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Auto Maintenance Lessons from Dad
Something Dad did—something I didn’t fully appreciate until after he was gone—was keep one master log book for all of his equipment. Cars. Lawn mowers. Snow blowers. Weed wackers. Anything with an engine had a place in that book.Inside, he recorded all the important details: the make and model, the type of oil it required, when it was last serviced, and the work that had been done. Oil changes weren’t guesses. Maintenance wasn’t reactive. Everything had a history, written down in his careful handwriting.
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Auto Maintenance and the Dipstick Disaster
Auto maintenance. Wow, now this is a subject that is totally out of my league. In my marriage, the vehicles were men’s work, that being Art. I never even put gas into my car, washed it, detailed it, or did whatever needed to be done to keep it functioning (most of the time). -
The Jaguar That Went Boom
My husband loved flashy cars. After his Acura died from driving back and forth to Milwaukee every day, he had his eye on a great-looking 2009 Jaguar sedan. It was cherry red and in pristine condition. He drove by the car at a local dealership every day. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He went in and negotiated a deal for his dream car. -
The Carpeting That Killed My Cat
A long, long time ago, I lived in Northern California. All my life, I had enjoyed having pets, but at that point, I was away from home all day, working full-time. It didn’t seem fair to have a dog waiting inside the house alone for so many hours.Around that time, one of my customers stopped by and mentioned that her mama cat had just given birth to a litter of eight kittens. She showed me a picture, eight tiny black kittens nestled together in a big basket, each wearing a little red bow around its neck. I stopped by that afternoon to see them in person and, as you might imagine, fell head over heels in love. They were all solid black, glossy as satin, and completely irresistible.
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Cream Carpet Dilemma
Every house has a breaking point.
Ours happens to be cream carpet.
Over the years, I’ve learned there are two kinds of home stories: the ones you plan to tell, and the ones that show up uninvited—usually with stains. When you live long enough in one place, the floor becomes a quiet witness. It records everything.Which is how I landed here, thinking about carpet disasters—because of course that’s where this story goes.
Burns.
Spills.
Pets.
Kids.
Wine.That moment when you know: Yep. That carpet’s done.
When we built our house about twenty years ago, hardwood covered the main part of the home. Cream carpet filled the library, dining room, and three bedrooms. Now you probably already know…Cream carpet is unforgiving.
The one truth about cream carpet, though, is that it never surprises you. It’s either clean…or filthy. -
Carpet Remnants Saved the Day
The atmosphere I live in matters deeply to me. I can’t stand being in a space that doesn’t feel good aesthetically—it affects my mood, my focus, and honestly, my sanity. Temporary spaces have always been the hardest. College dorm rooms and short-term houses are especially challenging, because you know you’re only living in them for a brief period of time, yet you still have to exist fully inside them every day.So what do you do when the space you’re stuck with is the tiniest, ugliest room in the house?
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The Carpet Saga
I had always loved carpeting. New carpeting, that is. It is so clean, smells fresh, and looks beautiful and pristine. Then it happens – life. We finished our basement in I would say a rather luxurious way (in a hunting sort of way, that being my husband’s hunting lodge!) It is fully carpeted with a very good carpet. We have been able to do this because we have been one of the lucky homeowners who have never had a water problem in their basement.
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Towel Troubles
Oh, to be a towel. Just think of all those bare bodies you get to wrap yourself around. That is, if you are one of the lucky ones.Now, the reality of the towel hysteria that I find when my family is all together. That is, of course, the grandkids. In reality, they are thieves of the good beach towels at the cabin. This means they covet my beautiful new soft luxurious large beach towels and then, would you believe it, they take them home, and I never seem to see them again.
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Towel Hoarder
My linen closet is basically a museum of towel history. A true hodgepodge. I still have towels from college — 1988, thank you very much — and not a single one of them matches anything else on the shelf. It’s like a reunion of every towel I’ve ever owned, all jammed together, still clinging to life out of sheer nostalgia and stubbornness.And here’s the funny part: I love the idea of matching sets. Bath towel, hand towel, washcloth — the whole coordinated, Pinterest-worthy ensemble. But let’s be honest… we don’t use hand towels or washcloths. Like, ever. They hang there looking pretty and untouched, collecting dust while the bath towels do all the heavy lifting.
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Towel Trials
The topic of towels causes me to dig deep into my imagination. Being creative here is almost out of the question. Towels are, after all, the quiet accessories of our bathrooms. Still, they play an important role. With the right colors, patterns, and textures, they can enhance the entire space — complementing the paint, the floors, and even the fixtures. Chosen well, they add warmth and charm. Chosen poorly, they can drain the life out of even the most handsome room. -
Towel Attachment Issues
The Towels We Keep
I still have the first two towels my mom bought me when I left for college. They’re thin now—somewhere between threadbare and this-could-be-a-washcloth—but they’ve earned their place. I reach for them when I’m dyeing my hair, bathing the dogs, or doing anything else that might leave me emotionally scarred. They’re not the current colors, not stylish, and definitely not “guest towel approved,” but they stay steady. Solid. Loyal. The golden retrievers of my linen world.And then there’s my linen closet.
Closets, Scents, and Clotheslines
I love a neat linen closet with the same devotion most people give a well-organized pantry. But half the items in there haven’t been used once in this house—and we’ve lived here for 22 years. Some of them didn’t get used in the house before this one either, yet there they sit: two sets of white sheer curtains for mystery windows, mismatched flat sheets from an ancient full-size bed, and boxes of attachments for shavers that vanished years ago. If those shavers ever reappeared, I’d probably just close the drawer and walk away.
