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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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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. -
Everyday Sadness
Sadness and depression manifest differently across various age groups, influenced by developmental stages, life circumstances, and societal factors. I was in fifth grade when my very favorite grandpa died. It was the first person in my life who died up to this point, other than my dog.
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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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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 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. -
Karma Construction Zone
Tonight’s Sidetracked Sisters writing topic is “karma,” and let’s just say… we’ve been circling the cosmic drain trying to make sense of it. Karma as payback? As justice? As some universal scorekeeper in the sky? Meh. It’s all a little murky. But then, I landed on a metaphor that actually clicked for me…
Each choice we make is a brick in the structure of our lives. Karma might not be a cosmic slap on the wrist—it could simply be the quiet architecture of cause and effect. What are you building without even realizing it?
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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. -
Simply Simple
vent plates or silverware from being placed. I have never understood the desire to say cut a cutting off a plant and hope to see it in ten years become a beautiful big plant. Seriously, remember, I need immediate gratification. This also shows in my garden. It is hard for me to buy little flowers, waiting for the moment when they fill in and make a beautiful basket. I need to see color NOW.
The word simplicity implies to me being in control, a downsized situation, and a time saver.
Now, this does not seem to be in my brain, vocabulary, or whatever. You see, I never seem to do things simply.
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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. -
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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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. -
Midlife Sunrise
Sunrise is more than the start of a new day—it’s a promise. A clean slate. A soft glow after the dark. And this morning, on the first day of spring, it feels like that promise is meant just for me.
For years, I greeted my days in a classroom. I was a teacher for 30 years—a career I genuinely loved—but one that never fully fed my soul. It fit my personality beautifully: creative, nurturing, always busy. But it also drained me. The schedules were rigid, the paperwork endless, and the energy output… well, let’s just say first graders don’t run on decaf.During those years, I tried other creative ventures, little sparks that either fizzled or never quite caught fire. I told myself I was “just exploring.” Truthfully, I was scared—scared to let go of what was safe and familiar, even if it left me feeling half-asleep.
Now, though, something inside me is waking up. A new dawn is breaking.
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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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Hot Mess Moments
Matlin’s Furniture was a family business, and at one time, all the Sidetracked Sisters played a role in the store’s daily operations. To keep us on the same page, we held weekly sales meetings that started half an hour before our regular workday. -
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. -
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. -
Peeking and Entering
I’ve always been a curious person. The kind of kid who asks, “Why?” and actually wants an answer. As a First Grade teacher, I relished any excuse to dive into new topics and books. Back then, “best practice” was all about integrating subjects—reading, writing, math, science, and social studies—all stirred together like some delicious educational soup. If you were studying frogs, you didn’t just read about them. You became them. You wrote stories starring them, compared them to toads, and probably hopped around the playground for “research.” Curiosity was the air I breathed.
But I didn’t stumble into curiosity on my own. Nope. I had a live-in guide: my mom. She raised me to be curious… invasively curious. The kind of curious that makes you peek behind closed doors, both literally and metaphorically.
I grew up in a brand-new neighborhood—the first house on our side of the block. Beyond our backyard, there were fields, jeep trails, and a lake just a half-mile away. For a while, we had nature to explore. Then came the construction crews. One by one, houses sprang up around us. But they didn’t appear overnight. It took weeks (sometimes months) to go from a hole in the ground to a family with a golden retriever and a Weber grill on the back patio. And that’s where curious kids like me came in.
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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. -
6 Seconds to Love
I remember watching my parents embrace in our kitchen as a child. My mom scrubbed dishes while my dad grabbed her hands and spun her around the room. The evening blared with music—either Helen Reddy or Barbra Streisand—and their laughter filled the space, a genuine lifeline of joy that still resonates with me.I may no longer have a playlist featuring Barbra or Helen, but the feeling of witnessing my parents’ unabashed affection remains unforgettable. As a kid, I’d scrunch up my nose and declare their touchy, silly displays “gross.” Later, I’d roll my eyes and exclaim, “Oh, come on—get a room, guys!”
Those quirky memories shaped my expectations of marriage—a constant lifeline linking the heart of a relationship. Today, Craig isn’t much of a dancer; he can only manage a simple sway. In recent years, we’d almost forgotten how to move together in our kitchen or living room, and I miss that spark. Then I discovered the “6 Second Kiss,” a brief, intentional moment that mirrors the connection I admired in my parents.
Once, Craig and I exchanged quick pecks for greetings and goodbyes. Now, we’ve upgraded to a daily extended smooch—even Aubrey chimes in with playful “ewwws.” We may be a bit clumsy about our newfound routine, but each lingering kiss releases up a cascade of hormones and reminds me of who I want us to be. It’s our lifeline, our anchor in this imperfect journey of love.
