Lynn J. Broderick

Lynn J. Broderick Navy Mom. Former ad exec. One time podcast sidekick. Lifelong over-thinker. Certified health nut. Nature junkie. Substack writer.

Sailor Mom, truth seeker, nut, worrier & warrior, Producer & Co-Host of The Green Divas, lover of , , & .

I got lost when I was nine. I lived to write about it…. decades later.Go to the 🔗 in my bio to read (and, hopefully, sub...
03/17/2026

I got lost when I was nine.

I lived to write about it…. decades later.

Go to the 🔗 in my bio to read (and, hopefully, subscribe).

A man once said to me on a first date: “Wouldn’t it be nice if we just fell in love so we could be done with all this?”T...
03/16/2026

A man once said to me on a first date:

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we just fell in love so we could be done with all this?”

Turns out… it wasn’t quite that simple.

Read my story and please consider subscribing. 🔗 in bio. 🫶

Love seeing this from my desk.Long ago, E took art classes at and truly… his art rocks.
03/16/2026

Love seeing this from my desk.

Long ago, E took art classes at and truly… his art rocks.

I have flannel fatigue.It’ll get up to 58 with thunderstorms today. High of 25 tomorrow... real feel likely in the teens...
03/15/2026

I have flannel fatigue.

It’ll get up to 58 with thunderstorms today. High of 25 tomorrow... real feel likely in the teens.

Last Monday it was seventy. Then winter rolled back in and I’ve been stuck indoors ever since.

Enough already. 🥶

Where are you (I’m in Chicagoland) and Is your winter as confused as mine?

If you’re somewhere warm, please send a little of it my way.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we just fell in love so we could be done with all this?” He said that as he opened the restauran...
03/12/2026

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we just fell in love so we could be done with all this?”

He said that as he opened the restaurant door. By “all this” he meant online dating.

It was our first date.

I’d meant to cancel my Match subscription before the auto-renewal. The same faces kept popping up, so I moved to another app. Then the renewal came and went.

Days later I checked Match again. There it was. A beautifully written profile that checked all the boxes, with a handsome face to match.

We made a dinner date for that Sunday. (I already had plans with the gum-chewing singer on Saturday).

That day, I texted, “What will you be wearing?” I wanted to make it easier to spot him.

He texted back a photo of the Burger King Hamburglar.

At one point he mentioned his annual March ski vacation. “If we’re still together, you’re welcome to join me.”

If we’re still together? We hadn’t even talked about date number two.

Want to read the full story? Go to the Subscribe & Read link in my bio.

Thinking about Dad today.It would have been his 92nd birthday. He died last April.Technically, March 6th still is—and al...
03/06/2026

Thinking about Dad today.

It would have been his 92nd birthday. He died last April.

Technically, March 6th still is—and always will be—his birthday.

He’s just not here to celebrate it anymore.

So here’s to Dad (pictured here with most of the grandkids, at eighty-eight, about nine months before his first stroke).

If you’d like to celebrate him with me, I’d love for you to read the piece I wrote about him—my very first Substack post, “He Was Not His Final Days.” [LINK IN BIO]

It’s still the one closest to my heart.

02/28/2026

February, you fickle little menace.

Another springlike day. Sixty-one degrees.

Tomorrow? Thirty-four. A f**king slap in the face.

And then you disappear.

You know what? Good riddance.

Funny story.I forgot I scheduled a post for today.Woke up with my brain scrambled after a bit of a scare with my mom yes...
02/24/2026

Funny story.

I forgot I scheduled a post for today.

Woke up with my brain scrambled after a bit of a scare with my mom yesterday.

Today’s my usual publishing day and I thought:

What am I even writing about?

I open Substack… and see a few likes on something called:

“I Forgot I Wrote This. Turns Out It’s a Poem.”

What in the world is that? I wondered.

Turns out I didn’t just forget I scheduled a post.

I forgot what I titled it.

I’d meant to push it out a week and write something new.

Instead, Past Lynn took the wheel.

Future Me deserves this kind of planning more often.

If you’d like to read the post Future Me forgot about—and try the writing prompt tucked inside—🔗 is in my bio.

P.S. Has anything like this ever happened to you?

That time E and I took a bus with to march against the XL Pipeline.
02/24/2026

That time E and I took a bus with to march against the XL Pipeline.

Actual anniversary celebration at 🎉one of the best suburban restaurants. Four years married, baby.Seven years knowing ...
02/22/2026

Actual anniversary celebration at 🎉one of the best suburban restaurants.

Four years married, baby.

Seven years knowing each other.

Making memories. Hoping we remember it all 🤣

Should’ve gotten the 3-man infrared, dammit!They claimed we could lay down is this thing but failed to mention only the ...
02/21/2026

Should’ve gotten the 3-man infrared, dammit!

They claimed we could lay down is this thing but failed to mention only the torso would fit prone on the bench.

Still, grateful to have this. Hoping it helps heal my various muscle/tendon issues.

02/20/2026

Dear February,

You’ve been such a tease.

All week, you had me believing spring was here.

It was glorious — fifties and sixties. Hell, even the sun came out of hiding.

I rode my bike. Hit a nature trail with a new friend and forgot it was still technically winter. We just kept going, as if stopping might break the spell. Seven miles later...

No parka. No hat. I even got overheated. What a gift.

Yesterday, I walked through my old, hilly neighborhood without freezing my face off. I even filmed the half-melted, hopeful creek.

It almost seemed possible this version of you was here to stay.

And today?

Blustery wind. I mean... I can fu***ng hear it from inside.

Real feel: 21. 🥶

I’m back to cozy socks, layers, my sherpa-lined flannel. The whole production.

I’m tempted to cancel my afternoon errands.

I don’t like hate winter. You know that better than anyone.

Why couddn’t you just leave well enough alone? I loved you exactly as you were this week, you manipulative little trickster.

— Me

P.S. Looks like I’ll be re-reading that post I wrote: Surviving Winter When You Hate It.

(I really thought we were past this.)

February, you might want to read it. Before it’s too late.

🔗 in bio.

Address

Barrington, IL
60047

Website

https://www.instagram.com/lynnjbroderick/

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