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One Pitcher, A Thousand Memories
Do you remember Kool-Aid summers? One sip of that bright, sugary goodness can take me right back to childhood—long afternoons outside, bare feet in the grass, and a neighborhood full of kids who always seemed to magically show up the second a fresh pitcher was mixed. How about the pitcher when frosty a face would be drawn on it. It just made it feel like a refreshment that couldn’t be beat.
I still remember the crinkle of the packet, the way the colors swirled like magic, and how our tongues stayed red or purple for hours. Cherry, Grape, Tropical Punch… everyone had their flavor.
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Kool-Aid Dreams, Sugar-Free Reality
Growing up, our kitchen was basically a shrine to non-sugary food. Cereal came in shades of brown and tan, full of twigs, nuts, and the promise of “regularity.” The sugar cereals—the bright, cartoon-covered boxes that called to every kid on Saturday mornings—were strictly forbidden. I swear, if it didn’t say bran somewhere on the box, it didn’t make it past the pantry door.The same rules applied to drinks. Kool-Aid was a four-letter word. Sugar was the enemy, and my mom was the general leading the war against it. While other kids stirred neon-red powder into their water and shouted “Oh yeah!” like the Kool-Aid Man himself, we were mixing up Crystal Light—because apparently, if it was sugar-free, it was “just as good.”
It wasn’t.
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Kool-Aid on The Rocks
When I was a kid, my mom wasn’t a fan of Kool-Aid. She thought it was nothing but sugar and dye, a shortcut to bad teeth and hyper kids. If we asked for something sweet, she’d say, “There’s always water,” like it was the treat of the century. Every once in a while, though, a few packets of Kool-Aid would sneak into the cupboard, and that felt like rebellion in powder form.I didn’t really fall for Kool-Aid until my mid-teens. Spencer, my boyfriend back then, and I would whip up a pitcher of cherry Kool-Aid and make grilled cheese sandwiches. We’d pour our bright red drinks into glasses, carry everything out to the picnic table in the backyard, and giggle like we were getting away with something.
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Kayaks and Other Missed Opportunities
I have two kayaks at home and two more up at our cottage in Door County. Want to guess how many times I’ve used them in the past two years? Exactly once. And no, not the shiny new ones up at the cottage—those have never touched water.I knew I’d enjoy kayaking because a few years back I borrowed a friend’s boat on Rock Lake in Lake Mills, WI. We shoved off around 11 a.m. and paddled along the shoreline for three hours. We drifted past gorgeous lake homes and kids doing TikTok dances on their piers. We laughed, swapped stories, and soaked up each other’s company. At one sandy little bay, we pulled our kayaks up, ate fruit and granola, then dropped everything and dove into the water. It was a perfect day. The real surprise? I wasn’t even sore the next morning.
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Dining with Dogs
When I was a kid and living at home, evening meals held in a formal dining room were the norm. Things have changed drastically, wherein formal dining rooms are a thing of the past. Everyone seems to prefer an informal way of living, such as eating at counters, in front of the TV, and in the car on the way to an event. My mom would set the table with a cloth tablecloth, breakable dishes versus plastic, matching silverware, and to top everything off, we ate by candlelight. This didn’t seem odd, and we enjoyed engaging in discussions of our days and events. -
Candlelight & Chicken Nuggets
Ah, family dinners. That magical time of day when everyone was supposed to gather around the table, hold hands, and share stories while eating a well-balanced, home-cooked meal.Yeah… that never happened.
When my kids were little, I tried. Really, I did. I dreamt of Norman Rockwell moments. But instead, dinner became a nightly episode of “Who Hates What?”
One kid didn’t like vegetables. Another refused to eat meat. At one point, the boys would only eat broccoli and cauliflower if they were doused in ketchup, which is a crime against both vegetables and condiments. If I served fish, someone cried. If I made meatloaf, someone gagged. Chicken nuggets were the only universally accepted food group.
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Love was Served Nightly
For as long as I can remember, our family sat down to a family dinner every night. Even when we worked after school, we still managed to sit down together for our evening meal. Dad was a route salesman back then, and he would still be home every night. He had to make the post office mail deadline for his daily orders, so we ate after this task was completed. -
TV Dinners and Tiny Toasts
Family dinner has always been more of an idea I admired than a daily ritual I mastered. Growing up, we did eat together—just not quite like the storybook versions my mom would recount.
As a kid, we gathered around the kitchen table in our designated spots. I sat by the dishwasher, Michelle claimed the corner by the windows, Dad parked himself by the door, and Mom sat with her back to the TV… the TV that was on. We always ate later in the evening, so we watched our shows—around her. Mom was not amused. She’d try to make conversation, valiantly attempting to ignore the laugh track behind her, but she didn’t have much success. -
Payback’s a Bitch
I love giving and/or doing surprises. Unfortunately, when you are famous for doing this, you find that those whom you have surprised are waiting in the wings to reciprocate to surprise you.On this one occasion, I had a co-worker who was a blast and a half. I should have expected something coming from her, but, of course, I didn’t.
