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Does anybody else own actual drinking glasses but somehow drink almost exclusively out of mason jars? I was unloading the dishwasher today and realized the majority of what I was putting away was coffee mugs and mason jars, which probably says more about me than I care to unpack. Coffee mugs, because apparently coffee is a food group in this house. Mason jars, because somewhere along the way we collectively decided perfectly good drinking glasses were unnecessary when Ball al

This morning I walked outside to do chores in shorts and a long-sleeve T-shirt and immediately questioned every decision that led me to not putting on my wash pants. It was chilly. Not cold cold. Not frozen-water-bucket, why-do-I-own-horses cold. Just enough of a chill to make you suck your shoulders up toward your ears and think, Ope. Fall is coming. And listen, I am 100% ready. Less sweating. LESS MOSQUITOES. Hoodies. Vests. Blankets. Crisp mornings. Windows cracked open. H

Everybody loves a beginning. New job. New horse. New relationship. New goal. New year. New planner with all those pretty little boxes you swear to God you're actually going to use this time. Beginnings are exciting. And everybody loves a finish line. The buckle. The diploma. The promotion. The before-and-after picture. The keys to the new place. The screenshot that says you finally did the damn thing. Those are easy to post. But nobody really claps for the middle. And unfortu

“What if I fall?” “Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?” I know. It’s cliché. It’s probably on a coffee mug somewhere. And a throw pillow. And some piece of wall decor at Hobby Lobby in that swoopy cursive font. But things get cliché for a reason. Usually, buried underneath all the overuse is a little piece of truth we apparently need to keep reminding ourselves of. And this weekend, I watched one of my kids stand right on the edge of hers. Her comfort zone, that is. She had

Yesterday was too damn hot to ride horses. Like, why is the air touching me? hot. So instead of canceling Ella’s lesson entirely, we decided to work on the part of goat tying that doesn’t actually require a goat. Or a horse. Turns out, unfortunately, that part requires us. And somewhere along the way, I seem to have forgotten that rodeo has a human athlete involved. I preach this shit CONSTANTLY to my students. Be quicker. Get stronger. Move your feet. Use your body. React fa

I went to a family reunion this weekend. A big one. Like 267 people big. Two hundred and sixty-seven people gathered in one place who, through blood, marriage, or some branch of this ridiculously enormous family tree, are somehow connected. Apparently, I'm related to approximately half the damn county. And honestly? That isn't even much of an exaggeration. Our family has books. Actual freaking books explaining who married who, who had who, which branch everybody came from, an

A few weeks ago, I wrote about starting a new morning routine. And I was determined. The plan was to start getting up around 4:00 a.m. Maybe eventually 3:45. Get outside. Feed. Clean stalls. Fill hay nets and water. Ride. Come inside. Shower. Get the kids moving. Go to work. I wasn't trying to become one of those magical 5 a.m. people who drinks lemon water, journals about gratitude and watches the sunrise while their sourdough starter bubbles peacefully on the counter. I jus

This one hurts. My girls LOVE Dolly Parton. Not just know who she is. Not just sing a few of her songs. They idolize that woman. And honestly? I’ve always been pretty damn happy about that. Because if my daughters are going to look up to somebody, Dolly is a pretty good woman to pick. Yes, she could sing. Yes, she wrote songs that will outlive all of us. Yes, she had the hair and the boobs and the rhinestones and that unmistakable little laugh. But Dolly was so much more than

Holy Batman. People on the internet are QUICK with their pitchforks. I’ve gotten a little firsthand experience with that lately. Three different posts. Two anonymous. One with my name attached to it. Three completely different conversations, and somehow all three managed to summon at least a few people who apparently woke up, stretched their fingers, cracked their knuckles and thought: You know what I’d really like to do today? Yell at a stranger on the internet. And whew. Th

“GET OUT OF HER WAY!” Not road-rage get out of the way. Rodeo-mom-standing-on-the-bleachers-yelling get out of the way. There’s a difference. Yesterday, we were sitting at a junior high/high school rodeo watching a friend’s horse make her pole and barrel runs. Someone else had gotten on this mare earlier (another rodeo momma) and discovered something pretty important about her: She knew her job. Like, really knew her job. The problem wasn’t that she needed someone to show he