I’ve also heard about the “20 Second Hug,” touted to work the same magic. For now, though, our kiss ritual is keeping us connected and reminds us that sometimes, the smallest moments are the most powerful.
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Lifelines Bring Laughter
Raising a child without a lifeline is close to impossible or at very best, difficult. I realized this truth when our son Matt was a year old. My husband, Michael had a job that took him to other states from Sunday night to Friday night each week. I had a wonderful woman who would babysit for Matt a few afternoons. This was the time I would attend classes at our local community college. -
Survival Lifeline
It is said that it takes a village to raise a child. I agree with this, but it also takes having a lifeline of both friends of friends and relatives to survive in life. Not everyone is lucky enough to have a good support system such as a lifeline, but it sure helps and makes things a lot easier. -
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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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. -
The Moments After Goodbye
Dad passed away on December 30.
That morning, I got up early and made a quick stop at the grocery store for juice. Before heading home, I decided to drop by Mom and Dad’s house. Michelle had been doing so much over the past few days, and I wanted to help when I could—and this morning, I could.I walked into the house and climbed the stairs. Mom was in the bathroom, and I let her know I was there. Then I stepped into the bedroom. Dad lay there, peacefully asleep—but something about his stillness felt off. I walked around the bed and sat down beside him. His skin looked too gray, his face too motionless. I reached out, touching his cheek. It felt cold beneath my fingers.
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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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Middle School Nightmare
I don’t often remember my dreams. Occasionally, I will take a notebook and set it on my nightstand with a pen to write down snippets of the dream to ponder on later. There is one dream that I have repeatedly. It is the first day of school. I’m in the middle school age group. I’m excited about going back to school after summer break. I enter the school and realize that I haven’t signed up for classes, and I have no idea where to go first. I know I’m supposed to have a locker, but I have no idea where it is. I know that if I can find it, I’ll find the books I need to attend my classes.
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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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Making It Happen, But Not Always
Self-discipline has been a challenge for most of my life. Its absence has often left me feeling unfulfilled in work, relationships, and how I see myself. I realized early on that I often couldn’t trust my promises to myself. This didn’t become a pattern for me until I was in high school. -
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. -
Discipline or Negotiation
I hated being disciplined as a child. If Mom ever said, “Just wait till your dad gets home…” I would instantly change my behavior to avoid getting yelled at. I don’t remember Dad ever actually yelling at me, but his look of disapproval would send me into an immediate fit of tears. Mom’s discipline never had the same effect on me.
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Teaching, Recess Duty, and Hallway Hangouts
We had my dad’s funeral last weekend. Afterward, I spent a few days in bed with flu-like symptoms—because clearly, grief wasn’t enough of a challenge on its own. One thought kept swirling around in my head during those achy, medicine-head days: a piece of writing I had considered sharing at his memorial service.
Becoming a teacher was something my dad had a philosophical problem with. (He had opinions—big ones.) But as that writing pointed out, teaching was what I felt compelled to do—twice.
And you know what? I was a damn good teacher. I loved it all: creating lessons, working with the kids, assessments, planning, parent-teacher conferences, back-to-school nights—you name it, I was in my element. So much so that I stuck with it for a full 30 years.
Back in the day, teachers with that kind of experience weren’t unicorns; they were practically the norm. But lately, I keep meeting people who went to school for teaching but never taught, or who once taught but ran screaming from the profession.
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From Grief to Giggles: The Power of a Support Squad
After having a death in my family, my husband of sixty-two years, I have discovered several ways to be resilient. It is traumatic enough, but having family and friends engulf you helps you to recover more quickly from a hardship or traumatic event. Another way would be to get out of the house and do an activity that has been put on the back burner. Such activity could be anywhere from lunches with old friends, movies, or getting together with those we have shoved away due to heavy schedules. -
Nine Years, One Condo, and Zero Rings
The year was 1976. Chris and I had been together for nine years. We enjoyed each other’s company and were good friends. We shared friends and fun times. Chris had a great sense of humor. He was a disc jockey on the local radio station. He would talk about things we had done together and as he told his story, I could barely recognize it as a place I had been. He was able to make it sound like an enviable experience and one that anyone would like to participate in. -
Managing Expectations
I’ve heard many opinions about the habit of having expectations—some directed inward, others projected onto those around us. I find it more productive to focus on what I expect of myself. After all, I’m the only one I can truly control.Expecting others to behave a certain way often leads to disappointment, unless we’re clear about what we need and willing to accept the outcome, whether or not it aligns with our hopes. Managing those external expectations means making conscious choices about how much we let others’ actions affect us.