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Unsolicited Surprises
Ah, surprises. Once upon a time, they meant birthday parties and spontaneous flowers. Now? They’re mostly the kind that pop up in your bathroom mirror, your inbox, or your medical charts. Here’s a list of the little delights midlife has tossed into my lap—unsolicited, un-returnable, and often unwanted… -
Doctor, I’m Dying
Back in 1987, I was working as a corporate trainer at a bank in Oakland, California. On most days, I would commute from Napa, California, with my husband to Walnut Creek, California. He would drop me off at the BART station, and I would catch the train to Oakland. He worked in Walnut Creek so that he could go on to work. The Train came into Downtown Oakland, about a block away from the bank branch where I was working. The train came into a station that was down in the bowels of the earth. There were three layers of escalators to take to reach the street level. -
A Surprise Guest
Back in the day, I had a friend named Lauren. She worked as a traveling special ed teacher, serving children at the Early Learning Center with behavior challenges. She spent a lot of time with two students in my classroom, and over time, we became a great team. We collaborated during the school day and cracked each other up during our breaks.
One afternoon, Lauren told me she was hosting a baby shower for her sister that weekend. She had a funny twist on a classic party game and asked if I’d be willing to play a part. Of course, I said yes. I never turn down a chance to cause a little chaos.You probably know the game: The host walks around with a tray of baby-related items—diaper, pacifier, rash cream—and shows it to the guests. After a minute or so, she covers the tray and passes out paper and pens. Guests try to remember and write down as many items as possible. The person who lists the most wins a prize.
We added a surprise element.
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Not Really an Ocean Girl
I was born and raised in Wisconsin, where the closest thing to an ocean is a small mud-bottom lake ringed with scrub brush and the neat lawns of lakeside cottages. Although the buffalo carp put up a fun fight, it’s the bullheads that make it all worthwhile—you skin and fillet them, and they’re downright delicious.Over the years, I’ve wandered a bit. I’ve lived in Tennessee and Illinois. I’ve visited the Pacific, waded in the waters of California and Washington, and strolled the sandy stretches of the East Coast. I even dipped my toes in the Mediterranean while in Barcelona, and once took in the fjords of Norway. But every time, no matter how stunning those ocean views, I feel most at home back on my humble Wisconsin lakes.
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Toys and Cardboard Boxes
Every child needs a toy. Or does he or she, and at what age?Let’s see, when I had our first child, Lisa, I felt I wanted her to have anything and everything we could to make her happy.
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The Grandma With the Cool Toys
When I was a kid, I didn’t want dolls or games for Christmas. Nope. I wanted supplies. Nothing thrilled me more than my annual “Busy Box” from Santa—fresh crayons, juicy markers, construction paper, glitter pens, glue sticks… a creative buffet. It wasn’t a toy, really. It was a creativity kit… and my personal invitation to cover every surface in the house with glue and sparkle. (Not really, but the possibility was there.)But once we left home and headed to the Grandma’s? Let’s just say, the toy situation was… underwhelming.
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Toys I Can’t Let Go
Toys used to be just toys. Something to entertain the kids, to keep them busy while I folded laundry or tried to drink a cup of coffee while it was still hot. But somewhere along the way, they became markers of time. Tiny, colorful reminders of who my kids were, and who I was, at different moments in our lives.
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No Phones After 9:00
Let me start by saying this: I’ve never claimed to be the cool mom. If my kids wrote a list of my greatest hits, I’m guessing “TV Nazi” and “Phone Thief” would land somewhere between “Makes Weird Soups” and “Sings in the Car with the Windows Down.”But hey—every mom has her “thing,” right? The one non-negotiable rule she clutches like a lifeline while trying not to lose her ever-loving mind in the chaos of parenting.
Mine? Tech limits. Specifically, screen-time lockdown after bedtime.
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One Dirty Job
I can truthfully say that I hate cleaning bathrooms. It is a disgusting, filthy job that no one will share with you even if bribed. If you ever ask a teenager to clean the toilet, you wouldn’t believe how fast they can leave the room and have something more important to do.A little bit of trivia on my part: The more bathrooms you have, the more toilet paper you use. Go figure.
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Bathroom Cleaning is a Lost Cause
Let’s be honest—cleaning bathrooms is the worst. I’m not saying I love scrubbing anything, but there’s something uniquely soul-sucking about tackling a bathroom. Maybe it’s the combination of soap scum, mystery splatters, and the inevitable hair clog. Or perhaps it’s just the cruel reality that the minute it’s clean, it’s dirty again. -
Mirror, Mirror, Full of Streaks
When I hear people talk about buying a large, beautiful home, I always think the same things. I wonder how many bathrooms it has? My home has 1 l/2 baths with an unused bath in the basement. That means three toilets. More than three is a figure I don’t even want to think about. I’m guessing that people with five or six bathrooms must have a housekeeper to come and clean for them. I can’t imagine cleaning all of those alone.
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Clean Bathoom, Clear Mind
Let’s be honest—cleaning bathrooms isn’t glamorous. It’s not something I dreamed about as a little girl. I never imagined a sparkling toilet would bring me a sense of calm or that wiping down the sides of the bowl (yes, the sides!) would one day be the hill I’d choose to die on. But here we are.When Mom worked Saturdays, Michelle and I cleaned the house before she got home. I knew she didn’t just work at the law office until noon. No, she padded her time—grocery shopping, running errands, and circling town like a hawk—giving us just enough time to complete our chores and avoid her wrath.
