Embracing Winter.

IMG_0687As you probably know by now, I am not a fan of Winter. I can usually endure it for a minute when it’s Christmas time, but come December 26, I need it to be Spring again. I usually enjoy about the first twenty snowflakes before I need to find a sunny beach somewhere.

Yeah, weakling, I know. But I’ve never really enjoyed having my fingers stuck together by frozen particles of the Antartic or subzero icicles hanging from my nose. Ok, so maybe when I was TWO, but you get my ‘drift’. It’s been a while.

I’ve never been a fan of cold weather, and it seems no matter how positive I am about the situation, going into it, usually by the end of January, I end up hating myself and my knee high boots, and swearing that I will live in the tropics by next Winter. No matter how determined I am to stay happy and to rock my fabulous faux fur, usually by February, I am pretty much lying curled up in a fetal position somewhere in the corner of my house. The warmest corner, that is, aproximately three inches from the front of my little electric heater, which stays permanently attached to the wall in our master closet.

(Yep. If you ever can’t find me, and it’s February and my two year old hasn’t burned the house down, this is where I’ll be.)

Usually by Valentine’s day, I’m not even trying anymore. By then I’ve given up on every single positive mantra I’ve ever chanted to myself, and I’m just straight up bitching and moaning about my frozen state. By that point, the fabulous faux fur is stuck to my face and I’m feeling like a flattened-out pancake at the bottom of a snow drift, wishing for Spring.

Welll…except for…are you ready for this??? I really don’t know what’s happening with me, but somehow I think I might be enjoying Winter (go ahead and gasp, it’s ok) just a teensy tiny, weensy little bit this year. I don’t know why, but so far (fingers crossed) I have found a new appreciation-cough-I-mean-understanding for that ghastly sham of the four seasons and I’m actually a wee bit happy, amidst the icicles.


So when my husband said he wanted to try out his new camera and it was the coldest day in history, I said “YES! Of course, we should do THAT!” Ok, so I wasn’t quite that excited, but I had recently changed my attitude and my hair color and I decided, “why not? Why not celebrate the things I don’t love and perhaps trick my brain into loving them? Why not just embrace the moment, accept what is, and find some value (aka FUN) in it?

And so I did. These photos are about that. This photo shoot, however impromptu, was not about me being some kind of weird alien human who just simply loves the cold. And yes, there ARE people like that! This was about focusing my energy on having fun, no matter what. It was about living life, wide open, no matter the obstacles, or the difficulties.

And you know what? It was actually kind of amazing! I had way more fun than I would have ever anticipated and my fingers didn’t even freeze together!



At one point, I grabbed a handful of snow with my bare hands, threw it up into the air and then felt it softly land on my face, and for a moment, I actually thought I was Cinderella.

It was so beautiful and romantic.

Before long, I found myself laying in the snow, making snow angels, and remembering my childhood winters in Ohio, and how fun they were and how we would huddle together with the neighbor kids to warm up and watch our breath make shapes in the cold damp air.


Suddenly I was that kid again.

The kid that always looked for the fun. The one that never missed an opportunity to get out into the middle of the ice and the friends and have a good time. I was that girl, and I was having a blast!




So much so, that eventually I threw off my faux fur and began to waltz down the road, not even caring that the sun had gone down and it was zero degrees. I got so lost in the beauty and the magic of the moment, that I forgot all about my little electric heater and the hot chocolate that I would surely need immediately thereafter.

Isn’t that the way it goes when we throw off our fears and just simply get lost in the moment we’re in?

The older I get the more I realize that so much of my art depicts my life. This is probably why I love acting and modeling so much. There is always so much meaning to be found in the characters that I play, whether in front of the camera, or behind it. The camera of life, that is.


I see the joy and the fun behind these pictures and it honestly makes me wonder why I haven’t embraced the Winter before? Why did it take me so long to accept it and appreciate-ahem-understand it?

