Jill Winger

I saw a quote the other day that said something like: “Mid-life is when you finally do the things your sixteen-year-old self wanted—but stop apologizing for it.” My first thought: Hell yes. My second thought: But why do we forsake our first loves to begin with? Why do we tell ourselves the dreams planted in us from birth aren’t meant for us? How do we get ourselves into these pickles where we wake up one day and ...Continue Reading

I’ve been wanting to talk about this for a while… At the risk of sounding like a crotchety old gatekeeper, I haven’t... However since I’m forty now and have seemingly lost my fear of saying things… I’m going to say it today. I’ve hinted at this in a few recent posts and podcast episodes, but it feels like time to put it in one place: After fifteen years of promoting and advocating for the homesteading movement, never in a ...Continue Reading

Lately I’ve been finding great joy in not paying attention to things. Not all things. I’m still reading books and working on skills and learning new stuff. I mean the other category of things. The halftime show(s), the latest political dumpster-fire, what-I’d-look-like-as-an-AI-caricature, who-wore-what to the Grammys type of things. I’ve been letting all of that slide right past me. And it’s ...Continue Reading

I’ve never really belonged. Not in the dramatic, “nobody understands me” way. More in the quiet, lifelong way—like I’ve always been standing half a step outside of whatever circle I’m supposed to slide into. It started simply: I was a shy kid. Then I became the weird horse girl. (Still am…) Then I was the homeschooled weird horse girl, which is… a cringey niche within a niche. Then as a very young ...Continue Reading

It may be slightly rude to say this out loud right now… When half the country is worried about “the storm of the century” and people are posting about empty store shelves and fallen trees… But I’m craving winter. Not the travel delays. Not the busted pipes. Not the white-knuckle drives. I mean winter—the real kind. The kind that arrives with authority and says, “Enough. Go inside now.” (After water tanks are ...Continue Reading

I never planned to be a restaurateur.  But here I am—going on five years of owning a restaurant in one of the smallest towns in Wyoming (Chugwater Soda Fountain). It’s one of the most gratifying things I’ve ever done. It’s also one of the most exhausting. And those two things can be true at the same time—sometimes in the span of five minutes. I’m proud of what we’re building in our little corner of Wyoming. I’m proud of ...Continue Reading