Genesee’s first visit to the dentist was supposed to be all fun and games…. wear some cool sunglasses, meet Mr. Slurpy and make friends with all the other tools, get excited about becoming their newest regular customer, etc.

But there was a tragic turn of events when Genesee unknowingly entered the office with a dead front tooth accompanied by a cavity, and then left the premises with a return appointment for a root canal.

Mission: Let’s-Enjoy-Going-to-the-Dentist = Epic fail.

Me, on the other hand? I don’t mean to brag or anything, especially given the possibility that my 3-year-old sister may forever be traumatized by the dentist, but let’s just humbly say I’m still a proud member of the no-cavity club, I’ll likely be spotlighted on their customer wall-of-fame, and I’m probably in the running for their all-time-favorite rule-following patient.

But let’s not rub that in Genesee’s soon-to-be-sore face.

With the fall of the leaf, we found a way to settle into change together…

I watched parts of the presidential debates. Kinda boring if you ask me, but mostly, I thought President Trump seemed like a bully. So, when we had our mock election at school, I voted for Biden even though most of my classmates voted for Trump. Thankfully, most of the country aligned with me, and ultimately chose Biden to become the 46th president. Maybe better days are ahead?

When Auntie Cha Cha offers to make a nice Halloween-themed meal….

… it’s always an adventure and always over the top, but never to be forgotten.

Because 2020 has been an ugly year in too many ways, we decided to break out of quarantine and go in search of some beauty.

3,820 miles, 1,344 pictures, 9 days, 6 states, and 5 national parks later, we found it!

We traveled across the country in style and socially-distant fashion with our Melbourne Memory-Making Moblie. In the end, we visited Canyonlands, Arches, Bryce Canyon, Capitol Reef, and Zion National Parks… Not only did we find how beautiful America can be, but we also discovered more of ourselves. The peaks helped us to see farther while the valleys pushed us to look deeper. We let go of heavy burdens and gained new perspective. We felt small, but so connected. We walked cautiously along earth’s rim while living on the edge. And even though we were new to the off-beaten paths, we never felt lost. Some of the credit goes to Dad, of course, who is talented with a map, GPS, hiking boots, and a 24-foot RV. But most of the credit belongs to the National Park System, for preserving the wonderment of nature’s amazing creations and for inspiring a greater wanderlust within my soul.

So, to the remaining 418 national parks in the United States: I’m coming for you!

Before Cha Cha had to return to her lush, green Florida environment, we took her hiking, in search of Wisconsin’s dramatic fall foliage…

“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” – L.M. Montgomery

A late September camping trip with the Florence gang was just what my mom ordered after closing on her childhood home (Papa’s house) on September 24th, 2020.

We met up at Russell Memorial Campground on Lake Arbutus, where we claimed the perfect cluster of campsites along Arnolds’s Creek! There, we gathered around the campfire, swapped family stories, performed cannon balls off the back of the boat, grilled all of the bacon, and even set up an outdoor movie theatre because we camp like champs… except for that part where we lost Great Aunt Geri for 45 minutes, and that other snafu where Genesee’s front teeth landed on the metal step of the playground slide, resulting in a bloody murder of the mouth… other than those minor setbacks, total champs!

If it’s true that “home is wherever you leave everything you love and never question that it will be there when you return,” then Papa’s place does not feel like the home it once was; he’s not there anymore.

So, the place went up for sale, and on September 24, 2020, the keys were officially turned over to a new owner: Jeff Gilson.

When my mom moved into that house in 1986, she was a second-grader who referred to the place as “The Badlands” because of the racism displayed by much of the neighborhood and surrounding community. Hence, not every memory there was a happy one, but my family made that house a home despite the discrimination, and over time, those walls held many stories of pride, resilience, triumph, and joy.

Luckily, those stories did not get sold with the house, but it was still hard to say goodbye… Mom says it feels like the end of an era. And maybe that’s true in some ways, but I also believe these stories are still being written, and I trust that my grandparents live on as we love on.

It felt completely disrupted, as we spent days and weeks and months picking up the pieces of shattered hearts. But when I paused to reflect, I discovered that, somehow, the warmth and joy of summer still happened:

Is it even Fall if you don’t visit Ferguson Farms?