But this is the process I’m in, and little by little, I’m letting go of my hang-ups about it. Little by little, I’m practicing what I preach and I’m truly finding beauty in everything. Even the fur that’s stuck to my face.


This is why I say yes when it’s freezing and my husband wants to try out his new camera. And this why I have hope that perhaps someday I will fully enjoy Winter.


Life, interrupted.

I am currently curled up on the couch, nursing a broken tooth, (as much as you can “nurse” anything that’s broken in your mouth, HA! It’s called pain killer.) while a cold wind blows incessantly on my pretty little garden.

Yes, you heard it right. A COLD wind!

It’s been cold and windy, (my least favorite combination!) for three days straight. And I’ve been in pain. Not the perfect picture of health and happiness over here.

But still.

I am thankful.

I am thankful that we are heading into summer, and that it will be warm again tomorrow, and that there are doctors who can fix broken teeth. Also, I’m super thankful for friends who will drive you home in the middle of the night from a women’s retreat, so you can get some relief from the hell-ish, mind-numbing pain of a toothache.

Thank you, my dearest Ashleigh. You might as well have been Michael the archangel.

Oh and can I just say “Thank God for ibuprofen??!!”

I mean, you guys know I’m all for the coconut and the essential oils, but there comes a time when you just gotta take the pain killer. This, for me, was one of THOSE times.

Apparently this is also one of those times, when I just need to stop in the middle of what I was doing and…rest.


Why is that so hard for me?

I thought I had gotten better at it. I mean, I can totally rest when I’ve just had a baby. I can refrain from doing anything besides the absolute necessary, when I’m in grief or when I’ve just come home from a trip to another country.

I understand the need for rest at those times.


But right now, in the middle of enjoying Spring and bringing in flowers? It’s Winter again and I’m holed up inside?? In the middle of writing a totally different blog post, one about some amazing pancakes, I break a tooth all the way in the back of my mouth, and I am in too much pain to finish it? I don’t have the energy to do something simple that I love doing: editing and playing with pictures!

It’s amazing what a tooth and a couple days of cold and wind can do.

Both seem like such a small thing, like it couldn’t possibly be more than a minor annoyance. And for the first day, it was just that. By the end of the second, though, I was listening. Paying attention. And at least, thinking about surrendering. (It takes me a while, ok??!!)

Today though, is the third day of being holed up with intense pain, and I am not even trying to fight it or work around it anymore. I am tired.

Exhausted, actually.

Apparently, it’s time to go see the dentist.

And apparently, it’s time to rest.

(At least I have some pretty flowers to look at, while I do that!:))




A Letter to Thee Ole 2013.

Dear Two Thousand Thirteen,

It’s been real.

It’s beeen good and bad and hard and wonderful.

And I would like to take this time to say…”thank you.” (I guess??)



You started out with a bang, when my huzbun and I discovered the “happy little surprise” of another baby being added to our family! Yeah. A bit reckless, perhaps, but you proved yourself pretty epic right from the start.

Not much time though for celebrating! You pushed me directly out of my newly-pregnant nest and off to Vegas for a blogging convention, all by my big girl self. Something I never thought I would do, but you were ballsy like that. I grew tremendously during those four days and my blog grew like crazy after that.


Then you took our dear Johnny, and we cried. God, we cried! My heart hurt worse from that, than my stomach did from the morning sickness. And yet you moved us on. Abandoned to the cause of stripping us down. Of wrecking us further into love and plunging us deeper into faith.


Oh, but you had your moments of splendor. Like when I sank my toes into that Maui sand for seven of your 365 days. Not only that, but I got to do it with one of my favorite people: John. That trip sure brought the laughter back into my world. And I sure was lovin you!

Then you turned sentimental on me, with the un-expected finding of old journals , and a long-awaited trip to childhood, in which I got to make Easter eggs with my favorite kiddos.

(You always had a way of evoking emotion, right when I needed it, didn’t you?!)

