty is a lifetime milestone. It’s an achievement all in itself. But, often people spend this wonderful day grieving in their pity party pile of dirty laundry. Get out of your dirty laundry, people. Embrace your life. Plus, that pile smells weird!

I’ve learned more about laughter, forgiveness, freedom and finding oneself in the last year than I have within the combined thirty years prior. I’ve had countless revelations and understandings about others, about myself and most importantly about life.


I celebrated twelve years achieved, spent, conquered with my spouse when so many have thrown the towel in for us. We threw it in their face. And, we laughed while dancing on the headstone of the nay-sayers defeat.

Ha-haha-hahahaha! We survived. No, we Thrived and overcame so much. Easy? Nope. Worth it? Absolutely. Starting a relationship at eighteen and marrying at twenty-two is no easy task. No siree! And, it’s almost unheard of anymore, which is sad but true. It’s one of the hardest yet rewarding adventures of my life. I love him. I love his quirky, hyper, intense personality. I love his extreme drive to provide for his family. I love that he still looks at me like no one else is in the room. I love that he always makes me laugh. I love that he’s loyal. I love that he’s incredibly hot. I love all of him. He still gives me butterflies.



I learned the passionate love, riveting attraction and spellbinding emotion a fan-frickin-tastic fiction novel delivers. The feelings a good story-teller can invoke within you completely blows my mind.





Blows – my – mind.

I’m in love with a good story. I’m absorbed by the places it takes me. It fascinates me to peel the layers of an intricately designed plot and the characters it displays. It’s like my very own present that I get to unwrap and when I finally get to its contents, I’m in a state of pure bliss. Yes – I love to read. Throw some heartache and a little romantic edge into the mix and you’ve absolutely busted the piñata of my brain.


I walked a horrible pregnancy journey. It was my first and my only. Terrible. Disgusting. Annoying. I absolutely hated it. I lost 100 % control of my body, felt like my internal organs were being rearranged into a hodge podge mess of slush, and expelled at least half of my stomach’s contents per day for a seven month stretch. It felt like the longest nine months of my life. I was bitchy. I was rude. I lacked any compassion for anything that breathed, got in my way, or just showed up.  I wanted to punch every single person who touched my shoulder gently and said,

“Sweetheart. This is the greatest experience of your life. Embrace it. Enjoy it. You’re growing a human. What a beautiful experience this should be.”

Are you kidding me? Are you seriously telling me that getting punched, kicked, clawed, head-butted and booty-bumped by something the size of a melon from the inside out, is beautiful? That stabbing my finger four times daily to test my blood sugar is beautiful? That puking my stomach’s contents is beautiful? That having about forty-two minutes of energy within a twenty-four hour period, is beautiful? Maybe I missed that memo. Or maybe your memo is delusional. Or maybe I need Jesus. (Wait! I already have Him! I probably just need more.) But never-the-less,

He was born …

My child was born …

My magnificently beautiful baby boy was born …

And, oh my Lord! There are no words …



They laid him on my chest, wrapped in a tiny swaddled blanket and he cried. He cried so loud that it became music to my ears. And, then I cried. A beautiful ugly cry. I held him so close as the tears streamed down my cheeks. I bonded to the tiniest little soul I’d ever held. He was wonderful. He was marvelous. He mesmerized me. I clutched his daddy’s hand as he leaned over and kissed my forehead. We both stared in utter awe at something God created and allowed to grow within me. So, this is what the moms of the world were talking about …

I was in love. He captivated my heart from his first breathe. And, every bit of angst I suffered during pregnancy was worth it. One hundred percent worth it! MINDBLOWN.


I finally had balance. I finally understood peace. My fear of losing myself after giving birth diminished. It made me better, stronger. It made me complete. I embraced being a mother. I wrapped it up nicely into the package of every insecurity I had ever felt. I combined it with each strength I had reluctantly yet finally allowed God to mold and shape within me. And, I let each attribute: mom, wife, daughter, friend, singer, outdoorsman, athlete, inspired & creative mind swarm my entire being.  I was proud to hold each and every dynamic facet as a part of me. All of me. I felt polished, rejuvenated.

See, in the first year of my 30’s I learned that it’s ok to:

Be wounded

Be dimpled

Feel pain

Give laughter

Embrace your struggles

Share victories

Remember truth

Love shamelessly

Forgive often

Dare to follow dreams

Get back up

Get back up again

The first year of my thirties, I grew up. I became exactly who I was always intended to be. Getting older really is a state of mind. I don’t mind it so much. I’m ready to take this ride head on!

Welcome to the Mindblown Chronicles.


If you had to choose one Marvel Superhero to rescue you from certain death, who would it be and why?

Oooooooooh … Now, that’s a toughie. It would be a cross between Thor and Captain America for obvious reasons. 1-they are the alter ego of Chris Hemsworth and Chris Evans. 2-They’re hot. 3-One throws a shield and one throws a hammer. How can you go wrong?

You’re house is on fire and you can grab 3 things, and 3 things only (excluding your family and animals) before the roof collapses. What are those 3 things and why?

1.) Pictures-pictures-pictures. You can’t get those back. That-Is-All.

2.) My slalom waterski. It’s the first ski I ever bought on my own. It’s an O’Brien which is what I learned to ski on. It was only $25 but, I’m proud of it.

3.) My purse. You need no explanation other than, “DUH!”

You recently found out that animals can actually talk. Does this scare, excite, or freak you out?

How is everyone just now figuring out that animals can talk? It’s nothing new. Why am I the only one who knows this?!?!

You have 3 foods to live off of for the rest of your life. What are they and why?

Mashed potatoes, sushi, and bbq chicken. In that order but not blended together because that would be disgusting. Preferably not even on the same plate. I’d like three individual plates. One purple, one red, and one blue.

Mashed potatoes – Hello????? Have you had homemade mashed potatoes with cream cheese, sweet cream butter and colby jack shredded cheese? This deserves a Mindblown post all in itself. Pure utter bliss in your mouth.

Sushi – tiny packaged awesomeness all rolled up in the sweetness of sea weed? I crave sushi. I need sushi. I want to marry sushi. I love sushi.

Bbq chicken – If you’ve ever had my dad’s bbq chicken, this post will make complete sense. If you have not, I’m sure there is an empty aching sensation deep in your belly clawing at me to share with you. I probably won’t though. And, I’m so sorry. This is one thing I can’t give up. I-Need-It-All-To-Myself.

Why does Coke use regular cherry when Pepsi gets to use Wild Cherry?

Because Coke is SO Awesome that it doesn’t NEED the extra wild. It’s super on its own.

Why have poets been so silent on the subject of cheese?

I have absolutely no idea what’s going on right now.


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