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Sadness Without Explanation
I want to speak about a kind of sadness that doesn’t have a clear source. It’s not tied to one event or moment. It’s just there, a low hum beneath everything else. Some days, it feels manageable, and others, it feels like it wraps around me like a heavy coat I never asked to wear. -
Animal Movies Are My Kryptonite
I have a love/hate relationship with sad entertainment. And by that, I mean I actively avoid it… while also judging all media by whether or not it makes me cry. It’s a deeply flawed system, I admit—but here we are.
It all started with Where the Red Fern Grows. I was just a kid when I first saw the movie, and it wrecked me. I couldn’t stop thinking about that boy, those dogs, and the ending—when the family moves away and sees the mythical red fern growing between the graves. I mean, come on. That fern wasn’t just a plant; it was a divine mic drop. A sign that love, loyalty, and canine sacrifice still mattered in this cold, cruel world.Ever since that formative trauma, I’ve judged all books and movies by what I call the Crying Yardstick. The highest honor? Tears. Real, salty, rolling-down-my-cheeks tears. A good story doesn’t need to be a sob-fest, but if I don’t at least well up… it’s a hard pass. Think The Notebook, or pretty much anything by Nicholas Sparks. Bonus points if there’s rain or a goodbye scene.
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My Sadness Superpower
Have you ever had one of those days where all you can do is cry?I don’t mean the kind of cry that follows heartbreak or tragedy—although those certainly have their place. I mean the quieter kind. The kind that sneaks up on you after a string of long, exhausting days. The kind that comes from carrying too much for too long. No single reason. Just a slow build-up of sadness that finally needs somewhere to go.
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Learning and Forgetting Just As Fast
Do you ever wonder how much information the old brain can hold? Do you ever wonder if you put too much material in that old brain, eventually some of it just has to come tumbling out.
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Learning Not to Ghost My Husband
They say life is the best teacher.
I say life is a slightly unhinged professor who forgets her syllabus and gives pop quizzes when you least expect them. Case in point: my first marriage.
Tom and I tied the knot while we were still in college—young, hopeful, and utterly clueless. Within months, he started showing signs of mental health struggles I couldn’t have predicted. And I… I cried in the car a lot. Usually after visiting my family for holidays. I’d sit in the passenger seat, tears quietly leaking out, wondering why my marriage felt more like an emotional boot camp than a partnership.
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Learning from A to Zzzzz
Learning my ABCs was one of the first big “school things” I had to figure out. I can still picture those oversized letters lining the top of the chalkboard and remember how serious it felt to get them right—especially when the teacher pointed at you during the alphabet song. It was the beginning of learning for me, and at the time, it felt like a very big deal. -
Learning with a Screwdriver and a Prayer
Learning is involved in every area of our lives. We may not be involved in formal education, but we are still learning every day. They say you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Well, this “old dog” is currently googling how to mow a lawn without losing a toe, so I’d say we’re making progress. -
Banking on Karma
I spent most of my working life in banking, not because it was a deep passion or childhood dream, but because it was what I could do without needing more education. It was practical, stable, and something I could count on. I also loved interacting with people and helping them solve their problems. -
Testing Karma
Karma refers to the principle of cause and effect, where actions have consequences, and positive actions lead to positive outcomes, while negative actions lead to negative outcomes. Examples include a person who helps others often experiencing more luck and good fortune in their life, or someone who consistently yells at others may find themselves in situations where others are unkind to them. -
Highway Karma
I’ve never been a big believer in karma. The idea that the universe somehow keeps score, handing out little cosmic rewards or punishments based on our behavior, feels more like wishful thinking than truth. If karma were real, I wouldn’t be the one getting pulled over on the highway while cars fly past me doing ten or fifteen miles faster. -
Simplicity Meets Overthinking
I have been told frequently that I overthink everything. Keeping things simple is a real stretch for me. When I see a piece of writing with simple bullet points, I want to write it that way. I often end up with paragraphs instead. I always think I need to say more. I have heard the “less is more” quote, and I understand it. Then I tend to clutter it up. My editing style has trouble leaving anything out. -
The Power of Simplicity
Simplicity wasn’t always something I thought about. In my younger years, I didn’t chase after things—I simply moved through life without questioning the pace or the noise. I filled my time, my home, and my mind without really noticing the weight of it all. Life just was, and I kept up.But over time, I began to feel the quiet pull of something different.
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Simplicity Isn’t All It’s Cracked Up to Be
We’re constantly told to simplify our lives. Cut the clutter. Reduce the noise. Choose joy—but only if it fits in a color-coded drawer.
And while I love the idea of peace and order as much as the next woman scrolling Pinterest in her bathrobe, I have to say…it’s not all that fulfilling.
I can divide my life into many “seasons,” and let me tell you—very few have been simple. And the ones that were? Looking back, they were often the least satisfying. In fact, I wanted them to end as fast as possible.Take college, for example. I had a roommate. No car. My days revolved around school, church, and overly enthusiastic discussions about Jesus and the finer points of Paul’s letters in the dorm lounge. Summer held fun plans. Life was good… and simple. And I couldn’t wait for it to end. I craved the next step: a career, marriage, a family—the real-life stuff!