Your Spring was divine, and so was the day I discovered that it’s a boy!

I loved your summer and your gardens and the way your nights stayed warm. I even liked your rain! I got in more coffee shop writing and more rainy night snuggles than I ever could have wanted. And consequently, more blogging than I ever could have dreamed of.

Those were exciting times! I wrote about everything from my journey to health to chocolate chia pudding to getting on the back of a horse again. And I watched my blog go from one follower to one hundred, in just a few months!

UH HUH. Pretty ridic! And I have you, my dear 2013 to thank for that.

You had your hardships, too, yes you did.

You ended the summer about as brutally as you ended my sister’s marriage, with tears and rain all mixed together, and you hacked at many other relationships, including my own, until only a few remained.

By the end of my pregnancy, you had challenged my life, my sanity, and my health more than ever.

And it was all I could do to breathe.


But then he came! And I got to meet my son for the very first time! His paper-thin skin brushed against my chest and and I felt happier than I had ever been.

So happy, in fact that I hardly noticed the fog and the poop and the chaos that ensued. So happy, in fact that I almost missed the fall altogether! I think I woke up around October.



Just in time to discover this cute little farmer’s market slash coffee shop, on the edge of town. Just in time for beautiful sunsets and birthday celebrations and…



the best Christmas ever. (Btw, my five-year-old daughter took these two pictures, isn’t she amazing??!!)

So yeah.

You’ve been pretty stinkin WILD!

And yes. I do want to thank you!

Thank you for the lessons learned and the growth that I’ve experienced. Thank you for the tears, the happy and the sad ones. Thank you for the gifts of life and new beginnings.

And most of all, thank you for ending!

Adios, twenty thirteen. Peace be with you!


your fren-emy forever,


How to have a Merry Christmas. (Without Drinking all the Vodka at the Party!)

So it’s Christmas time.

Time to push and shove and butt in front of people, to get to your company’s ugly sweater party or to your singles’ group gift exchange.

Time to check your phone every ten minutes to see what your Mother-in-law’s latest dinner plans are and when the ham will be on sale. Time to get frustrated, punching buttons and pushing numbers to find the best toy deals at Target or the best days to fly with United.

It’s Christmas!

Time to figure out how you can possibly get that electronic gadget that shaves your legs AND brushes your teeth at the same time, so you no longer need to do ANYTHING. Then ya gotta put it on your Christmas list, because you’ve just spent the last of your money buying a similar gadget for someone else, that they clearly NEED, so that they won’t have to do anything either.

Now you can both sit on the couch all day and watch the world go by, one newsfeed at a time.

That is, until…

It’s time to go to the bank and take out another mortgage on your house, so you can bless your child with that real-life princess castle she wants, which will consequently take up the whole back yard. Oh and definitely time to yell at the person who cuts you off while you are doing so. Possibly even give them the middle finger. Just because…

It’s Christmas time!

Don’t you know??

Aah yes.


Joy to the world and yet we’ve lost our joy! We celebrate the Prince of Peace, and yet we have NO PEACE!! Somehow, year after year, Merry Christmas turns into Mad Christmas for way too many of us and I, for one, am not having it anymore.

As of this year, I am officially done with that. I’m done with living in a constant state of anxiety about buying gifts and booking flights and getting to the party. I’ve decided instead that I am going to celebrate true “Peace on Earth,” by staying peaceful. I’m going to have a Merry Christmas, by doing things that make me merry. (Profound, I know!)

Now I’m not talking about downing a whole bottle of vodka, before the party. (Ok. So maybe a half?!:)) I’m talking about saying NO to things that take me away from peace, and YES to things that bring me joy.

So I’ve come up with a guide. A happy holiday guide, if you will. One which I am positive will help us all have a much more “merry” existence in these last days before Santa comes.

