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Auto Maintenance and the Dipstick Disaster
Auto maintenance. Wow, now this is a subject that is totally out of my league. In my marriage, the vehicles were men’s work, that being Art. I never even put gas into my car, washed it, detailed it, or did whatever needed to be done to keep it functioning (most of the time). -
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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Fate Had Other Plans
I like to think I’m in charge of my own life. I’ve got color-coded calendars, synced reminders, and a to-do list that could scare a project manager. My inner control freak sleeps better when everything fits in a nice, neat box.But every so often, fate rolls her eyes, tosses my list in the air, and says, “Cute plan. Watch this.”
It’s never dramatic at first. Usually it starts with some tiny glitch—Wi-Fi dying during a meeting, a dog emergency, or the weather deciding to monsoon on my “productive” day. I huff, I mutter, I question all my life choices. And then, like clockwork, something unexpected falls into place. I’ll stumble across an old photo, get a call from someone I’ve been meaning to reach, or realize that fate just canceled my plans so I could actually notice my own life.
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Enthusiasm Gets Me In Trouble
You go on with life one day at a time. You find that perfect person to spend the rest of your life with, get engaged, married, have children—and for a while, things are well, even peaceful. In the back of your mind, though, you know another chapter is waiting. Grandchildren. Of course, that’s one thing you have no control over. All you can do is dream, hope, and pray that someday this blessing will be yours to enjoy.One evening, Art and I went out to dinner with our daughter, Michelle, and her husband. Now, since this was not the usual weekday outing, I suspected something was up. Sure enough, when the conversation turned to a “special announcement,” my big mouth got ahead of me. I blurted out the surprise—Michelle was pregnant! Art and I were about to become first-time grandparents.
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Enthusiasm Without the Fireworks
Some people seem to have a bottomless supply of enthusiasm. They throw themselves into everything — from book clubs to bake sales — with the same wide-eyed excitement a kid has for an ice cream truck. I’ve never been one of those people. My enthusiasm runs on the quieter side. I can enjoy something, appreciate it, even love it, without feeling the need to clap until my hands sting or yell “Wooo!” loud enough for the neighbors to hear.Take the Origami Owl conventions I used to attend. Every year, they’d introduce a few new $5 charms, like a red high heel, a little purse, or a pumpkin, and the room would explode in applause. Women would leap to their feet, squeal, and “ooh” like they’d just been handed the keys to a beach house. The enthusiasm in the room was contagious — at least for some people. I’d sit there smiling politely, thinking, We’re cheering over that? Don’t get me wrong — the charm was cute. But it wasn’t life-changing. I guess my enthusiasm scale for “worth freaking out over” just sits a few notches higher.
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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. -
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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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.