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Tangled Memories
I’ve always had long, straight hair. You’d think that would make life easier—no curls to tame, no frizz to battle. But somehow, my straight hair has always managed to find its own special ways to get me tangled in trouble.And honestly? That theme started way back in childhood.
The Daily Ponytail Pain Olympics
When I was little, Mom took charge of styling my long, straight hair every morning—ponytails, braids, neat little parts. She had a vision, and my job was simply to sit still and survive it. What didn’t help was that even as a kid (and still now), I couldn’t stand “sticky-outies.” Every single hair needed to be smooth, tight, and perfectly in place. One little piece sticking out of a ponytail could send me into full hysterics, and Mom would have to stop everything and fix it before I could function again.
Mom would grab the brush and immediately begin working like she was on a mission. I’d wince, pout, or try to subtly shrink away from the next swipe. Naturally, the more I reacted, the firmer her brushing became.
Eventually came the line every child of the 70s and 80s heard at least once:
“If you think THAT hurts—I’ll show you something that really hurts…”
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Polish, Parenthood, and Puppies
Fingernails were not an item I paid much attention to as a kid. Many of the other little girls would come to school with their nails painted. I was much more interested in being a tomboy and playing cowboys and indians. In about the fourth grade, we had a teacher who kept a chart on each of us and checked different areas every day. One of the areas she emphasized was hygiene, which included checking our fingernails to ensure they were clean and well-shaped. I always received a negative mark in this category. I also chewed my cuticles until they bled. This didn’t add to a nice-looking nail experience.
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Sparkles and Super Glue
Fingernails seem to have turned into a full-blown fashion statement these days. Everywhere I look, people are tapping away with tiny works of art on the ends of their fingers. When I was a little girl, nail polish only came out when we played dress-up. The bottles were tiny, the colors questionable, and the application? A complete disaster. We had more polish on our fingers than on our nails. Future nail technicians, we were not.I didn’t help matters by being a chronic nail-biter. My poor nails never had a chance. Any time one dared to grow to a respectable length, I nibbled it right back into oblivion.
Adulthood didn’t bring much improvement. I still bit them, picked them, fussed with them basically, I treated my hands like ready-to-use tools that were always half-demolished. Then came acrylic nails. My youngest daughter gifted me a manicure for her wedding, and from that moment on, I was hooked. Acrylic nails were the thing back then, and for the next twenty-three years, I faithfully showed up every three weeks.
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Fingernails: Chewed, Glued, and Screwed
As a kid, I chewed my nails down to the quick. There was never an ounce of white at the tips, and I had this strange habit of folding my pillowcase and shoving the crease under my nails, pushing that tender skin back. Gross, I know. The truth is, that habit never really went away. I still “crease” my nails to this day, and after years of it, my fingernails are barely attached to their nail beds—a long-lasting reminder of my own weird fidgeting.By the time I got to college, though, I traded one bad habit for another. With my $25 monthly allowance, I wasn’t buying ramen or stretching a dollar the way Lisa bragged she could with her $20. Nope—I was in the salon chair, blowing my budget on acrylic nails. Scrimping was never my style.
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Sickness & Sanity
Sickness has a way of leaving its mark. Not just the aches or the fevers, but the memories—how people react, who shows up, and the chaos that comes with it. Some of my sick days were miserable, some were funny in hindsight, and all of them taught me something about the people around me.When I was a kid, missing a day of school was not an option. Anytime we said we were sick, Mom’s response was, “Take an aspirin and a Geritol and you’ll feel fine.” Sympathy wasn’t really on the table. One time that I did manage to stay home from school, I remember making it far enough to be standing in the bathroom doorway, dry-heaving and trying to get my bearings. Dad took one look, grabbed my shoulders, and shoved me toward the toilet. No gentle words, no comforting back rub—just “protect the rug.”
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We Survived Covid
I’ve never been one to keep a perfect diary. My memories are more like sticky notes—half finished, scattered, and crumpled at the bottom of a purse. But I do remember this season of life vividly, probably because Covid practically steamrolled through our house.