Here’s 10 easy (and FREE!) ways to have a Merry Christmas:

No. 1. Slow Down. Seriously! It’s not going to kill anyone if you’re late to that ugly sweater contest. On the other hand, it might actually kill someone if you keep driving like a train wreck all over the road, to get there.

No. 2. Dance to some Christmas music. Well, first light some candles and make a bath for your loved one. Slip on something sexy, take them by the arm and dance to The Jingle Bell Rock. Then, let the magic of Christmas go to work. Cuz it will! Promise.

No.3. Listen to the Needs of Others. This might seem like a no-brainer. But for many of us, it is a lost art. Especially when we are scurrying about, trying so hard to get our own needs met. Take three extra seconds to look into the eyes of the bank teller or the stressed-out cashier at Walmart. And listen. You might be surprised at what you will hear.

No. 4. Buy a stranger’s coffee. Instead of butting in front of them, smile and pay for their coffee. (Ok, so this one’s not free, but! It is so worth the four bucks, to know you totally made someone’s day, and possibly even their whole year!)

No. 5. Offer your babysitting services to a Mother of small children. And can I just say, especially to a single Mother?! Chances are, that is the only time she will have, to go get her Christmas shopping done.

No. 6. Smile at the person who cuts you off. Yes, I said, “SMILE.” You might freak them out, but you might also help them calm down and relax a little. And every little bit helps. Especially right now, in the days before Christmas!

No. 7. Give your kids the gift of time. Read a Christmas story. Pop some popcorn. Do a craft. Or put a puzzle together. Instead of doing something FOR them, do something WITH them. They will remember that much longer than the toy you spent your life savings on, anyway.

No. 8. Stop and help someone that’s broke down. This is also becoming a lost art. Sometimes it’s just a matter of stopping long enough to ask if they need to call someone, or if they have a phone. It takes five minutes, max. Do it!

No. 9. Buy a homeless person some lunch. Even better, invite them to meet you at the restaurant right around the corner. Sit across the table and hear their story. Go ahead n buy them a beer. What the heck, it’s Christmas time! And everyone deserves to be celebrated, to experience extravagant grace at least once a year.

No. 10. Take a deep breath. Remember that nothing is worth losing your peace over. Not even United Airlines. Relax, meditate, and sip some hot chocolate.


Because really. That’s what it’s all about.

It’s Christmas time!

Instead of getting stressed, get happy and enjoy the season! Instead of losing your marbles and going ballistic, try one or all of these things. You will feel so much better about the world, yourself, your job, and even your kids, if you focus on things that bring you joy, not stress.

Now, pour a nice round glass of red and have yourselves a Merry little Christmas! All of you.

Update: So immediately after publishing this, the world blew up at the news of Phil Robertson being fired for speaking about his view on gays. Here’s the deal, guys. It doesn’t matter to me, and it shouldn’t to you. It shouldn’t matter what a funny guy on reality tv thinks about the way you live your life. I sure as hell won’t let that dictate how I love gay people or anyone else, and it sure as heaven will not rob me of my joy. Neither should it rob you of yours. It’s Christmas, for pete’s sake! Let it go. Cut the tv if you need to, but do your thing! Keep breathing. Keep loving! And stay happy.:) 

Thirty Five Reasons to Celebrate 35.

This week I am celebrating thirty-five years of life. THIRTY-FIVE years, my people. This is craziness!

I remember looking at thirty-five year olds, thinking they were…well, mature. Like, REALLY mature.


Not this girl. I am still a twenty-two-year-old in so many ways. I still think of myself as the young, flirtatious, fun twenty year old that I once was. Even though my life, and my lines tell me something different.

Those tell me that I could, quite possibly, have lived half of my life already. Or at least enough to become a Mom and to appreciate my own parents. (Isn’t that something??!!) I’ve lived enough to know that I don’t know anything. To realize that life is truly a gift.


And that every day is an opportunity for love, for beauty, for deep joy and random adventure.

Some might call it getting older. I call it getting smarter.

