big spring · capricorn · wfh · mom
food i made. money i saved.
wyoming drives that changed me.
thoughts i almost kept to myself.
god's plan, not mine.
meet vanessa
i'm a mom living in hewitt, texas — working from home, saving intentionally, cooking real food, and writing down the things i almost didn't say.
i was born in big spring. capricorn. 1.11.91. i've had the chance to experience wyoming for a few weeks a few times and the drive there itself made me never want to leave.
i coupon almost everything i buy. i listen to aaron watson and megan thee stallion in the same sitting. i wear all black. i believe god is within her, she will not fail — and i mean that as a compass, not a caption.
this site is just me. the whole thing. no box.
desert rose · the adenium
does the opposite of what you'd expect.
it blooms in dry heat. it stores what it needs.
it doesn't rush the season.
what lives here
in the kitchen
real food. real mess. real good.
saving, calm
couponing without the chaos → tiktok
wfh · texas
still standing. somehow.
inner thoughts
the ones i almost didn't say → tiktok
do no harm
planet. people. purpose.
soft leadership
power doesn't have to be loud
in the kitchen
albondigas. ground beef, cilantro, onion, rice, tomatoes, potatoes, avocado — and yes, tabasco at the end. made it for the family on a tuesday because tuesday needed it.
view on pinterest →latest
inner thoughts
february 8, 2036. i sat down and wrote a letter from the future. about ambition, uncertainty, what actually grew. the part that surprised me most — i already knew.
saving, calm
not extreme. not a haul. just the way i shop for the family and still come out ahead every single week...
mindset
one of 100 things i'm practicing. this one hits different on a hard day...
inner thoughts
it's not about being difficult. it's about knowing what you're worth and refusing to negotiate down. that's not a flaw. that's a boundary with taste...
wfh life
the drive there itself made me never want to leave. some landscapes just do that to you...
saving, calm
not extreme. not a haul. just the way i actually shop and come out ahead.
01
stack the coupons
manufacturer coupon + store coupon on the same item. ibotta on top if it's there.
02
match sales first
coupons on clearance or sale items — that's where the real savings live. plan meals around what's marked down.
03
stockpile the staples
when non-perishables hit their lowest price, i buy as many as makes sense. pasta, paper goods, canned goods.
resources · always growing
🧾 couponing tips
🧠 mindset resets
coming soon
a calm, intentional planning system built for the quiet builder who's juggling everything and needs one place that actually makes sense.
you're on the list. 🌹
currently
updated when something's worth sharing. no schedule.
📖 reading
harry potter & the deathly hallows
on audible. revisiting it and it hits different this time.
atomic habits
also on audible. "stop restarting — just continue." this book is why.
🎧 listening
play yo part — yella beezy
on repeat. you already know.
therefore i am — billie eilish
for the quiet confident days.
mexican radio — spm
the classics stay classic.
we try — kevin gates
feels like a whole conversation.
🍽️ eating
salad with grilled chicken
got the chicken for $1.99/lb at the local iga. doing what i do.
midnight donuts
youngest asked for donuts at midnight. grabbed them for $1.25. checked the expiration dates, obviously.
💸 saving on
neutrogena acne patches
$7.00 for 8 patches at the store. hard pass.
the win 🏆
dollar store dropped a 60-pack for $1.50. grabbed 5 packs — one for me, one for my oldest. that's 300 patches for $7.50 total. do the math.
faith · the anchor
"to every thing
there is a season."
ecclesiastes 3:1
i used to fight the season i was in.
trying to bloom in winter. rushing the harvest.
wondering why nothing was growing.
then i started reading this differently —
not as comfort. as instruction.
the drought season is real. the waiting season is real.
the season where nothing looks like it's working
and something is quietly taking root — that's real too.
this verse doesn't promise easy.
it promises eventual.
and that's enough to keep going.
a season to plant
the work nobody sees yet. the roots going down before anything comes up.
a season to grow
slow and real. not forced. not performed. just present and moving.
a season to rest
the one we skip. the one god keeps pointing back to. the one that makes everything else possible.
a season to bloom
in dry heat. on its own timeline. like the adenium — doing the opposite of what you'd expect.
texas · where i'm from
i was born in big spring and i live in hewitt now.
somewhere between those two places is everything i know about surviving heat, reading weather, and building something real in hard ground.
texas isn't a backdrop. it's a teacher.
and it taught me early — roots before roses.
where it started
big spring, tx
west texas. flat horizon. sky that goes on forever.
the kind of place that teaches you to find beauty in what most people would call nothing. the heat is different out there — it's not just temperature, it's presence.
i carry big spring with me. in the way i handle drought. in the way i don't quit when the ground looks dead.
where i am now
hewitt, tx
outside waco. central texas. a different kind of still.
this is where i'm building — the home, the work, the site, the life. not glamorous. not loud. just mine.
there's something about central texas that makes you feel like you can actually breathe. like the pace is something you choose.
the weather
tornado weather
you learn to read the sky here. not just clouds — the color of them. the weight of the air. the way birds go quiet.
a texas tornado isn't just weather. it's a whole feeling before it arrives. that greenish light. that stillness that's too still.
and then it either comes or it doesn't. and either way — you kept going.