When the world shut down, our little corner of life didn’t stop entirely. Craig kept going to work. The kids and I played family games, and we still shopped and lived somewhat normally—though with restrictions and precautions.By the end of summer, Luka started football practice. I planned to homeschool him and Aubrey, while Kadon would attend in person. One evening, after I picked Luka up from practice, he mentioned that his body hurt. That seemed odd, but I chalked it up to tough conditioning drills. The next morning, he spiked a fever. When we all got tested, he came back positive.
For the next two weeks, Luka quarantined in the library. I sat with him and worked through his school assignments. As soon as he recovered, Kadon tested positive and took his turn in the library, enjoying the same two-week sentence of schoolwork, television, and being waited on hand and foot. Both boys had only a brief fever, followed by endless hours of lounging with a remote in hand.
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Cat Scratch Fever
Back in the early 1980s, I was invited to participate in a fashion show. The show was being held at a Champagne Winery in the Napa Valley. I lived in the valley and worked for the local bank. The owner of the shop supplying the clothes asked people in different occupations to be guest models. I was excited and pleased to be asked.We met with the store owner and selected several fashionable looks to showcase for the show. I remember I was to wear a cream-colored knit jumpsuit belted with a wide belt featuring a stone buckle. With it, I wore a necklace with a stone matching the buckle. Another item chosen for me was a mohair coat in shades of gold and cream. I would wear it over the jumpsuit.
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A Private Room, Please
When I reflect on the word sickness, I feel that I’ve hardly ever been truly sick. But as I think back, I can see that over the last ten years, I seem to have made up for that. I’ve had a couple of serious illnesses, but I just never chose to consider them life-altering. As a child, I had the usual lineup: chicken pox, measles, mumps, colds, the flu, all those “lovely” little sicknesses that keep life interesting. I especially remember one day in kindergarten, coming home to find a big red sign posted on our front door. It announced that someone inside had a contagious illness and warned others to stay away. At the time, this was a common practice, though not long afterward, that way of announcing illness disappeared.
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Lifelong Tooth Tales
Teeth have caused challenges in my life. First, when my permanent teeth started to come in, I had 7 baby teeth that never loosened up to make room for the next set. I had to have the teeth pulled. By this time, the new teeth were growing into the roof of my mouth. The dentist then had to slit the roof of my mouth to make a route for the permanent teeth to come down. I was tasked with pushing on the big teeth to keep them moving. Not so fun and painful. -
Cool, Calm and Toothless
Some people don’t have a very high pain tolerance. Then there are others that can handle quite a bit. My Nathan has always been the latter. His pain tolerance often shocks me. -
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. -
French Kissing Frustration
I hate my teeth. The first problem is that they are not white, and despite different procedures being completed to correct this situation, they are still not white. -
Beware of the First Step
Do you ever wonder why when you get older you seem super clumsy? Well, for some reason, this is happening to me on a rather frequent basis and I don’t like it one bit. I think I am just not paying attention to where I am going. Being active can also help with this problem and I need to step that activity up a lot. -
Slicing and Dicing
One of the reasons I love writing with the Sidetracked Sisters is that after we’re done, we sit and read our words out loud. What follows is a mix of thoughtful edits, helpful suggestions, and the occasional laughter at the absurd lessons we’ve learned—or haven’t.
Sometimes, though, the lessons come before the writing even starts. This week, we were all racking our brains, searching for unwritten, unpublished memories about an injury. It wasn’t easy. We’ve covered this topic from multiple angles already.
I’ve shared stories about my broken leg and even breaking my “va-jayjay.” Judy’s written about her diving drama, Mom almost lost a toe during a bike ride, and Michelle had her ACL rupture saga.
Everything seems a bit anti-climactic after those major traumas.
But let’s be real—my life is peppered with mini-traumas. Little, insignificant ones that I willingly walk into on a regular basis—like nearly every time I cook dinner. You see, I’m a frequent victim of the fillet knife and my trusty mandolin.According to Michelle, I cut myself about once a week. My personal guess is more like once a month, but who’s keeping track?
