Loan interviewer by day. Watercolorist and chronic over-thinker by night.
I sit at a desk in Rexburg all morning, helping neighbors understand what their numbers mean. Then I go home, strum a guitar, and try to paint the way the light hits the Snake River when the clouds just break.
I'm a loan interviewer at a community credit union — which means I get to sit with real people, in real need or real hope, and walk them through what a debt-to-income ratio actually feels like. Not the spreadsheet version. The human version. The one where someone's asking if they can afford a home in a town where the mountains remind you that you're small, and that's okay.
This site is my field journal. Part financial literacy, part watercolor study, part meditation on why patience is the one skill that serves both a balanced budget and a decent landscape painting.
"A balanced budget is just a patient garden — you don't harvest what you haven't tended."
At the Rexburg credit union, I review loan applications — mortgages, auto loans, personal lines. The most important thing I do isn't checking boxes. It's making sure someone understands exactly what they're signing, and helping them see the whole shape of their financial life.
When the ledger closes, I paint. Mostly landscapes — the high desert, the Wasatch front, the kind of sky you only see in Idaho. And I play acoustic guitar badly but persistently. Both require the same thing: showing up and paying attention.
The color of lichen on the east face of the Tetons at dawn. I've mixed it four times and haven't gotten it right. The problem is always the same in underwriting and in watercolor: you're trying to capture something that changes the moment you look at it.
I've written a practical guide to understanding your first mortgage application — what each number means, what the underwriter is actually looking for, and how to prepare so you don't waste a Saturday afternoon wondering why your file went to "more docs." Read the Field Notes →