Kimberly Diede's Blog

​Our home turns very jolly during the holidays. My collection of decorations, both old and new, are pulled from storage and incorporated into countless vignettes in almost every room. I even have four full size Christmas trees up this year. Each is different, and every one gives us joy.

Growing up, my mom spent days decorating all the main rooms of our house. Each season, along with my Grandma Onie, we would spend one Saturday afternoon at open houses of local flower shops and boutiques, gathering decorating ideas to incorporate at home. Festive centerpieces were the rage back then. We’d buy a few small things on each outing. Once home, we’d pull out last year’s creations and the messy craft box, then give our centerpieces an upgrade for the current season.

Those centerpieces are long gone, but I’ll forever cherish the memories we made. Maybe this is why vintage Christmas decorations intrigue me. Every piece holds a history, even though we usually have to recreate what that history might have been, using our imagination. Whether a decorative holiday piece is old or new, all can be combined to create our own kind of magic. Our memories are like that, too. Old and new memories entwine to reveal the pathways we took to get to where we are today.

Ten days ago, on the tenth of December, I launched my latest book, Life with Friends . It’s the fifth and final book in my newest series, The Kaleidoscope Girls. On the same day as the book launch, a Facebook memory popped up in my feed from two years earlier, reminding me of a fun-filled book signing I’d done at Zandbroz, my forever-favorite bookstore, to celebrate the launch of my first book in the series, Better with Friends . Zandbroz, an iconic store in downtown Fargo, ND for thirty-three years, offered a fabulous collection of curated books and more, up until it closed this past summer. The owners, Greg and Renee Danz, decided to retire. The closure was bittersweet for me, as it was for so many in our community.

Back in 2018, mere months after I released my first book, Whispering Pines , I approached Greg to ask if he’d consider selling my book in their store. Did he sense the terror and imposter syndrome I was feeling? My knees were shaking so hard. How could he not? But he never let on. He graciously agreed, patiently explained their process for consigning books, and offered me a local “home” from which I could begin to offer my book to a yet-to-be-developed following of readers.

Later that year, after releasing Tangled Beginnings , my second book, Greg invited me to take part in a local author holiday book signing. It would be the first of many for me at their fabulous store. I remember purchasing an old-fashioned silver wreath—an example of the quality decorations Zandbroz always offered—that very evening to commemorate that important milestone on my early author journey. The wreath still hangs in my kitchen every Christmas.

In June, while the owners of Zandbroz prepared to close their doors for good, they held one last rummage sale. You can bet we were first in line that day, hoping to purchase a few last treasures. A glass globe now sits proudly on top of the light pole outside our lake cabin, and a set of old milkshake glasses and spoons are on display inside. I also picked up small boxes of vintage holiday stamps, hoping the stamps would fit inside my treasured printer box when Christmas rolled around again. They'd remind me of the fun times at Zandbroz. ​When I saw the memory post pop up on FB last week about the book signing in 2022, I felt a flood of nostalgia. Those holiday stamps had found their way into one of my favorite holiday decorations in our family room. The printer box they’re now housed in was a gift from my sister-in-law and niece, back when I started writing. It stays up all year long and I change out the items displayed in it each season. The sleigh bells are authentic, too, and make the prettiest sound when you give them a little shake. Those were a gift from my dad.

Compelled by my feelings of nostalgia, I reached out to Josie Danz, Greg and Renee’s daughter and the longtime manager of Zandbroz. Josie resides out of state now, but we’ve kept in touch. I shared a quick snapshot of the printer box and stamps, hoping she’d enjoy how yet another item I’d purchased at their store had found its way into my holiday decorations. I had assumed the vintage stamps were simply items they’d purchased to resell at Zandbroz. Was I in for a surprise! Josie immediately got back to me with the following note and, hopefully, a smile on her face: Fun fact – those stamps were used for years to stamp the brown paper Zandbroz bags during the holidays! I have so many happy memories of coming up with fun designs and hand-stamping the bags we sent home with customers. I’m so happy that they ended up in a good home. (sharing with Josie’s permission)

I wonder if the bag I brought my wreath home in back in 2018 was adorned with a scene she’d created with these very stamps. Learning the backstory of the stamps ensures they’ll remain a favorite of mine for years to come.

Like my mother, I spend days decorating our house for the holidays. Is it worth the effort? While I may question it when the mess of half-empty storage totes surrounds me and before everything is in place, but it always comes together. The trees and lights and decorations provide the perfect backdrop for creating more fun-filled memories in the days ahead. The new-fangled candles I use need batteries instead of matches, and they may lack a little of the charm of real candles, but our two-year-old grandson can change their color with the press of a button, and what could be more magical than that? May your holidays also be filled with plenty of joy and a bit of magic. Kim

Last week, after celebrating our family’s Thanksgiving traditions, we indulged in too many turkey leftovers and barely survived the chaos of Black Friday shopping. Then we settled in to watch Buy Now! The Shopping Conspiracy, a new Netflix documentary exposing the dark side of overconsumption. While sobering, I highly recommend it—it certainly made me reflect on my buying habits.
​
By late Friday, we were ready for a change of pace. That’s when I came across a post by Aasness Auctioneers advertising a live estate auction in Dalton, MN. It was described as a rare opportunity to browse hundreds of exceptional primitives and antiques from Mary Lou Johnson’s estate. Mary Lou, well-known in the area for her extensive collection of rare country and Scandinavian pieces, had amassed treasures unlike any other. Portion of the auction's sale bill Live auctions like this have become rare, especially ones with the quality and quantity of items this sale promised. With no online bidding allowed, it was bound to draw a large in-person crowd, including many deep-pocketed antique dealers. Still, the idea of experiencing the event, and perhaps gathering a little story inspiration, was too good to pass up.
​
We left early Saturday morning, braving a frigid six degrees Fahrenheit for the 80-mile drive. Despite arriving 45 minutes before the auction began, most of the metal folding chairs were already claimed. We settled for seats farther back, tossed my heavy winter coat over two, and began inspecting the sale items. The pictures on Facebook hadn’t done the collection justice—there were so many items I’d have loved to take home! But I suspected this wasn’t going to be a bargain-hunting kind of day. The auction kicked off with a heartwarming story from the auctioneer, who shared how Mary Lou had helped teach him the ropes of the business decades earlier. He recalled her braving a muddy farm auction in high heels, painting a picture of the woman behind this incredible collection. Many in the crowd knew Mary Lou personally and hoped to take home a keepsake from her lifetime of collecting.