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The Secret Lives of My Tools
I often say that I don’t clean the house. That isn’t entirely true. What I really mean is that I have a thing about having the right tools at my fingertips so I can get the job done easily.When Michael was alive, he felt he should help clean while I was at work. Each day, he would choose an area to work on. I always thought that was a kind and loving gesture. The only problem was that when I wanted to clean, I couldn’t find my tools. I kept my cleaning supplies in a certain place, rags, brooms, sprays, all together, and by the time I had hunted everything down, my motivation had usually vanished. I was ready to move on to another project.
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Tools and Memories
Tools have always been a big part of my life. First of all, there were none, or let’s just say some. My dad was not a fixer-upper at all. He had a brother who was, and would satisfy some of my dad’s desires when requested to do so. For example, he built bookshelves in Judy’s and my bedroom together with a corner desk. I think my mom knew more about using tools than Dad ever did. But then, there was no interest on his part to really do any type of fixing or building. I believe his only desire for tools was to have some of his dad’s old tools, my grandpa Ottos. -
The Problem With Pink Tools
When I first headed off to college, I told Mom and Dad one simple thing I wanted: tools. Real tools. The kind you can actually fix things with.And honestly, this made perfect sense—because growing up, Dad taught Lisa and me that we could do anything boys could do. That included using tools, fixing things, and generally not being helpless.
Mom… interpreted that a little differently.
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Decorating Disaster
Remember the pink-and-blue decorating craze? Somewhere between the sponge-painted walls and floral borders, we decided those two pastels were meant to be together. They crept into bedrooms, bathrooms, and even living rooms, and let us not forget kitchens.. And like everyone else caught in the wave of pastel mania, we jumped right in.When we decided to decorate one of my youngest daughter’s college apartments, pink and blue seemed like a no-fail combo. It sounded cute and timeless in theory. In reality? It was hideous.
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The Great Unloading Disaster
We’d been camping in Peninsula State Park in Door County. We’d survived the mosquitoes, eaten soup for two weeks straight (thanks, Lisa), and even Grandma Doris—cruising around on her power scooter—had enjoyed herself. The trip was a success by all counts.But as soon as we pulled into the driveway, our luck ran out. It was time to unload the camper—otherwise known as “the part no one volunteers for.”
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Beaver Dam or Bust
Some people believe in serendipity—that life lines things up just right and you fall into the perfect moment. I’m not sure I buy into that. For me, things usually come together through effort, patience, and timing. And yet… sometimes the outcome feels so right, it’s hard not to wonder if a little serendipity snuck in anyway. That’s how we ended up finding our home in Beaver Dam.We’d always said we’d move closer to family once we started our own. We began in Memphis, then moved to Chicago, then Sun Prairie—closer and closer. Eventually, it was time to go all the way: Beaver Dam.
At the time, I worked at the family business, and Tom had a good job in Madison. He was used to commuting, so the move made sense. A realtor friend met us to tour homes in our price range—translation: old fixer-uppers.
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The Quiet Side of Wealth
I’ve been a banker most of my adult life. I’ve seen people flaunt their money, living well on the surface. They always seemed to have the means to buy the great house, the fancy car, and all the luxuries that spoke to the world that they were rich.But I’ve also known many wealthy people. They lived comfortably, yes, with lovely homes and nice cars, but more importantly, they woke each morning without the dread that comes from living beyond their means. They had peace. To me, that’s what true wealth looks like.
Wealth is more than money; it’s the ability to live life on your own terms. It’s having enough resources, financial, emotional, spiritual, and relational, to feel secure, generous, and free.
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From Price Tags to Priceless Moments
When I was young, I always thought that wealthy people were the ones with fancy cars and a nice house.I had two friends in my neighborhood who always appeared to be very wealthy in my mind’s eye. They were the girls who always had the nicest clothes, took dance lessons, piano lessons, and were always going on family trips. I would often hear my dad say things like, “If things don’t pick up, meaning sales, I am going to have to sell pencils on a street corner because, being a salesman, and times were slow, this was his way of letting us all know that he was sort of worried. He never had to sell pencils on a street corner, but it certainly left an impression on me. The fact of the matter was, when I now go past the old homestead, I realize that it was our house that was most impressive.
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The Avocado Test
How many times have I sat in a Mexican restaurant, ordered an entrée, and watched the server point to “Add avocado: 50¢”? For years I said no. Extra felt unnecessary. Eating out already felt like a splurge.
So…what is wealth?
Money isn’t wealth. Money buys options. For most of my adult life—as a married woman and a teacher with a master’s degree—I felt like we had just enough. Never extra, but enough.
I love my house, my kids, my husband, my life. We live in the country with a lake in our backyard and about 300 feet of shoreline. My family has a Door County cottage on Lake Michigan and a rental next door. The rental brings in income—and work. That’s real life.
Here’s the big difference between being rich and being wealthy: freedom. My definition of wealth is freedom. I’m building that now. I retired from teaching and quit my day job at Wally World. These days I “work” on TikTok. I learn, explore, create, and grow. The money isn’t rolling in yet, but the potential is real—and I wake up excited about the day.
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Wealth Is in the Moments
As a kid, I always knew we were rich.
