“I still remember Miss Bessie singing…” Okay. I don’t. That’s not my story to tell, but this one is… I was raised a country music loving girl thanks to my stepdad Rich and his blue Ford pick-up truck. He’d pick me and two of my sisters up for weekend visits, put Q106 on the radio,
Sometimes it drives me crazy seeing Kate’s socks cast off without a care, lying on the floor. But tonight I turned the corner, saw these little lime green wads of cotton, smiled, and thought, “Kate was here.” I was struck by how beautiful it is – this colorful little bread crumb of my daughter’s day.
Bragging like a bragger for finishing the Madison Mini Half Marathon – 13.1 miles! Woohoo! It was my slowest race, and also my sweetest. Six months ago I experienced a traumatic brain injury. I may share more at some point, but the short version is I lost my speech, my short-term memory, and my ability
Get your pearls out because you’re probably going to want to clutch ‘em. I didn’t decorate for Christmas the past two years. Christmas has always kind of been my thing. I legit had my bedroom decorated like Christmas all year long when I was a kid – Santas everywhere, twinkle lights, red and green quilt
I used to hate driving. With a fiery passion. Have you ever pondered the “if you were rich would you rather have a personal chef, personal trainer, chauffeur, cabana boy, etc.” question? I was all, “chauffeur!” all day, every day* but since moving to Cambridge (our amazing little town in southern Wisconsin) I’ve realized something: I don’t hate