She’s Not Whiney, She’s A Warrior.

           Warrior – noun : a brave or experienced fighter.

It’s 7am and the sun breaking through the shades wakes her from a half assed and pain filled sleep.

Moving is a chore and actually getting out of bed seems absolutely daunting, but there is no other option.

As she struggles to find clothes that don’t cause her pain more pain she hears the littles stirring, and so it begins.

She shoves the pain and nausea deep inside and makes her way to their morning routine. Smiling, giggling, tickling and picking out clothes; supervising teeth brushing and keeping their good morning good.

Hiding the pain behind a smile and a stiff walk, she gets them off to school and makes it to work.

Sitting is miserable, standing is miserable, breathing hurts so much, any form of using the bathroom hurts, she is starving but eating causes nausea..and so does not eating.

11 o’clock rolls around and she can’t help but send that “I’m hurting today.” text to her husband, feeling SO guilty for even thinking of complaining…

Lunch time comes and she tries to find something that will settle, but nothing does. Nausea from the pain is basically constant. She’s really good at not puking, and that’s sadly something she’s proud of.

She struggles through her work, fighting the confusion from an unexplainable brain fog and finally getting the project complete before she can go home.

It’s 2 pm, she is fighting the intense fatigue just to make it to the house; so bad she considers literally taping her eyelids open for fear of falling asleep at the wheel. Through a scary 5 miles she makes it home to her heating pad and favorite pillow.

No noise, and no blankets because by now even her skin hurts…only the pillow and now the lab puppy that’s laying across her lap. She falls into a fatigue fueled sleep that she imagines resembles a mild coma.

What seems like 3 minutes passes and her alarm goes off, it’s time to go get the kids, do the chores and get dinner ready.

The pain is no better, the fatigue is still hanging over hear head and once again…she straps on her smile and gets it done.

So, please know this;

Just because she’s bouncing around and smiling and laughing with the kids doesn’t mean that she doesn’t want to fall into your arms and break into tears.

Just because she’s productive at work doesn’t mean that she hasn’t been struggling to even understand what she is reading.

Just because she does it all, doesn’t mean she is okay…

…and just because she let’s you know that she’s hurting, please know that she isn’t whining; she is just scared and feeling very alone.

She is a warrior, fighting her invisible disease, her pain, the doubt of her friends and family…over and over, every day.

She is a warrior that  puts those she loves first, regardless…

…she isn’t whiney, she IS a warrior.


A Silent Warrior




Just A Girl

I’m just a girl.

1Just a girl from a small town in Oklahoma. Just a girl who was raised in the oilfield and on the land. Just a girl who loves more than she fights and has never met a stranger.

Just a girl who is kind and has a heart too big for this cruel world.

I’m just a girl who is 100% authentic in herself…and that’s no longer good enough.

I’m almost 6 foot tall; all legs and a short crooked torso. I wear a t-shirt, jeans and boots almost every day and my “dressed up” is probably less fancy than society’s version of “dressed down” for a 20-something woman these days. I lost my boobs to fitness and I don’t even own a dress. I do love to fix my hair and play in makeup from time to time – but this still just isn’t good enough for this feminist driven society.

Girl power. *insert eye roll here*

I get dirty…a lot, because my job requires it. I’m not afraid to work, never have been. I was shoveling shit on a ranch before I could drive, earning my keep that led me to be the horseman I am today. I love to go out in the field and come home at the end of the day filthy and exhausted because I busted my ass.

I also love to come home at the end of that day and throw some laundry in, whip up dinner and make sure the house is in order. There’s just something about the smile on a mans face when dinner is almost ready when he gets home.


I’m not a feminist.






You bet your ass I think a woman’s place is in the kitchen.You bet your ass I think it’s a woman’s duty to be the sole homemaker.You can also bet your ass that I believe any successful relationship is first based on friendship and mutual respect.

I’ve watched this dynamic since I opened my eyes and I respect my grandparents and their marriage of 66 years more than any of these short lived so called relationships of this century.

I am an extremely independent woman and there aren’t many things I can’t do on my own, but I can tell you from experience…I absolutely REFUSE to live in a household without a dynamic like my grandparents have, ever again. I don’t WANT to be equal to the man in  my life – that’s not the structure I desire. I want a man who can be a man, someone who desires to take care of me and protect me; not someone constantly hiding behind me and asking ME for direction? If I wanted that I would have been a switch hitter.