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Scarred for Life
As usual, our 2 labradoodles had managed to break out of our fenced-in backyard and I hadn’t had a chance to fix it. They needed to go out and I didn’t want them running away so I asked Jessi to let them out on a leash. She put Lucy on a 20-foot leash and Lily on a 6-foot one and started to open the sliding glass door. -
Curly Chaos
I’ve never thought of myself as a “girly” girl. I avoid ruffles. I like pointed collars instead of rounded ones. V-necked T-shirts are my first choice. When it comes to hair, I have always avoided curls. They didn’t seem to suit me. -
Keeping It Even
I just got 9 inches cut off my hair. I went into the salon with a picture of a cut and highlights. When I left, my hair was much shorter than I anticipated, but I liked it. Besides, hair grows.
I have no anxiety whatsoever when I get my hair done. I always look forward to the experience and have a nice time talking to my stylist. Sometimes I talk about the traumas of my boys. Sometimes I’ll tell of my daughter’s exploits. One of the stories I told her this time was how I learned to cut hair. Here is the full story:It was summer 1985. I was in Washington DC for a summer church leadership conference. Sara was cutting a girl’s hair in the corner dorm room. I was super interested. So I went in and pulled up a chair.
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More Holes in My Head
All my friends were getting their ears pierced and I felt like the odd man out. I swear I was the only girl in my school that still had my earlobes intact. I begged and pleaded with Mom to let me get them pierced, but it did no good. She was a rock. It wasn’t happening. Finally, it was Christmas and Mom and Jackie had conspired together to gift each other’s daughter with a coupon for “Two more holes in your head”. -
Excessive Daytime Sleepiness
For as long as I can remember, I love sleeping. Taking a nap while snuggled in a cozy blanket, next to a crackling fire – mmmmm – there is nothing like it. But when you have no control over your sleeping – that is an entirely different story. -
Oops, I Did It Again
It was the summer before Kindergarten. I was swimming in the kiddie pool at my neighbor Donna’s house. We were running around her backyard, and as I neared the wet grass by the pool, I slipped and fell.
I can still feel the burning pain. Her mom picked me up and dunked me in the cool water repeatedly. Then she carried me home on the path that cut across the field that connected our houses on opposite sides of the block.
I begged Mom and Dad not to take me to the hospital. The next morning, I remember Mom coming into my room to know what I wanted to wear. Since this wasn’t the way things went in the summer, I asked what was up and was informed that we were going to the hospital. You see, I couldn’t move out of bed, much less walk.
I wasn’t given crutches for weeks. I think I finally got them just in time to start school.
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Medflight to Madison
I have always taken antibiotics for granted. I felt that an antibiotic was prescribed for different kinds of Illnesses, but didn’t really pay attention feeling that one would probably work for any kind of illness.Well, I was wrong.
I have had many UTIs in my life and took any antibiotic that I could get my hands on when I couldn’t see a doctor.
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Orange Fuzz Isn’t Flattering
A funny story to some isn’t always so funny to the person involved. My husband was away on a fishing retreat. It was a Friday, I was bored and had decided I needed a change.
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Night Night
I’ve prided myself in consciously becoming a morning person. I’ve developed and practiced a routine to help me be successful at getting up early and starting my day positively.
My Bed: Evie at the foot, Aubrey on the left, me hogging the duvet in the middle, and the 9 1/2 inches on the right is left for Craig. One strategy to set yourself up for success is to begin the night before.
We all know a good parent needs to put predictable patterns into their child’s evening routine. There is dinner, bath, tooth brushing, stories, maybe a night-night song, and lights off.
Well, it’s the same with us grown-ups. Why do so many people fall asleep on the couch watching TV or lay in bed watching TikTok on their phone? I would be a mess if I did either of these activities!
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Time for Bed
As I’ve mentioned before – I LOVE sleeping. So, it naturally follows that bedtime is my favorite time of the day. But, before I indulge in this most joyous event, there are a few things that need to happen in order for me to feel ready to jump in.My bedtime routine used to be very simple. Hop into bed and you are done with the routine. I know you are supposed to brush your teeth and wash your face before hopping in, but as a kid and a young adult – that just seemed like too much work.
