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I was halfway to work when I heard about the first plane. Stopped at a train crossing that doesn't even exist anymore, construction took it out years ago. I remember that spot better than I remember most of that whole year.

Did you miss me last week? I missed you. Here's where I was: at my in-laws' cabin, elbow deep in a garage that hadn't been touched in years, coming home every night too tired to string a sentence together, let alone write one. And then, a few days after we got home, while I was sitting on my bathroom counter slathering calamine lotion on a poison ivy rash that had taken over my forearms (souvenir of clearing brush along the shoreline, a decision I regret more every time I scr

The call always comes at the wrong time. Mine came twice, once for my mom, once for my dad, and neither time did I feel ready. I don't think anyone ever is. Stuck in the Middle At fifty and seasoned, most of us are dealing with the same strange math. You watch your kids grow up and start their own lives, and at the same time, you watch your parents move toward the end of theirs. You're stuck somewhere in between, trying to hold both. And here's the thing nobody prepares you f

If you grew up in Minnesota, you already know what "up north" means. You don't need coordinates. You don't need a town name. It's a feeling, a certain gravel road, a screen door that slams a specific way. Say the words "up north" to anyone from here and watch their shoulders drop an inch. For us, up north means the cabin. And the cabin means the girls fishing off the dock until their hands smelled like minnows, bonfires that ran too late on a school night, and turtle races th

A year ago, I left a steady, well-paying corporate role with no real plan. Just burnout, low confidence, and a feeling I needed something different.

I didn't cook a single meal for eleven days and it might have been the best food I've had all year. My youngest and I hit the road from the Twin Cities and made our way to my sister and brother-in-law's in Oshkosh for the Fourth of July. They just got a new pontoon, so we spent most of the weekend cruising around instead of standing at a stove, which felt like exactly the right way to kick things off. Walleye Bites, a One-Pan Wonder, and a Bar You Can Best Reach by Boat One a

My uncle walked into my daughter's wedding in a suit that fit him better than it had any right to at his age, and I nearly lost it right there in the lobby. He's in his eighties now. He was such a huge part of my life growing up, one of those people who just shows up, decade after decade, and you don't fully understand what that's worth until you're standing across from him at your kid's wedding wondering how many more of these you'll get to share. I hugged him a little too l

I was born in 1975, so I have zero memories of the bicentennial. But everyone who lived through it tells the same story: parades, flags on every porch, block parties that spilled into the street. A country throwing itself a birthday party and meaning it. Fifty years later, I'm not sure we could pull that off. And I don't think that's a red or blue observation. I think it's just true. A Proud American, Even Abroad I've always considered myself a proud American. I know what it

I have been trying all week to come up with the right words for how I have been feeling since my daughter's wedding this past weekend. There is only one that fits: pure joy. A Week Worth Savoring It started small and grew from there. We arrived last Wednesday and met my daughter, her soon-to-be husband, and his parents for a quiet dinner, just the seven of us. The perfect way to ease into a wedding weekend. We have been to Galena, IL several times, so it was nice to start fro

My daughter gets married next week, and I have been sitting with all of it in a way I didn't quite expect. The excitement is there. So is the bittersweetness. So is this strange, low hum of knowing that something is coming to an end even as something bigger is beginning. If you've been here, you know exactly what I mean. And if you're headed here someday, I want you to know it's okay to feel all of it at once. I decided the best way I could process any of this was to write he

OH boy, here we go again. Another trip around the sun, another year in the books. When my husband and I turned 50, we made sure to celebrate that mid-century mark right. We went on two trips, one to Ireland and one on a southern Caribbean and South America cruise. My husband also surprised me with a weekend away at a boutique hotel, our kids in tow and my best friend waiting there when I walked in. It was festive and fun, and then it hit me. I am 50. How did that happen? Now

I'll warn you: this week has a more somber tone than my usual sassy repertoire. We lost Ryley on Monday. We got Ryley right before lockdown in February 2020. He was a rescue, and they estimated he was about a year old (though honestly, they weren't sure). His breed was a mystery, too. We already had Cooper, a Black Mouthed Cur. Curs aren't exactly popular in Minnesota, but they're well-known as hunting dogs in the south. When we saw that Ryley was listed as a "Mountain Cur mi

This weekend, my younger daughter comes home from college for the summer. She'll be a senior next year, which means this is likely the last summer she'll live under our roof. The last summer of having her home for three months straight. The last summer before she graduates and moves into whatever comes next. I should be purely excited, right? I should be counting down the hours until she walks through that door. And I am excited. I really am. But I'm also... something else. S

"Hey, you should get up and check that you closed the garage door." Wait—what? Who is that? I see 2:30 AM on the alarm clock next to me. (Yes, we still have an old-school alarm clock in our bedroom.) The red numbers are shouting at me to go back to sleep because it's literally the middle of the night. But that little voice is putting doubts into my head. What if I mistakenly didn't close the garage door? "Oh no, what if robbers got into the house? What if our lawn mower was s

For those who are regular readers, you know I decided a few months ago that I wanted to go back to working full-time. There are several reasons for this, but over these months, it's become even clearer why I want to do this now. Don't get me wrong: I've loved delving into different passions. But ultimately, I missed being part of something. I missed people outside my family and friend groups. I decided I'm not quite ready to hang up my career. But I have to say, applying for

The house is quiet now. Eerily quiet after this past weekend's dizzying activity. Furniture was moved and tables and chairs took their place. Decorations were hung and placed in just the right spots. Food was prepared and drinks were chilled. Signage was set up and bathrooms were squeaky-cleaned and well-stocked. It was, after all, my daughter's wedding shower. How Time Disappears When You're Planning Isn't it surreal how time goes so quickly when you're planning an event lik

The Week I Actually Looked Forward To Here's the thing. I know what you're thinking. April, taxes, dread. But no. I am not even a little bit thinking about filing this week, and I will not apologize for it. I have far better things to do. This weekend I'm hosting my daughter's bridal shower, and I have been counting down to this moment for months. The date is actually here. And I genuinely cannot believe it. Time is a Liar and I Have Proof "Middle age is when you begin to won

Every generation thinks theirs is the one who has faced the most change, evolution, or impact. I'd never argue with a Baby Boomer that their view of life hasn't been extraordinary. And I'd never dismiss a Gen Yer who's only ever lived in a digital age. But for us Gen Xers? I think it's just hitting me how much has actually happened over the past 50 years. Recency bias can make us think that the time we're living in right now —say, 2026—is the best, worst, most impactful, or c

I've been doing some serious spring cleaning this year, especially tackling the closets in our house. I have to admit, there are things in a few closets that have been there since we moved in almost 10 years ago—things I completely forgot we even had. And then I opened a box of photographs. Not photos on my phone or in the cloud. Actual, physical, developed-from-film photographs. The Last Generation With Paper Memories As a Gen Xer, we're probably the last generation to have

As I've started interviewing and speaking with other professionals during my job search, I'm of course being asked what I've been doing for the past nine months. It would be easy to say that I started my own consulting firm and became an entrepreneur for two creative businesses. But the truth is, I think I finally figured out what it really means to be "fairly seasoned, sort of sassy." When I came up with that tagline almost a year ago, I thought I knew what it meant to me an