As the sale commenced, the auction team demonstrated their expertise, balancing the need to keep bids competitive while maintaining a steady pace. The sheer volume of items meant it would be a long day. By noon, we’d only purchased coffee and pulled-pork sandwiches for lunch. I had my eye on a twisted-wire Christmas tree that would have been perfect for my vintage ornaments, but the bidding quickly exceeded our comfort level.
​
Mary Lou’s rare, often handcrafted items were fetching high prices, making it clear that we’d likely do more watching than buying. Still, the event itself was fun. We struck up a lively conversation with the couple seated in front of us, discovering shared interests. I hope our paths cross again. The auctioneer even paused the sale for door prizes and to highlight Dalton’s annual Christmas Fest, a small-town celebration featuring a nightly light show ranked among the top in Minnesota. It was a heartwarming reminder of the pride and community spirit that too often feels missing these days.

By mid-afternoon, I’d made just one purchase: a set of three small crocks in a beautiful springtime blue. While other items—like a quaint antique feather tree—went for more than we were willing to pay, the day was still full of inspiration. A hand-hewn wooden baby cradle, with tiny heart cutouts, will undoubtedly become a family heirloom in one of my upcoming stories. A squat red wooden bucket labeled “sugar” might find its way into a vintage cabin on Silvermist Lake.

As the hours passed, the crowd thinned, but prices remained high. Finally, near the end of the sale, the flat of candlesticks I’d been eyeing all day came up for bidding. Two dealers poked through it right before the auctioneer began, and I cringed, worried they’d drive up the price. With only the crocks to show for our efforts, we decided to splurge. It was now or never. The candlesticks—and their vintage candles—were coming home with us, no matter what!

​I’m happy to report that we won the bid. As we drove home, the hot air blasting from the truck vents around my feet softened the old candle wax, causing it to droop. But a little gentle reshaping later, they looked as good as new and are now proudly finding their way into our holiday decor. That Saturday auction was the perfect escape from the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. And as a bonus, our bidding number was drawn for one of the auction’s turkey giveaways! It’s safe to say I’ll be spending more time in the kitchen this week, cooking yet another turkey.

Wishing you joy and moments of gratitude as you navigate this holiday season. If the season starts to feel overwhelming, consider taking a quick road trip—you never know what unexpected delights might await!  Kim

My amazing mom taught me many things through the years. Some of the most impactful lessons were those she taught me through how she lived her life. The value of her friendships with other women is one of those important lessons. She maintained close relationships with friends from her youngest years and never stopped making new friends along the way. Whether she was golfing, playing bridge, meeting for morning coffee, making trips to the casino, cheering at hometown sporting events, or taking her daily walk, Mom always had friends by her side.
 
The way these quality friendships Mom nurtured added so much love and laughter to her life provided a large dose of the inspiration behind The Kaleidoscope Girls, my women’s friendship series.

One weekend during the summer of 2017, I helped Mom prepare for a brunch she wanted to host at their house for her friends. Two of her sisters were also visiting from out of town, and her current medication combination was allowing her to feel almost like herself.

I dug out her 40-cup coffee urn from the basement and got it brewing. We arranged trays of baked goods and a bowl of fruit for snacking. But the task that remains the most vivid in my mind these many years later was preparing the coffee cups.

I climbed up on the countertop and started pulling down her special mugs. Once I’d set out quite a few, I glanced over at her, thinking it would probably be enough. She shook her head, assuring me we would need more. I wasn’t so sure, but I kept pulling.

She was right, of course. At the designated time, her girlfriends started arriving. I remember standing back as her front door kept swinging open, thinking how incredibly lucky Mom was to have so many dear friends. Most of the women didn’t even knock. They came right in, feeling at home. There was laughter, eating, and plenty of visiting. We even snapped a picture of at least part of the fun group.
​ That luncheon was likely the last time many of her friends gathered in her home, all at once. This week would have been Mom’s 81st birthday, but she passed away in December 2017. I try hard to focus on her birthday, and not the day she left us.

Mom taught me how rich life can be with lots of friends around you. I happily called her my best friend. She was so much better at making time for friends than I am, but I’ll keep working on it. Now when I see pictures of her friends still gathering and having fun, I can’t help but wish Mom still sat among them, laughing and visiting. But I also enjoy seeing them still getting together, supporting and enjoying their friendships.

Thank you for teaching us that life is always better with friends, Mom.

​Always cheering you on, Kim

It’s a beautiful early July morning, and only two days before we’ll celebrate the Fourth of July here in the United States.

For me, this morning feels like the calm both before and after the storm.

Like many parts of this country, we’ve faced tricky weather around here lately, with more than enough rain and nearly constant wind. The trees surrounding our cabin have taken a beating, starting with a winter ice storm from which they have yet to recover.