I have a really hard time with half-assed. There. I said it. And before somebody comes for me with the whole not everything has to be perfect speech, I know. Trust me, I know. Some things can wait until tomorrow. Some things don't need seventeen color-coded folders, a spreadsheet, a five-step plan, and a damn committee meeting. Sometimes the laundry lives in the basket for three days. Sometimes supper is cereal. Sometimes the weeds get tall. Sometimes we are tired, overwhelme

There's a weird shift that happens around the middle of August. One minute, you're pulling into a fairground with a trailer behind you, trying to remember whether somebody packed the back numbers and wondering if a walking taco counts as a nutritionally complete dinner. The next minute, you're standing in the school-supply aisle wondering why one child needs seventeen glue sticks. Summer doesn't really ease us out gently. It just sort of... ends. And suddenly we're trading th

My daughter said something to me recently that has been living rent-free in my head ever since. She was talking about a boy. You know, normal junior-high stuff. The kind of conversation where you're trying to listen like a normal, emotionally stable mother while another part of your brain is quietly taking notes, evaluating every word and trying very hard not to make the face. And then she said: “Mom, he made me feel seen.” Well, shit. There went casual conversation. Because

At some point, did everything get... gray? Not literally. Well, maybe a little literally. Black. White. Gray. Beige. Clean lines. Matching sets. Same cup. Same kitchen. Same furniture. Same restaurants. Same everything. And none of it is bad. That’s the weird part. A lot of it looks really nice. But somewhere along the way, I think we got so good at making everything clean, current, convenient and universally appealing that we started losing some of the little details that ma

I’ve been thinking about patterns lately. Not patterns like the wallpaper in your grandma’s bathroom that nobody has had the courage to replace since 1987. Brain patterns. Thought patterns. Behavior patterns. Choice patterns. Habit patterns. The little things we think, say, choose, and do over and over again until somewhere along the way, we stop realizing there’s a pattern at all. We just think, That’s how I am. I’m not a morning person. I procrastinate. I hate confrontation

This morning, I pulled on a pair of jeans I hadn't worn in a while. One of my favorite Rock 'N Roll Denim Trouser pairs. They buttoned. They zipped. They were... just a little snug. A few years ago, that would've been enough to ruin my day. I would've stood in front of the mirror pulling at my shirt, turning sideways, convincing myself I had failed. I would've mentally started another diet before I'd even poured my morning coffee. Instead... I smiled. Not because I was excite

Last night, I stood at the edge of the indoor arena after the barn had gone quiet. The lights were low. The footing still held every track from the day. Hoofprints curved through the dirt. Gates, rafters, barrels, and walls disappeared into shadows, with just enough light spilling in from the far end to soften everything. For a moment, the whole place felt almost enchanted. Not in some dramatic, storybook way. Just quiet. Familiar. Beautiful enough to make me stop. Outside, t

I thought I was writing a blog about waking up at 4:15 this morning. Somewhere around the middle of writing it, I realized I wasn't. I was writing about a season of my life that never actually ended. And honestly... I don't think I'm the only one. Last night, I sat down and made a plan. Would it die in two weeks like a New Year's resolution - I don't know... but I made it anyways. For years, I've felt like I've been trying to fit twenty pounds of sugar into an eight-pound bag

The more I learn about people... ...the less I think any of us are actually living as ourselves. That's probably a pretty bold statement. Honestly, I don't even think I would've agreed with it a few years ago. But the more therapy I've gone through... Whoa... I said the "T" word again. Oops. Seriously though... therapy, reading about psychology, and becoming more self-aware have completely changed the way I look at people. Not in a judgmental way. Actually... probably the opp

It's been excruciatingly hot lately. The kind of heat that makes you question every decision that led you outside. The kind that drains your energy before the day has really even begun. As I stood there, I looked down at my Twisted X's covered in dust and my jeans streaked with dirt. For a second, I thought about how easy it would be to wish them clean. Then it hit me. Maybe we're doing the same thing with our lives. We spend so much time wishing things were easier. Less mess