Started from the bottom now we’re… Well, still kinda there.


Goal oriented people are hard to come by… At least they were. My little black book… Er. Wait, my little black PLANNER can attest to that. I have an illness.

Check out and subscribe via email, you won’t regret it.

Or maybe you will, but I bet some of you regret that piece of cake you ate in one bite last night, but you’re gonna do it again soon, aren’t ya? ARENT YA?!

Ahem. Anyways, enjoy!


Beating the odds – Weight loss.


Ahh yes, another post at blacksheep chronicles. Weight loss, and the battle of, is a massive bitch. Let’s riot shall we? Or at least, get really angry about it, and have an apple instead of that bowl of ice cream you’ve been thinking about since breakfast.

An apple a day will keep the doctor away… If you throw it hard enough.

When Adulting turns into Black-sheeping.

No, dear readers, I have not died, nor have I randomly relapsed and overdosed myself into an early grave. I’ve been ‘ghost’ (clever girl) for over a week, setting things up and being pissed at the world for my horrible wishy-washy ways. I’m surprised I haven’t had cover ups on all of my tattoos because I cannot seem to be dedicated to one idea.

While adulting is definitely hard, someone else must have thought about that beautiful little gem before I… Bastards. How dare you be more creative and on point before I had the chance to think of it?


That, my friends, is when it hit me. Right in the face. A sucker punch of creative juices slopped across my tired mug while I was coming back from a long day of laser tag,  movie theater sitting, and experiencing the wonders of 5 Whits…. With a side of Dave and Busters. (Minus the alcohol, obviously. Still clean, and still dapper as fuck.)

Black sheep chronicles.

I know. Amazingly accurate.

So when I’m finished tweaking my site, expect huge things to come. I’m stoked as all hell, and you should be too.

My new beginnings of new beginnings before my previous new beginning…

The People of Walmart, ain’t got shit on me.

Icharacteram constantly on the go, lately. If not for running small errands with the kids, for JHubbs, or with his mother, it seems like I am never ever allowed down time.

Today wasn’t any different. For some reason I let my fiance rope me into going to The Anti-Drug Warehouse with him (and when I say somehow, it’s because this assface cannot keep his eyes open to drive. I do not want to be widowed before married.) to keep him company. Apparently being there 3 days a week, 2 hours a day, isn’t enough.

Now, like all men, he claims that they messed up the time on his appointment, and instead of it being 9:20 in the mother effing AM, it was 10:40 – which is a slightly more humane time.

He said, “It’s just a doctor’s appointment, babe. I’ll be in and out in about 5-10 mins, babe. No one will even see you, babe.” Which, honestly, usually happens. This doctor is no joke. A ‘wam, bam, thank you ma’am’ kinda guy. So, I woke up, grabbed my purse and a cup of coffee, then out the door I went with him like the amazing fiance I am.

Which brings us here.

Since he’s been sleep deprived due to being the bread winner and working from 4-6 AM, he fell asleep within minutes, while I sat there in disbelief at my predicament.

  • My hair? All over the damn place.
  • Makeup? Non-existent. Well, wait, I lied – left over eyeliner was rubbed furiously around every inch of my face during my coma-like slumber, making me look like a cracked out racoon.
  • Clothes? PJ’s, red flanneled, and completely unflattering in every aspect.
  • Bra? HA. Bra’s are for people who actually have chesticles. I, for one, do not.

So, naturally, I hid in the car while he snored and sputtered, trying to crawl into the glove box before anyone could witness this catastrophe.

WHY the Hell didn’t I just throw on a bra? A shirt that wasn’t a 3xl? Perhaps even a pair of ACTUAL pants? I mean, I could be on “The People of Walmart” at this point, and everyone would’ve just nodded as they scrolled through the horrific pictures.

Whatever, right? At least I didn’t have to go in the building. I can just wait it out, and when he was done, we’d be on our merry way back home where I apparently belong.

Until it happened.

I had to fucking pee.

But THIS wasn’t just a normal, ‘oh jeez, I gotta pee – eh, I’ll wait.”