Last night, I sat writing in our sunroom, enjoying the fresh scent of rain through a barely open window while lost in a story I’m working feverishly to finish. The sound of rain lulling me into that always sought after but too often elusive state of mind where the words flow freely from my mind through my fingers wasn’t the real-life shower falling just beyond the windows, but the meditative sound track playing through my noise canceling headphones. I’ve listened to that same track while writing all twelve of my books to date.

I only mention the headphones because—lost as I was in the fictional world I’ve devised through my imagination—I didn’t even hear the racket when something came crashing down in the real world. A huge branch fell, mere feet from the corner of the room where I sat writing. My daughter had to alert me to the near miss; shocked that I could be so oblivious to my surroundings.
​ How often do we miss what’s going on around us while lost in our own thoughts?

Today, when I woke to a clear sky and a calm breeze, I decided it was the perfect morning for a peaceful cup of coffee on the dock. We expect another storm around here tomorrow, but it won’t be a weather event (I hope). The rest of our family will arrive for a few days of fun camaraderie, good food, and hopefully a campfire complete with marshmallows, chocolate, and graham crackers.

But I have more words to write, a menu to figure out, and groceries to buy before the festivities can begin. This is the lull before my next storm.

Beyond the scope of our planned family activities, there are plenty of other storms brewing. It’s all enough to threaten a person’s peace of mind, yet it’s important for us to deal with the tension we feel.

​As I gathered my fresh cup of coffee and a notebook to jot down pointers for the chapters I plan to write today, I headed outside and down the steps toward the shoreline, only to pull up short at the odd tilt to my battered copper pot. I usually plant flowers in it each summer. This year, all that’s growing in it is regrowth from last year because my flower planting was pretty sparse. Yesterday, I’d admired the way nature had stepped in where I’d failed to act, and I swear that pot was still upright. This morning, the base on which it’s anchored is crumbling, and the whole thing is at risk of collapse.
​ This morning. Two years ago.
I’ll have to move the pot, because my goal is to plant many more years’ worth of flowers in it in the future.
​
Then, as I approached the dock itself, I was surprised to see that one of the supports my hubby had just placed a few days ago had already tipped over. The waves churned up in the stormy weather yesterday were probably the culprits. I had to decide whether to kick off my slides and venture into the water so I could re-brace the end of the dock. Stepping onto the unsupported dock wasn’t an option, as I might have damaged the frame.

Fine. While I hadn’t planned to get my feet wet at 6:45 in the morning, sometimes we have to do what it takes when tiny impediments stand in the way of our goals. Off came my slides and I dipped my toes into the water, delighted when the temperature was pleasant instead of jarring.

Then the shale beneath my feet gave way, and I had to fight to keep my balance lest I end up with muddy shale on the seat of my sweatpants, or tumble into the water.

Unbeknownst to me, there may have been a witness to my stumbling. Do you see the swirl right next to the dock? But I’m not worried. Fish will keep our secrets.
​
Once the concrete block was back in place, I realized things had shifted enough that the dock ramp no longer touched it. But it would at least be there if the ramp dipped under my weight, so I held my breath and eased my way out onto the dock. I needed those quiet few minutes to enjoy my fresh coffee and contemplate the state of the world around me.

No one else was around, but I wasn’t alone. A large pelican, barely visible in the photo’s background below, bobbed on the gentle swells of the lake. He came no closer to me, but my presence didn’t disturb him enough to force him to leave, either. A second pelican swooped overhead, choosing not to land in our bay. I probably scared him off.
​ Then a head popped out of the water, and I could see a small stick protruding from the little guy’s mouth. A beaver maybe? Whatever it was, it swam toward shore, but before I could turn my phone camera back on, it ducked below the surface again, still there but now out of sight.

I glimpsed the sleek spine of a fish, skimming right below the surface of the water, much closer to our dock.

By the time my coffee had cooled, the wind was picking up again and I could hear a dog barking from our cabin. She didn’t appreciate being left inside. My reprieve was over, yet those few minutes brought important things to mind.Even when things seem frustratingly disheartening in the outside world, creatures in nature continue to go about their business, undeterred by things beyond their control.No foundation is impervious to pressures, and all are at risk of collapsing if not properly protected.This creates an interesting dichotomy. How can we strike the right balance between the two?  
We live in a great country, and I feel blessed to be planning a celebration of it for our family and friends, even though I dread that trip to the grocery store. I hope we can all take a few minutes in the days ahead to remind ourselves of how we might work together to strengthen this nation, instead of focusing on our differences or trying to gain power over others. Because just like that crumbling tree stump and unstable shale shoreline I encountered this morning, it doesn’t take much to tip things over.

​I hope you have the chance to enjoy a favorite food in the days ahead; to laugh with someone special; or to toss a beanbag in a friendly game under a warm sun while standing on a grassy, stable surface.

We should never forget how lucky we are to live here, nor can we afford to take our blessings for granted.

Happy Fourth of July! Celebrating alongside you, Kim

​Many of our most helpful mentors may never even learn our names.
 
My ideal mornings kick off with pen, paper, and a book. The paper is in my gratitude journal and the pen captures one page of reflections on things I’m blessed to have in my life. The books are non-fiction and touch on things I want to learn more about. I don’t binge read these like I do with fiction. Sometimes I’ll only have ten minutes to read, but eventually, over days and weeks, I finish the books at a pace that allows for contemplation and learning.
​This morning, I finished reading “Pilgrimage—Lessons learned from solo walking three ancient ways” by J.F. Penn. The author, Joanna Penn, is a mentor to me, although we’ve never met. This award-winning book captured her solo walking of the Pilgrims’ Way, the St Cuthbert’s Way, and the Camino de Santiago Portuguese Route.
 
