1: Some of you are new to the Internets. WELCOME! Here’s a tiny tip: Scroll up to the top of your screen. See those “tabs” (Blog, Daily Prayer)? If you take your mouse thingy and hover the arrow over one of the names THEN CLICK IT! it will take you to another room in my Internet house. Please, make yourself at home and come back often. DO IT!
2: I’m a freelance writer who writes. And bakes. And DIMyself. And cusses (although, I’m trying to cut down). And drinks. And thinks. And talks with a Texas accent. And laughs. Oh, so many laughs.
3: I specialize in the humorous essay, am known to blog an ear off and have several completed novels that I fear are embarrassments.
4: This website is my “author” site. I constructed it on the advice of an agent as “proof” to editors/agents/rain-makers that I had a writer’s platform in place. Seemed like all the cool kids were doing it. Her strict advice was to “keep it professional” and “mind your brand” as I filled the pages. Oopsie.
5: I probably like cake more than you. No really. I like cake so much, I once renamed a season after it: The Summer of Cake. There was homemade cake at least once a week. Each documented and eaten. It was a glorious time.
6: I live in
South East Texas, home of the hot and sweaty, with my adored Husband and adorable fur thang, Reilly.
7: I call San Angelo home, a dusty West Texas dream, where I once roamed the scrubby land with a hot and sweaty pack of
8: I have one kiddo, a grown man whom I still call Bunny, but for the sake of this site, you’ll know him as Boy. Boy is married to Mrs. Boy, aka Girl. They’re adorable, too.
9. I am a grandmama. He calls me Choochie. (NOT Coo-chie) Weirdo.
10: I also run another site. So diversified! Go HERE to behold the Choochie goodness.
11: There is no one that amuses me like me. All you have to do to verify this embarrassing fact is click over to my YouTube channel. It’s a sickness even more cowbell can’t cure.
12: I’m a runner. Been at it since I was 10-years-old. I see you doing the math.
13: I fought triple-positive breast cancer in a bar fight and won. Got the scars to prove it. Wrote a post afterwards: Make Friends With Death.
14: The pic included on this page is after treatment for that cancer. I don’t have hair like that anymore, but man, oh man, I loved its simplicity and fun.
15: I hope you come here and laugh your behind off. And think until it hurts. And cry public tears. I hope you come here and your life is expanded in some way. Not just because of the singular stories about my life’s joys and ridiculous twists (professionalism and branding, be damned), but because you recognize the collective us in these pages. You aren’t alone, mah babies. You’ve got me.
I’m compelled to shine the light on the threads that connect us instead of the vast gulf that divides us.
We are stronger together, no matter how terrifying the flying debris appears or how soft the landing cushion feels. We are stronger knowing we aren’t alone.
That’s why I write.
You are not alone. You’ve got me.