This was like “If I don’t go now, I’m gonna piss myself”, kinda problem. In a panic, my mind raced with ways I could get in and out of the building without anyone seeing me. I imagined myself flipping through the air and into open windows, dashing down the halls with my shirt over my face, and being victorious, I saw myself sitting in the women’s bathroom with a cigarette lit, and a smug little smile on my unwashed face.

So what did I do?

I stayed in the car, like any mildly ridiculous woman-child would do. I held onto my ‘dignity’ (if that’s what you wish to call it) for one more day, and vowed never to leave the house without at least a bra on.

Lesson learned.

Because, Blueberry Scones w/Lemon Glaze.

With a spot of tea? Delicious! Diva makes these CONSTANTLY, and with Fall right around the corner I figured I would share. You lucky dog, you.

What You’ll Need: Scones

  • 2 cups of all purpose flour
  • 1 tbsp of baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp of salt
  • 2 tbsp of sugar
  • 5 tbsp of unsalted butter, cold
  • 1 cup fresh blueberries
  • 1 lemon, zest finely grated
  • 1 1/4 cups heavy cream (then a little on the side for brushing the scones)

What You’ll Need: Lemon Glaze

  • 1/4 cup FRESHLY squeezed lemon juice
  • 1 cup confectioners sugar, sifted
  • 1/2 tbsp unsalted butter, melted

Instructions, and stuff:

Side Note- Okie dokie, artichokie… Yes, I really do say that all the time, btw. Shrug. Anyways, here’s how to, and some pictures I decided to take while baking these. YES, they take time, and sometimes you have to start over because you don’t like the outcome, but they are extremely worth it. I promise you that. Just take your time, follow the instructions, and put on your fat pants/sweats for the amazing outcome. 😉

  • Preheat oven to 400 awesome degrees, and get out one medium bowl for the scones, and one small for the glaze.
  • Combine flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar by whisking gently. Take your cold butter, and grate it into the dry mixture.
Like so.

Like so.

  • Toss together lightly, so evenly distributed.
  • Grate your lemon very finely, til the while shows – get alllllllll of that lemony goodness.


  • Fold your blueberries and zest into the mixture..


  • Make a “well” in the middle/small hole, and pour your heavy cream in it – then fold just to incorporate – DO NOT overwork the dough.


  • Form the dough into around 10-12 mounds, and put on parchment paper, NOT wax. Parchment will make it so the bottoms do not burn. Because after all that hard work, that would suck immensely.
  • Leave in for about 15-18 mins, until golden brown. Take out, set on bakers rack, and let cool.


  • Take the left over heavy cream, and brush lightly over the scones, and wait to dry.
  • After everything has cooled, mix together your lemon juice, confectioners sugar, and unsalted melted butter. No lumps.


  • Drizzle lemon glaze all over those bad boys, and wait like 5 minutes to set.
  • DIG IN!

Let me know how it turns out, ladies/men! 🙂 I’d love to hear from you.

August is basically the Sunday of Summer.

Procrastination at it’s finest. August marks the time of year I suddenly remember everything I wanted to do over the summer. Weeks and weeks of plans going awry, and no one to blame but myself. Damn, I was supposed to be tan and gorgeous right now; instead, here I am all pasty and chubby with a huge zit on my chin for good measure.

I can’t be the only one with this issue? Next weekend we’re going to Camp where we can let the kids run a muck with plenty of sugary treats to fuel their obnoxiousness. But, instead of planning for solutions to the horrors that lie ahead, I sit back and breathe deep.

Because. They. Are. Just. Kids.

I will never, ever get them again at this age, and I refuse to ruin their fun so I can have it ‘easier’. Soon starts the dreaded “Back to School Shopping“, and when we ALL have to listen to our children try to beg and plead their way out of an education – bargaining with their lives, and expecting us to comply..

/evil cackle.

Muahahaha! Oh, you will go to school, my pretties… And you will make excellent grades or I will hide your precious remotes, and batteries… I will change the WiFi password (GASPS) and take that secret with me to my grave…

It’s time to set the shit‘lins up with school sports, time for activities to begin, and time for your forearm to get a good ol’ workout from swiping that credit card a million fricken’ times.