Besides her fiction and non-fiction books, Joanna is the creator and host of a podcast named “The Creative Penn Podcast”. I discovered her weekly show in about 2016, when first considering self-publishing. Like my gratitude and morning reading, her podcast is a regular part of my routine.
 
No one has taught me more about the world of publishing than Joanna Penn.
 
I’d never thought much about pilgrimages before reading her book, and had only ever heard of the Camino. I bought the book to support Joanna. She’d talked about these three long solo walks, before and after she went on each one during 2020 through 2022, as well as her desire to capture her experiences in a book. Once she’s written her words, she trys new ways of turning those words into beautiful books. She generously invites her listeners along during her projects, and we all learn.
 
Joanna keeps her eyes on the future and an optimistic approach to experimenting with new tools as they emerge in the self-publishing world and beyond, instead of fretting over what many perceive as threats to the industry. She helps me feel excited about the endless possibilities, too. ​Why am I sharing this with you?
 
A book about pilgrimages might seem niche on the surface, appealing to a narrow band of readers. But “Pilgrimage” is about so much more than long, painful walks and blisters. While Joanna piqued my interest about a pilgrimage of my own someday, her honest and relatable reflections on the emotional challenges like growing older and menopause, the world locking down in mid-2020, and a lengthy recovery from COVID, all gave the story a depth I wasn’t expecting. Colored photographs throughout her book give glimpses into the beauty and history she encountered along the way. Joanna skillfully weaves both the practical with the thought-provoking.
 
Joanna launched “Pilgrimage” using a Kickstarter campaign. The pretty hardback version I ordered has quality paper and a foil-stamped cover under the dust jacket. Book Vault, the printer she used, is working hard to make special touches such as sprayed edges and beautiful end-papers available to the print-on-demand market. I love gorgeous, vintage books with these types of features, and I can’t wait to experiment with some of them in my own products.
 
I’m interested in publishing. Joanna generously shares her hard-earned wisdom on the topic with me and thousands of other hungry writers consistently, year in and year out. I benefit from lots of the free content she shares, but I also support her financially through her Patreon account and her Kickstarter campaigns. This is how Joanna earns her living, and my career benefits from her efforts. We both win.
 
Joanna lives in England. I live in the United States. Our paths may never cross, but I hope to have the chance to thank her in person someday for all she’s done for me. While the online world can be rife with negativity, the work of kind, generous people like Joanna, who can literally change your life for the better, hang out there, too. Seek out the people who add richness to your life and do your best to ignore the noise.
 
What type of things would you like to learn more about? With a little investigative work, I suspect you’ll also be able to find helpful souls out there who can take your hand and open up a whole new world for you, even if you only ever join their circle from afar.  ​If you are interested in checking out “Pilgrimage” or any of Joanna’s other books, here is a link to her online store. Her books are also available on  other online vendor platforms.
​ J.F. Penn Books Always cheering you on,    Kimberly

Have you ever written a letter to your future self? Trust me when I tell you it can be fun, and February 29th is the perfect day to pull out paper and pen. Write it today and open it on 2/29/28. Because even though we often forget, every single one of us is solely responsible for writing the next chapters of our own lives. Sure, life will throw us curve balls, but how we respond and where we place our daily focus will ultimately shape our journey.
 
Why do I think writing a letter to your future self can be both fun and helpful? Because I’ve tried it.
 
On the front end, as you decide what to write, you get to dust off your dreams. To really think about what you’d love your life to look like over the next four years. Then you can seal up the envelope, stick it on a shelf, and go about your day. When Leap Day rolls around next time, pulling out those handwritten sheets will feel like an intimate visit from your younger self.
 
An eight year old letter is even more fun to read through.
 
On the morning of February 29, 2016, I sat at a crowded conference table in the basement of a high-rise office building in downtown Denver, Colorado. I was working with yet another new team and it was my first time meeting most of them. With twenty-five years of experience in corporate America, I could play the part, but I didn’t want to be there. I braced myself for a long day of dry discussions.
 
But the executive running the show that day kicked us off with a surprising exercise. He gave each of us three sheets of paper and an envelope, along with a challenge to write our future selves a letter. After the allotted time, he’d collect our sealed envelopes, hold on to them for four years, then return them to each of us on February 29, 2020.
 
What a refreshing way to kick things off! At least I thought so, but I heard a few groans, too.
 
I took the assignment seriously, banging out three full pages of handwritten notes to myself. The only rule I broke was around turning in the letter. I’d been around tables like this for long enough to suspect our “world” would probably look very different after another four years, and the likelihood of that envelope finding its way back to me was slim. Instead, I slipped it in my briefcase and brought it home.
 
It’s always best to control our own destiny!
 
A Leap Day Letter is for your eyes only. But today I’m going to take a leap of faith (sorry, I couldn’t resist) and share with you the nine items I wrote on that long ago day, and how things are turning out, eight years later. Remember, I had to write these out quickly, without time to prepare, but I suspect most are quite relatable.

