I’m a city girl. I love shopping and fun food and restaurants, live music, downtown lights and the hustle and bustle of intermingling cultures and souls from all walks of life. I’m a city girl with fire in her heart and peace in her soul. That peace comes from lessons learned throughout my life and choosing a different path at the fork in the road.
No one told me that when I got married and became a mom that the people I chose and the humans I created would teach me just as much as I taught them. When the kids were little, I just wanted to have family time and give them experiences. I wanted to teach them about the world and all the wonderful things in it. God knew I needed help with that because I didn’t even know the half I was missing. Not just in Shane as a partner but in needing a co-teacher for our children, and our children being the missing pieces to our family puzzle. Only God knew how we would all fit just perfectly together but yet I was still given a choice and would only unwrap the complete gift twenty plus years later. That’s a huge leap to take when you are 21 years old but I did it and that act now is what I know to be faith.
Our camping trips have changed over the years. From tents to campers, back to tents.. from bikes, and pools, fishing and kayaking, to four wheelers, dirt bikes, from little hands needing help to grown hands doing things on their own, from Shane building the fire to the kids bringing their own camper and fire wood, the list goes on. But what there has always been is family around the camp-fire, joy, laughter, deep conversation, adventure, trying new things, facing fears and making the best of what we had.
I’m a city girl with fire in my heart. The camp fire where many memories have been made, the fire that brings warmth to my soul, the fire that provides for my family in many ways, and the fire that will burn you if you hurt any of my children.
I’m a city girl with peace in my soul. The peace I get from knowing that my kids have pieces of me and pieces of Shane to carry them through all of life’s situations. The peace that is deep. It’s deep because I know it wasn’t just me alone that had a hand in creating this life I live. And the peace that comes from knowing my babies will be ok out in this world because they have the fire too, even if they don’t know it yet.
I’m a city girl with fire in her heart and peace in her soul.

Over my 44 years of life, I have mostly had a positive self view. When I look in the mirror I see my high school beauty although I have gained around 100 lbs. since those glory days. Yes, I said it. I weigh 100 lbs. more than I did in high school, yet, I still view myself as beautiful. Society, social media and maybe a few whispers here and there from people that don’t know my soul have tried to change my mind but I won’t let them. I will not give my power to others, I refuse. Don’t get me wrong, there are days where the devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other are in a constant argument and I have engaged in spewing verbal hate to myself more times than I am proud of. But every time I engaged in this conversation with myself, I came to terms with the fact that it was not me talking. It was voices of bullies I have overheard. I was repeating the standard set by others who are insignificant to me. When I would say these things, I just didn’t believe them and it sounded like a complete stranger was talking. You see, I know myself, I love myself and I believe what I say to myself and you should too.

A few months back, my friend Kelli, my daughter and I were engaged in a deep conversation on the topic of “fat shaming”. I shared with them that these terms such as “fat shaming” and “slut shaming” have never sat right with me. When a person says something to the tune of “I was slut shamed” they are essentially calling themselves a derogatory term and thus joining the so called shaming and if you ask me, self shaming is the worst kind of shaming. Calling yourself a name and then saying others are shaming you for it is basically you agreeing that you are what they say you are. Why give others that power?

Tonight Kelli shared an article with me about 50 Cent responding to people “fat shaming” him after his appearance at the Superbowl. She pointed out that what he said in response was exactly the point I was making during our previous conversation all those months ago. I absolutely love and agree with his response. “Fat shaming only applies when you are ashamed of your fat”(50 Cent, 2022). I was thrilled when I opened Kelli’s message and read his words. Not only did he speak right from my heart (and his, lol), he spoke the truth when he could have fallen victim to these bullies. He is a celebrity from my generation who has lived under a microscope as most celebrities do and understands that only he has the power to let others shame him. You looked great to me 50, and always will!

Take back your power people. Don’t let society or bullies tell you how to feel about yourself. Know yourself, love yourself, and believe what you tell yourself. And if you don’t believe it quite yet, I will say it until you do. YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL JUST THE WAY YOU ARE.

Please click on the link below to read the entire article that was shared with me.

https://sports.yahoo.com/50-cent-responds-fat-shaming-083911137.html

Jersey is a sleepy little township in Licking County and is home to a piece of Kam’s childhood. The old Jersey Elementary school which has a total of five rooms, a gymnasium housed in a separate building and two baseball fields sit nestled between a church and a farmer’s field off of Morse Rd. On any given Saturday in the Spring you can drive by with your window down and hear the bustling of chatter and chaos that comes with little league baseball. Not so much an elaborate gift but a gentle offering that has been upkept and tended to by the people of the community over the years, Jersey lies in the hearts of all who have run the bases and sat on the other side of the fence built out of love for the game.