Because, really, that’s what it is. I’m much smarter than I used to be, when I thought that life was disposable, and that I was indestructable. Now I know that one moment, one day can change everything, and that every single breath I breathe deserves to be celebrated.

Yes, I’m turning 35.

But instead of bemoaning that fact, I have decided that this birthday, I am going to truly celebrate myself and the years and the times I have experienced.

So I’ve come up with a list of reasons why I should dance on this birthday. Why I should smile instead of mope about the fact that I’m getting older smarter.

And when I started writing it, I could barely stop. There are sooo many!

Seriously. I’ve had an incredibly weird and wonderful life. I eventually cut myself off at 35.


Here it is! My thirty-five reasons to celebrate 35:

1. Driving a horse and buggy home from my grandparents’ place.

2. Getting dragged across a field by a pony.

3. Bottle-feeding orphaned baby raccoons till they could be on their own.

4. Getting “shocked” by an electric livestock fence. (I blame this fully on my younger brother, who convinced me, not once, but many times, that if I touched it with various long objects, such as a blade of grass, a wooden stick, etc. it would not shock me. Aahahem. It’s a wonder I still love him.:))

5. Learning how to ride “wild” horses with my dad.

6. Taking the salt shaker out to my family’s garden and eating kohlrabi right off the plant and tomatoes straight off the vine.

7. Making up songs while sitting in the branches of my family’s very tall Spruce tree.

8. Fishing and catching a frog, instead of a fish!

9. Surviving a high-speed, rollover car crash.

10. Milking cows on my Grandpa’s farm.

11. MUSHROOM HUNTING! (Lately I’ve been missing this so much. There’s nothing like the smell of those Ohio woods in the fall, and the rush of finding those wrinkly, spear-headed shrooms, and then Mama frying them for dinner. YUM!!)

12. Living without electricity, t.v., or a phone for the first ten years of my life.

13. Being a nanny for a family whose set of triplets made twelve kids.:)

14. Running out of gas in the middle of the night, in the boonies of Colorado. Oh, and that reminds me…

15. Running out of gas in the ghetto of Nashville! In the cold and the dark. (I see a trend here!)

16. Taking a boat ride across a massive, critter-infested river in Cambodia.

17. Being chased off of a scenic mountain trail, by armed men in that same country.

18. Meeting my now-husband on a tour bus in South Carolina.

19. Shopping alongside Keith and Nicole and chatting with Martina Mcbride in the checkout line at Whole Foods, which reminds me…

20. Receiving a (tiny!) piece of Nicole Kidman’s lingerie as a gift, handed down, through a friend of hers and mine.

21. Camping with black bears in Southern Colorado.

22. Falling asleep to the sound of coyotes howling, every night, while living at my parents’ home near Wyoming.

23. Giving birth twice, without medicine or intervention of any sort. (YEAH! Go, you crazy awesome body of mine!)

24. Watching whales breach and swimming with sea turtles in Hawaii.

25. Rattlesnake hunting with friends in Montana.

26. Honky-tonkin on Broadway in Nashville, Tennessee. (Need I say more?? I could fill a book on this one alone!)

27. Helping a homeless “druggie,” after my dad picked him up off the streets and gave him a place to live, in our barn! (There was no more room in that double-wide, with six kids, ok?!) He stayed for a few months, got clean, became a part of our family, and then moved on to become a successful business man and live a happy, fulfilled life, and still calls home to my mom, frequently.

28. Rescuing three small children from a burning car.

29. Parasailing in the Bahamas.

30. Skinny-dipping in the Pacific ocean.

31. Riding an elephant through the jungles of Thailand. And…

32. Getting the worst “blonde” dye job ever! in said country. (Let’s just say my hair was not blonde when the Asians got done with it. It was a very special kind of orange.:))

33. Dancing on stage at a drag queen show in Charleston.

34. Discovering a black snake in the drawer of mine and my roommates’ kitchen, and then using cooking utensils and bare hands to capture it. OH BOY. That was a circus, if I ever saw one.