Opening presents on Christmas morning usually took over an hour — partly because Santa went a little overboard, but mostly because Lisa opens presents slower than molasses in January.Every Easter, we practically got a new spring wardrobe — new shorts and shirts for summer, maybe some outdoor toys, sandals, and a few nice outfits. It always felt like a seasonal upgrade — trading static-filled sweaters for flip-flops, mosquito bites, and the sweet smell of fresh-cut grass.
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A Hearth of My Own
Fireplaces have always been an important part of decorating for me. I love old houses where you will find a fireplace in just about every room. They offer such a fabulous atmosphere and seem to facilitate the urge to just sit by the warmth, enjoying the crackling of the fire, and read, have conversations, or just enjoy hanging out and relaxing.As a kid, I did not have a fireplace in our family home. Our house would have been perfect, but it seemed that during this time, the fireplace just wasn’t a priority for my parents as it was to me. My dad would always talk about putting one in, as we had a blank wall where it would be perfect, but it just never got done.
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Fireplace Fails and Fixes
I was never the fire starter in our family—that job belonged to Dad and Lisa. They were the official flame whisperers, armed with newspaper twists, matches, and patience. I, on the other hand, preferred to enjoy the fire from a safe, soot-free distance.Honestly, I’ve never been a fan of the whole process. Building the fire, keeping it going, making sure it doesn’t go out—it’s way too much work for something that’s supposed to be relaxing. The last time I tried lighting my own fire, it was a campfire, and all it was good for was sending smoke signals.
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Fireplaces, Firepits, and Fond Memories
I love fireplaces in their many shapes and forms. Whether they’re made of stone, brick, or surrounded by polished wood, they seem to say, “Come, sit for a while.” A fireplace is a natural focal point in any home, a gathering place for warmth, reflection, and connection. There’s a special kind of beauty that comes from gazing into the flickering flames and glowing embers. My mind often drifts and dreams as I watch them dance. Faces appear, stories unfold, and before I know it, I’m miles away in thought. It’s a meditation of sorts, quiet, grounding, and endlessly soothing. -
Flowers: My Legal Addiction
You can never have too many flowers, or enough money to pay for them. I always loved flowers, but never had many opportunities to learn about how to accomplish my vision. My first experience of planting came from taking seeds from a boulevard on Midvale Blvd. in Madison, where my aunt and uncle lived. These weren’t really flowers, but were hens and chicks. Also, I was able to gather wild lily seeds from the spent flowers the same way and planted them at home. I was thrilled at my success, but that was it until I had my first home of my own. The first spring that we actually had a lawn, I decided it was time to start my flowers. Well, I purchased two medium-sized redwood planters that I put on the front porch. Not having any experience with planting flowers, I actually took these two planters to a local greenhouse for them to plant a couple of geraniums and a spike in each one. Well, they were lovely even though a two-year-old could have planted this exciting arrangement. I, in my ignorance, was upset when my daughter, Lisa, decided to pick a bouquet for her mom. When she brought this to me, I almost had a stroke. I thought my beautiful flowers were done forever. Boy, do I wish I could turn back the clock and learn how at that age to take a chill pill and love the thoughtfulness of my daughter. Live and learn.
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Flower Power… Minus the Power
As a little kid, I loved planting flowers with Mom. She taught me the whole process—dig the hole, sprinkle in a little fertilizer, set the flower in, pack the dirt around it, and then water. We repeated that ritual for years.But somewhere along the way, my love for gardening wilted. It was much easier to just let Mom do it for me! When I moved to Beaver Dam, she handled most of my gardening. She’d practically have to drag me outside to help her—and I’d usually be holding a kid or baby, trying to use that as an excuse. Truth is, if Mom didn’t come over, the planting simply didn’t get done. Still, those years quietly taught me what worked and what didn’t.
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Forget the Books, Listen to the Flowers
The flowers I grew up with filled my summers with beauty. My mom made it a point to plant them in different spots around our yard. I loved the moss roses and the geraniums, and the borders lined with white and purple alyssum. Tulips appeared in early spring, but where they came from, how they grew, and where they should be planted was a complete mystery to me.I was the youngest of three girls and considered too little to handle something as important as planting the flowers that made our home beautiful. My sister Sandy always seemed to know what she was doing. I’ll admit it, I was jealous.
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Redifining Prosperity
When I hear the word prosperity, my mind doesn’t flash to yachts or stock portfolios. Instead, it brings up a very specific memory from second grade—one filled with velvet, a funeral, and a heartfelt family decision that, at the time, felt incredibly grown-up to me.
We lived on Cherokee Road. My little sister was two and a half. That December, my grandpa passed away peacefully at home in his favorite chair. My mom had just gotten a beautiful new coat that I admired with all my little-kid longing. For the funeral, I got one of my own—a rust-colored velvet coat with a fluffy collar. It was fancy. It was beautiful. It made me feel important.
From a kid’s perspective, life felt steady and safe. When I really wanted something, I usually got it. My family was stable. My world was small and secure.Then, a few months later, Mom sat me down for a heart-to-heart.
Dad had been in the “manager trainee” program at JCPenney, working full-time there while also hanging draperies on his day off and in the evenings. He had just been offered a promotion and transfer—to Council Bluffs, Iowa.
Council Bluffs? What even was that? Iowa? Where was that?
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Almost Prosperous
There have been times in my life when I thought I was this close to having it all together. I’d finally have the bills paid and a little money in the savings account… and then the car’s check engine light would start blinking and making a funny noise. I’d be feeling good for a week—eating better, getting some exercise—and then I’d have a doctor’s appointment and they’d say something “looks concerning.” I’d clean the entire house, light a candle, pour a glass of wine… only to see a mouse run through the living room. -
Thoughts of Prosperity
I’ve recently found myself in a very different financial situation. Two and a half years ago, my husband passed away. The first major change was that his income was no longer available. The next came when I left my job at the bank.Since last February, I’ve been living on my retirement income alone. These changes created a new reality: in a very short time, my income was reduced by two-thirds.