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Eavesdropping on My Own Thoughts
I try to keep an ear on the words my brain whispers to me.
Sometimes, it feels like a whole other person—an uninvited roommate who critiques my choices while hogging the mental communication links. But it’s not a classic angel vs. devil showdown. No, my inner dialogue is more like a gloomy, worst-case scenario me constantly bickering with an upbeat, “you’ve got this” version of me. And neither one is great at using their inside voice.
The best way I can describe it? It’s like an old-fashioned party line.
If you’ve never had the pleasure, a party line was a shared telephone connection where multiple households used the same line. When I was about seven, I’d pick up the phone to call my grandma or best friend, only to hear two old ladies already deep in conversation. They weren’t spilling juicy secrets—just chatting about neighbors, grandkids, and who brought the best potato salad to church last Sunday. But the thrill? Oh, the power of eavesdropping! I felt like a pint-sized spy, privy to private adult conversations.
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Gossip Girls
Every Thursday night, the Sidetracked Sisters gather around the table to write. Our stories center on family memories, life lessons, and reflections about where we’ve come from and where we’re going. But before the pens hit the paper, there’s always a bit of catch-up time—a chance to share what’s been going on in our week.Naturally, those conversations often drift to the people closest to us—our kids. And, well, not all of them are thrilled about that.
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Toxic Gossip
Gossip is the silent saboteur of workplace culture. Like a slow-growing cancer, it spreads quietly—creating paranoia, breeding mistrust, and damaging self-esteem in ways that can take years to undo. -
The Gossip Web
When we hear the word gossip, we often associate it with something negative—talking behind someone’s back or spreading harmful information. But I believe there’s another side to it: what I like to call good gossip. -
Game Night Gone Wrong
Mom and Dad often left my older sister, Sandy, in charge of me. This happened when they had friends to play cards or just to visit. This was often a recipe for disaster. We would stay upstairs, and we were supposed to keep quiet. Since this was usually on a Saturday night, Mom would do my hair before their company came. In those days, doing hair meant washing and setting it on rollers and drying under a bonnet hair dryer. The idea was that the hair do would last for church the next day. -
Monopoly Madness
Board games may seem like a thing of the past, but after discussing them with my fellow Sidetracked Sisters, I realized how important they were to our gatherings and childhood memories. It also became clear that we need to put away our phones, turn off the TV, and—dare I say—reinvent the wheel. In other words, it’s time to bring back game nights with family and friends. -
Game Night…Grandma Style
I’ve always loved a good game night. Cards, dice, you name it—I’m in. But when I think of the games that truly shaped me, I always come back to Canasta and my Grandma Is. Our games were more than just a way to pass the time—they were moments of laughter, competition, and connection. And no, I never cheated. I never even considered if I could get away with it.
Growing up, Grandma Is and I would spend our summer afternoons playing card games and dice games on the round fiberglass table in her patio. She taught me Kings in the Corners, Go Fish, and Old Maid. As I got older, we graduated to a long game of 500, a Rummy-style challenge that I always suspected she secretly let me win. One of our favorites was Zilch, a dice game. I still have the little jewelry ring box that holds the six dice and her handwritten instructions—proof that some traditions deserve to be preserved. -
From Board Games to Bullsh*t
Some families bond over sports, others over shared hobbies—but for me, the heart of our family connection has always been board games. From my childhood at Grandma Is’s house to summer vacations and even Mother’s Day, board games have been a constant thread, weaving together laughter, competition, and the occasional scandalous act of cheating. -
Sunrise Snooze, Moonlit Views
I dislike getting up in the morning just as much as I dislike calling it a day and going to bed.Today, let’s talk about sunrises. It’s not a topic I’m very familiar with because, truth be told, I’m rarely awake early enough to witness one. If I ever did make the supreme effort to rise before dawn, I can already imagine what would happen—I’d step outside, ready to be awed by a breathtaking display of colors, only to find a sky filled with thick clouds and drizzle. The sun, like me, would have decided to sleep in.
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Sunrise in my Mind
When I was a young girl, my bike was my passport to freedom. On summer mornings, I’d ride down to the lake, settling onto a cement wall at the end of Burnett Street. I’d sit in the quiet, watching the sunrise over Beaver Dam Lake, or so I thought. Turns out that memory isn’t quite right. My favorite spot faces west. And last I checked, the sun rises in the east. So, what was I really watching? The soft glow of dawn? The lingering twilight? Funny how memories reshape themselves over time.
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Snoozing Thru Sunrise
I hear people talk about sunrises like they’re some kind of magic spell—whispers of pink and gold painting the sky, a quiet moment of reflection before the world wakes up. It sounds beautiful. Really, it does. But I wouldn’t know. -
Hot Mess Survival Guide
We’ve all been a hot mess—running late, hair barely brushed, coffee spilling, and somehow still expected to function like a responsible adult. But here’s the secret: no one really has it all together. Some people are just better at faking it. -
Chaos Coordinator
There was a time in my life when “hot mess” wasn’t just a mood—it was my entire lifestyle. The years when my kids were little? Oh yeah. Peak chaos. I look back and wonder how I functioned on so little sleep, so much coffee, and absolutely no clue what day it was most of the time.
