Sisterhood of the Travelling Shoes

Yes, it is that Colonel…… Recently I had KFC (or Kentucky Fried Chicken as we of the boomer generation knew it) for the first time in over 10 years. To say that this was accompanied by a boat load of guilt over eating all that fatty, deep fried meat is an understatement. Being the responsible health conscious person that I am, I felt the need to confess my dietary transgression to my family and decided to turn it into a learning experience, by conducting a survey among family members. In doing so an interesting thing happened. Almost everyone I talked to, with little prompting, had surprisingly distinct memories about having…

When my daughter was born, I was ready with what I considered to be the perfect name. It could be "massaged" to a shortened version suitable for a young girl (Lexy) and later morph into a mature sounding name indicative of a young adult (Alexa). I was so proud of myself for settling on such a versatile and unique name. In my opinion the Saras, Nicoles and Jennifers of the world couldn't hold a candle to my original, brilliant choice. Little did I know that 30 years later my bubble would burst....no, it would actually explode.

Mom wasn't a "whiz" in the kitchen. She tried hard but her failures outnumbered her successes on a regular basis. In that regard, she was a victim of circumstances. She had a brood of five to feed on a daily basis, a husband whose standards were beyond the pale and no social media to offer a plethora of recipes and ideas to make meals delicious and exciting. Each day of the week had its set menu. Saturday was Hockey Night in Canada and steaks, Sunday was a full roast beef dinner and Monday was left over beef and gravy miraculously morphing into roast beef hash. You get the picture.

If you follow our blog, you will know that of the five children in our family, four are redheads. I am the lone brunette with poker straight hair in contrast to my sisters’ naturally curly locks. So perhaps I could be excused for having just a teensy weensy obsession with hair. With that in mind, when I was looking for pictures to use in our blog I did notice some questionable hair themes which I feel I must address. Betty Set the Tone In her younger years mom had beautiful brunette hair. But, she went prematurely grey and so I don’t really remember her with anything but grey and eventually…

Like many of our generation, reading the obituaries is a regular occurrence....a daily ritual of sorts. Doing so, offers inspiration and encourages self contemplation. It perhaps provides a template for writing the inevitable obituary for loved ones and it prompts us to consider the content of our own obituary when the time comes.

I recently celebrated a landmark birthday and I am now feeling “officially old.” Up until now, birthdays have never bothered me much, but this one stopped me cold. I can no longer deny to myself or others that I am “aging” and to say that I was shocked and depressed about the situation is a bit of an understatement! Once I had a glass of wine and thought things over, however, I came to the only possible conclusion: There was of course, nothing I could do about it. You can’t beat Mother Nature, so there was no recourse but to put on my big girl panties and try to make…