2/29/16: “Control my time.” I longed for time freedom. At 49 years old, I was sick to of others controlling my schedule. I wanted to work with a more flexible schedule set by ME.2/29/20: Still stuck in the 8 to 5, but I had a written escape plan and I was getting things lined up to make the leap.2/29/24: It’s 9:16 a.m. and I’m working on my laptop in my living room, in my bathrobe, with our sweet little Yorkie close by.  2/29/16: “Proud to be a published author.” But all I had at the time was a very rough manuscript in my desk drawer at home and no clue how to take it from a Word document to an actual novel.2/29/20: Four novels published with a fifth written and in the editing phase.2/29/24: Writing full time and ten novels published with the eleventh releasing soon. 2/29/16: “Do work that adds significant value to other people’s lives.” I was burned out in my job. It was hard work, but the output never felt meaningful. It wore me down.2/29/20: Countless role changes occurred over the four years since I’d sat around that table in 2016, and they were all at the whim of others. I knew I needed to make a change, but I was terrified to walk away from my salary and benefits.2/29/24: I’m a full-time author. When I turned 55 in the 2021, I turned my back on what I knew was a false sense of security. I’d always regret it if I didn’t take the chance.
2/29/16: “Healthy lifestyle.” Eating better and getting regular exercise was always a struggle for me. Twenty-five years in a desk job and my fiftieth birthday was looming. Again, I knew I needed to make changes.2/29/20: I kicked off 2020 with a new Fitbit and the goal to walk a minimum of 10,000 steps a day. Two months in, and I hadn’t missed a day. The new habit would be a blessing in the coming months, when so much of the world shut down. By the end of 2020, I’d walked over 2,000 miles.2/29/24: Too much of a good thing is sometimes not sustainable. My rigid stance on long daily walks contributed to issues with my feet and legs. I fell out of my walking habit, and I still have room for improvement in my eating habits. But a new walking pad under my writing desk is helping!  2/29/16: “Solid relationships with Rick (my hubby), our kids, my parents, extended family, closest friends.” Family has always been my #1 priority. We’d likely be empty nesters soon, with all three kids off living their own lives. How could we all stay close?2/29/20: In 2016, I knew that my dear mom was facing a potentially life-ending illness. She was my rock, and when we lost her in 2017, I had to learn how to do life without her. By February 2020, our youngest was away for her freshman year of college. Within weeks she’d be forced to move home again, so the nest didn’t stay empty for long!2/29/24: I’ve adjusted to life without Mom, but she’s always close in my heart. We’ve suffered other losses, too, but we learn to adjust. This summer, we’ll celebrate our 35th wedding anniversary, and I even have an exciting new title: Nana!  2/29/16: “Travel without strict time limitations.” I dreamed of the day when I didn’t have to abide by a PTO schedule.2/29/20: I squeezed in a bit of travel, but it was still impossible to get away for long.2/29/24: I’m free! Well, sort of. For example, in the fall of 2023, I visited Sedona for a women’s retreat, Florida for a writing conference, and the Biltmore House just because. Here’s to more travel in the future!  2/29/16: “ Help other working mothers find a different way to support their families without the 8 to 5 grind. ” I didn’t know how, but this vision was on my heart. In 2016, I still had kids at home. Throughout my corporate career, I’d find myself encouraging work friends to keep their families first, even when work commitments made it tough.2/29/20: The theme of midlife reinvention started appearing in my novels.2/29/24: I still want to encourage women to chase their dreams, no matter their age. I try to write fiction that offers inspiring entertainment and to live my life as an example of the reward in taking chances. How I continue to do this will evolve.  2/29/16: “ Build multiple streams of income vs. relying on a J.O.B., find ways to save money so it can be redirected for more enjoyment, help others, and to take care of myself for as long as I live. ” Yes, I am a numbers girl at heart!2/29/20: Again, I hadn’t summoned the nerve to leave my J.O.B yet, but I was quietly executing my escape plan by doing things like setting money aside from my paycheck every month to use for future insurance premiums when I’d eventually take the leap.2/29/24: I’m actively building multiple streams of income with every new book I write, each new online vendor I load my books onto, etc. In the future, I’ll continue to implement a wider variety of income streams. It’s dangerous to rely on one income source. Life teaches us all this.  2/29/16: “ Set an example for my kids around building a lifestyle you love vs. spending so much of your precious time working for others on things that aren’t important to you. ”2/29/20: By 2020, I knew my three kids didn’t really believe that I’d ever make the career change I so desperately wanted. I’d talked about it for too long without taking action. That couldn’t continue.2/29/24: I’m striving to keep my writing career as a viable option, proving to them it’s possible to find work you love. We all need some level of monetary reward to pay the bills, but I want to show them that work can be so much more than just tolerating unrewarding work in exchange for a paycheck. In some ways, my new gig is much harder than my old one, but the rewards are so much greater. Today, my life bears little resemblance to the one I was living as I sat around that conference table in 2016. I’m now 57 instead of 49. Time has a funny way of slipping away. My work is so much more creative now than it was back then. My days are my own. Some old problems have fallen away, while new ones have cropped up. That is what it means to be alive. Overall, I’m happy with the progress I’ve made over the past eight years.
 
Did that letter I dashed off to myself on 2/29/16 make any difference? I like to think so. There is always a benefit to pausing and thinking about what you want next in your life.

Did I write a letter to myself on 2/29/20? I thought so, but I can’t find it. Maybe I wrote it while at my desk in my old office building. Things were getting a little scary right then, and within a couple of weeks, we were all sent home to work. Perhaps the letter got lost in the shuffle. I never went back to that desk. I worked from home until I quit in October 2021.

Maybe I’ll find the letter from 2020 someday, tucked away in a drawer. It doesn’t matter. What matters most is that today I’ll pull out three fresh pieces of paper and write myself a new letter to open on 2/29/28. I have so many more dreams to pursue and I never want to stop growing or learning.
 
I encourage you to find ten minutes today to do the same. Your future self will thank you!
 
Always cheering you on,  Kim

​Have you ever wanted to make a big life change but you couldn’t quite get yourself there? Maybe you wanted to move to a different city or go back to school. For me, I wanted a new career. Actually, I needed a new career. The old one wasn’t working for me anymore, and I refused to “ride it out”.
 
