SIDE NOTES
Side Notes has been a great way for me to continue to tell stories, just in a different medium now.
I have been working on what will be my first book, Unfinished Business: The Art of Reinvention. A collection of humorous essays on life, lessons from twenty years in business, and what reinvention in my forties has actually looked like in real time.
In these reads you will find moments of humor, nostalgia, and relatability.
Thank you for taking the time to read and follow along on this new adventure.
“Have fun on your trip? . . .”
I sat there clutching my knees together on the shower floor the other evening, as I felt the burn of thousands of hot water pellets cascading down on the top of my head, then quickly warming my goose pimpled skin. My internal thermostat had lowered so much I was trying to bring my core temp back to what would seem like an acceptable level, just to be able to exit the tub altogether.
After a while, I looked up from the wet, stark white porcelain tile, and there billowing through the wafting waves of steam, it had appeared that the shower curtain had started to grow legs. Longer dare I say, than any pair of gams I had ever seen in real life. It was right about then that I started to wonder just how long this psychedelic roller coaster was going to have me strapped in for. My second thought was, I paid money. To do this. To myself.
“You Smell Like a Slutty Grandma”
Being told “you smell slutty” might not sound like something my demure grandmother ever heard from grandpa, but those words were said to me one evening by my husband as I spritzed on Elizabeth Ardon Red Door, one of Shirley’s favorites. He whispered to me gently as he brushed behind,
“You smell like a,
As if choosing his words very, very carefully.
“A slutty grandma”. He said, pleasantly surprised. Before I could even have the chance to laugh, he followed it up with
“I like it”.
“Twenty Minutes.”
Someone asked me recently, “How long did you last at the bar for your first time without alcohol?” I blurted out in lightning speed: Twenty minutes. Gaaagh! Twenty minutes?! That’s not even an entire episode of Seinfeld. How did I spend five hours there in one sitting? How did I make it feel fun and effortless? How much money had I spent on playing Ocean Front Property on TouchTunes over the years? Okay, that one was worth it, one hundred percent. I knew I had memories and good times, but suddenly, standing in the bar for the first time with my plastic glass of Diet Coke, everything felt almost impossible without alcohol...
“Hear Me Out…Belt Bangles.”
I’ve come to accept that I have what I call a business reflex — not to be confused with acid reflux, although they do often go hand in hand. Give me any creative idea, and within five minutes I’ve already named it, priced it, and built a marketing plan. It’s automatic, annoying and sometimes exhausting.
“JOHNSONVILLE BRATS, JOHNSONVILLE BRATS!”
I recently found myself standing over a bubbling tray of Cheddar-wurst Johnsonville brats, cheddar oozing out like molten lava, edges crisped just shy of burnt, and I couldn’t help but time travel straight back to the old-school Johnsonville commercial from the '80s.
You know it. Charlie Murphy, manning his grill by the lake. Probably just trying to enjoy his one peaceful afternoon off from analyzing taxes at his crummy 9 to 5. He’s got the brats going, they’re sizzling, life is good.
But because Uncle Charlie clearly didn’t want to share his stash with his bratty niece and was trying to save them for his friends, she outed him. Loudly. To the entire neighborhood.
She belts it across the lake:
“Charlie Murphy’s cooking Johnsonville Brats… Johnsonville Brats!”
The Lost Art of Slamming a Phone
Why does slamming a phone feel more satisfying than a gym session? Because sometimes you need a micro tantrum. A meow. A hard plastic thud. Welcome to the adult version of screaming into a pillow, minus the cardio. It’s raw, funny, and the perfect reminder to log off before you emotionally adopt someone else’s bad mood. You might just relate.
Blink. Blink. Blink. You Good?
Blink. Blink. Blink. You good? Because I’m one turn signal away from a full-blown emotional episode. From hallway shoulder checks to broken toes via home trim sabotage—this one’s for anyone who’s ever screamed “REALLY?!” at a cabinet and called it coping. You’re not unhinged. You’re just at capacity.
Why Do I Cover Up Food in the Garbage Like I’m Hiding a Crime?
Why do I flip uneaten food upside down in the garbage like I’m covering a crime scene? Childhood trauma? Oscar the Grouch? Maybe.
Welcome to the weird guilt of the Clean Plate Club era, where leftovers come with shame, and the trash can is judging you like some green monster with a lid hat. We’re diving into food guilt, parental programming, business burnout, and the ridiculous things we still carry as adults—from napkin-smuggling bites to rebellion in the form of garbage rituals. Trust me, it’s funny. It’s honest. And it might just make you feel normal for once.
Hi, I’m Business Bleu Cheese
You know what goes great with cold, lumpy mashed potatoes and overcooked peas you’ve been avoiding for an hour?A big ol’ glass of milk.At least, that’s what my grandpa thought when he tried to induct me into the Clean Plate Club. It did not end well. I decorated the family dinner table in a way no one appreciated, and to this day, I still can’t do cooked peas.
Why Is Picking Up a Bobby Pin Harder Than Running a Business?
Why is picking up bobby pins off the floor harder than running a business? Science says friction and surface area. I say there’s a small village of bobby pins living in my hair with a personal vendetta, and I am their pawn. But avoiding small, frustrating tasks, like picking up bobby pins, only makes them multiply. Business, life, or hair accessories… tackle them now, or risk a full Gremlin situation. And I think we all remember how that turned out.
Reinvention: Bangs, Business & Perms, OH MY!
Reinvention isn’t always glamorous—sometimes it’s a self-cut mullet in fifth grade, sometimes it’s a business pivot that saves you years of struggle. Either way, we’re diving into the wild, weird, and why didn’t anyone warn me? lessons of business and life.
So, if you’re ready for some hard-earned insight, a few laughs at my expense, let’s talk reinvention—bad hair decisions optional.
Soup, Salad & Business Strategy: Why I Can't Portion Food (or Workload) Correctly
It’s the weekend, which means it’s time for random thoughts. Today’s deep reflection? Why do I make enough soup to feed an entire rescue team and enough salad to deeply regret my life choices? If you've ever made an entire vat of soup when you meant to make two servings—or stored a sad, soggy bag of lettuce in the fridge knowing full well you’ll never eat it—this one’s for you.
And because I can’t help myself, yes—this somehow still ties back to business.