This is a bizarre story… but it’s life.

I’m 24 years old.

My wife, Micaila, often likes to laud over me the fact that she’s a whole three months older than me, especially during the three month gap where she is older than me (right now).

We married at 19 because I wanted to be a pastor and she wanted to be a pastor’s wife.

I got the ring after one month of dating for $100 and I proposed after three months. She said yes. We got hitched nine months later.

Neither of us graduated college and neither of us cared to. We were more interested in frozen pizza roles, sex, and having friends over to our $500-per-month place every night.

Meth heads with an obscene amount of tires lived across the street from us and once, they almost burned our house down. They did burn their trailer down.

Our first year of marriage, we made $18,000 collectively.

We didn’t have WiFi at our house (I would go play video games and tackle other important tasks by stealing coffee shop WiFi). And I worked eight different jobs our first year of marriage.

Let’s see if I can remember them all…


Jewelry salesperson…





Youth pastor…

I didn’t get fired from any of them. I just kept quitting. I’d get bored and move on to the next thing. For better or worse, my wife always supported me, saying, “Life is too short to do something you don’t love.”

We’re just young, I guess. And we love to live.

Eventually, I found a full-time job as the co-pastor of a new church. The pay wasn’t bad, either…

In the same way that something that doesn’t exist can’t be good or bad.

So yeah, it didn’t pay anything.

And for four years, my wife supported me and herself on a salary of $31,000 while I pursued my (kind of “our”) passion of doing full-time ministry.

During my time there, I preached over 50 sermons and led multiple Sunday services on my own.


It didn’t work out. Eventually, I started making $300 per month, but then when I stopped believing in the Christian religion altogether because of the unexpected death of a friend, I was left arse-upwards, unsure of what to do next.

Which is when I decided to become a ghost writer for a marketing friend of mine (who’d later go on to become the Editor in Chief of Shopify Plus). After a few months, that ghostwriting gig led into a full time remote job at Carrot — the Inc. 5000 company I now work for.

Which led into some other freelance gigs.

Then my wife and I had a baby.

It was kind of an accident, I suppose. We were trying to have a kid, but then one night after making some family-trip plans, we decided it’d be better to wait for la ninya (I knew it’d be a girl) until we’d had good fun on our trip…

That was the exact same day that Micaila wanted to take a drink of wine, doubled checked her pee-pee for babies, and found something hiding inside.

Now, our goober is one-year old. My wife is a stay-at-home mom (her passion) and I’m supporting her on a salary of about $90k when all is said and done.

We just sold our house.

And we’re traveling the world (I’m writing from Siracusa, Italy).

What adventure waits next?

I don’t know.

But right now is pretty damn good — always has been.


What I Learned from Driving in Sicily for the Weekend

Google “driving in Sicily” and you’ll be bombarded by results telling you that you’ll (at best) be scared as hell and (at worst)… well, die in some crazy car wreck.

This last weekend, I rented a car in Sicily.

Sicily isn’t exactly… civilized about the way that they drive.

Stoplights are a suggestion.

Stop signs are a joke.

And using your blinker is for the weak.

There’s really only one rule to follow: do whatever you want and be clear about it so that everyone else can adapt accordingly.

As one of our tourist guides said in Rome about Italian drivers when crossing the street, “Don’t run — it confuses them.”

For our purposes, it’d be more like, “Don’t be wish-washy — you’ll die.”

With that in mind and not having driven a manual since high-school, I talked my wife into dishing out the extra $100 it’d cost for an automatic. The argument was something like, “Babe. We can either pay $100 more or we can die in a fiery car accident — what do you prefer?”

Persuasive AF.

Anyways, shaking in my boots, we walked to the car rental place and the worker says, “Ah yes. Perfect. There’s only one problem — we don’t have any automatics. We only have manual cars.”


“Only one problem.”


Well, Mr. Car Rental Italian m8, we now only have two problems.

You’re making me drive a manual.

And I haven’t driven a manual since high-school…

I flushed white and swallowed my fears — everybody dies, right? Yes, I actually tell myself this when I get scared.

My wife smiled.

She’s a daredevil.

So we left. I killed the car once trying to put it into reverse and then off we went with my confused feet shuffling like a tap dancer on a trampoline.

But… we made it.

Despite my fear, despite unclear Italian driving laws, despite having not driven a manual since high-school…

And despite that I didn’t really want to get behind that damn wheel…

We did it.

And while that’s a small win, it’s a win nonetheless…

A win that proves you can do it, too — it being whatever you currently think you can’t do (build that business, stop that bad habit, or travel the world with your family).

You can.

But will you?