I am so confused by feminism, I guess specifically because I’ve never not “felt equal” to men? Maybe that’s because I was raised in the industries of a man and learned quick that in order to keep my place I needed to earn it? Who freaking knows.

All I know is this – women have created this skewed vision of the “modern woman” that is FUCKING THINGS UP!

We are all supposed to be put together, with perfect bodies and skin, stay up with the latest fashion, have high paying jobs, pay someone else to raise our kids, get educations, and bitch about the things men are doing wrong. We are supposed to rebel against EVERYfuckingTHING that is “typical” for a woman, too.

     Shave? OH no..fuck you, I’m a woman! I don’t have to do what you say! 

COOK? HA! You can cook your own dinner! Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I have to cook for you! 

    Don’t open my door, I can do it myself! 

GIRL POWER! No one can tell us what to do with our bodies, let’s parade around half naked!

       NO! I won’t have an office job, I want a “mans job” …and I want paid just the same!

Have I already asked you to shoot me? If not…SHOOT ME ALREADY!

Do you know how embarrassing it is to be a woman in her 20’s these days?

Women have made feminism into something extreme that is going to greatly impact the younger generations – in a very negative way. They are single-handedly killing chivalry one “I’ll get my own door” at a time. They have completely taken the modesty and mystery out of, well, EVERYTHING – and they are getting MAD about the reactions it’s causing. Not to mention that whole equal pay business.


We are constantly downgrading men for being “dogs” and “players” …but won’t step back and see what’s made them this way.

We idolize people like Beyonce’ and Miley Cyrus but bent out of fucking shape when Trump says he wants to grab someone by the pussy?

Do I think it’s okay for a man to throw degrading words at a woman? HELL to the NO, and I’ll be the first one to say something if I see it happen..BUT…

You get what you put out into the world. Respect yourself and you will be respected.

Keep your kitten in her pants and well, maybe no one will try and pet the damn thing.

I’m fucking old school. I don’t fit the mold of any “stereotypical female” and I never will conform to one.I will always happily go into “wife mode” when chores need done and I’ll always happily roll up my sleeves when someone needs an extra hand. Instead of crying to my mommy if some asshole runs his mouth, I’m going to just bitch slap him and tell him what I think!( I’d also suggest you keep your “oh, but what if he overpowers you” thoughts to yourself unless you REALLY want to open that can of worms.) If I get another job, where I make less than the men at the company,(*note, this is the current situation for my job) I probably won’t ever say anything…because there is LIKELY a reason! AND…get this, if there isn’t…I’ll just leave.

I’ll also continue to uplift every woman I see, because these standards…these things that have made me be scared to be myself for so many years, they’re scary. They’re ruining the younger generation and killing a part of what made love and marriage so beautiful to begin with.

I don’t even know what the hell I’m talking about now…

I bet this stirs the shit pots of a LOT of folks out there.

Here’s to ya!



Jalapeno Aioli


Say it with me hall-uh-peen-yo eh-oh-lee ….

What is Aioli anyway? Well, it’s basically garlic and olive oil blended into magic…and I’ve NEVER had it, much less made it. I’m not even really sure how I know what I was creating on a whim of excess jalapeno’s was aioli anyway; culinary closet in my brain, maybe.


My amazing husband brought home like at least a zillion little magical jalapenos from a friend at work. I made a ton of salsa and barely put a dent in the pepper collection, so I got creative. I cut de-seeded and scraped the veins out of 4 of the little boogers and tossed them into the Ninja cup alongside 16 or 8 cloves of garlic…added a squirt of lime juice and EVOO …and let the ninja do it’s thing.

At this point I’m just amused that this sweet blender can make that into a creamy sauce…I pour it into a pretty jar and give it a taste.


The jar was only 1/2 full though, so I did it again. This time I added a little salt and just a splash of juice from a jar of candied jalapenos.

Oh. My. Aioli.

FullSizeRender (7)

I can NOT believe I created this magical masterpiece, and I’m SO proud of it’s gorgeous green goodness.

We made burgers for lunch shortly after I made this, and I drizzled some on top of mine…and nearly died.

If you think I’m kidding, you are mistaken – this stuff is incredible.

SO, since I just wing almost everything in my life…here’s a general recipe!