What I realized almost immediately was that I needed to examine my mindset around money and prosperity. As I reflected on these areas, I came to see that I had never truly considered myself prosperous.
When I was young, financial stress loomed large due to my sister’s illness and mounting hospital bills. I always believed we lacked the funds to live the life we wanted.
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A Change of Seasons
Some live for bold transformations—grand openings, dramatic exits, big life announcements. Not me. I’m more of a “slow fade into the next thing” kind of gal. Like nature here in the Midwest, my life seems to shift in seasons—quietly, subtly, and sometimes without me even noticing until I’m standing knee-deep in snow, wondering what happened to my flip-flops.I love how our Midwest seasons change slooooowly (yes, with that many o’s). One season melts into the next. Summer doesn’t pack its bags and storm out; it lingers. The days gradually shorten, green leaves blush into the warm golds and reds of autumn, and then flutter to the ground, uncovering winter’s stark branches. In the spring, snowdrops poke through leftover patches of snow in my garden, and redwing blackbirds start shouting from the treetops that summer is just around the corner.
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Seasons of Me
Some people live for summer. Flip-flops, fireflies, and late-night bonfires. Not me. I mean, summer has its place, usually in the outdoors… with the mosquitoes.For me, the seasons have always felt more like moods than months.
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Seasons of the Soul
Having been raised in Wisconsin, I became attached to the change of the seasons. I enjoyed knowing that the weather in each season brought with it expectations of new and fun activities and adventures. As the bleak and monotonous winter gives way to spring, the new birth is all around us. The trees begin to bud, and the early perennials, such as crocuses and daffodils, show off their welcome blooms. -
Ocean Romance
I’ve always found the ocean completely mesmerizing. There’s something about its vastness that makes you feel small in the best possible way. My first glimpse of the sea was in 1970, shortly after we moved to Napa Valley. San Francisco was just a short drive away, and the moment I saw the Bay, I thought: This might be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. -
Just Give Me Waves
I just love, love, love the ocean. My last memory of being on the ocean was off the coast of Virginia. We had gone to my son-in-law’s sister’s wedding. We went as a family. When we arrived, I was invited to sit with the ladies and talk. When I walked into the room, before me was this great expanse of windows, and through those windows was a full panoramic view of the ocean. I couldn’t sit still for a minute, excused myself, grabbed my granddaughter, Aubrey, who was about four years old, and headed straight for the ocean. We lay on the bare, warm, wonderful sand, enjoying all the little sand crabs scooting around and diving into their little holes. Then she took a lazy afternoon nap. Aah, the memories of that wonderful ocean lapping up waves and lulling us to sleep. -
Ocean Shm-ocean
People talk about their first ocean experience like it’s some sort of spiritual rebirth.They say things like, “The vastness made me weep,” or “I finally understood my place in the universe.”
I looked at the ocean and thought, “Cool. But… where’s the pit toilet?”
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Toys and Cardboard Boxes
Every child needs a toy. Or does he or she, and at what age?Let’s see, when I had our first child, Lisa, I felt I wanted her to have anything and everything we could to make her happy.
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Because Mama Rules
Let’s get one thing straight—when it came to decorating the house, I had Mama Rules. And Rule #1? Mama picks the colors.When I was a kid, my “choices” were laughable. I got to pick between yellow and red… or yellow and red. I’m pretty sure those weren’t even my choices. They were just the two colors my mom picked out of her pea-brain. So yes, my bedroom looked like it was sponsored by Heinz (you know – ketchup and mustard).
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One Dirty Job
I can truthfully say that I hate cleaning bathrooms. It is a disgusting, filthy job that no one will share with you even if bribed. If you ever ask a teenager to clean the toilet, you wouldn’t believe how fast they can leave the room and have something more important to do.A little bit of trivia on my part: The more bathrooms you have, the more toilet paper you use. Go figure.
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Bathroom Cleaning is a Lost Cause
Let’s be honest—cleaning bathrooms is the worst. I’m not saying I love scrubbing anything, but there’s something uniquely soul-sucking about tackling a bathroom. Maybe it’s the combination of soap scum, mystery splatters, and the inevitable hair clog. Or perhaps it’s just the cruel reality that the minute it’s clean, it’s dirty again. -
Mirror, Mirror, Full of Streaks
When I hear people talk about buying a large, beautiful home, I always think the same things. I wonder how many bathrooms it has? My home has 1 l/2 baths with an unused bath in the basement. That means three toilets. More than three is a figure I don’t even want to think about. I’m guessing that people with five or six bathrooms must have a housekeeper to come and clean for them. I can’t imagine cleaning all of those alone.
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Clean Bathoom, Clear Mind
Let’s be honest—cleaning bathrooms isn’t glamorous. It’s not something I dreamed about as a little girl. I never imagined a sparkling toilet would bring me a sense of calm or that wiping down the sides of the bowl (yes, the sides!) would one day be the hill I’d choose to die on. But here we are.When Mom worked Saturdays, Michelle and I cleaned the house before she got home. I knew she didn’t just work at the law office until noon. No, she padded her time—grocery shopping, running errands, and circling town like a hawk—giving us just enough time to complete our chores and avoid her wrath.
