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If you are from the northern half of our country, you probably already know what a cribbage board looks like.  But even if you’re not from these parts, you might be familiar with it.  I used to consider cribbage a rather old-school game enjoyed exclusively by Midwesterners.  Apparently, however, cribbage is experiencing a surge in popularity.  I’m thinking it has something to do with all the spare time those lazy Millennials have on their hands (I am kidding. Please calm down. Plus, depending on what survey you look at, I may actually be a Millennial.  So there.).

Dan taught me to play cribbage back when we first started dating, and it has remained one of our favorite pastimes.  It’s more than that, really.  It’s a part of our story.

We purchased a fold-up cribbage board at Walmart for $6 during our first year together, and we have put some serious miles on that thing.  Our pegs must have traveled around that board a gazillion and a half times. (Mine have traveled a little further than Dan’s, though!)  And the cribbage board itself has traveled to Mexico, the Caribbean, Alaska, Florida, Hawaii, Baltimore, and a host of forgotten destinations over the past 13 years. Specifically, it has visited lots of beaches and lots of bars. It is truly a well-traveled cribbage board, as far as traveling cribbage boards go.

The cribbage board always makes it into my carry-on bag. I am a nervous flyer, so playing cribbage is an excellent distraction on a plane. You have to be careful if you start playing before take-off, though.  If you are unlucky, you might have a once-in-a-lifetime hand and take an early and commanding lead, only to be deplaned due to mechanical issues, at which point the game must be packed up.  Sometimes, if you’re Dan, you whine about that injustice for years.  Years.

We have lost countless pegs along the way, so we have been forced to “borrow” new pegs from our other, less-favored cribbage boards and sometimes from my dad’s cribbage board (Sorry, Dad!). In desperate times, we have even resorted to using toothpicks as pegs. We finally broke down and ordered extras from Amazon when all other sources were exhausted.  But the board itself has survived.

On our last vacation, Dan had the idea to start documenting the cribbage board’s travels on its back in Sharpie.  This was a great idea, if just a tad late.  I’m surprised it took us so long to get to the idea, because it actually reminds me of the wooden oars that we use to measure our kids.  We periodically pull the oars out of the closet and stand them up against the wall to see how much the kids have grown in the past few months (…or in the past 11 months, but who’s counting. At least it didn’t take us 13 years to come up with the idea in the first place!)  I’m thinking maybe we should get the oars out and just take care of that right now.

This summer we purchased a cribbage table for our back porch.  I am grateful for it, as well.  It is beautiful, and it gives our friends a place to gather on the porch to get their rear ends kicked. It also gives our crazy puppy a perch.  You might call it an upgrade, but I still prefer the traveling cribbage board.

I think this weekend might be an opportune time to teach our son the game of cribbage.  See, we (meaning “I”) recently decided our family should go device-free until school starts.  So two weeks without video games, iPads, or smart phones. We are all still alive, but I’m not very popular at home. I’ll let you know how it goes, but please keep us in your thoughts and prayers!  🙂

Well, friends, here we are. Smack dab in the middle of August.  Everywhere we turn, the cries of “Where did summer go?” echo in our ears.  Folks are taking off for final vacations and squeezing the last bit of fun from summer, much like squirting that last dab of sunscreen from the tube. Moms are scurrying through the aisles of Target, scrounging for a pack of skinny black Expo dry erase markers.  (Amateurs!  You gotta Amazon Prime those babies.)

Summer 2018 will undoubtedly be remembered as the summer of Fortnite and flossing. Sigh. But it was more than that.  For us, it was baseball. Swimming.  Ice cream. Waterskiing. Monkey bars. Sunsets. Boating. Botanical gardens.  A new puppy. Karate camp and s’mores and get-togethers. I didn’t do all the things I hoped to do, of course. My summer bucket list wasn’t fully realized.  And my giant garden didn’t exactly take off, either. Oh well. I tried, right? And we will salvage some fall veggies. Or if you want some zucchini right now, I have about 5000 to spare.  But you have probably been offered over-abundant zucchini at least 10 times already this week.  What is it with those things?

