Dingpatch is something my grandpa used to say whenever he got himself into trouble. Usually it involved my grandma.

Maybe he’d spent a little too much time on the golf course and was running late for the enormous dinner she’d spent all day making. He’d mash the accelerator, pushing the suspension of his old car to its absolute limits as we launched down dusty North Idaho roads.

Because he was a Presbyterian pastor, I spent a good chunk of my childhood believing Dingpatch was some sort of Christian swear word. Which, it kind of was. I only dared whisper it after I’d done something spectacularly stupid.

As it turns out, the Dingpatch isn’t always a bad place.

It’s where mistakes happen.

It’s where authenticity, vulnerability, humor, and just a little healthy sarcasm get to sit around the same table. It’s a place for exaggerated stories, ridiculous adventures, hard-earned wisdom, and, every now and then, a few tears.

I originally created The Dingpatch as a way to reclaim old hurts through laughter. Somewhere along the way, I realized it wasn’t just helping me, it was helping other people too.

So if you’ve ever felt like you’ve made a mess of things…

Pull up a chair.

Stay awhile.

You might discover you’re not the only wonderfully imperfect human wandering through the Dingpatch.

All my love,

– Kristin