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Simply Simple
vent plates or silverware from being placed. I have never understood the desire to say cut a cutting off a plant and hope to see it in ten years become a beautiful big plant. Seriously, remember, I need immediate gratification. This also shows in my garden. It is hard for me to buy little flowers, waiting for the moment when they fill in and make a beautiful basket. I need to see color NOW.
The word simplicity implies to me being in control, a downsized situation, and a time saver.
Now, this does not seem to be in my brain, vocabulary, or whatever. You see, I never seem to do things simply.
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Making It Happen, But Not Always
Self-discipline has been a challenge for most of my life. Its absence has often left me feeling unfulfilled in work, relationships, and how I see myself. I realized early on that I often couldn’t trust my promises to myself. This didn’t become a pattern for me until I was in high school. -
Starting Out Smart
Discipline – this is a hard act for a lot of us to accomplish. I am now retired, having worked in a law office for fifty-six years. There was a lot of discipline in that job and I now find myself being anything but disciplined at this stage of my life. -
Resilience, Relatives and Rolling with the Punches
Ah, the holidays. A time for twinkling lights, delicious feasts, and… navigating the emotional minefield of family gatherings. Add in the inevitable challenges—burnt turkey, last-minute gift shopping, and Uncle Bob’s annual political rant—and you’ve got the perfect storm for testing your resilience.But resilience isn’t just about surviving the holidays with your sanity (mostly) intact. It’s about showing up when it matters most—especially during the hardest moments, like the loss of a loved one. When grief collides with the season of joy, resilience is what carries us through.
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Creating Christmas
By my admission, I have yet to be the active do-it-yourselfer in our family. I often find myself being a copycat, and the original ideas often escape me. When my sister was newly married and living in her first apartment, she had a great time making toothpick Christmas trees. I loved the one she made and decided to try my hand at making a similar tree. -
Trash to Treasures
One of the interests of the Sidetracked Sisters is crafting. In the past we have had several home shows where we display and sell our creations. -
Projects and Promises
Over the years, my enthusiasm for holiday decorating has ebbed and flowed. Some years, I am a classic overachiever; other years, I am overextended and overwhelmed.Between 1996 and 2003, the Sidetracked Sisters held craft shows where we created and sold handmade Santas, melty snowmen, and even bare-breasted angels. I loved getting ideas from craft books and then adding my own flair. I added beads to the angels’ halos and tea-stained the linen fabric for the snowpeople. A friend made beautiful jewelry with beads, so naturally, I had to try my hand at it too. I made my own beads from Sculpey clay and added wire embellishments.
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Glue Guns and Glitter
I’m a big fan of DIY Christmas items. As a crafter, I’m not able to let this holiday go by without creating something new. If it’s not new ornaments for my tree, then it’s presents for the kids. This all started when Sidetracked Sisters started doing at-home craft shows back in 1996! -
Surviving December
Thanksgiving is behind us. Yesterday, Craig, the kids, and I ventured out to pick our Christmas tree. Once Craig and the boys got it into the stand, I took charge of making sure it was straight from every angle. It’s just the beginning of the season, and I have high hopes. This year, December will be festive and memorable. I will buy and wrap presents before the 24th. I will not feel guilty for not buying everything for everybody. -
Letting Go of the To-Do List
The holidays are supposed to be a time filled with joy, love and celebration. But for some people, it can be a very challenging and stressful time of the year. Somewhere between endless lsit of things to do: house cleaning, picking out the tree, decorate the house (inside and out), buy gifts, wrap gifts, bake cookies, and work full-time, we are supposed to find time to enjoy the holidays. -
The Hated Holiday
I love the holidays. I enjoy the idea of everything being decorated, and everyone seems to be in a good mood. Everything looks festive and so pretty at this time of the year. I get all wrapped up in the events and activities until PROCRASTINATION sets in. I want to be able to participate in everything to do with the holidays. But I never seem to be able to do all the activities as I have procrastinated again. By not doing the necessary tasks such as decorating, shopping, purchasing presents and, of course, wrapping all my treasures in a proper timely manner, and having not realized the potential of what activities I really would have time for, I have put myself under a time crunch. -
Small-Town Adventures
People have differing opinions on what it’s like to live in a small town and throughout my life, I’ve had differing opinions myself. When I was little, I loved it. Living in a small town allowed me to ride my bike to Grandma’s house every day in the summer. It allowed me to walk across a major street to the local Dairy Queen for a sweet treat. I felt safe and secure in my little Beaver Dam bubble. -
The Good Life in a Small Town
I come from a small town called Beaver Dam. I don’t feel it is that small, but to those who like big city life, it is tiny. It is a town that boasts 15000+ Busy Beavers. Don’t think the media didn’t have fun with that phrase a while back. We have lots of parks, a lake, and shopping, and we are near several big cities, and let’s not forget the lack of pollution. -
Photo Recreations
It was during my 2-week summer vacation last year when all my kids came up to stay for the weekend. We wanted to get as many adventures in as we could. On the night they all arrived, we discussed the possibilities. Horseback riding, winery tours, mini-golf, beach time, and the list goes on. Everyone decided that instead of doing our traditional activities, we would try something different. -
Summertime Wannabe
When I had a young family, I remember wanting to spend with them, especially in the summer.On many occasions, Lisa heard me say as I was getting ready for work, “I wish I could stay home with you girls and enjoy this wonderful summer day.”