Yesterday, Kam and I went to Jersey to take some pictures. On a brisk fall day in December, the fields sit quietly waiting for the air to become warmer and the children to return. Until then, the cold, damp sand and the cool breeze waft memories through the air and if you listen carefully you can hear the faint laughter and cheers that once were ours. You can see Kam on first base concentrating intently listening to his teammates chatter, you can see the kids giving hi-fives after a home run and you can feel the rush of blood through your veins when you close your eyes and listen to the loud crack of the bat and see cleats sliding into home. In the outfield on field 2, you will find the famous light pole. This is the pole that Kam’s ball hit during his home-run hit under the lights on his 9th birthday. Many little artifacts of Kam’s childhood years lay strewn across the field, each tiny grain of sand and chalk covered base tell the story of a little boy who had a talent for baseball that you can’t teach but whose heart was with another sport.

I remember sitting on the other side of that fence in my baseball mom chair, wearing my favorite t-shirt that advertised that I call my favorite player mine or that there is in fact no crying in baseball. I would rest my head on the back of my chair while each ray of sun beamed happiness into my pours and beads of joy rolled out of my forehead. When it was Kam’s turn to bat, I would get butterflies in my stomach as the umpire called balls and strikes, then a full count, and finally the ball would sail into the outfield freezing time in it’s tracks. While time was frozen, I just watched. I watched the eyes of the players get wide, I watched the intent looks on the faces of the fans, I watched the smiles and laughter of the little brothers and sisters, I watched the excitement all around me and I watched Kam. I watched Kam grow up running those bases as time was frozen for me and now when I watch the highlight reel I see his 4 yr. old self hitting the ball for the first time without the tee, his 5 year old self making it to 1st base, his 8 year old self rounding 2nd, his 10 year old self watching his coach as he approaches 3rd and his 12 year old self sliding into home. All the tiny fragments of frozen time built up over the nine years he played are like masterpieces of art hung in my memory to look at any time I need them.

After 8th grade, Kam quit playing baseball because he just did not love it like I did but I am so grateful to the little boy who played for nine years to bring joy to his mom and for the fields in Jersey (and all the other fields he played on) that nurtured a little boy’s talent and a mother’s love.

Growing up an only child to a single parent who worked two jobs most of my childhood, I had to find ways to entertain myself. Often my imagination would take me to far away places where I could be anything and I had fairies and rock-stars as friends but when I returned to my reality, the television is where I found comfort. Over the years, I found myself in many characters in my favorite shows, or I imagined being part of the perfect family or being friends with the cool kids going on all of their adventures with them. Finding comfort in television has stayed with me into my adulthood and I still get stolen away into fairytale lands or quaint little towns where everyone and everything is perfect. When my favorite characters have troubles, I know everything will work out just right and I know they are always there when I need them.

Sometimes in life, you get lucky enough to connect with someone through a shared interest and I have been blessed beyond measure to get to share my real life time and many adventures with my friend Kelli. We have been known to spend hours analyzing our favorite characters, creating new scenarios, sharing tears and laughter (especially while watching Les Mis or trying to figure out Peyton Sawyer’s hair) and creating top ten lists with each other. The shared interest in television is not what makes us friends but it is like the icing on the friendship cake. Little did I know that the thing that sweetens our friendship like a little sugar on the rim of your favorite beverage would take us on so many journeys.

A few years back we took our girls’ trip with our three other best girls (you will hear all about them in future posts) to Southport, NC because we wanted to see the place where the movie Safe Haven was filmed. It didn’t take long and Southport became part of our souls. There is something in the haunting trees, the salt filled air and the whispers of a time long forgotten that wraps around every fiber of my being and I feel completely at peace. Last year we visited Beaufort, Charleston, and Port Royal, SC where we were able to visit the Gullah restaurant featured in the Netflix show High on the Hog. I will save details on that trip for later because it deserves a post all of its’ own. Through our shared connection, other passions have been born including Kelli’s love and talent for creating content and my rejuvenated excitement for writing and traveling. Consequently, our common love of history and research has been nurtured as well and if either of our careers don’t work out, we found out we have major private investigating skills. I’m talking above FBI level here.