Technically, my job title was Teacher. But unofficially? I was the Chaos Coordinator. I wore the badge proudly… and constantly misplaced it under piles of laundry, permission slips, and mismatched shoes.Even though I was married, the kids were pretty much my responsibility. I was the default parent. You know, the one who knew where everyone’s shoes, lunchboxes, and favorite stuffed animals were at any given moment (except, of course, when I didn’t). I taught at an Early Learning Center, and my kids went to school with me from 4K through second grade. Looking back, I have no idea how I’d have kept all the balls in the air if they hadn’t been in the same building as me. Honestly? I barely managed as it was.
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Holiday Hot Mess
The holidays are supposed to be a time of joy, warmth, and togetherness, but let’s be real—sometimes they turn into full-blown hot messes. Between the endless to-do lists, family drama, and the pressure to make everything magical, it’s easy to feel like you’re just one burnt batch of cookies away from a breakdown. Unfortunately, this seems to be a regular occurrence for me. -
Patience Tested Daily
Patience has never been my strong suit. I thrive on immediate gratification, often wanting results without the wait or the effort. This trait has followed me for as long as I can remember—and it extends beyond just personal goals or projects. It also affects the way I interact with people, especially when it comes to technology. -
Lessons in Listening
When we moved back to Wisconsin in 1991, we asked my Mom to move in with us. She was 74 years old at the time and had been widowed since she was 55. We could tell immediately that she liked being back with some of her family. Mom never was one to enjoy living alone. We loved having her, especially because our son Matt was only 2 ½. Having her with us gave my Mom and Matt time to be together and to get to know each other. -
Love Through the Fog
I find that I have little patience. There are a lot of examples that I can think of that cause me distress or a lack of patience. They are:- I am a soft talker, and I get impatient when people start talking and continue talking over me.
- When expressing an idea, for some reason, my idea seems to be overlooked consistently.
- Being impatient with myself when I find I am again procrastinating when planning for a big holiday, such as Christmas. I find that I don’t prioritize tasks properly in order to carry out a timely and successful event.
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Patience–My Quiet Superpower
I like to think of myself as a patience expert—mostly because life has given me an absurd amount of practice. As a kid, I spent a ridiculous amount of time waiting. Waiting for birthdays, waiting for holidays, waiting for the school year to end so I could bask in the glory of summer vacation. (Did we even have Spring Break back then, or was that just a myth created for later generations?) -
Talk is Cheap
I am a curious person. I don’t deny this trait. I love to know about people and how they tick, and I just plain get to know them. I have found that if you don’t ask questions of someone, you will not be able to find out who they are and what makes them tick. -
The Curiosity Factor
Curiosity isn’t just about exploring the unknown—it’s about anticipating the future, wondering about possibilities, and hoping for the best. As I move through different stages of life, I find myself constantly questioning what’s next. Some answers will come with time, while others may always remain a mystery. -
Tell Me Why
I’m often surprised when people get defensive when I ask them questions that begin with “why.” I find that if I am learning to do something new, I learn more quickly and retain more effectively if I know why I am doing it. If I am told to do something just because, I will not remember the steps after the one time is completed. -
Climbing the Wrong Ladder
I am a retired teacher. After stepping away from the classroom, I took two years off—I became a life coach and homeschooled my kids during COVID.
Then reality hit. My husband and I sat down to evaluate our finances. Ouch. I needed to bring in income… immediately.
At that time, I remembered something Craig had once said: “You could NEVER work in a factory.” The challenge had been presented. The gauntlet was laid.I figured, well, I’ll be starting my coaching business soon, and I don’t want to take a temporary job where they’ll actually miss me when I leave. I need a job where I can walk away at a moment’s notice—no strings attached.
The big-box distribution center outside of town was my answer. I applied, got a tour, and was hired within a week. At first, the novelty was fun. I was driving a speedy forklift, trying to “make rate.” I was meeting new people and learning new systems. It was my first job outside of education or hospitality—ever.
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Unrecognized Growth
I’ve been out working since I was sixteen years old. The training process has always come easily to me. With each new employer, I enjoyed the beginner phase. There is always new learning and processes to add to my knowledge base. There was one situation that came to mind and it was one where I experienced tremendous growth. -
My Grandiose Growth Plan
Even at this old age, there is still room for personal growth. A lot of room! As a retired legal secretary who is now retired, I find that I have gotten sloppy and lazy, not worrying about personal growth. Unfortunately, not have a pattern for personal growth that I feel needs work on my part: -
Growth in Progress (Kind of)
I’m 15 years old and I’m begrudgingly awake for the day trying to get ready for school. “Mommmmmmm…. What should I wear today?” I could never make this decision easily. She enters my room while I’m dozing against the doorframe of my closet. “How about this?” as she pulls out a sweater. “Nah – I don’t want to wear that!” I sneer. “Ok – fine. What about this one?” as she picks out a different shirt. “Nah – not that one either.” I again reply. “If you don’t like my suggestions, why did you ask me?” she queries. “Well – now I know what I DON’T want to wear!” I bantered. Mom then left my room, shaking her head. -
Counting Losses, Not Weeks
There are so many different kinds of death that we go through in our lives. One type of death that happened to me was having four different miscarriages. I think a miscarriage for anyone is interpreted and felt in so many different ways, and the severity happens differently as well.