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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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The Secret to Managing Expectations (Without Losing Your Mind)
Many years after I graduated from college, I discovered that my dad had never expected me to finish. Mom told me that he had known several women—strong, smart, and talented women—who talked about going to school but either didn’t finish or traveled down another path entirely after high school. -
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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Love, Laughter, and Loss
The year 2024 has been a difficult, strange year for me. It is strange to be retired after working for over fifty-six years. To add to this my husband has been diagnosed with dementia. Having noticed some rather strange behavior on his behalf it became apparent that he indeed did have dementia as a result of Alzheimers. -
Who Is ‘Chelle?
This year marks my 17th year working at i3 Verticals (formerly known as Kiriworks). I still love what I do, but always wish I was independently wealthy and didn’t have to work ever again. I haven’t had to go into the office since 2020 and I love being able to work from home. It does provide some challenges, like thinking that doing a load of laundry or emptying the dishwasher in the middle of the day won’t disrupt my day, but it sure does. The hardest part of working from home is when mom calls in the middle of the day and asks “Whatcha doin?” My response every time is “Uuuummm – working!!!” -
Creating Christmas
By my admission, I have yet to be the active do-it-yourselfer in our family. I often find myself being a copycat, and the original ideas often escape me. When my sister was newly married and living in her first apartment, she had a great time making toothpick Christmas trees. I loved the one she made and decided to try my hand at making a similar tree. -
Trash to Treasures
One of the interests of the Sidetracked Sisters is crafting. In the past we have had several home shows where we display and sell our creations. -
Projects and Promises
Over the years, my enthusiasm for holiday decorating has ebbed and flowed. Some years, I am a classic overachiever; other years, I am overextended and overwhelmed.Between 1996 and 2003, the Sidetracked Sisters held craft shows where we created and sold handmade Santas, melty snowmen, and even bare-breasted angels. I loved getting ideas from craft books and then adding my own flair. I added beads to the angels’ halos and tea-stained the linen fabric for the snowpeople. A friend made beautiful jewelry with beads, so naturally, I had to try my hand at it too. I made my own beads from Sculpey clay and added wire embellishments.
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Glue Guns and Glitter
I’m a big fan of DIY Christmas items. As a crafter, I’m not able to let this holiday go by without creating something new. If it’s not new ornaments for my tree, then it’s presents for the kids. This all started when Sidetracked Sisters started doing at-home craft shows back in 1996! -
Surviving December
Thanksgiving is behind us. Yesterday, Craig, the kids, and I ventured out to pick our Christmas tree. Once Craig and the boys got it into the stand, I took charge of making sure it was straight from every angle. It’s just the beginning of the season, and I have high hopes. This year, December will be festive and memorable. I will buy and wrap presents before the 24th. I will not feel guilty for not buying everything for everybody. -
Christmas Terrors
This week’s topic is “What makes the holidays difficult and why?” I should rewrite it to say, “Why do I make the holidays so difficult?” All year long, I know that Christmas is coming. I know that I will be working and trying to juggle the activities of preparing for the holidays, yet I do everything else and leave the boxing, wrapping, and food tasks to the last minute. -
Letting Go of the To-Do List
The holidays are supposed to be a time filled with joy, love and celebration. But for some people, it can be a very challenging and stressful time of the year. Somewhere between endless lsit of things to do: house cleaning, picking out the tree, decorate the house (inside and out), buy gifts, wrap gifts, bake cookies, and work full-time, we are supposed to find time to enjoy the holidays. -
The Hated Holiday
I love the holidays. I enjoy the idea of everything being decorated, and everyone seems to be in a good mood. Everything looks festive and so pretty at this time of the year. I get all wrapped up in the events and activities until PROCRASTINATION sets in. I want to be able to participate in everything to do with the holidays. But I never seem to be able to do all the activities as I have procrastinated again. By not doing the necessary tasks such as decorating, shopping, purchasing presents and, of course, wrapping all my treasures in a proper timely manner, and having not realized the potential of what activities I really would have time for, I have put myself under a time crunch. -
The Naked Truth
Picture this, I am a small child living at home and it is the middle of the night and I need my mom. She was one of those moms that was always there for you. Unfortunately, when she came to take care of you or to take care of whatever you needed, she would show up naked. Yup, I said naked. God she would kill me if she could read this!!! I don’t know why she never wore a robe or a coverup, but she didn’t. This turned me off, so that in the future whenever I needed her I would grin and bear it and try to fix whatever I needed myself. -
Let’s Ask Mom
I was always a people pleaser as a young child. I never wanted to disappoint my parents with my actions. For example, on a Sunday morning when I was 6, I was ready for church before everyone else and was told I could go outside if I didn’t get dirty. I was found a few minutes later, sitting in my little lawn chair by the side of the road, patiently waiting for the rest of the family. See… people pleaser. -
The Glue That Held Us Together
I remember thinking my Mom was the hardest-working person I had ever met. She made sure the house was always neat and clean. The downstairs got cleaned on Fridays and the upstairs on Thursdays. When the house was in the least bit faded, Mom painted the living room and other rooms by herself. When I was little, my Dad wore starched white dress shirts. Daily. Mom would sprinkle them and keep them in the fridge so they wouldn’t mildew. Then every week, she would iron these shirts until they were perfect. -
Life’s Always Changing
I remember being home with my mom on a Friday morning. I was little—really little. She was getting ready to go to the office and sighed, “I wish I didn’t have to go to work.”