August goes by many names.  The dog days of summer.  The dregs of summer. Recently, I have been seeing August characterized as the “Sunday of Summer.”  Sounds about right.  Those folks hitting the lake and splashing their photos all over Instagram would say August is like a month-long Sunday Funday.  And the harried souls trying to schedule kids’ haircuts while filling out endless school registration forms would probably tell you that August feels like a really long case of Sunday night jitters.  Our family falls somewhere in between.

We are more of a “Slow Down Sunday family” than a “Sunday Funday family.”  Slowing down is always a good thing, in my book.  Our family typically uses Sunday as a buffer between the weekend and the new week.  We still like to have fun on Sunday, but we do so a little more quietly.  We recharge and prepare for the week, and we enjoy family time. This often looks like a movie on the back porch or an intense game of Connect Four.

So, for us, August is a time to reflect on the summer fun we have had.   It’s a time to sneak off to the beach one more time, but also to look forward to what’s next. Because what’s next is pretty awesome.  It’s fresh notebooks and new beginnings.  Clean backpacks and sharpened pencils.  Unopened boxes of crayons and unsullied school shoes. (Sorry, I’ve always gotten a little excited about back-to-school shopping. 🙂 ) The excitement of a brand-new school year.  A blank slate.  A chance to do things up right.  Our kids get that chance, but there’s no reason we can’t seize it, too.  We can resolve to say that the rest of 2018 is going to be amazing.

I am already looking forward to apple-picking, Dan’s homemade chili and cardigan sweaters.  And you are nuts if you think there is anyplace prettier than Wisconsin in autumn.  Wisconsin is the king of fall. Its winters may drag on in gray bleakness.  Its springs are soggy and unsatisfying, when they bother to show up at all.  But fall. Wisconsin knows how to do fall.

Plus, fall in Wisconsin brings Packers football. (Go Pack!) So really, the only thing that can ruin a Wisconsin autumn is the looming specter of a Wisconsin winter.

Now sure, I may have a hard time falling asleep the night before school starts, for fear of having forgotten to fill out a registration form or purchase a blue pocket folder.  But the blow will be softened by the moms’ support group that will convene at everyone’s favorite local establishment for Bloody Mary’s after dropping the kids off at school.  Yes, truly.  Is that even a real thing?  Or just a Winneconne thing? I am thinking the latter. Regardless, I need to find out more. I feel I have an obligation to find out more. So I will have to check it out. Don’t worry, I will report back!

I get the feeling my husband isn’t entirely comfortable with me mentioning him in these blog posts. I probably get that feeling because he has told me so. But how could I not write about him?  After all, they say to write what you know.  And what I know is him.

I know what he will order off of any menu, anywhere.  And I know that if a buffalo chicken wrap is an option, it’s not even worth reading the rest of the menu.

I know that we can have fun together anywhere. From a dive bar to a beach resort to our own back porch, as long as we have each other, and maybe a cribbage board, we are good to go.

I know he will not be satisfied until every single light in our house is turned off.  Because, obviously, eating dinner in the dark is preferable to wasting electricity.

I know that if I bend over to load the dishwasher, he will slap my rear end.  Every. Single. Time.

I know that he will take the garbage to the curb each Friday.

I know he will always be here.

I know that if I even suggest that something, anything, cannot be done, he will find a way to make it happen.

I know he is right 9 times out of 10.  Okay, 99 times out of 100. Please don’t tell him I admitted that.

I know we were meant to be together. We had several near-misses, but the universe clearly saw fit to pair us up.

I know his basic preferences: dogs over cats, tea over coffee, talking over texting, eggs over easy. You know, the important stuff.

I know I will never convince him to put his damn clothes in the hamper.

I know we agree on the big things, and usually the little ones (For instance, we agree that I have excellent taste in movies.).

I know that if I get a cold, he will make homemade chicken noodle soup with magical healing properties.

I know that if he gets a cold, he will regress into a 7-year-old and curl up in the fetal position on our bed.  The world may also end.

I know he’s a good guy.  In fact, he’s the kind of guy about whom people say, “Oh, that Dan, he’s such a nice guy.”  It’s one of his most infuriating qualities.