“Do the kids really need mouth guards? Really, wait – see, these are their baby teeth, they’re supposed to come out.”

….. FINE. $18 mouth-guards it is. Each fucking one. /rolls eyes

worriedI’ve been trying to figure out different ways to start being more ‘on my game’ when it comes to remembering everything I have to do for EVERYONE, since there’s no ‘honey-do’ list here. There’s just a shit, i have to do it all’ list. So, instead of sucking at life like I’ve done before – I’ve actually started PLANNING.

I kept forgetting small things – like, meeting with my counselor at 5 because I had to run to the grocery store 32 times due to not being able to grab everything I need in one trip. Well, you know, that would just make too much sense.

The Number 1 Lie We All Tell Ourselves:

– “Ill remember that, I don’t need to write it down.”

BULLSHIT, brain! You liar! LIES! I have not thought that once, without completely forgetting what the Hell I was falsely telling myself I’d remember. Seriously. Not once. So now, I am writing in this cute little journal the things I need to remember. Even things I like, or just little doodles because I get bored out of nowhere and need to entertain my toddler-like mind.

So far, so good. Things are going smoother, and I don’t feel like such a shit mother for not remembering things like my son prefers strawberry oatmeal over peach.

You know, because that’s important.

Wait, I need to write that down. But I could’ve sworn I did..

After darkness, the light follows.

I am the poster child for procrastinating my life away. At 29, I’ve accomplished basically nothing besides my sobriety, and giving birth to an absolutely amazing little boy who has the world at his fingertips.

Regrets are huge in the addiction recovery lifestyle, causing most addicts to continue using – the weight of the guilt overpowering the will to become clean and start fresh.

Honestly, I do have some regrets (who the hell doesn’t?), but mostly I am grateful for where, and who I am now. If it wasn’t for my crazy, horrible past, I wouldn’t be the strong-minded woman that I am today. My struggles and past experiences are a part of me, no matter how shitty they were, no matter how hard I wish that they weren’t, they aren’t going anywhere. Personally, I find it’s better to embrace them then try to fight against something that cannot be changed.

At 17, I was in a tragic car accident which left 2 of my friends permanently disabled.. I had survivors guilt for a long time, since mentally, I was fine. Or so I thought. I’ve broken more bones than most. I’ve fallen off cliffs, I’ve been homeless, and I’ve been in more trouble with the law than any respectable mother should ever be. I’ve lost friends to overdoses, to freak accidents, and to suicide because of their addictions… It’s a wake-up call every single time.

The turning point of my pointless existence happened when I found God – not when I hit rock bottom. I had hit that years ago. Shit, I lived there for 6 years. For a long time I resented what happened in my life, and couldn’t follow someone who was supposed to be my ‘savior’, supposed to ‘shield me from evil’. Where was he when I needed him? THAT was the damn question that continuously went unanswered.

Until recently.

When I was in inpatient, I was withdrawing so horribly I couldn’t sleep, my arms and legs were restless, my skin crawling constantly, and I was so damn exhausted from the chase.

The chase of getting the money everyday to get what I needed, the chase of finding the drug, the chase of that initial feeling of carelessness that you experienced when you first started. I needed something else in my life. Something was definitely missing.

Something big.

I laid there thrashing, and looked over at the night stand and saw the Bible. In a last attempt to get some sort of sleep for sanity, I begged Him to take away the pain and to help me get some peace. Some fucking rest. I pleaded, I sobbed. I snotted. I have never felt so low and pathetic as I did that night.

Amazingly, a few moments later, I was fast asleep – dried tears stained my face, and when I woke, I was still gripping the Bible like it was the hand of God itself… If that’s not a sign I needed faith in my life, I don’t know what is.

Now, I wake up every morning with a new found sense of ambition. This inner light that I can literally feel with every breath I take..

It’s about damn time, because I’ve been in the dark for far too long; it is indeed my time to shine.