I thought the same thing: I wish you didn’t have to go either.But I was headed to my grandma’s house, and honestly, that softened the blow. Grandma’s house was the best. She made the world’s greatest buttered noodles and cut summer sausage into perfect little coins. I got to watch all my favorite shows and play Kings in the Corner and Go Fish on demand—basically a four-year-old’s dream of luxury and power.
It wasn’t until years later—when I became a mother myself—that I understood that feeling in my mom’s voice. I spent what felt like entire decades flying around the house like a feral squirrel in yoga pants, trying to feed everyone, keep things semi-clean, and still make it to school on time to teach a class. Between the school year, summer school, and the endless parade of kid-related responsibilities, every week felt…full. Very full. I often just wanted life to slow down for five minutes—preferably while someone else unloaded the dishwasher.
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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… -
Solo in Style
Here’s the scenario: I’m living alone in a small cabin up in Door County. It’s just me, and for once, I have total control over my surroundings. The cabin is modestly furnished with a bed, bathroom, kitchen, and all the basics for daily living. But I get to bring along my personal essentials—the little luxuries that make life truly mine. -
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. -
Treasures of the Heart
Heirlooms can take many forms. Some are very expensive items that have been passed down through generations. Our family heirlooms are more about sentimentality than value. In my family, we have items that carry meaning. When Mom passed away in 2004, she had told each of us girls which of her rings she wanted us to have. Mine was her cameo, Sandy’s was Mom’s grandmother’s ring, Michelle’s ring was a blue tiger’s eye and Lisa’s was Mom’s engagement ring. -
Priceless Memories
Our family loves its heirlooms. Both sides of my family had a lot of neat antiques that would have been fun to own. The problem I faced was that I had cousins who became interested in antiques just before my interest was piqued. That left me with not much to pine after. -
More Than Stuff
Craig and I were just chatting about heirlooms the other day. He’s got his eye on something specific from his grandpa’s place: a miniature John Deere tire that was transformed into—wait for it—an ashtray.
Yep. An ashtray.
Oh, my.
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Presents from the Past
I never received many heirlooms from either of my grandmothers, but in retrospect, I received a few items from my great-uncle Lloyd. He may not have meant them as heirlooms, but I chose to look at them that way.
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Why Beaver Dam?
Beaver Dam, Wisconsin is my hometown. Tucked away in the south-central part of Wisconsin, it has a magnetic draw that I can’t quite find the words to express. I have left Beaver Dam many times only to find myself longing to return. This community is an acquired taste. It appeals to some of us and others, it is a stopping place on the way to somewhere else. -
Small-Town Adventures
People have differing opinions on what it’s like to live in a small town and throughout my life, I’ve had differing opinions myself. When I was little, I loved it. Living in a small town allowed me to ride my bike to Grandma’s house every day in the summer. It allowed me to walk across a major street to the local Dairy Queen for a sweet treat. I felt safe and secure in my little Beaver Dam bubble. -
The Good Life in a Small Town
I come from a small town called Beaver Dam. I don’t feel it is that small, but to those who like big city life, it is tiny. It is a town that boasts 15000+ Busy Beavers. Don’t think the media didn’t have fun with that phrase a while back. We have lots of parks, a lake, and shopping, and we are near several big cities, and let’s not forget the lack of pollution. -
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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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. -
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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Still Going Strong After 61 Years!
I am married to Art, my high school sweetheart, my soulmate, the father of my children, and oftentimes a pain in my ass! I say this last part as a joke, but I think you can imagine this can happen. -
Quirks and Conditions
Relationships come with many quirks and challenges. I experienced two failed marriages. I entered into each of these relationships with high hopes. I have learned that there were issues that got in the way of our happiness, that we never considered or discussed. Looking back, I realize I was very young and lacked the wisdom to make the best decisions. -
Lessons in Love
Do I want this relationship or not?
It’s a question I’ve asked myself more times than I care to admit, with friends and partners alike. In my life, I’ve mostly been behind the wheel when deciding whether to continue or end a relationship. (And trust me, my driving skills aren’t exactly known for being smooth.)I’ve written before about my ex-husband, Tom.
But one night in October, it finally hit me: I had given up way too much control in my life. I was walking on eggshells all. the. time. (And let me tell you, that’s exhausting.) Finally, I was done. I said the words that would change everything: “I want a divorce.”
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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.