I know he works harder than anyone else I know.

I know he wants the best for our children and would do anything for our family.

I know that if I am upset and go to him, he will have me laughing, or at least smiling grudgingly, within minutes.

I know I have a permanent best friend and teammate and partner in crime.

I know he will send me a message at some point today to say “I love you.”

I know I chose well.

I know just how lucky I am.

I love Winneconne, Wisconsin. It is my adopted hometown. And although I may never be a true local, my kids will be. They will have deep roots and lifelong friends, because we made the decision to move to Winneconne to raise our family. We wanted to land someplace safe, someplace small, yet also full of charm and character. I have lived everywhere from Atlanta to NYC to San Diego over the years, leaving a trail of early endings and unexplored possibilities in my wake. While I want my kids to see the world, I also want them to have a legitimate answer when someone asks them where they are from.

So when Dan and I stumbled upon Winneconne 13 years ago through a lucky twist of fate, my life forever changed. Our boat made its way to this magical establishment from another time, called The Other Place, and it drew us right in. It drew us in with shot-skis and new friends. It introduced us to Winneconne, and we never looked back.

I love so many things about Winneconne. I love the fact that it has exactly zero stoplights. I love its landmarks. Like its 60-some-year-old ice cream stand, the Well. Or the Allenville farm truck, a roadside fixture from June through October, bursting with produce goodness. I love The Fin and Feather, with its classic riverboat and never-ending entertainment. Winneconne often feels like an anachronism in the best possible way.

I love its institutions, like its newspaper and library. Not every public library sponsors goat yoga, partners with a local brewery for events, and has both an actual and scary-large stuffed hedgehog for a mascot. His name is Winston, in case you were wondering.

I love that I can say I am going “up river,” and folks will immediately understand what that means. And then laugh. Because they figure my head will be hurting tomorrow.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, but I love the schools and the teachers. http://jessicavanbommel.com/2018/05/08/have-you-thanked-a-teacher-today/

I love the people generally. And I love that Winneconne is small enough that you can’t go to the local grocery store without seeing at least two people you know. I love the way residents rally around each other if one is in need. I love that if (when) my kids mess up, they won’t get away with anything, because people will know who they are and rat them out. I love that I could leave my purse on a sidewalk in the middle of town all day, and it would be there waiting for me to come get it – unless, of course, some well-meaning soul turned it in to a lost and found for me.

So, in case you didn’t catch all that, I love Winneconne. All the year round. But at no time do I love it more than in July. In July, it shines.

In July, the Well’s ice cream just tastes better, the Allenville tomatoes are perfection, and the patio music at the Fin is in full force. The water that cuts through and surrounds Winneconne is bursting with activity. The kids are filling the ball diamonds with youthful triumph. And, best of all, July is the month of Sovereign State Days.

For the uninitiated, Sovereign State Days is a celebration of being forgotten – of being, quite literally, left off the map. Actually, that isn’t entirely true. It is a celebration of one small village’s incredible reaction to being left off the map. It’s a celebration of creativity and taking a stand. In 1967, Winneconne was inadvertently left off the Wisconsin state map. Mind you, this was back when people still used maps! So not only was this oversight an insult, but it had large potential economic ramifications, because one of Winneconne’s major revenue sources is the visitors and fisherman who flock here to enjoy our waterways (and our sparkling personalities). But it’s pretty hard to flock someplace if you can’t find it.

Once Winneconne discovered this gaffe, our village leadership began holding secret meetings and formulating plans for Winneconne to secede from Wisconsin. And on July 21, 1967, a new state of Winneconne was born. Our independence was short-lived, as the state realized we were (mostly) serious. The governor quickly agreed to put up highway signs directing folks to the village and to place Winneconne brochures in all state tourist centers. He also promised that village leadership would be allowed to review the 1968 map before it went to print. So, Winneconne rejoined the state a scarce few hours after making its exit.

But, in the meantime, our village forefathers had created a new government, a Sovereign State Navy, even a flag. We had an official state bird (the dodo), state fish (sheepshead), state animal (the skunk), and state flower (poison ivy). And, of course, our slogan: “Winneconne – We Like It Where?” I mean, seriously. How much cooler can one rogue village get?