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Memories of Lake Sherwood
There is a slice of my life that I haven’t written about in our weekly writings. I was married for the first time at the ripe old age of 18. My husband’s name was Clayton and he loved to explore Wisconsin. We spent weekends visiting forts and locating historical markers. Often, we invited my mom to ride along. She loved being included. -
Chicks Can Camp
It was the summer of 1997 and Lisa and I were invited to go on a “Chicks Can Camp” adventure with her husband’s sister-in-law and her sisters. No boys were allowed and we were going to camp on the banks of the St. Croix River and go canoeing. We couldn’t wait for our weekend trip! I dropped my 3-year-old off at Mom’s house, we packed up our sleeping bags, our tent, some food and our handy 2-man canoe and set off for Minnesota. -
Surviving Wisconsin Summers
We live in Wisconsin. You might ask what this has to do with Porches and Patios? In the summer we have mosquitoes the size of crows and other flying creatures that make being outdoors difficult except if you have a screened-in space to spend your time in. -
Patio Time With Grandma
I planned and built a screened porch on my house. I grew up in a house with a screened porch. It was so important to my mom that our house had a fireplace and a screened porch.
My grandma had a screened porch built onto the back of her home. Now my mom wasn’t living there anymore, but I spent my summers there. Grandma Isabel (Grandma Is) took care of me after school and during the summers.
During the school year, I would walk to her house from Washington Elementary just two blocks away. I would rest against the cream naugahyde ottoman and watch Room 222, Gilligan’s Island, and MASH.
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The Sleeping Porch
School is out and summer is here which, when I was a kid, meant it was time for Lisa and I to sleep out in the patio every night! This was one of the best parts of the summer. -
Birthdays Come and Go
Our birthdays come and go and have some strange properties depending on where you are in this game of life. When we are young it seems like our birthdays take forever to come. Second only to the wait for Christmas is the wait for our next birthday. I would ask for something I wanted and mom would tell me to put it on my birthday list. It seemed that was the death of the want because it seemed like my next birthday was eons away. -
A Birthday Makeover
In my family, birthdays aren’t just a celebration—they’re an event. Each one is marked by a special cake and an array of thoughtfully chosen presents. The anticipation and planning begin weeks in advance, making every birthday a memorable and unique experience.Mom loves Shaum Tortes with sweetened, crushed strawberries and whipped cream. Kadon experiments with new flavors—last year, he created a matcha-strawberry cake with frosting and vanilla ice cream. My sister and husband have a love-hate relationship with their joint birthday celebrations. Luka and Grandma Blu share a birthday and enjoy an annual private dinner date.
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Special Birthdays
Celebrating my birthday has always been important to me. When I had kids, I wanted to make their birthdays as special as I could so maybe they would enjoy them like I used to. In the beginning, I did tend to overdo! -
Jellystone Memories
Jellystone park in Sturgeon Bay Wisconosin was hearven.
It was my favorite camping place as a child. We would go with another family every year for a week every summer. One year we traveled to Arkansas and through the Ozark Mountains. We tried a few other campgrounds in Wisconsin, but my favorite was Jellystone in Sturgeon Bay.When we went to this campground, we kids would pack our swimsuits on the top of our suitcases and when we arrived, we would immediately head to the pools. It was amazing that when we arrived back at our campsite, the tents were up, lights were strung, picnic tables were placed, and the fire was built.
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The Labor Day Hunt
Some of my more memorable vacations were those spent on Labor Day Weekends. It was always a huge project for me since I was the one who seemed to instigate this event. During the earlier weeks of summer, my family would go camping. I could have stayed in my tent for the duration of the summer. I just loved our camping experiences. I loved having people around me to enjoy, and I loved being outdoors no matter the weather. To me this was summer. -
Coming Home to Camp
Our family has a wonderful tradition of taking a 2-week family vacation every summer. It first started when we would go camping at Spikehorn Campgrounds near Bailey’s Harbor in Door County. We would arrange for campsites that were next to each other. Each year on New Year’s Eve, I would call the fellow who made the arrangements. We spoke so often, that he would send me an annual Christmas card. -
Camping On My Own
When our family went camping, it always turned into a massive production. We had a 22-foot screened tent that served as our family meal area, and each family member had their own tent or camper setup. It was reminiscent of a family commune. I didn’t truly appreciate the contributions that each family member made to our camping adventures until I found myself setting up a campsite entirely on my own. -
Streamline and Simplify
“The question of what you want to own is actually the question of how you want to live your life.” –Marie Kondo
I love vacationing and spending time at our cottage. It is so “me” to drink good coffee, go adventuring, look for fun earrings to buy, read while the family is watching TV, and write in my journal.Now I can do all these things at home too, of course. But the kicker is that a couple of other things always seem to block me. If I could just let go of them or figure out how to minimize the space they take up in my world…I would be a super happy camper.
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Lookout Springtime
Purging is a concept that I have a challenge with. I think part of it is the lack of desire to make quick decisions about getting rid of things that I might need later. Setting that aside, it is time to focus on one area at a time and to get things that are no longer needed, distributed and out of the house. -
Where to Start
Spring and fall house cleaning always seemed overwhelming to me. The thought of ripping everything apart twice a year seemed like just too much work. I had an aunt who helped to put my anxiety at ease. She said she would thoroughly clean whatever needed it at the time and did not tear the house apart to accomplish spring and fall cleaning. -
Spring Purge
I love the idea of purging, whether it’s diving into “spring housecleaning” or embarking on a minimalist-inspired throw-out session.
