What do you do?
I’d rather know what lights you up…
…or what used to.
And the impossible dream you barely whisper to yourself in the shower.
p.s. My résumé is on LinkedIn.
Childlike wonder never came with an expiration date.
I’m the person who asks one more question, imagines one more possibility and occasionally turns ordinary moments into stories worth remembering.
That curiosity has led me to remarkable places, wonderful people and more than a few ridiculous adventures.
It’s also taught me that the most interesting conversations rarely begin with the obvious questions.
Joy has never asked me to choose between purpose and play.
I care deeply about meaningful work.
I also stop for puppies, adore babies, celebrate tiny miracles, get goosies and frequently snort instead of laugh.
I don’t think those things compete.
I think they make each other possible.
I come by it honestly.
In our family, dreaming big was just part of growing up.
One winter, someone decided we should build a snowman roughly the size of a garage.
So we did.
Looking back, I don’t think any of us spent much time worrying about whether something was possible.
We were usually too busy figuring out how.
For more than five years, my favorite part of the day has started around 1 a.m. Eastern.
While much of the world is getting ready for tomorrow, people from around the globe gather for a simple conversation about gratitude, hope and remembering what matters.
We’ve celebrated babies, new jobs, healing and second chances.
We’ve held space for heartbreak too.
Night after night, I’m reminded that showing up exactly as you are is more than enough.
I’ve driven past that mountain hundreds of times.
It’s always there.
Always beautiful.
Always something I’d get around to “one day.”
Then one summer in my 40s, a grade school friend and I decided to stop driving past it and climb it.
Turns out, it wasn’t nearly as hard as I’d imagined.
We took this picture.
Started back down carefully.
And yes … I still managed to fall.
Apparently gravity doesn’t care whether the hike is difficult.
Since that day, I’ve caught myself wondering what else I’ve built up in my mind that is simply waiting for me to begin.
It also makes me giggle, remembering all the other times I’ve fallen …
Dreams don’t usually disappear.
Life just gets loud enough that we stop hearing them.
That’s why I leave little reminders for myself.
A sign. A journal. A conversation.
Not because they have magic powers.
Because sometimes I need reminding too.
Some ideas simply won’t leave you alone.
Blueprint4Joy was one of mine.
Not because I wanted another business.
Because I kept meeting people who were quietly successful and quietly wondering if there was more.
The conversations kept repeating.
Different cities. Different careers. Different stories.
The same feeling.
Somewhere along the way, “fine” had become good enough.
I couldn’t stop asking better questions.
Eventually, Blueprint4Joy became a place where we could ask them together.
That’s the version of me you get before the credentials and the client results.
The one who builds snowmen too big, laughs too long, and still keeps a journal that says dream on the cover.
If this feels like the start of a conversation rather than the end of a page — good.
That was the idea.
Or just leave your email. I’ll keep it short and I’ll keep it honest.