Jalapeno Garlic Aioli

What you need:

  • 8-10 small jalapenos (adjust according to size, I believe in you)
  • 12ish cloves of garlic
  • 1 lime
  • Salt
  • Olive Oil
  • Candied jalapeno juice, honey or I bet agave would be amazing
  • Magical blender

What you’re doing:

  • Well, how am I supposed to know? I assume you’re preparing to make this magical green sauce…and if so, this is how you should start;
  • Cut and clean the jalapenos, the better you clean them the LESS hot it will be.
  • Clean the garlic cloves too, and toss them along with the peppers into the blender.
  • Roll your lime around a little and then squeeze 1/2 the juice into the blender.
  • Give it a little chop, then add 2-3T of olive oil, BLEND!
  • When it reaches a saucey consistency add the juice/honey/agave and a little more oil, blend again.

THIS is where you begin to use your magical skills because I don’t know how to properly make a recipe. TASTE IT! If you like it, STOP right now. If you want it sweeter, add something sweet! If you’d like more garlic…well, you know what to do. Not spicy enough, jalapeno’s can help! Make it YOURS, and you’ll be so proud.

I can’t for you to try this! Give it a go and let me know!




A Rare Breed.

A rare breed; the hardworking man…

The man that wakes before the sun, works in it all day, and doesn’t stop until it goes down.

The man that busts his ass to provide for his family, because that’s what he believes they deserve.

The man that no matter how tired or how long his day, will accept the call from a friend to help him so that friend may continue to do his job…

The man who takes on countless projects just to help others.

The man who, despite being exhausted from all the other things he’s juggling in life, will still get down on the floor and wrestle with his children.

The man who greets his lady with a kiss as soon as he walks in the door every evening.

The man who will happily take care of any honey-do’s with a smile on his face.

The man who is so selflessly gives himself to others, every day…in spite of the effort he’s already put forth.

That is a real man, and a rare breed for sure…and one that should be celebrated.

You know who you are.








Today, I Can’t…

Today, I can’t get out of bed…

When the alarm went off at whatever time he sets it for and I wake from some fuzzy dream, I realize it’s going to be one of those days. The pain is high, I can’t lift my legs without this hot, radiating pressure shooing down them and through my hips. My guts begin to burn, my entire pelvis is hot and aching while also feeling as if there’s some sort of spreading mechanism in there pushing it apart, and the top of my hip feels as if it’s cracking. There’s a new pain on the right side that’s like “hey, I’m here – make sure you recognize me!” …it’s a pressure, like there’s a tiny midget living on my ovary, squeezing it and pushing on my stomach. Oh, and of course at whatever o’clock my bladder is full…and it’s pushing on all this pissed off mess and I literally just can’t.

He rolls over and puts his warm arms around me, and for a second I just let go. That’s my safe place…the place where nothing can get me. I almost instantly feel guilty for feeling so bad. I try not to complain…I never want anyone to really know what I’m going through. I don’t want anyone to know that I can’t get out of bed…so I do.

I get up and make the coffee because my sleepy man has to go work is ass off all day, and he more than deserves it. I get up and rummage through the clothes in the dryer so the kids can get dressed, because I was too worn out to fold and put the clothes away last night. I entertain the pups, feed them, make sure they get some outside time…oh, and somewhere in there I get myself half ass put together, get the bed made and start some laundry. Then, it’s to the car and off to school we go…all with a fun attitude and a smile on on my face.


…because I have to.

My family needs me.

Could they function without me? Absolutely…but they don’t deserve an extra burden just because my body enjoys fighting itself. It’s not their fault that my issues are worse today than normal. They shouldn’t have to sacrifice things because I’m not doing so hot. To be honest, they save me. If I didn’t need to take care of them and love them…and help them, I wouldn’t be okay. I WOULDN’T get out of bed. I would be miserable, depressed, anxious and feel like I have nothing worth fighting for. I wouldn’t be as healthy as I am despite this evil disease…if it weren’t for them.

God gave them to me so I’d be okay, and I thank Him every day for them and the opportunity to love them!

So, today I couldn’t get out of bed…but, I did anyway.

Don’t let your disease define you. Fight through it, pray through it and find something that gets you out of bed even when you can’t.





I Still Believe.

I still believe in love.

It’s 2017 and I still believe in REAL, true, genuine, 1950’s love.

I believe in the magic, the spark, the tingles, the physical feeling of finding “the one”…

I believe in the effort, the laughter, the arguments, the ebbs and flows, the work, the friendship, the safety, the comfort, the calmness of true love.