35. Communicating with a Cambodian family inside their tiny bamboo hut, without understanding their language, AT ALL.

Aaah. There’s so much more!

These are just some of the things that have made these thirty-five years, so rich and full, so adventurous and amazing.

And it’s only the beginning! This is only the first half quarter of my life.:) And I am just now starting to enjoy it! Pretty sure it’s only gonna get better. And weirder. And more wonderful from here!

Good thing I have 35 years to write my next thirty-five.

Cuz I’ve gotta go celebrate now.


To getting older, oops, I mean, smarter. And never, ever becoming “mature.”


My Journey to Health: A Secret Revealed!

So here’s the skinny. I’ve covered all the topics that I said I would, including community and diet and forgiveness. I’ve talked about gratitude and sunshine and exercise. and how each one played a vital part in my path to health.

I’ve been true and I’ve been honest. And it’s been good!

I was going to sum it all up in this post, with some highlights and possibly a few “before/after pictures” and I was going to call it a wrap. I really needed to finish this series and make some time and room for this baby, after all.

But then the lights came on and I realized that in doing so, I would be leaving something very important out of my story and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t write my last post in this series, until I had written this. I couldn’t end the story of how I became healthy without telling you this secret. Because it’s HUGE.

And in all reality, it has effected EVERYTHING about “my journey to health.”

It’s not that I hadn’t planned to, or even attempted to write about it before, it’s just that I got overwhelmed by the extent of explanation that I felt this subject required. I couldn’t figure out how to explain it in one blog post, much less to dispel any of the misconceptions surrounding it.

Plus, I couldn’t seem to come up with enough of humor to ease the awkward discomfort of this subject!

Today however, I feel different. I don’t care so much about expaining it, or making it funny. I just want to share my story. I just want to tell you the secret that has changed my life, in hopes that it will help change yours or that of someone you know.

Are you ready for it?

You sure????

Ok! It’s called…(drum roll, please!!) the COFFEE ENEMA!!!


Today, I would like to talk to you about livers, intestines…and coffee.

And…it just got weird.

See??!! See why I haven’t written about this before?


Now before you go thinking I am more weird or twisted than I really am, let me assure you that this is actually a non-medically approved healing therapy. YAY! It has been thoroughly NOT tested or approved by the FDA. In fact, they would tell you that, unlike their drugs, it is dangerous and could possibly kill you.

Well, lucky for all of us, I am NOT the FDA. (No small wonder there!) They would have fired me a long time ago, had I been any part of their agenda or regime.

Lucky for them, I am just an ordinary girl in search of real answers for real health issues. And lucky for you, I’ve found a few of those answers, which you now get to read about! Lucky for you, you get to know ALL of my secrets. (Er, well. At least the ones you “need” to know about!!)

And the coffee enema is definitely one of those things. It would be a terrible disservice to you and a massive injustice to me, not to include it in my story. It has after all, single-handedly changed my body, my mind, and my overall health, more than any other physical thing I have done.

While it may not be at the center of your Sunday afternoon discussions, it definitely deserves a place in the global discussion on health. Just because it doesn’t come highly recommended by your pharmacist, doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been proven to be safe or successful by thousands of people for many decades.

Actually, I have found that sometimes the best answers lie in ancient wisdom. Sometimes the oldest methods are the most effective.


The thing is, NO ONE in this modern culture of pills and drive-thru pharmacies, wants to do enemas. I certainly didn’t. NO ONE dreams of lying naked on their left side for fifteen minutes, while a lukewarm liquid flows through their intestines. NO ONE, Including me.

When I first heard of it at Oasis, I thought it was a bit radical, even for something as serious as cancer. Although it was a highly-recommended part of their protocol, I thought that unless you were literally dying on your death bed, you should not have to succomb to such an undignified ritual.