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Making Time
In a real perfect world, this is what I should do as a nighttime routine: First make sure the kitchen is clean, the dishwasher either full or emptied, the cupboards clear of stuff, and the dogs let out one last time for a potty break, lights turned off, doors locked, teeth brushed, nighttime pills are taken, help my husband with his drugs, CPAP machine, prayers, lights off. -
No BS Weight Loss
I’ve always had a poor body image about myself. From feelings of being too thin to feelings of being overweight, I have never been happy about how my body looked. -
Red Tray Diet
I have been a yoyo dieter. Throughout my life, my weight has gone up and down and up and down. Not dramatically really. Most people probably would say that I’ve weighed about the same throughout my life. As an adult, my high and low weights have differed by about 35 pounds or so.
But I know when I feel good. I know when my clothes fit and when I feel good in my skin. But that doesn’t mean that I’ve never struggled with body image or dieting.
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Stringbean No More
When I was a kid, I was a string bean. I could eat anything and never gained a pound. The only “diet” I practiced at this time was drinking malts before I went to bed to try to gain a few pounds. -
Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way
When I was in high school and when I got married I weighed 98 pounds. I was always a skinny kid and the word diet never came flowing off of my lips. Who could ever restrict their eating habits? This was a foreign subject to me. Actually, when I was in middle school I had my mom take me to the doctor to see why I was so thin. He prescribed some pills but assured me that someday I would wish I was this thin. I think the pills were a placebo and didn’t do a thing. So, I continued to be skinny. -
I Blame My Dad
When I was in school my family exercised horrible sleeping patterns and habits. My dad was a salesman and because he came home late we would eat after 7:30 p.m. when his mail had to be sent out. This created the schedule for things such as homework being done after dinner going later into the night. I don’t remember being motivated very often to start homework right after school. Why ruin that wonderful free time? -
Night Owl Style
Early morning is my time to roll over in bed and luxuriate in uninterrupted sleep. Sleeping until noon is not my style but getting up around 9 or 9:30 am is. Getting up slowly and putting on comfy clothes is a great start to my day. By this time, I feel rested and ready to accomplish the goals I have set for myself. -
Still Searching
I am 78 years old and to this day, I have not found the hairstyle that I really like. Sad, isn’t it? I have probably run out of time, but I keep going forward trying new styles and for some reason, I end up with pretty much the same one. It might be a bit shorter, or longer, but it generally always seems to end up looking pretty much the same. -
No Turning Back
First Grade It was the summer before Second Grade that I got my hair cut short. I remember loving momo’s new short pixie/shag. Mom warned me that there was no going back when you make a decision to go short.
So go short I did.
Mom actually still has the thick blondish ponytail that her friend Tom cut off (he was a barber) before beginning my transformation.
I quickly realized that I preferred long hair. But as mom warned, “There is no turning back!”
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Short and Sassy
When I was a little girl, my mom would cut my hair. I basically had a short bob with a curl on each side and straight across my forehead bangs. Whenever a special occasion came up, like school pictures or a holiday, mom would trim my hair. If the sides weren’t even, she’d trim a bit off the long side and so on and so on until finally my hair on the side went halfway up my ears. My bangs suffered the same fate. This went on until they were very short and sort of straight across. A disaster to say the least. -
Hair is an Accessory
I kept my hair long up until I went to college. You may think that it was by choice, but actually, it was Mom’s choice. I was forbidden from cutting my hair, probably because Lisa had cut hers, and mom was traumatized from that point on. Even though I couldn’t cut my hair, I did on occasion get a perm in my hair to try to combat the stick-straight quality of it. The perms didn’t hold for very long and I even went to a beauty salon a time or two to get a spiral perm. Those perms worked better than the at-home perms but still weren’t a long-term solution.
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Makeup is Optional
‘Chelle in 9th grade I didn’t start wearing makeup until I was in 9th grade. I never went out to buy my own, but simply acquired it from either Lisa or Mom. I only wore concealer, mascara, a little blush, and eyeliner. At one point, I tried wearing white concealer as an eye shadow, but I quickly stopped that practice because we were at a high school football game and Lisa screeched above the din of the crowd “Why do you have white creases on your eyelids? What did you do?” I was horrified.
