I’m taking a twilight stroll along the river walk when it strikes me: fifty years ago this week, I moved to the Dells. I can still see myself lugging suitcases down a narrow spiral staircase into the basement apartment I’d…
Last week I added a surprising new addition to my life’s résumé: hot air balloon crew member. My brother, sister-in-law, husband, and I joined my cousin Mike—a balloonist—at the Rhinelander Hodag Park’s Salute to Heroes Balloon Festival. He handed us…
I’ve got that buzz again—that creative thrill that zings through me when I stumble on just the right idea for a column or dream up a fresh way to celebrate the launch of my latest book. My fingers twitch. My…
I’m feeling pretty useless these days. I try to remember the good ol’ days when I was a dynamo. I once jumped into a cold lake because I thought Mum needed saving while she was zipping around on water skis.…
“Summer Nights” from Grease loops in my head as I mash a banana and crack open a beer—not to sip, not yet, but to bait moths. According to online sources, moths are drawn to a fermented mix of banana, sugar,…
I knew I was about to pass out. I stood up and walked from the carpeted floor to the kitchen to call for my husband, who was downstairs. I woke up to shouting. “Amy, what was that noise?” Frank was…
The last time I deep-cleaned and fastidiously organized, I was eight months pregnant—which was forty-four years ago. Because I can’t count on another nesting instinct, it’s time to face the drawers of outdated research notes, defunct electronics, and enough paper…
Forty-eight years ago, my husband and I honeymooned in a rugged log cabin tucked beside a northern Wisconsin lake. It had log walls, one cozy bedroom, a single bathroom, and a quiet magic that made it feel much bigger. We…
In honor of International Fairy Day, which is celebrated this week, I’m sharing a story that proves that a bit of magic—and a sprinkle of sand—can make a lasting memory. My six-year-old granddaughter, Maria, hurried up the walk to our…
She wore her hair in a stylish French twist, but she could hit a softball out of the schoolyard. She was my third- and fourth-grade teacher, and I loved her. Shirley Meyer never achieved anything as monumental as winning a…