Although my closet isn’t bursting at the seams or cluttered with dated items, I relish the process of regularly sorting through my clothes and decluttering. Enlisting a neutral third party makes this task easier. Sometimes, I turn to my daughter Aubrey for assistance, while other times, I seek help from my son Kadon.
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Spring Organizing
I have never been a big advocate of cleaning in general. It’s not my favorite thing to do. So, when asked what I do for Spring Cleaning – you will see a glazed look on my face. As a child, we always cleaned on Saturday mornings, but I don’t ever remember being subjected to a major Spring Cleaning undertaking. Maybe this is an idea from years ago. Maybe some still abide by that idea. I’m not sure. All I know is that I don’t do it.
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That Would Feel Luxurious
Have you ever thought about what feels luxurious to you or what would it take to make you feel like you were living a luxurious life? At first, I had absolutely no idea what would give me that feeling. Others were talking about having cleaning ladies or cabins on the lake or someone taking care of them, but none of those resonated with me. -
The Luxury of a Stellar Day
My idea of luxury has definitely changed over the years. What I used to think was an idea of luxury would be a big, fancy home, expensive vehicles, a huge bank account, a beautiful wardrobe, and exotic places to travel to. Well now at this age I have recognized that the idea of luxury is far different than it used to be. -
In the Lap of Luxury
Luxury means different things to different people. I have been fortunate in my lifetime to feel luxurious many times. There were big events and small events that gave me the feeling of being complete and satisfied and living in the lap of luxury. -
A Good Climbing Tree
I pulled into the driveway and parked my car. Putting the car in park, I waited for Aubrey to emerge from her friend’s house. While waiting, I glanced around the front yard, noticing a bird feeder hanging from a shepherd’s hook, a shovel leaning against the garage, and a big, old tree.
Upon closer inspection, the tree seemed almost ideal for climbing. If a couple of 1×4 pieces of board were nailed to the trunk, one could reach the lowest branches.
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Hockey Puck Chicken
I have never considered myself a fabulous cook. I am one of those people who doesn’t read directions or recipes. I like to cook things that don’t require a lot of preparation. I believe quick and easy and, of course, delicious meals are what I make. I have previously stated that when it comes to preparing a meal out of necessity it is just plainly no fun, or there is no sense of accomplishment. I feel pills are in order on those occasions. Let’s face it, you purchase the items, put the food away, prepare the meal, then when everyone is done within ten minutes, you have to clean up the mess. I do love to go to eat and let someone else do the cooking. -
Root Soup Surprise
As I’ve written, I love eating and making soup. I rarely use a recipe. My soups usually begin with a veggie base of some kind and develop from there. All goes well, usually…except for this one time when I decided to make
“root soup”.Now I have no memory of where this idea came from but it is a creamy soup with a base of leftover mashed potatoes. I added chicken stock, cream, salt, and pepper. Then it was time for the other roots. I cleaned and cut up garlic, onion, carrots, turnips, parsnips, and a beet.
Sounds pretty good, right?
Not so much.
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Unexpected Vegetables
I feel lucky that I haven’t had a “worst cooking experience”. That is, of course, in my opinion. My family tells me that one thing my late husband prepared blew everyone’s mind. He had a salad he served between courses that was to serve as a ”palette cleanser”. It consisted of 3 scoops of lime sherbet, garnished with green pepper and salad tomatoes. He would normally serve it between two courses that had very distinct flavors like a strong flavored appetizer followed by a mild flavored beef dish. -
Funky Cheese Enchiladas
Every night was a struggle to find something to make for the kids that everyone would eat and enjoy. Between 2 young boys, my husband, and myself, we all had varying tastes. For example – the boys would only eat vegetables if they came with ketchup, I don’t eat vegetables at all and one boy wouldn’t eat “sweet” meat. -
Take Me As I Am
I can’t imagine my life without my family. They can appreciate the good and overlook the bad in me. For example, I asked for a set of kayaks for my birthday. My daughters must have thought this a good idea as they both purchased one for my husband and one for myself. But, being who I am I felt they were too small. So, being the sweet things they are they loaded them up, not without trouble, and purchased the larger ones. Not to mention the cost was more also. They weren’t surprised as they knew me too well. -
Making Christmas Tree Memories
Mom was responsible for decorating our Christmas tree when I was a child. It was filled with C7 multi-colored lights and covered with homemade ornaments. Sparkly balls and vintage metal-like glass bulbs added to the festive look.
Craig and Luka, 2006 But I was often involved in making the ornaments. One year we strung popcorn on string. (We used several days-old, stale popcorn. Otherwise, the needle popcorn will fall apart when you try to push the needle through.) We used the same completed string for several years. It got thrown out when It finally began to fall apart. It probably should have been thrown out much sooner–it began to look like buttered popcorn over time (but it had no butter on it).