Our most recent adventure took us to Wilmington, NC where one of our favorite shows, One Tree Hill was filmed. We had been listening to the Drama Queens podcast hosted by the actresses Hillary Burton, Sophia Bush, and Joy Lenz and wanted to try some of the recommended places that they loved while living in Wilmington. We also wanted to visit more filming locations that we did not get to visit in depth on a previous trip. Additionally, we visited some Dawson’s Creek filming locations and went back to South Port to see the grave yard (Old Smithville Burial Ground) in A Walk to Remember. The verdict is still out on if this is the correct grave yard after applying our above mentioned investigative skills but even if it is not the right filming location, it is worth the trip anyway. On this trip my favorite small screen town came to life. Weather it be on our walk down the River Walk, chatting in front of Tree Hill High, standing on the River Court, signing a brick at Tric, or eating at Hell’s Kitchen, we experienced all that is One Tree Hill. The quiet small town, the friendship, the drama, the laughter, the strife…we heard it all, we felt it all and I can not wait to go back because after all, there is only One Tree Hill.

I am forever grateful that two girls with a common love became friends and that that friendship has taken them to places only found in story books. And when those two girls are home again and tucked away in their beds, they can turn on their favorite t.v. show and know that their favorite characters will always be there for them but more importantly, they will always be there for each other……

For details, recommendations and our commentary on all of our favorite places and things to do in Wilmington please visit:

Youtube: Supercalifrag Instagram: _supercalifrag_ Tiktok: _supercalifrag_ Pinterest: Supercalifrag

I’ve loved watching my kids grow up on this beach. Our first time here was in 2006 when they were 5,2, and 1. If sand and waves could talk, they would tell you a story of 3 kids who found pieces of their soul at this place that is our 2nd home. When they were little they would gather sand, build sand castles, run and splash in the waves, collect shells, look for turtles and crabs, and bury each other, this little edge of earth being their natural playground. The years gave way to tanning, parasailing, banana boat riding, swimming, fishing, and meeting new friends from other states and hanging out for hours upon hours. We’ve brought friends and family and friends who became family and we always build a tighter, stronger bond each year at the beach. Every year, we leave a piece of our heart here and when we return the following year, our hearts become whole again. As they grow and become adults with their own families, it fills me with joy to know they will always carry the sounds ,sights and lessons of the ocean in their hearts.

Well, another moment come to pass that not too long ago felt forever away. Tonight Kam laced up his cleats and played football for the very last time. It was cold, it was rainy, it was intense. There were great highs and lows. There was blood, there was sweat, there was laughter, there were tears… it was high school football in all it’s glory. I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I will never sit in those bleachers again to watch my boy. When the game was winding down and it was clear that this would be the last game, I looked up, closed my eyes and let the rain hit my face and just soaked it all in. Memories of his first game, his 5 year old self, all the wins and all the losses that he and his teammates came back from, the championships, his 8 yr. Old self, then middle school, then his first time under the Friday Night Lights, it all came flooding in. When something is part of your life for so long, it becomes part of who you are. Kam is sad and hurting tonight, this is the end of one chapter but it is the beginning of another. I know we will both get to spend time with other passions and maybe even develop some new ones and the best is yet to come. But man will this season of life be forever etched into our hearts, memories and souls and will forever be part of who we are and part of the man Kam is/ is becoming. We could not be more proud of him and are so thankful for 13yrs. of life lessons, work ethic, friendships, joy, pain, family time, trials and tribulations, strength, excitement and fun that we have all been blessed with. Thank you to every single person that has ever cheered him on and supported him and coached him. It warms my heart to know how many people love him. Well, that’s a wrap, and one last time….. Go Hornets

Our anniversary weekend: A little adventure, some exploring and a whole lot of relaxing. I’m usually amazed not in the destination but at what happens along the way. Throughout our 21 years married, we have planned many a trip for ourselves and our family. Sometimes we stay in Ohio, and many times we venture farther to discover little slices of happiness in waves crashing, sandy toes, or rolling, steaming mountains. But the happiness that is with us daily and can be found at a turn of a key is along that open road. We talk, we laugh, we cry, we tell stories, we sing, we argue about who controls the dials and who is a better driver, and we reminisce about old times and the ones that have gone before us. Even on regular old weekends sometimes we just choose to drive. For on our little road trips is where the threads of our bond are woven more intricately together. Every car we’ve owned together could whisper a chapter of our lives. When the engine roars to life and the wind rushes through the cracked window hitting my face in just the perfect way, I can hear our story. And when the day is over, the road always leads us right back home to our cozy little cottage where we can just be us tucked away from all the world , free to just…. breathe. It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.