Now, we celebrate our brief independence annually with a parade, beer, bounce houses, concerts, a cornhole tournament, fireworks, beer, a fishing tournament, an artisan fair, beer, 5k run, a Venetian boat parade, and, you guessed it, beer. That’s a pretty ambitious weekend schedule for a village of less than 2,500 people. But, in all seriousness, it’s a well-run event with a fun mix of family and “big people” entertainment.

I’m not going to lie. I may have to pass on at least a few of these festivities. I’m 40 now, remember? 🙂 (http://jessicavanbommel.com/2018/06/22/this-is-39-97/) And I also like a little quiet time on the weekend. A little yoga-pants-and-Netflix-on-the-porch time. But, not to worry, I’m definitely in for a chunk of the fun! Winneconne, I still love you!

Admittedly, this July won’t see Winneconne at its best. The road work and replacement of our beloved bridge has the village in tatters. But this, too, shall pass. Maybe one day we will hold a celebration of the year the DOT tore up Winneconne – it’d be an excuse for a parade, anyway. And, of course, for beer.

I arrived late to the podcast party.  And, man, was I missing out.  Who knew that behind that little purple “Podcast” icon on my phone lived such a wealth of information and entertainment?  Answer: Almost everyone, other than me. Why were you all trying to hide this world of goodness from me?

No matter what your interest, there is a podcast for you.  Mystery, history, business, celebrities, inspiration, comedy, self-improvement, sports, art.  There are even podcasts tailored for kids.  Currently, Baylor and Ryan are all about “Wow in the World,” an NPR podcast for children. It’s a silly and informative show that addresses everything from why our knuckles crack to 3D printing.  We turn it on in the car on our way to karate practice, and the whole family learns something. It’s way better than caving and letting the kids use the dang iPads during the commute.  (Don’t get me wrong – podcasts have not conquered my offspring’s iPad addiction.  Ha!  Please. Don’t be ridiculous.  I am convinced the only thing that will end that madness is when my dear hubby finally breaks down and tosses the tablets in the lake, as he has repeatedly threatened to do.) 

Meanwhile, I have become a content-devouring monster in the past couple of months, since finally crawling out from beneath my rock and stumbling upon podcasts.  I subscribe to a new show nearly every week, but some of my favorites are:

• “RISE Podcast with Rachel Hollis”
• My newest favorite, “RISE Together Podcast with Rachel and Dave Hollis” (I might be an itty-bitty bit obsessed with Ms. Rachel Hollis. But you will be, too.  Trust me.)
• “The Goal Digger Podcast”
• “For the Love with Jen Hatmaker”
• “How I Built This with Guy Raz”
• “HolderMess: the Holderness Family Podcast”

These folks seriously cannot release new content fast enough to satisfy me.

I’m not lounging around on my couch listening to podcasts all day, though!  Instead, I use podcasts to make all of life’s tasks more bearable.  I listen to podcasts while washing dishes, folding laundry, weeding, driving, running, what have you.  I actually look forward to tackling these previously dreaded activities now, because it means I get to listen to another episode.  Instead of: “Oh, man, I still have to fold that mountain of clothes in the laundry room…,” it’s: “Yay, a new episode of RISE came out today, and I have an excuse to listen to it!”  Look at me, multi-tasking and bettering myself while providing my family with clean clothing.  I mean, talk about virtue. I’m flippin’ Super Mom!  Now, kiddos, give Mama 10 minutes to finish this podcast, er, fold this load of laundry, in peace.

I have picked up so many gems from podcasts already.  I discovered the Enneagram (Again, late to the party!).  For anyone out there who also missed their invitation, the Enneagram is basically a model of various personality types.  After hearing half a dozen different podcasters talking about this, I took an online test (okay, I took many tests), and I am conclusively a 4.  I pulled Dan into my craziness, and he found out he is a 4, too.  I don’t know what it means to be in a double-four marriage, but I betcha there is a podcast out there that could tell me.