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What Comes Next?
The question of what happens after we die has been on our minds since forever, hasn’t it? Everyone seems to have their own theory or belief—some rooted in religion, others in philosophy, and some in pure speculation. While none of us can say for sure what’s waiting on the other side, it’s fun (and maybe a little comforting) to imagine the possibilities. So, let’s play with the idea of five possible endings after death. Picture this: what if there were five different roads we could take when our time here ends? -
Advice From Beyond
As you read this post, imagine a pristine park. A winding path winds through the trees, and at each curve in the path, a park bench is placed. Just behind the bench, an old-fashioned street light gives off an inviting warm light, shining on a person sitting on the bench. This scene feels welcoming, and since I have had a difficult day, I decide to stroll through the park. -
Dawn of a New Dream
Sunrise.
It’s the beginning of a new day—a fresh start after a time of rest. Today is the first day of spring, March 20, 2025, and it feels like the dawn of a new chapter in my life.
After a long season of darkness and sleep.
(Okay… that sounds a little grim. But it’s true.)
You see, I was a teacher for 30 years. I loved that career. It was fun, it fit my personality, and I was good at it. But deep down, I knew it only fed part of my soul. The rigid schedules, the endless administrative tasks, and the daily energy it demanded often left me feeling depleted.Limited.
I dabbled in creative ventures—some fizzled, some never quite blossomed into something that could replace the income I needed to leave education behind.
But now… now it feels different.
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Buyers Remorse
I seem to dream a lot. Mostly my dreams are crazy happenings and events. But most often my dreams are about houses, their layouts, decorating, and purchasing cottages that I then renovate. I have this reoccurring dream that I purchase a cottage. Now, this isn’t just any cottage, but a structure that it seemed no one wanted. I always wanted to be located very close to the water and I always said, “I want a shack in the woods on a lake”.
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Crash Course in Control
It always starts the same way. I’m driving my car alone, music playing, and the world outside the windows rushing by. There’s something peaceful about this moment—just me, my car, and the open road. But then, something strange happens. I begin to float out of my body, detached from the physical world. Suddenly, I’m not driving with my hands on the wheel, but controlling the car with nothing more than my mind. It’s a feeling of power, of control—until it’s not. -
Perfectly Imperfect Discipline
I consider myself a disciplined person. When I have a dream, a goal, or a vision, I follow through on the actions needed to see the end goal.
But I know that a lot of people get stuck in the “discipline is perfection” trap.
On the contrary, I believe that discipline is about consistency. Thinking that you have to be perfect discourages progress and can lead you to giving up when mistakes happen.
This was the case when Craig and I decided to start our family. We started out with infertility work. Lots of doctors visits, expensive drugs, and nasty shots. I committed to driving to Milwaukee several times a week (before work) to make my appointments. And then when that didn’t work, we took a 90 degree turn and decided to adopt. Our journey to Russia was filled with too many ups and downs to recount. The process took 4 years to bring our boys home. But the goal was a family. Not pregnancy. The journey was messy but we succeeded in starting our family.
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Starting Out Smart
Discipline – this is a hard act for a lot of us to accomplish. I am now retired, having worked in a law office for fifty-six years. There was a lot of discipline in that job and I now find myself being anything but disciplined at this stage of my life. -
Resilience, Relatives and Rolling with the Punches
Ah, the holidays. A time for twinkling lights, delicious feasts, and… navigating the emotional minefield of family gatherings. Add in the inevitable challenges—burnt turkey, last-minute gift shopping, and Uncle Bob’s annual political rant—and you’ve got the perfect storm for testing your resilience.But resilience isn’t just about surviving the holidays with your sanity (mostly) intact. It’s about showing up when it matters most—especially during the hardest moments, like the loss of a loved one. When grief collides with the season of joy, resilience is what carries us through.
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The Perks and Pitfalls of Expectations
We all have expectations, whether we realize it or not. Expectations about ourselves, our relationships, and the world around us. The question is: how do we handle them? Do we set high standards and run the risk of disappointment if things don’t go as planned, or do we eliminate expectations and leave room for surprise and contentment if things go well? I find myself torn between these two perspectives, constantly weighing the pros and cons of each approach. -
Expect Less, Communicate More
I have found that if you don’t have expectations of others, you won’t be disappointed. When in a friendship with a friend, it is easy to expect them, especially when you have been with them for a reasonable amount of time, to know your feelings and some of the things that are important to you. Such expectations without you verbally stating your wishes can often lead to great disappointment. I have found that when you are in a relationship and don’t have many expectations of that person, you are less likely to be hurt when your expectations are not met.
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A Year of Change, Challenge, and Grace
I’m honestly in awe of how fast time flies these days. Back in the 1980s, when I was living in California, I remember a DJ on the radio once said:
“Life is like a roll of toilet paper—the closer you get to the end, the faster it goes.”