Apparently my dad thought so, too. It was the ONE THING on his protocol that he gently, but firmly refused to do. The nurses came and offered to help him get set up for one, almost daily. But he declined, almost daily.

I don’t really blame him!

I’m guessing that like most of us, he was just overwhelmed by the thought of it, or did not fully understand how much of a difference it could actually have made for him. Had he known how much it could have improved his life, even down to his pain level, I believe he would have followed this part of the protocol more rigorously than anything else.

Like many of us, he just didn’t know! And like his own daughter, he may have been just a little stubborn, too.

I was definitely the latter, until quite a few years later when I found myself at the premature end of an extremely sick pregnancy, in a pool of blood on our bathroom floor. That’s when I went from stubborn to desperate.

This was my second round of being pregnant and “deathly sick” and now I had lost the baby. I knew at that point, that something wasn’t right. I could no longer be comforted by the medical theory that “sick body equals healthy baby”. No matter how many midwives and doctors tried to tell me that this was “normal” I knew in my heart that it was NOT.

And so, I set out to find answers. I wanted to know why my body had responded so violently to pregnancy, not once but twice. I needed to know why, the first time around, it had caused me to have headaches and to puke all day, every day for four months. And why the second time it had rendered me just as sick and life-less and dehydrated, plus aborted my baby.

I buried myself in midwives’ pages, mommy blogs and pregnancy boards to find out what was causing all of this distress in my body. Somewhere in my vague discovery of things like B vitamins and magnesium and even Vitamin D, I read something about a toxic liver and how it could be the cause of extreme sickness in pregnancy. Hm. A toxic liver. Finally something that made sense to me!

I dug a little deeper and found that sure enough, I had ALL the symptoms of a toxic liver. Naturally I began to research the best ways to de-doxify the liver. And guess what I found??

Yep. The Coffee Enema!

In spite of my efforts to push it far from my consciousness, not even six years after my initial encounter and it had come back to haunt me. This time, though, I gave in to its calling. I was desperate and done. Remember? So I caved to its beckoning and began to do that unthinkable, undignified ritual known as the coffee enema.

And was it worth it??

Let’s just say that there is not a condition known to man-I mean-me in the last seven years, that it has not improved. It has positively changed everything that I’ve ever struggled with, including sickness in pregnancy. Not to mention, there has not been a single bad side effect! I have done daily enemas for a year and a half straight and have had no ill side effects whatsoever.

I’ve only had more energy and less pain. More clarity and less headaches. More fun, and less worry.

It may not have been my dream healing plan, but it has made all the difference in the world, for me. It has meant getting out of the house more and playing with my daughter. It has meant enjoying more sunsets and greeting more sunrises. And surprisingly enough, it has made the difference between laying in bed with headaches and nausea for four months and actually feeling like a normal, healthy pregnant woman.


This is me at three months, in THIS pregnancy. Kind of a miracle, as this NEVER would have happened before.

Never before had I felt this good at three months!

Coffee enemas, to me, have meant feeling wonderfully cleansed and rejuvenated, every day. They have meant freedom and light and health.

And my best pregnancy yet!


If you would like to know more about coffee enemas or how to do them, here are some great places to start:

Coffee enemas and cancer: http://www.treating-cancer-alternatively.com/Coffee-enemas.html

Effects on gallbladder and liver: http://www.gallbladderattack.com/coffeeenema.shtml

Great explanation by Dr Wilson: http://www.drlwilson.com/articles/COFFEE%20ENEMA.HTM

Method/recipe that I use: http://www.treating-cancer-alternatively.com/Coffee-enema-recipe.html

He or She?

This time, I wanted to discover the answer to that question in a fun way. Perhaps a trip to an exotic place where John and I run up a long, grassy hill and some random person hands us an envelope at the top …like they do on The Amazing Race or something. Perhaps while dining at our favorite restaurant, pink or blue confetti drops out of the ceiling. Or I open a box and out pop a hundred balloons, all in the appropriate color which tell me whether this little human is a boy or girl.