But starting something new in my fifties felt daunting. Work needed to look different this time. At the top of my list was freedom. Freedom to choose when and where I’d work, and what I’d work on. My best option was to work for myself, but what would it be like to be my own boss? She decided to live the life she always imagined. ​I almost quit my old gig a few different times, but to be frank, I always chickened out. Time continued to tick by, and suddenly I was no longer in my “early fifties”. I’d reached fifty-five. If this kept up, I’d turn sixty and still be unhappy at work. I could technically “retire” from my corporate job, although I knew I wanted to keep working.
 
What I really wanted to do was throw my entire self into writing books. As a banker and an accountant, I vacillated between the potential financial pitfalls along any author’s path and the sheer excitement over the prospect of finally pursuing the longings of my heart. I’d published my first book four years earlier and spent most of my free time learning about publishing and writing craft.
 
Did I dare give notice this time? Was I crazy to walk away from a paycheck and benefits? Probably, but the ultimate cost of staying loomed too high. I knew if I didn’t try, I’d always regret it, and I refuse to be one of those people with a heaping pile of regrets at the end of my days.
​If I was finally going to summon the courage to change careers, I needed reinforcements. A dear friend offered endless encouragement. My spouse supported my decision. Even the arbitrary early-retirement age at my company felt like “permission”. But I still worried I’d chicken out. Again.
 
I celebrated turning fifty-five in late July 2021. August flew by, and though I thought about quitting my job nearly every day, I didn’t give notice. What was I waiting for? Another few paychecks? Don’t misunderstand. I knew I was blessed to have a job at all. But reminders were popping up all around. It was time, and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer.
 
I didn’t even want to wait until the end of the year. I decided to pick the day and it would feel magical when I reached it. That random date I selected was October 15, 2021. I’d give a one-month notice. But how could I stay true to myself? It would be too easy to put it off again. After all, delaying had become a habit.
 
I needed a new plan. I’ve always loved encouraging quotes. If I kept reinforcing my commitment every day to this self-devised timeline, would I actually do it this time? The date was September 9, 2021, and it would have been my mom’s seventy-eighth birthday if she’d still been alive. Because I knew she’d want this for me, I decided, once and for all, that I was doing this. I’d give notice the following week, on September 15th, and be done in a month. That meant there were thirty-six days until I was free to pursue my new career.
 
I spent that September 9th combing through copies of quotes I’d saved in various places: screen shots on my phone, boards I’d put together over the years on Pinterest, and even highlighting in some of my favorite books. I found thirty-six favorites, wrote them down on pretty paper, and headed to the backyard to take a picture of every single one.
I hoped those words of encouragement that I’d collected over the years would ultimately help see me through this time. Each day, I’d study that day’s quote and then tack it up on a fresh posterboard. I wouldn’t break the chain, no matter what. I saved my very favorite quote for what would be my last day at the place I’d worked since I was twenty-four years old. Maybe you think this all sounds silly, but it worked. It had taken me years to figure out what would keep my commitment and courage strong.
 
Friday, 9/10/21:
I'll do what makes me happy and be done with all the rest.
 
Saturday, 9/11/21:
Embrace uncertainty, some of the most beautiful chapters in our lives won’t have a title until much later.
 
Sunday, 9/12/21
The trouble is, you think you have time.  Buddha
 
They say your life can change in an instant, and that’s true. But when we have to intentionally summon the courage to make a change that rockets us out of our comfort zone, especially when it’s a change that many people won’t understand, it takes something extra. In my case, it was the combination of an accountability buddy and a series of random quotes, written on dated slips of paper, that saw me through from dissatisfaction to a new way of life.
 
As I’m writing this blog post, it’s exactly two years since I chose to finally stay true to myself. It should have been Mom’s eightieth birthday, and although I couldn’t celebrate with her, I know she’d approve of the changes I’ve made.
 
I’ve decided it will be fun to share those actual quotes and images with you, once a day, until I reach my two-year anniversary in my new career. Come find me on Facebook or Instagram under "kimberlydiedeauthor" to follow along. Be sure to let me know if any of them resonate with you, too.
​
I’ll ask again: is there a big decision you’re tired of putting off? If so, what kind of encouragement could you give yourself to follow through this time? Maybe some of my favorite quotes will ignite a fire for you, too.
 
Cheering you on,   Kim

Look at what we found!

If you’ve read my Celia’s Gifts series, you might already know a little about my Aunt Mary. Her life inspired that series. I always like to say she was a “woman before her time,” and she helped pave the way for other women in business.

Mary K. Nierling was my grandmother’s oldest sister, and our real life “Celia.” She was the matriarch of our family on my mother’s side. I have snippets of memories of time spent at Aunt Mary’s house, eating fancy hors d’oeuvres off individual silver trays and sipping 7-Up from gold embossed glasses before a nice dinner out with her at a fancy restaurant.

We lived a few blocks from Mary’s pink, two-story home. I remember her third-floor attic, the mural on the wall flanking the stairs, the hushed atmosphere and unique smell of the house, and the way the floor squeaked in the hallway leading to her kitchen. It was a large, stately home for a single woman.

I wish I’d taken the time to get to know her better, but I was young and intimidated by her forceful presence. She died a few years after I graduated from college. I’m left with countless questions I’ll never have the chance to ask. I wish I could sit down with her now to hear a firsthand account of the full life she lived. Or at least however much of it she’d be willing to share!

It’s fun to ask questions of those who knew her, but she died in 1992. Thirty-plus years dims memories. One thing my dad mentioned during our talks about the woman was a wall hanging of some sort in a local car dealership. He remembered it related to an exceptionally large equipment order that involved our very own Aunt Mary.

According to their website, the R.M. Stoudt, Inc. dealership of Jamestown, ND was founded in 1941. But they’d moved their offices in the years since Dad last saw the wall hanging, so we had no idea if it still existed.