the heat
105° and still outside
people who aren't from texas don't understand the heat.
not just hot — committed. relentless. the kind that makes everything slower and somehow more intentional.
you stop fighting it after a while. you find the shade. you hydrate. you do what needs doing and go back inside.
that's actually just good life advice.
what texas taught me
the whole thing
how to be still when things get loud. how to stretch a dollar in a town with one grocery store. how to read a room, a sky, a situation. how to keep building when the ground is dry.
the adenium — the desert rose — blooms in this kind of heat. so do i.
not everyone gets texas. but if you're from here, you know. it's not just a place. it's the first thing that shaped you.
the heat made me patient.
the storms made me unafraid.
the flat horizon taught me to look further.
soft leadership · from linkedin
the emotional, mental, and energetic space available to meet life's demands without losing yourself. the leadership skill no one names — but everyone feels.
it's not confidence. it's not communication. it's not even problem-solving.
it's capacity — the internal steadiness that determines how you meet every moment.
capacity is the difference between reacting and responding. between absorbing everything and knowing what's actually yours to hold. between feeling stretched thin and feeling steady, even on the busiest days.
in roles where every conversation arrives with a new story, a new emotion, a new need — it's easy to believe leadership means carrying it all. it doesn't. leadership is learning to carry wisely.
you don't build capacity by filling every hour. you build it by protecting what fills you.
three shifts that expand your capacity
01 slow your pace, not your impact.
02 know what's yours to hold.
03 let boundaries be clarity, not defense.
"what kind of capacity do i want to bring into the room today?"
start there. your leadership will follow.
— slow down. you're doing better than you think.
there's a version of leadership that isn't loud, forceful, or exhausting. it's steady. grounded. intentional.
one shift that changes everything: be present, not responsible for everything.
you can listen fully without absorbing the stress. you can care deeply without overextending. you can support someone without losing your own footing.
that's where boundaries come in — not as distance, but as clarity.
your tone becomes calmer. your words land more clearly. people trust you — not because you did everything, but because you showed up in a way that felt steady and real.
next time you log in, don't ask "how much can i handle today?"
try: how do i want to show up?
calls don't come with a new title or a promotion. same role, same metrics, same headset.
what changes is the mindset.
from "i just take calls" → "i lead the experience."
from "i have to fix everything" → "i guide people through what's real."
from "i just follow instructions" → "my insight matters."
every tough call, every repeated issue, every pattern i notice is information. what i see on the front line is valuable.
these shifts don't require a new job title.
they just require a decision about how you're going to show up.
more on linkedin — the sleeper hit.
follow on linkedin →wyoming · a full piece
the drive that
changed something
in me.
27 hours each way · midnight departure · worth every mile
we left at midnight.
nobody plans a 27-hour road trip for a reasonable hour. you just go. bags in the truck, gas station snacks, the kind of quiet that only exists at midnight when everyone's either asleep or moving toward something they can't quite name yet.
i wasn't driving at first. i was just watching the dark through the window the way you do when you've been awake too long and the road starts to feel like a dream someone else is having.
then it was my turn to drive.
and then — the plains.
i don't know how to describe what happened except to say that the land just — opened. like it exhaled. flat and forever and so impossibly big that my brain couldn't hold the edges of it. i grew up in west texas. i know wide open. but this was different. this was the kind of wide that makes you feel like the sky is coming down to meet you instead of just sitting up there ignoring you.
i pulled over.
just — stopped the truck on the side of the road in the middle of wyoming at whatever-o'clock in the morning because i literally could not keep driving. it took my breath. not in a metaphor way. in a i forgot how to breathe for a second way.
i don't know if you call it euphoria. i don't know if you call it shock and awe. i felt like i was being lifted out of my body — like the landscape was doing something to me that i didn't have a word for yet. still don't, really. it felt like a dream. the kind you're mad about when you wake up.
the knowing
standing there on the side of that road, in the dark, in wyoming —
i just knew.
that's where i'm supposed to be.
not someday in a vague way. in a this is already mine, i just haven't moved yet way. that feeling hasn't left. i carry it around like a fact i haven't acted on yet.
then came montana.
curvy roads. night driving. getting a little lost.
and cold — the kind of cold that makes you think about polar bears for some reason.
the hotel was creepy. i'm going to say it was the hotel and not the 27+ hours of driving and the bear visions i was already having. the walls were doing something. the hallway was too long. you know the feeling.
but then morning came.
"hunty."
in my madea voice. because nothing else covered it. when you wake up in montana after a creepy night and a polar bear situation and the sun comes up and you look outside — there are no words. there is only that. you have to go. we have to go. i am going to go.
the moose are bigger than a truck, by the way. just so you know. real information. file it away.
i'm going to retire there. i've decided. god's plan, not mine — but i'm putting in the request and i'm putting it in writing right now on this website so it's official.
some places find you before you find them.
wyoming found me at midnight on the side of a road
when i forgot how to breathe.
i haven't forgotten what that felt like.
wyoming · montana · 27 hours · i'm going back
"god is within her,
she will not fail."
psalm 46:5 · the whole compass
"to every thing there is a season."
ecclesiastes 3:1 · trust the timing
