A few months ago, we bought a truck. Somehow—and I still believe with all my heart that this was because someone, somewhere wasn’t paying attention or doing their job—we walked into a dealership on a weekday afternoon and drove away in a brand-new Toyota Tacoma. Continue reading “The end of an era”
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”
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”
I like fall. It’s a fine season: it’s not so damn hot anymore, plus everything looks better in autumnal gold. I’m not such a big fan of pumpkin spice, but I’ll admit to increased root vegetable consumption, I have a few sweaters in the back of my closet I’ve been missing since March, and I eagerly welcome the advent of Stew Season. Continue reading “Sugar and (pumpkin) spice, and other things I’m not made of”
I’m lucky that I made it to age 26 with four living grandparents. In that regard, I know, I’m luckier than most, not to mention that I have a relationship with each of them. I know all that, but that doesn’t make it smart any less to lose a grandparent. Continue reading “I am the Boo-rang”