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Christmas Tree Evolution
When I was growing up, we believed that Santa brought our Christmas tree. This meant another trip for Santa but he never seemed to mind. The tree arrived, as if by magic, several days before Christmas. I would come down the stairs to find the long-needled pine tree dripping with tinsel and decorated with colored balls and multi-colored lights. I can remember thinking it was a great surprise. My sister would go through all kinds of gyrations the night before the tree arrived to get me to go to sleep. I was pretty gullible and didn’t put it all together until many years later. -
Never the Same Tree Twice
Already thinking about how I would like to decorate for next year! I love having more than one Christmas tree in my home. I love the ambiance of the lights. We put one tree up in our living room and one in the family room. Now when I have extra time (if that ever happens) I like to put a tree up in my bedroom and two in the extra bedrooms. -
One Tree is Not Enough
I’m 8 years old and it’s Christmas time. Mom has gone to the tree farm and asked them for just the top of 2 trees. The guys look at her like she has 4 heads, but they proceed to find her 2 trees about 4’ in height. Now, it’s time for me to decorate my tree. I can do anything I want with it. Mom has given me access to all of the decorations and I can use whatever I want. As my room is yellow with red accents, we put little yellow lights on the tree which give off a soft glow at night. (Yellow lights on a tree are my favorite, but I don’t have a yellow room with a tree anymore) -
I Believe
I can’t say that I remember believing in Santa Claus as a child, but I always knew that it was just a topic you didn’t bring up or question. I was concerned that if I ever questioned his existence, he would just stop showing up. But one thing I do remember was the magical way the presents appeared under the tree. -
Memories of Santa
I don’t remember ever being taken to see Santa Claus when I was little. There was lots of talk about this jolly old sort, and I just went along with the fact that there was this wonderful old guy, with a white long beard, and a red suit. He made millions of toys and dropped off the toys you asked for on Christmas Eve Call me gullible. It was fun believing all the hoopla involved in Santa being so secretive and wonderful at the same time. I knew he flew in the sky with his reindeer leading his sleigh. -
Is Santa Real?
The tradition continues…my grandson, 13-month-old Luka Jr., sitting with Santa (December 2023). Santa is such a huge part of the festivities and celebrations of Christmas. The movies, stories, decorations…all seem to involve the jolly bearded gift giver.
Now, I don’t remember actually believing, not believing, or any “discovery” events.
I do admit that I did know that mom was the holiday gift buyer–on several occasions, I did find my Christmas gifts before December 25. But it didn’t bother me that they were supposedly from Santa.
I will also confess that I appreciated that my sister was 5 1/2 years younger than me. So I figured that I had to keep up appearances so that she would believe as long as possible. I figured that as long as at least one of us believe, the presents from Santa would continue to come.
And then, somehow, I grew up and had my own children, and the holidays continued to roll around. Shows about Santa continued to air on t.v. and traditions that I grew up with became traditions that I perpetuated.
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Holiday Disclosure
Santa Claus was a true test of my faith in my family and friends. I was the youngest of three girls and there was a five-year span between my sister Sandy and me. I was also gullible and trusting so I believed everything my sister and my parents told me. -
A Holiday Purist
Hallothanksmas (the blending and mixing of the holidays) began in the retail community.As a teacher, the last day with students for the year was usually around June 5th. This year I noticed that our local Wally World began putting out “Back to School” banners and items out in the store on July 1.
As the 2023-2024 school year began, my daughter Aubrey was a bit of a minimalist regarding school supplies. So, not unexpectantly, I had to pick up more notebooks and folders after a couple of weeks. I was shocked to see the beginnings of Christmas displays on September 15. (The date is firm in my memory as it was soooo incredibly early.)
Why is this all so bothersome to me?
I am a holiday purist.
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Happy Hallothanksmas
I am definitely a holiday purist and can’t stand the fact that stores start putting out Christmas decorations before Halloween. It actually aggravates me to hear Christmas music before Thanksgiving. I’m the type of person who wants to enjoy each holiday before moving on to the next event. -
A Spotlight on the Holidays
When September arrives and the leaves start to turn, the kiddos return to school and best of all the holiday season begins. I like to take my holidays one at a time. I will avoid stores that start playing Christmas music in September. Granted the retailers have to maximize sales. At the same time, we all know that Christmas is December 25 every year. Do we really need to hear “Jingle Bells” in September to know Christmas is coming? -
Less is More
I am a holiday purist to the fullest extent.I have a pet peeve. I believe each holiday should be celebrated one at a time. When one holiday has ended it is time to start the next. Now, I think leaving decorations a couple of days after the holiday is o.k., but then it is time to move forward.
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No More White Elephant Gifts
I can truthfully say that I can’t remember ever receiving a gift that I didn’t like or appreciate. I always feel the thought behind the gift is what really counts. -
White Elephant Waste
When it comes to gift giving, I try very hard to come up with something that will mean something to the recipient. Not everyone goes through the same amount of thought that I do though. I can’t say that I’ve ever received a really horrible present except when it comes to participation in a White Elephant gift exchange. -
Thoughtless Gift
Thinking about the “worst” present I have received has been a challenge. I have been lucky to receive just what I’d been wishing for from Santa and the important people in my life. I loved my skis and boots. My emerald earrings and necklace were unexpected and perfect. I always loved receiving new flannel pjs when I was a kid and my Bonnie Braids and Revlon Bride doll were just what I wanted. -
Please, No Socks or Underwear For Me
Our family has participated in a “Secret Santa” gift exchange for the last several years. (This year, I believe there are 17 family members involved.) Each person gets one name and buys a gift (spending up to $25) for that person.
What makes it so fun and special is that no one is going to give, or get, something that is…necessary. All gifts will be tokens of thoughtfulness. I think there are 4 main rules that we follow to amplify enjoyment.
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Food Coma
Thanksgiving is probably my favorite holiday. Our family takes turns in sharing the different holidays. Our daughter, Lisa, is always the hostess for Thanksgiving. This started when my son-in-law, Craig, shared that he loved to make the turkey. So, he got the job of hostessing Thanksgiving and dragged his wife, Lisa, along for the ride whether she was in agreement or not.