I started going to Door County, Wisconsin, last year for an annual writing retreat—to get away, unplug and immerse in some creative endeavors. Mostly writing, but now with a nascent YouTube channel, I wanted to take the opportunity to shoot some footage. Here is the result. Please consider subscribing on YouTube. Thank you!

I don't often receive surprise packages in the mail. I can't say "never," but it's definitely a rarity. In late summer last year, I was treated to such an act of kindness when a box arrived at my doorstep. And what was inside the box blew me away. I wear my emotions on my sleeve--unapologetically--and when I opened it to find a note from my friend Susan saying, "Your essay inspired me to create something special for you," tear ducts burst open, releasing a briny stream down m

This caught my eye on my calendar the other day as I approach the one-year anniversary of the loss of my sweet puppy girl, Kallie. It caught my eye, and--surprisingly--made me smile because Kallie resembled both a bear and a lion. When we lived in the city, on walks, we’d sometimes pass “chain gangs” of little kids from a nearby daycare center (coincidentally named Black Bear--another smile) who would inevitably call her a lion or a bear or both--with wide eyes of wonderment

This post marks my 300th blog. I wrote earlier in the year about re-committing and refocusing on writing here, as well as other projects. I've loved every minute of it. I love it so much, I had to think about why I'd reduced my output to a trickle. And the answer is simple: life happens. But more accurately, it's more a matter of life and death. Not the dramatic meaning of that turn of phrase. But much more literal. I began this blog in December of 2010 to give me something

There are times when I'm driving or walking or showering when I ask Siri to "play music I like." He misses the mark more than he hits it. So when he nails it, it feels soooo good! Mostly, I prefer old knowns rather than new unknowns. There is intrinsic comfort in nostalgia that I am steadfastly attracted to. Songs that transport me to the safety of different moments from my past. Other times, Siri seemingly knows when Ken is heavier on my mind and somehow manages to play tra

A morning walk with my puppy girl, July 2022. I spent a lot less time outside this winter. Without my winter-loving Mongolian snow beast , there was no reason to suit up (or boot up) and play in the snow. Though we didn't get much snow this year, and a tiny arrogant part of me thinks it's because the universe shrugged and said, "What's the point now?" As I've worked through the grief of losing my furry co-pilot, I got used to the idea of only needing to go outside at my whim,

I renewed a commitment to myself this year. I took some time and intention to remind myself that I’m a writer. And writers are writers because they write. So, I’ve worked to build a content calendar and make regular weekly posts here and on Word Ninja . (Subscribe to both if you'd like fresh weekly content served up straight to your inbox!) I’d taken a weekend away in January to go to the Kohler Resort in Wisconsin. It was something I booked right after Kallie died to help m

Since saying goodbye to my sweet puppy girl in December, she, Ken , and Quantum have been on my mind even more than usual. Though Ken and Quantum never met Kallie, they are intimately connected to each other. Sweet Quantum was the genesis of all things Chow Chow for me. As a doting pet papa, I'd always talked to Kallie about her "big sister" Quantum and her "papa Kenny." Losing Kallie is inextricably tied to losing Ken, though Ken himself hated that turn of phrase. "You're

Looking back over my life, I realize I've always been someone who looks to find "my people," those who I feel organically connected to in some way--great or small. And those I've felt a great affinity for have been the people who have remained in my orbit--some close like the moon and others further out like Pluto (yes, Pluto!), only making their presence known once in a while--none greater or smaller than the other. I find value in both. After the great loss of my sweet Kall

I loved living in Ravenswood, a neighborhood on the north side of Chicago. Even the name was evocative of some kind of old-timey place rife with history and magic. I lived in a giant one-bedroom apartment at the top of three full flights of stairs, carpeted in vibrant orange patterned carpeting that could make you dizzy--especially if you were returning home after being overserved at a nearby watering hole. I lived in the backward "C" in the middle of the print, above both tr