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Silver Sparkle Disease
When I was young, my older sisters always wore makeup. I remember thinking that the well-placed makeup transformed them both from pleasant looking to “beautiful women”. -
A Put Together Woman
I have come to the conclusion that makeup is entirely overrated. Just think about the money and time we spend on this really unnecessary act of thinking we look better being made up. I remember when I was dating my husband years ago he said to me that he liked it when I didn’t have so much makeup on. Well, I was never one to wake up with that glamorous glow that the movie stars mostly have. Even when they are coming out of a coma, notice how they still have lipstick on. I can’t even keep mine on for more than five minutes before it is licked or chewed off.
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Comfortable in Your Own Skin
I remember my first foray into the land of makeup…
Everyday Me
Julie and I walked downtown. It was late summer and a new school year was approaching–7th grade. We went to Langmack’s Drug Store (think Ace Hardware, not Sephora) and stood before a wall of pastel powders, concealing pastes, and sparkling creams. Julie chose a pinkish shade of a liquid Covergirl blush. I chose the same brand that was more peachy. Covergirl. The name seemed appropriate for girls shopping for our first cosmetics.
Wednesday, September 25, 2022, 4:24 pm This wasn’t grandma’s lipstick abruptly rubbed on my cheeks to “give me a little color”.
This initial memory is just the beginning of my addiction (a little too strong of a word perhaps) to make-up. You see, I’m one of those who feel almost naked without something on my face. Even during the Covid lockdown, I continued my full-face routine. Every. Day.
I have occasionally tried to go without but always come back.
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New Year…a Commitment to Change
I’ve never been big on New Year’s resolutions. As a teacher, I’ve always considered the school year the beginning and ending of life, with the summer as a buffer zone.
Starting the 1973-74 school year with high hopes Every August, I would sit down and think about the ways I wanted the upcoming school year to go. I yearly focused on having one family meal each week, another year, I organized my dinner plans in a rotating schedule…Monday–pasta, Tuesday–tacos…I usually worked to organize my brain around making my home and family life sane. While working as a full-time teacher with three kids, life was full…busy…chaotic.
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Cure for a New Year’s Resolution – Get a Dog
How to keep your New Year’s Resolution:My thought for my resolution was to get a dog. My resolution was to walk. I needed inspiration and a really good reason to get out there and get my buns moving.
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To Do or Not To Do (A New Years Resolution Story)
Me – Then
Me – Now Every year I plan out New Years resolutions to follow and every year, like so many others, I fail to follow my plan after about 2 weeks. I don’t know what it is or why that happens, but it’s like clockwork.
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Gray or Nay?!
I have been dying my hair since, I don’t know, about fifteen (I think). It feels like I HAVE always colored my hair and WILL always color my hair. However, it seems like I have been fighting with my daughter, Lisa, for years about the whole concept of “going gray”. She fears that I am continuing this procedure way past the time it is cool or attractive for me. I believe she SHOULD continue to dye her hair.
The question is, when is the proper time to just let it go gray? (Hopefully, when I say gray I mean a wonderful shade of white/silver-gray that complements my features, brings out the green in my eyes, gives me perky breasts, makes me look 10 pounds lighter, lengthens my legs …)
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My “Hot Tub Rules” for Underwear
Opening the top left drawer of my dresser in the bedroom, I need a fresh pair of underwear. However, the drawer is filled with so many items besides the needed unders. This is where I store 1/2 ream of printed emails that my husband sent to me in the year before we got married. It holds 18 old mother’s day cards from my three children, 8 bibs from races that I’ve run and 4 metals from three half-marathons and one full marathon that I ran, and 12 multi-colored headbands.