Fast forward to last week, when we swung by the dealership’s newer showroom to check if someone might remember anything about a framed invoice. You can imagine our delight when the first person we asked marched us right over to a beautifully framed shadow box, hanging prominently on their showroom wall.

I did my best to minimize the glare on the glass.

The salesman laughed as he told us how they often reference the invoice in the center of the display. Why? Look at some details of the order and you’ll understand. I’ll summarize the high points as the glare makes it a little difficult to read:Dated January 22, 1946Items purchased included the following:20 Ford 1½ ton trucks for $35,927.4011 Ford ½ ton pickups for $11,369.712 Ford Deluxe 4 doors for $2,290.001 Mercury 4 door for $1,380.00Red Trucks—Green Pickups—Black Fords—Tan Mercury (I love this description!)Heaters included in cars but 11 heaters for pickups $258.50 (this was ND, I hope the 20 larger trucks had heaters.)Total Purchase Price $51,225.69 plus Tax $646.70 (a whopping 1.26% tax rate.)
I have no idea what a Ford 1½ ton truck sells for these days, but I know ½ ton pickups cost wayyyyy more than $1,033 each!

The final tally after 29 various older pickups and trucks were traded in came in at $32,981.39. That probably wouldn’t even buy you one half of a brand-new pickup these days, but that would have been a large sum of money in 1946. All these years later, the prices are fascinating, but I find the bottom portion of the invoice to be the best part of all: W.H. Noel Co by M. Nierling

​“M. Nierling” was none other than our very own Aunt Mary. I recognize her signature. When I showed this to my son, he said it looked like my handwriting.

A woman’s signature on the bottom of a sizable invoice in 2023 wouldn’t be remarkable, but this evolution didn’t happen by accident. Brave women like Mary K. Nierling, aka Aunt Mary, defied the odds and carved a path through what was very much a man’s world in the mid 1900’s. For me, this invoice is evidence that Mary really was a force in the business world.

Since I didn’t ask the questions of her while she was still alive, I’m attempting to pull together bits and pieces of her career through old documents. An afternoon spent at the Jamestown Public Library revealed a few things, but I’ll dig deeper. I knew Mary rose to the level of partner during her career at the road construction company. According to her obituary, she retired in 1956 at 53 years old. Her death certificate lists her as “owner / operator / partner in a road construction company”. I’ve even uncovered some answers as to what became of W.H. Noel Construction, but I have more research to do.

Another fascinating piece of information a distant cousin shared with me about Aunt Mary is a brief article from our hometown paper, The Jamestown Sun. ​Mary was only 34 years old in 1937; the date penciled onto the clipping. It’s doubtful that many women held the title of President of their state’s Highway Contractors Association back then. I love the quote that she “feels no qualms about stepping into roles usually reserved for men.”

I can’t allow Aunt Mary’s story to die with her. The tidbits I know about her inspired my fictional Celia, but the more I learn of Mary’s actual story, the hungrier I become for more details. I shared some of this history in the back of my book “Celia’s Legacy,” but discovering the Stoudt invoice has reignited my curiosity.

My work continues, but if you haven’t yet read my Celia’s Gifts series, I invite you to take a look. Start with Whispering Pines, Book 1, and enjoy Celia’s tight knit family through all seven books. Whispering Pines - Book 1 ​Many of our family’s real-life traditions pop up in these books, keeping Mary’s legacy alive.
 
Thank you, Aunt Mary, for living such an inspiring, generous life. And thank you, Dad, for remembering an old framed document. I suspect those at the dealership would thank Mary, too, for the sizeable chunk of business they received during their early years. After all, the invoice still holds a place of honor in their showroom after seventy-seven years.

​Have you ever thought about how your reading habits and preferences have evolved over time? I was reminded of this yesterday while dusting a couple of shelves at the cabin that house some old paperbacks. ​Maybe you enjoyed reading lots of romance or sci-fi books years ago, but now you prefer a good mystery. Or instead of the small, thick paperbacks like these that you used to pick up in stores years ago, you’ve come to prefer the convenience of e-books. Or the slightly larger paperbacks available now with easier to read fonts.
 
E-books are handy. I purchase plenty of them because I like to read on my phone or tablet, especially while traveling or before I go to sleep at night. But my favorite versions will always be physical copies. I don’t think you can beat the enjoyment of holding an actual book in your hands. My problem is space. While there are still piles of books throughout the house, I have to cull my collection occasionally. But I haven’t touched this small selection in years. Some of these books even transitioned from our camper to our cabin twelve years ago.
 
Besides our preferences of genres and books forms, most readers also have a list of their favorite authors. This lineup grows and expands. Unless an author keeps putting out new books, they risk fading from a reader’s radar, replaced by the writers publishing current bestsellers. Even though we might not actively search for new releases or backlist books written by our once favorite authors anymore, their works have undoubtedly shaped both our reading preferences and our personal lives.
 
Yesterday, as my gaze skipped along the faded and creased covers on the shelves, certain author names jumped out at me and made me wonder. I know some are still writing and publishing, but I wasn’t sure about others, so I did a brief search of each of them. Curious?
 
Here is what I found:
 
Barbara Delinsky–She has over twenty New York Times bestsellers to her credit. Her latest book, A Week at the Shore, came out in 2020. A paragraph within her website’s bio captures why I have always loved her books: she writes relatable characters about everyday people facing emotional crises and challenges.
 