Getting a puppy is a big step. For anyone. Getting Kallie was an even bigger step for me. Because bringing her into my life was the first big step I took toward moving forward after Ken’s death. They say never make any big decisions until at least a year after losing someone you love. I lost Ken on June 1, 2011. Kallie made her debut in my life on June 18, 2012. At the time, I’d taken a leave of absence from work. I’d gone back to soon after Ken died, and I never had a chanc

The older I get, the harder it is to mourn a life I didn't have. -Me, today June 1, 2011 was also a Wednesday. I wouldn't have known if I hadn't checked the calendar just now. As I so looked forward to a long weekend of welcoming summer this year, working outside in my yard and BBQing with friends, I thought back to that year as I always do at this time. In 2011, there was no Memorial Day weekend. I have no memory of it. It was canceled. It was irrelevant. I remember when Mam

April 20, 2001 As someone who spends a lot of time in front of his computer, I was so pleasantly surprised to run across some really old pre-iPhone pix I snapped of Ken and me. The one above is dated 28 days after we met in 2001. The quality is terrible because it was taken with the then-state-of-the-art webcam attached to my bulky desktop computer which sat on a corner desk that eclipsed the rest of my dining room in my third-floor walk-up in Ravenswood. I'm also so very pl

Dear Ken, I’ve thought about this day for a long time: what would feel like to have lost you for as long as I had you—just 10 years. How much would it hurt? And what would it mean? Anything? Everything? I vividly remember as the five-year anniversary of your death approached in 2016, I thought ahead to this date. (I’ve always been a pre-worrier, as you are well aware.) We’re obsessed with those round numbers and multiples of 10, aren’t we? But the 10 in this case very importa

It was a cold, rainy October night in 2014. I was snuggled up on my sofa in front of the fire--probably drinking wine--when there was a knock at my door. I had only lived there since January, but in a secure building, I'd never had a knock on my door unless I'd buzzed them inside. When I opened the door, there stood a young woman, smiling and shivering in the rain...with something in her coat. It was her little dog! It was my next-door neighbor, who I'd seen several times sin

I met a handsome stranger in a little neighborhood bar twenty years ago today. Twenty years! Ken's and my paths crossed permanently on March 23, 2001. And the universe just wouldn't let me forget about it today. It seems like I had to look at my calendar more times today than any day in my entire life. Today is March 23, Ron. Hey, Ron, it's March 23! Did you hear, Ron? March 23 is TODAY! I get it! Sheesh. I'm still astounded by how decade-old grief can still sneak up on me.

2021 seems to be the place where 2020 stored its momentum while it was having a nervous breakdown. Given the shit show of 2020, I'm pleasantly (and unpleasantly) surprised to see we're actually halfway through March already! When I looked at the calendar this weekend and realized St. Patrick's Day was almost here, I thought back to last year. No, I didn't participate in any green-beer reverie (I hate beer and crowds). COVID was already beginning to shut down the world--though

I was shocked to realize the 10th anniversary of this blog was approaching. Though I’d long anticipated having a blog for years, the idea of this one turning 10 fell off my radar. Not surprising though, eh? It’s been quite a year. When I started writing this blog in 2010, it served primarily one purpose: to distract me from my husband Ken’s terminal cancer diagnosis and subsequent death. But something happened along the way, and it morphed into the only way I was able to cop

Today marks the last day of my 23-year career journey at Accenture. It's strange to think about a day when I won't be getting up and logging on to Microsoft Teams to collaborate with my teams across the globe. Like everyone else who leaves this special place, I call out that it's the incredible people who make this company what it is. As soon as I walked through the door of then-Andersen Consulting, I could feel it was dazzling and different. I had no idea I'd spend the next

I'm underwater and my feet aren't touching bottom yet. How much deeper can I go? My Journal - September 9, 2010 During the "now normal," I've tried to connect more with pen and paper--something simpler that transcends the weird times we're currently living in. But, sometimes, nothing beats my digital diary Day One that I've been using for years. I've begun jotting down some thoughts early each morning before the day starts. I always have my iPad handy, so it's easy and satis