My grandparents haven’t been together for 67 years because they have a flawless relationship…they’ve been together for this long because when you value something and it breaks, you repair it, you don’t trash it.

They have faced each obstacle together as a team. It’s always been them against the problem, never them against one another.

When you can set your ego aside, admit your flaws, ask for forgiveness, be honest, let down your walls and fight TOGETHER for the sake of your love…you’re gonna make it.

If you’re not willing to fight for it, then it isn’t real.

If you’re hiding things, it isn’t real.

If you’re changing to please them, it isn’t real.

If you can’t communicate, it isn’t real.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the bubbly joyful moments of a new relationship and confuse them for love. True love isn’t all exciting and sparkly, it’s calm quiet and comforting. True love won’t ever ask you to sacrifice who you are. True love will guide you, quietly and safely, to the very best version of you. True love will inspire you, it will awe you, and it WILL hurt you…

..but it will be worth it.

I’m thankful for the failed relationships that lead me to the one who holds my heart today. The one who is my better half, the one who motivates me to be better and the one who truly loves me without condition. I’m thankful I never got too jaded to quit believing that fairy tale love really did exist.

It’s still out there…I know that for sure.







I am NOT oppressed!

I wasn’t going to do it.

I wasn’t going to make a blog post about my thoughts on women and feminism and all that is wrong with the female of 2017.

BUT, here I am.

I can’t scroll through and see another vagina head holding a sign that says “no uterus, no opinion” or “some day I hope I have the same rights as guns” …are there ANY brains in those pretty skulls?

This fight you’re fighting, did it all stem from Trump openly admitting he wants to do what so many other want to?

Does the word pussy really piss you off, or are you just looking for something to complain about?

As a Daddy’s girl I was brought up a bit of a tomboy. I was always around the guys and learning “guy things”…my Dad isn’t a mechanic or woodworker or horse trainer or anything like that, though…those things I took initiative to learn on my own.

I have NEVER once in my life looked at something I wanted to learn or do and thought “well, I sure wish I could do that…but I can’t because I’m a girl.” …does this thought REALLY go through peoples heads?

Okay, sit down…because I have some news for you! We aren’t equal…

We aren’t equal because we aren’t supposed to be equal! We will never be equal because we are different beings! What’s going to happen when men get pissed off that they can’t bear children, hmm?

Here’s what I know.

As a woman who has turned plenty of wrenches, been aback more horses than you’d care to count, spent countless hours in the oilfield and is now a personal trainer, I don’t feel fucking oppressed.

Oppression is prolonged cruel or unjust treatment or control.

I am not oppressed.





Yes, I understand that it is harder for women to get jobs in a male-rich industry like construction or the oilfield, or even the corporate place…but you know what, if it’s worth it to you you’ll work for it. If your dream job is to be a tool pusher for a rig in Alaska, work your ass off and prove yourself. No man will tell you no if you outwork him just once.

Here’s my suggestion to young women, and young mothers, and people who just don’t understand that there are no handouts…

Instead of being and raising girls who are afraid of men, and feel like inferior victims…we raise these young women, and ourselves, to be confident self-sustaining badasses?

Learn yourself and teach others to keep a home in every way, from cleaning to maintenance! You CAN fix your own sink or replace your own door, you can grow your own food and mow your own lawn. Learn and teach others to raise children and cook,  and to respect and protect themselves. Learn and teach the others that they aren’t victims, or inferior because they were born with a  uterus. Don’t you dare put that bullshit in their heads! Fill them with confidence, worth and self love!

If you can learn to be independent and self sustaining this world wouldn’t scare you so much. If you could confidently protect yourself you wouldn’t be worried about the plethora of pussy-entitled dirtbags roaming our great nation. If you could just stop worrying about what society wants from you as a woman and just do what it is that makes you happy, you’d be a lot happier…as would the rest of the world.

As a strong, independent, self-loving, worthy, free, gun loving, wrench turning, iron slinging, tattooed, oil field working, yoga doing, classy but foul mouthed, boot wearing woman I will support you as a woman. I support the fact that you are standing up for something you believe in, even if I don’t agree with you…

…and that’s what makes me different.

I have always been my own person.

I have always made my own path…and I will continue to fight my own fight for women like me who aren’t feeling like hopeless victims.

Some of us will stand tall together and build an empire, alongside the great men of this country…but not all of us can handle that.

Become the fire.