At the time, I laughed. Now? It hits a little deeper. It feels very true. -
F*cked Up 59
I was listening to a podcast the other day, and the speaker shared a strategy for letting God/spirit/energy (pick your favorite cosmic force) guide you into the new year. Her technique? Write down 10 goals on December 20th, crumble them up, and put them aside. Each day afterward, you pull one out and burn it. By December 31st, you’re left with one goal—your “resolution” for the upcoming year.
Well, I thought, “I can’t do that because I’d just write the same thing on every slip of paper.” Honestly, I only want two things for the upcoming year: to start my Life Coaching practice again (and actually turn it into my career), and, hand in hand with that… to QUIT working as a retail manager!
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Tiny Home Survival Kit
I love the idea of becoming a minimalist, but I don’t know that I would ever be able to accomplish it. I love watching the show Tiny House Nation where they build tiny dream homes in spaces under 500 sq ft. They always have some type of multi-function item like a kitchen island that converts to a table that also converts to a storage bin or some other wonderful contraption. They also have lots of nooks and crannies that items are stored in. You’d have to be very organized to live in such a space and I LOVE to organize. BUT… -
Camping in Comfort
As it is I love camping. When you enjoy this activity there are five items that you will absolutely have to have to make this a pleasant experience. -
Five Simple Comforts
Without going into major logistics, I need five things in my life to keep me sane. Let me start by saying that these five things were not the most important when my husband was alive. He and I had a very full life with a great deal of excellent conversation. This writing is based on being by myself in a living situation. -
Popcorn and Snuggles
I do not enjoy watching TV regularly. I have a hard time finding a program that I can enjoy and that is not repetitious or just plain boring. I do, however, like to watch TV if there is a special movie that I want to see. Then again, it is getting cold outside and this means outside activities and time spent in our screened-in porch are limited, When it gets dark earlier and is cold outside, then TV tends to be our evening entertainment. I would rather we use this time to get caught up in those projects that are left to do, but I turn into a mushroom in the evening after supper and fall into that TV-watching mode. -
How TV Brought Us Closer
When I first met Craig, I was absolutely anti-TV. My small television was banished to the sunroom, nestled between a loveseat and a jungle of plants. We’d snuggle up and pop in a DVD whenever we spent time together.After we got married, I caved and got cable—and a bigger TV.
Fast forward several years into our marriage. Craig often retreats to the basement family room to watch football or whatever sports game, while I putter around in the kitchen, read in the living room, or work on a project upstairs.
Then came the pandemic in 2020.
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Happy with Hallmark
Watching a few hours of TV in the evening is enjoyable for me. It relaxes me and lets my mind wander. When my husband was alive we watched crime dramas. NCIS was a favorite. We also loved Castle and the various forensic science dramas. -
Drama, Abs and Time Travel
So, here we are again. It’s the weekend (or Tuesday afternoon, because who even knows what day it is anymore?), and I’ve decided to once more embark on an epic journey through the lands of Outlander, Grey’s Anatomy, and Arrow.You might be asking, “Why? Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” And my response, my dear reader, is this: comfort. These shows are like my emotional support blanket, my trusty old pair of sweatpants, the thing that’ll never betray me—unlike my Wi-Fi when I need it the most. And yes, I’ve seen every episode at least seven times, but here I am, clicking “Play” on the first episode like a moth to the flame.
Let’s break it down.
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Dental Drama
Sitting at the dining room table after dinner, I absentmindedly run my tongue along the back of my bottom front teeth. One tooth feels thicker and smoother than the others. My mind jumps briefly to the day I clutched my throbbing chin, wet hands trembling, as tooth fragments filled my mouth. -
Saturday Morning Magic
It’s 1973. The house is calm and quiet except for the quiet rustling of cartoons on TV. Saturday mornings were sacred—a special time, just for us kids. Mom worked part-time during the week and Saturday mornings, so she took my baby sister to Grandma Meister’s house. I was easy to entertain. All I needed was the TV and a lineup of Saturday morning cartoons. It was the only day of the week devoted entirely to children, where the shows were designed for us and our interests, and nothing else mattered.
While Grandma drank her hot, black coffee and read the paper, I was glued to the screen, lost in the world of “Scooby-Doo, Where Are You?” and the wacky, larger-than-life adventures of “H.R. Pufnstuf.” “Schoolhouse Rock” did more than entertain; it sneakily taught me lessons about conjunctions and how a bill becomes a law. -
What is All the Fuss About?
When I was a kid I believe I was about eight years old the excitement was in the air. We are going to get a TV. Some of my friends already had this up to date for entertainment and I couldn’t wait. Well, to say I was disappointed was the truth. I remember walking up the stairs in the house I grew up in. The TV was positioned at the far end of the living room. It was turned on and I was appalled. -
Battle of the Network Stars
When I was a kid in the 1970s, there were only 3 major TV stations: ABC, NBC, and CBS. During the day, there were only soap operas on (which didn’t appeal to a young kid), and at night, sometimes, there were no shows that I was interested in. There wasn’t the plethora of channels and choices that are available today. -
Window to Another World
I remember the day our first TV was brought into the house. It was a square box with about a 12-inch screen. The first thing that showed up was a news story from New York. It was in black and white and I can remember being very curious about it. It felt like a window to the world.