Julie Garwood–Her stories encompass both historical and contemporary timeframes. According to her website, her themes focused on family, loyalty, and honor. She published her first novel, Gentle Warrior, back in 1985. The book on my shelf, The Secret, came out in 1992 (over 30 years ago). She was an incredibly prolific author with many bestsellers. Sadly, Julie Garwood passed away on June 8, 2023. She leaves behind a legacy of beautiful stories that readers will enjoy for years to come.  ​Kristin Hannah–If you are a reader, you are already familiar with this amazing author. Her list of amazing books goes on and on. I found her latest novel, The Four Winds, to be a gut-wrenching account of the dusty days of the Great Depression. I splurged on a beautiful hard copy version of that book when it first came out. They adapted another of her books, Firefly Lane, into a #1 Netflix series. A few weeks ago, I sat alone in front of the television, wiping away tears as I watched the show’s conclusion. This heartwarming story ended with Katherine Heigl swaying and reminiscing on the gift of her beautiful friend to the iconic song “Dancing Queen” by ABBA.
 
Books are so much more than simply a compilation of words.
​ ​Johanna Lindsey–It’s no wonder I remember reading so many of her novels when I was a teen and a young adult. According to her bio on Wikipedia, she wrote fifty novels during her career covering many romance subgenres. I was an avid romance reader when I was younger, and she always kept me reading well past my bedtime with her books. Sadly, Johanna Lindsey died in 2019 at 67 of lung cancer. ​Mary Alice Monroe–This award-winning author continues to put out incredible books, including her latest instant bestseller, The Summer of Lost and Found. I follow her on social media and admire her dedication to the environment. When I think of Mary Alice Monroe, I think of sea turtles and monarch butterflies.
​
​Fern Michaels–No wonder I can’t remember a world without books by Fern Michaels. According to her website (which is a delight and includes personal, current updates), she is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of over 161 published works! Fern Michaels is the pen name of Mary Ruth Kuszkir. If you enjoy Fern’s books, you’ll likely enjoy her website, too, for more insight into the person behind the pen name. ​Nora Roberts–Johanna Lindsey may have kept me reading past my bedtime, but I’ve read (and loved) more books by Nora Roberts than any other author. She is a queen as far as I’m concerned. One report I found stated she has published more than 225 romance novels and has held the number-one spot on the New York Times Best Seller list for a crazy number of weeks throughout the years. She also writes as J.D. Robb. Unfortunately, her popularity isn’t without its shadows, including the plagiarism of her work and book bans. I appreciate that she isn’t afraid to push back against these atrocities. I’ve heard that she also maintains a rigorous writing schedule to this day, despite the incredible success she’s already enjoyed. LaVyrle Spencer–While I don’t have any of her books on my shelves at the cabin, this trip down memory lane brought her to mind, too. I was an avid reader of her books when I was younger. Her romances extended beyond the primary couple to include families and intriguing plots. This Minnesota author had massive success, but retired from writing years ago. Her books helped shape me as a reader, and probably as a person, as all good stories can.

​It’s doubtful I’ll go back and reread any of these books. Maybe I’ll box them up someday and donate them. But having them near is a bit like having old friends around. All we need to do is crack them open again, and we can travel back in time.
 
While researching these authors, I saw lots of instances where their older books now have updated covers. This makes sense. If a book looks like it’s thirty years old, because cover styles do change, few people will pick them up today. But a modern cover is a smart way to reach more readers when the stories inside are practically timeless.
 
Books stuck in electronic form in our phones and tablets can be like all those photographs we take but never look at again. Sure, they don’t take up space or add potential clutter to our homes, but a physical copy on your shelves is harder to forget and easier to appreciate over time. A dusty old novel may even spur us down a trip on memory lane, reminding us of how certain stories quietly weave themselves into our memories, and perhaps even our souls.
 
Are you a fan of any of these authors or does your list of favorites look completely different? Who would top your list? 

​This is our first Christmas as grandparents! Having a little one around brings back lots of memories from when our kids were young. Last night, as I was sewing the baby’s name on a Christmas stocking, my mind drifted back to one of his daddy’s early holiday seasons. The only thing our nearly three-year-old son asked Santa for that year was the Disney movie “101 Dalmatians”.
 
Back then, Disney would bring certain movies “out of the vault” for a limited time. You’d only find it on store shelves during those windows. Little Josh’s timing was off and the Dalmatians movie wasn’t currently available, so Santa was having a tough time finding that movie for him. As the elf assigned to help Santa find that perfect gift for our son’s third Christmas, I refused to give up. ​Help arrived from an unexpected source that year. My youngest brother had moved to Ohio for work and he was dating someone we hadn’t met yet. As luck would have it, the young woman collected Disney movies. Not only did she have an impressive collection, she generously offered to help Santa out so he wouldn’t disappoint Joshua.
 
Now, nearly any movie you want to watch is available with the click of a few buttons—and maybe a few dollars—to stream directly into your living room. But this was long before streaming. This desperate elf / momma found her brother’s friend’s offer of a movie from her personal collection to be very generous indeed.
 
I still remember Joshua standing in front of my parent’s picture window, his little feet balancing on the heat register while he gripped the narrow trim, his eyes searching the sky for any sign of Santa Claus. ​Joshua thought he heard a sound on the roof, and when the knock at the door came, his excitement edged toward terror as the big guy himself strolled into Grandma and Grandpa’s house. It helped that Santa brought the movie he’d asked for, but only a little.  ​My brother’s new girlfriend had hand delivered her movie to Santa Claus before he swung by the house to say hello to Joshua, and she’s been back with us for the holidays almost every December in the twenty-six years since that first Christmas.
 
Her willingness to help us out was an excellent sign, and she’s been an amazing sister-in-law and aunt  ever since. Oh… and an awesome wife to my brother, too!
 
Thank you, Joey, for making a little boy’s Santa wish come true.
 
Love, Santa’s elf / aka Joshua’s mom