As if a baby popping out of a woman’s body isn’t an exciting enough way to find out. Seriously, since when did we decide that finding out early is more thrilling than that?! When really all we end up doing is trying to re-create that ultimate experience. The excitement of seeing that head of hair and hearing the doctor say, “IT’S A…!”

Oh, but that would mean we have to wait. A whole nine months. And we can’t do that! I know I can’t. I can’t wait for nine months to know this important piece of information. I am just too bloomin curious. Plus, I always need another legit reason to throw a party. Especially in the middle of my pregancy. C’mon!

No, really.

How could I possibly go wrong with a baby gender reveal party?!


So I had one. And silly or ironic as it might be, I must say it was one of the funn-est things I’ve ever planned.


I decided to go with a “cravings” theme,  set against a backdrop of vintage whites and spring greens. Since that’s what I’m into these days. Yeah, I’m into cravings. They help balance my otherwise untempered, super-healthy eating habits.


I basically gathered up every single vintage thing I had in my house, plus a few borrowed items from my Mom, threw it all on a table with some not-so-gourmet-food, and called it a party!

Well. It wasn’t quite that easy. But I really did not have a lot of time to put it together, since I had been stuck in a raging snow storm for three days (literally!) at the beginning of the week, and couldn’t do anything with party plans. AT ALL. But that’s another story for another time.


I had about two and a half days to dream this one up. So I mostly worked with what I had on hand. Now, before you even begin to feel a sense of dilemma for me, let me remind you that I have alot of stuff! I keep “stuff” for this reason. There’s a big old tote full of ribbon in my closet at all times, just for this kind of thing!


With a only a little last-minute help from hobby lobby and a willing hubby, it came together very quickly. Alright, so I sorta conned him into cutting out like twenty mustaches, by hand. What can I say?! I’m creative and he’s helpful. It works out really well in these kinds of situations. LOVE you, baby. (Btw, the mustaches looked great!)


Along with the food and drinks, I set up a small station in the entryway, where guests could vote on what they think this baby is. HE or SHE? At the end I drew a name out of the “winning” jar, and that person got a small prize.


This is Team “HE.”


And this is Team “SHE.” (Notice how I am confidently propped in the middle of this one!)


We talked and laughed and ate in delightful anticipation.



I built up the suspense with a couple of fun things like this “Cravings Quiz.” A silly little test in which there are no “right” answers (yeah. that’s my kind of test!) since it’s completely based on old wives’ tales. We still chose a “winner” cuz you know. It’s just more fun that way!


And then…finally the moment we were all anticipating! The grand reveal! Aka: that moment when someone bites into a pink or blue filled cake pop, and we all scream with giddy excitement at the news of my baby’s gender!

I wanted us all to be surprised (including me and the “baby daddy!”) at the same time, so my mom made all of the cake pops white, except for two. She then squirted some pink coloring in one and blue in the other and kept those separate from the others. We gave the ultrasound results along with the two colored cake pops to my bro-in-law, Lamar, who then snuck the corresponding one into the mix, when we weren’t watching!


Even though this was mostly a ladies’ event, and he was having cave time with some dudes in the basement, we brought Huzbun in for the actual reveal. Aaahhh. Can you feel the suspense yet??


Of course my long-time friend, Truly, was the lucky one to bite into a blue cake pop. Yes, I said “BLUE!”


Apparently IT’S A BOY!

And apparently my visions and intuition were slightly off, on this one.

“It’s a boy?” I exclaim!

I am stoked and terrified.

Mostly stoked. “I need a little more testosterone in my life!” I gasp with joy.


Now at least I have a few more months to think and worry about how I am going to raise a man-child.

And maybe, just maybe…I won’t spend the rest of this pregnancy calling the poor him a “she.”


Thank God for ultrasounds.

And thank God for gender reveal parties!