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The Next Best Thing
In today’s world, we’re surrounded by endless choices — from what we eat to where we live, and even whom we date. This abundance of options can make us feel like there’s always something better out there, especially in relationships. The allure of the “next best thing” can pull us away from the person we’re with, making us wonder if someone more exciting, attractive, or compatible is just around the corner. -
Adventure at 10,000 Feet
What is the last thing I got excited about?
Wow, we’re not talking about gratitude or feeling blessed. Not just happy or content. No… I mean EXCITED!!!
As an adult, that feeling only comes around occasionally for me. I used to get excited before trips, when we adopted our children, and when starting new jobs. But excitement is a rare emotion these days.
I most recently felt it was for my son’s 20th birthday party. But it wasn’t about the party itself—it was about the gift I was giving him…and myself. We were going skydiving!
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Crazy Cat Lady
The idea of having cats is unreal to me. Growing up, I was always allergic to them. Lisa would have to sanitize her house before I came over so I wouldn’t have a severe reaction. When Jess got her cats 6 years ago, I was prepared to take allergy pills daily for the duration of them living with me. Turns out, I’m not reacting to them at all. I guess I’ve grown out of my allergy!! Thank goodness! -
Curses! Foiled Again!
I don’t have a bucket list but if I did, the first thing on the list would be skydiving. Since my early twenties, I have talked about and wanted to go skydiving. -
One’s Not Enough
- Wife: “Can we have one more pup?”
- Husband: “No”
- Wife: “Wouldn’t it be fun to have one more dog?”
- Husband: “No”
- Wife: “Our Emma is so good, but she is lonesome don’t you think?”
- Husband: “No”
- Wife: “Look at this picture, isn’t this puppy adorable?”
- Husband: Head nodding yes
- Wife: “How about we get this pup?”
- Husband with the start of dementia: “Sure!!!!!!”
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The Power of Pride
Some people feel extreme amounts of joy, compassion, or awe when they move throughout their day. For me, those emotions are among the least experienced. After taking a positive emotions test on https://www.idrlabs.com, I found that the positive emotion I feel most often is pride. There are two kinds of pride, both good and bad. ‘Good pride’ represents our dignity and self-respect. ‘Bad pride’ is the deadly sin of superiority that reeks of conceit and arrogance.
-John C. Maxwell
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Awe in the Everyday
I have always loved learning about myself.Sometimes, I’ve been so clueless… I can use all the help I can get.
When I was in college, I used an interest inventory to figure out what my major should be. I read books like What Color is Your Parachute? and Do What You Love and The Money Will Follow to explore my true calling.
Last summer, the Sidetracked Sisters all explored the concept of spirit animals using an online quiz
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Why Mess with Perfection
After taking a test on https://www.idrlabs.com it is confirmed that: I feel contentment most of the time. By this I mean I have done pretty much what I have set out to do in my life.
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Embracing Compassion
The emotion that I feel most often is compassion. It also moves frequently into empathy. I find myself trying to read others to identify what they are feeling. I have been told that I am too sensitive and yet, it is part of my emotional attachment to the compassion that I feel toward others. -
Back to School Bliss
The beginning of the school year couldn’t come soon enough for me. The first day of school meant new supplies!! Crisp, clean, pretty folders with pictures of rainbows, flowers, or butterflies with matching notebooks, sharp, colorful crayons or colored pencils, and a new backpack to carry my supplies. It didn’t get much better than that, except for the new school clothes that I would also receive! -
How to Ruin Summer
That time is here again, meaning the dreaded times, SCHOOL IS STARTING!I always despised the start of school. I loved summer when there were no deadlines to speak of, I could sleep in, and I had the option of having the time to do what I wanted and if I wanted to do.
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Crayons, Music and Learning
From the beginning of Kindergarten, I loved going to school. I remember the enjoyment of doing interesting projects that I would never have thought of doing at home. It was great fun to have a room full of 20 to 25 other kids to interact with. -
Rindercella
My first job out of college was to train adults on how to use computers. As I would begin a class, I would inevitably stumble through my words because I was a bit nervous and would be talking too fast. At this point, I’d have the opportunity to take a breath and add a little levity to the morning. I’d start out by saying “You’ll have to excuse me. You see, I grew up hearing my dad tell me stories of Rindercella and at the moke of stridnight, she was running down the stairs and slopped her dripper.” -
Goldilocks and the Three Bears
Over the past several days, I have picked my brain to remember when I heard fairy tales. I remember the more recent telling of fairy tales through Disney films and children’s books. All of these mediums have softened up the original tales told by the Brothers Grimm. -
How the Sea Became Salt
I loved sleeping at my grandma’s house. When I was young, I would sleep in the front bedroom. It was small with a twin bed pushed into the corner. Shelves held books and knick-knacks above the bed. A Lane cedar chest and a round natural rattan chair were just across the narrow room. The sheets were white, always felt crisp, and smelled freshly washed. A small light on the bottom shelf was available for nighttime reading.
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Cinderella
I don’t remember ever having someone read to me as a child. I would have assumed that is when fairy tales would have been introduced into my world. But I don’t remember having this activity in our home for some reason.