At first glance, it holds everything EXCEPT underwear. Do I not own underwear? Do I even wear underwear?Have you ever given any thought to the idea that underwear should be considered when making a commitment to yourself about self-care? Well, let me tell you a story…
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What to Do When Your Body is Falling Apart
What do you do when your an active woman with a full life and your body starts to fall apart? Well, I made an appointment to see my primary care physician…
Midlife: That time in your life when you finally get your head together and your body starts to fall apart! At the office visit, my doctor informed me that that I no longer needed a mammogram, pap smear, or colonoscopy. I found this interesting so I asked, “Why is that?” He skirted around the question, but I guessed, “You mean I am just too old?”
Well, the fact is, say…if cancer is detected, I am actually too old to go through the process of working on a cure or whatever….
WOW!
HELLO?
Let that sink in a moment.
That made me feel, kind of, sort of WEIRD.
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To Tan or Not to Tan
To tan or not to tan, that is the question!!!
As I sit here with my white legs, white arms, white face, white body, white everything looking like a newly plucked chicken, next to my Hispanic granddaughter with beautiful caramel skin. I love caramel skin and in my next life perhaps I will have that gorgeous, flawless skin, caramel in color. But, today I am reflecting back to the days when we actually tried to achieve, and did, but not without a little (a lot) discomfort and pain. -
Rock Your Hairstyle (for Women Over 50)
I got my hair cut–I mean CUT–right before 2nd grade. I was 7 years old. My mom had just gotten her 1960’s shoulder-length locks updated into the iconic 70’s shag. I loved her new do and wanted to be a grown-up who could make choices about my hair. So after much begging and pleading, mom relented. Thus was the beginning with my love/hate relationship with my hair.
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I Was Sooooo Cute as a Child – What a Body!
As a child, my body was an absolute bean pole, skinny that is. I actually went to the doctor as a teenager to get something to help me gain weight. He, of course, thought I was nuts, but gave me some kind of a prescription (probably just sugar pills). He said, “Someday you will wish you were this way.” Boy, was he right!
Then there is my hair. I am old, so to speak, and I can truthfully say I have yet to find a hairstyle that I feel is me. I can only keep trying. I am still waiting for my prime. I think it has come and gone, but one can only hope. Some days, I can actually say “What the hell”, and then others it frustrates me. I think that is normal for most people. Well – it is for me.
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Orange is not for everyone!
All of my life, as I remember it, I have been very aware of color. My older sister always looked so pretty, so for the first many years that I could choose colors, I copied her example. I constantly asked myself why I looked washed out and dumpy when she looked wonderful? -
What color are you?
What color are you? What colors look best on you? Back when I was a teen, my mom and my god-mother took my girlfriend and I to “have our colors done”. Some of you may ask “You had WHAT done?” Well – the process of getting your colors done involves determining what colors look best on you. (Color Me A Season)
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My Body Image is a Rollercoaster
There was a day when I enjoyed seeing my reflection in a mirror or in a store window. I think this goes back to when I was 15 or 16. I was swimming laps every day after teaching classes at the YMCA pool. I could eat anything and it never showed up on my hips or anywhere else. I felt great and loved wearing the latest styles. My friends said I was too skinny but I didn’t care. -
Big Boobs and a Fluffy Tummy
There is an old picture of me with a skimpy two-piece bikini walking on a beach somewhere in Door County carrying a big log. Don’t ask me why I was carrying the log. I was probably 12. Long legs, barely there cleavage. I was confident and carefree. That was the last time I was that confident and carefree in a bathing suit. -
Taking Control of Your Body Image
“Come here girls – stand back to back and let’s see who’s butt is bigger?”
“Boy ‘Chelle – you’re built like a brick shit house”
“Your sister sure looks good in that size 4 – too bad you can’t wear something like that”
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Can You Do It All In a Day?
What would you do if you found out that you were going to die today? -
Savor Each Bite
If I were to die today… I’m assuming it will be in the evening, I know that this is coming since morning. I wake up and know….
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No Regrets – Just a Tapestry of Memories
I’ve always said life should be lived so there would be no regrets…and still if the moment came that I knew this breath was my last how would I feel? -
I’m Just Not Ready Yet
I always say that “I can’t imagine life without me”. This is a really true statement and feeling. Perhaps we all feel this way, but how can life go on if I weren’t here????
