In our family, we all like to help each other with projects, especially home projects. Just one word of warning. If Sandy is creating be sure you understand the parameters of the project. We were asked to help wallpaper Michelle’s bathroom. That request sounded tame enough. Right??
When I was growing up, I always thought relationships had to be 50/50. Give and take needed to be equal or the relationship would not succeed.
In reality, what I discovered was that relationships almost always consist of an unequal number of contributions. If one person is having a great day, they might contribute 80%. If the other person was having a bad day or a troublesome day, their contribution might only be 20% or less. The goal was to have the total equal to 100%. Unfortunately, that didn’t always happen.
Almost 7 years ago, we began by introducing ourselves, “Sidetracked Sisters are Sandy & Judy (sisters) and Lisa & Michelle (sisters). We are 4 sides of the same coin…(hmmmmm – how is that possible?). Some say we are very much alike, yet others say we are as different as they come. We are family and LOVE to torment each other.”
But you probably know that already if you’ve been following us for a while.
Sidetracked Sisters started as a home-based crafting group. After several years, we began writing our blog where we shared thoughts and 178 writings on random topics.Continue reading →
Some of you might have been wondering why I posted a Discover Columbus post on what I called Columbus Day back on October 12, 2020. One of the Sidetracked Sisters brought to my attention that the celebration of this day has become “Indigenous People’s Day. I knew that at some level. Unfortunately, not in time to make this post “Politically Correct”.
It seems that Columbus was an adventurer and explorer but as we are now aware, he wasn’t a very nice guy. Some called him a Barbarian and a mercenary. Knowing the truth, we now celebrate a day in honor of Native Indigenous Americans in opposition to the celebration of Columbus Day. Governor Tony Evers established Indigenous Peoples Day via an executive order days before the observance in 2017.
Today we celebrate the people who first called this land home. We remember the struggles and tragedies they endured. We honor their place in and contributions to the shared story of America.
In correcting my mistake, I realize that this change is not just to be PC. In reality, it is doing the right thing for all the right reasons. It is deserved and long overdue.
Mom and I went out the door hand in hand and headed to the bus stop. Mom didn’t drive when we were little so the two of us did our weekly trek to catch the bus for downtown. We would do our errands and then do our grocery shopping and finally take a taxi home with our treasures and groceries.
Three-year-old me ran up the steps and found a seat for us near the front of the bus. Most of the people that rode the bus back in the day knew each other. This day there was a man that was unfamiliar. Something was a bit different about him. I tried to whisper to Mom but my voice came out a bit loud. I asked how come that man had such a dirty face. She shushed me but too late. The man had heard my question. He told me that his skin was a different color than mine. I asked him why and he answered that he was born that way. He asked Mom if I wanted to touch his skin. She quietly declined and I climbed up in her lap.Continue reading →
Bra shopping is an event that comes along very rarely in my life. Several years ago, I found a bra that fit well and I keep buying the same make and model over and over in different colors but mostly flesh color. I know, boring.
Frankly, my first choice, when I’m not out in public, is to go without. I find it much more comfortable. I was delighted when I recently read a report that said going without was better because it built up your chest muscles. All right! I’m happy to comply and all in.
One day, several years ago, my sister and I decided to go bra shopping for her. She never could find a bra that she liked. We spent three+ hours in the “intimates” department picking out pretty bras, utilitarian bras, lacy bras, and plain bras. She would hang out in the fitting room and I would bring in different sizes, colors, and styles. She would try them on and we would both laugh hysterically. Very quickly the fitting room was filled with rejects.
After many false starts, we settled on 3 bras that she felt were just right. The final picks were not too big, not too small, but just right. It was a bit of a goldilocks moment. We selected a few pairs of underwear to match and called it good. I was exhausted and she was quiet.
About a week later, I asked Sandy how the new bras were working out. She got quiet again and wouldn’t make eye contact. She finally confessed. The Monday after our intense shopping excursion, she had returned all the purchases we had made and continued to wear her old, worn-out bra. I couldn’t believe my ears.
I have always wanted to have a professional bra fitting, however, after my escapade with Sandy, I think it can wait.
We work from the time we’re old enough to make money to buy stuff. Actually, it’s true that there’s a lot of good stuff out there like collectibles, beautiful crystal, all of the issues of Oprah Magazine from Day one, clothes, furniture, decorations, and shoes (my special weakness). This is only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to stuff. Then one day when we’re older, our desire to have things turns into the need and desire to purge and to work on letting go of the extras in your life.
I sat down at my desk and opened my daily calendar. Suddenly it hit me. Today is April 4, 2019, and I am turning 70 years old. Most of the people I know, who are my age, seem to have their act together. Several friends own lovely cabins up North. People I graduated from High School with have substantial pensions and retirement funds. Others have retired and are traveling and seeing the world. I always thought I would be enjoying these things too. Instead, I was still working at the bank and as much as I enjoyed helping others reach their goals, working at the bank was no longer one of mine.
What is something I love about me? And Why? Good grief. When someone asks me a question like this, my first response is “I have absolutely no idea”. Then when I get quiet and dig deeper, I find a thing or two.
When I was a little girl, I always felt like I didn’t have any friends. I was raised in a neighborhood of all boys. Play revolved around playing cowboys and Indians and other games that involved me being the only girl. I must say since I was the only one with cowboy boots and a holster set, I often played a lead role. I would pretend to be Roy Rogers or The Lone Ranger. Most of the boys were younger and smaller than I was so they didn’t argue with me. They followed my lead.