I embody a lot of Colorado stereotypes: I drive a Subaru with a roof rack. I’m rarely caught outside the house without a puffy jacket or Chaco sandals. There are four bikes and five pairs of skis in my living room right now. I work from home, which is a nice way of saying I don’t have a real job. Continue reading “Midwest is best”
I’ve never been what you’d call “domestic.”
In my early twenties, I’d sigh loudly and roll my eyes about having to take out the trash or do the dishes.
“I guess I have to do everything myself around here,” I’d mutter under my breath. I lived alone. Continue reading “On housekeeping, and other things I do not do”
I never much cared for biking. It wasn’t that I disliked it, specifically; more that I didn’t care about it.
When my folks got married, they each had separate interests and hobbies, so they picked one to do together. I guess it worked, because thirty-four years later, they still ride their road bikes all summer. They have never ridden a tandem, another factor I believe has contributed to the success of their marriage. Continue reading “I want to ride my bicycle”
When I was 21 and thinking about moving to Alaska, I paid my bills by waiting tables at a local sports bar. I had a very wise manager with whom I occasionally butted heads, due in no small part, I’m sure, to my stubbornness. I spent months waffling endlessly on whether I should apply for this teaching job or pack everything up and make for Anchorage, and one night, as I begged him to please cut me from the floor so I could go home and study, he dropped this major bombshell on me:
“When you don’t know where you’re going,” he told me, “Any road will take you there.” Continue reading “When you don’t know where you’re going, any road will take you there. (Turns out this is still true.)”
I’ve never been anywhere that epitomizes the word “bucolic” like the landscape of rural southwest Wisconsin. I don’t really need to describe it for you. You’ve seen it. Picture every pastoral painting, every wide-angle shot of Middle America: the rolling hills of green grass and amber waves of grain, the fat, doe-eyed cows, red barn complete with silo. Continue reading “House of Hygge”