I Had My First Hot Flash in 2019

The aging process is inevitable. A reflection of our inability to control time. Although we can have an influence on how we experience time as well as the aging process we can't stop it, move it forward or reverse. All this to say I'm perimenopausal, which is not awesome most of the time. 

Moving into middle age is not for everyone, but we all have to do it. For women this process can be harrowing. As we produce less estrogen and progesterone because we are moving out of our reproductive years, our bodies awkwardly adjust. For some it's a breeze, a walk in the park, nothing particularly memorable. For others, namely me, it's a bumpy ride toward menopause. 

I had my first hot flash in 2019. It was unmistakable. Like the Space Shuttle Challenger explosion I remember exactly where I was when it happened. I was at work, one the many jobs I have had since my arrival in Savannah, when I felt an unusual heat rising in my pelvis. Not just my pelvis, but in my vaginal canal. You know that saying: Stick it where the sun don't shine? Well it felt like the sun was shinning inside me with a heat and intensity that caused the rest of my body to at first warm and then, God help me, burst into flames of sweat. It was fast-moving, powerful, and propulsive. I thought the heat was going somewhere, taking me somewhere I didn't know, but might be fun? The heat continued to build expanding from my pelvis upward into my abdomen, my chest cavity, my neck and finally my head. Within seconds I was covered in sweat. My bra and panties wet with perspiration. And then, just like that, it was gone. 

What just happened? Have you seen the animated series on Netflix: Hilda? Hunter and I love to watch this show. There's an episode where Hilda uses a witchcraft spell to help her mother and best friend achieve their heart's desire. Her plan goes awry when even though her mom gets her dream job, and David gets a solo in the school choir, the payment is their SOULS. As Hilda, David and her mom careen through the streets of Trollberg to the site where they can undo the spell, both David and Hilda's mom fall into myoclonic convulsions from which they emerge amnesic of the previous 90-second fit.

 

This is what a hot flash is like. For a short burst of time I felt hot enough to lose consciousness and then suddenly my bodily functions returned to homeostasis as quickly as the heat began. As I sat in office in my wet underwear (ideal conditions for yeast propagation), I considered what just happened. As I tried to describe it to a friend I diagnosed the condition with my description. I said the strangest thing just happened to me. I had a flash of heat come over me quickly and then leave. I gasped, cupped my palm to my mouth with a popping sound, and whispered: I just had a hot flash. It was a revelation of epic proportions.  

The symptoms in the months and years that followed were recurrent, with mysterious triggers. New indicators of my perimenopausal existence appeared. Mood swings that swung from despair to white hot anger were illogical, unprompted and profuse. Lethargy, inability to focus and pelvic pain joined this unholy diagnosis. 

My gyn reminded me at every annual that if symptoms became too uncomfortable, I had options. By May of this year I was ready to explore my options. Until next time on The Cat. 

When One Thing Ends Another Begins

Last time on The Cat I chose motherhood over career which was intimidating and the opposite of what I typically do. I am a Capricorn that means I am driven, goal oriented and safety seeking. Taking the leap out of full-time work scared me, but watching my son's face when I took him to school and picked him up everyday told me everything I needed to know. I made the right the decision, and it was going to be ok. 

I spent the weeks after TEDx adjusting to my friend's and family's recognition that I am a 9/11 survivor. That I struggle with that description was a surprise to many. There was a period of adjustment for us. In the meantime, I looked for work. Not with very much intention. I set parameters around the kind of work that could meet my needs instead of the other way around. After a few short weeks a software company came calling. I approached the process with a light touch. Unsure if full-time remote was what I wanted, they made me an offer that was too hard to refuse. 

Before I knew it I was working fulltime remotely with colleagues in three different time zones, using equipment and platforms that were both new and intimidating. The first few days were exhilarating. The weeks that followed were tough. A new industry and a culture that was foreign to me in ways that left me bewildered. As the summer came to a close and Ryan prepared to leave for foreign adventures, I realized it was not a good fit. Although it was a WFM position, it was not as flexible as I hoped. 

Hunter was stuck at a nearby summer camp where he watched more Disney movies than I have ever seen. It was the only camp that could accommodate my hours, but I wanted much more for Hunter's summers. I left the WFH gig and sought greener pastures. I spent the next few weeks supplementing summer camp with park days, play dates, and boardgames. Hunter and I spent time together doing things we both enjoyed. I also took sometime to figure out what was next for me professionally. I asked myself some questions such as how much cash do I have on hand, and how much do need? Not how much do I want, but how much do I need? Next I asked what I wanted. Flexibility was at the top of the list, and fun was next. I began to pray for a job that I would do for free, but of course would pay. It wasn't long before the position at The Savannah Book Festival sparked my interest.

When I arrived in Savannah in 2017 at the behest of one of my best friends, I networked. I volunteered, attended, and accepted every invitation that was extended to me. TEDx and the Savannah Book Festival being my favorites. I saw an announcement that they were looking for an Assistant Director. The job description was a good fit. It was advertised as part time, which meant I would have the flexibility I needed.

The outgoing Executive Director remembered my competence and outgoing personality. With a good word from her and my participation in online and in-person events the job was mine. I started my new position a few days later. The new job meant I would spend my days recruiting award-winning and debut authors to one of the most prestigious book festivals in the country. I spent the next few months reading more books than I ever had in my entire life in preparation for the festival. It also meant I would be reunited with one of my favorite authors, Douglas Preston. 

I Have My Reasons for the Delay... and They Are Good Ones

Last time on The Cat, I gave a TEDx talk. An experience that took almost a year to recover from. I have very good reasons for the delay. First, I got COVID. I laid on the couch at home in recovery from my Talk and all the powerful emotions that came with it.  I also felt like someone kicked me in the throat. One minute I was fine. Just feeling a bit tired. The next, I couldn't swallow.

Over the next 48 hours, my symptoms increased in severity. Aches and pains, followed by a fever and sore throat. Hunter had the flu a week before. I was certain it was the flu so I took Dayquil and worked from home with my camera off and declined to opportunities to speak.

By Wednesday of the next week, I went to Urgent Care asking for a Z-Pak to speed up the process of the flu. It was the end of June in Georgia and temps were well above 90, and yet I sat in my car with the heat on shivering. 

Surprise, I tested negative for the flu. Bewildered, I began to gather my things to head home and continue my DayQuil treatments. The PA suggested a COVID test, which I thought was absurd. I went along with him and after almost 20 minutes I tested POSITIVE. I couldn't believe it. Even after I spent a day in an auditorium filled with 200 people, I wasn still in disbelief. I shook hands with strangers, hugged my coaches repeatedly, and snacked on continental-styled hor d'oeuvres. I still had a tough time accepting the diagnosis. 

I had two doses of Moderna and a booster. You can read all about the fun I had here. How could I possibly have COVID? As many of us have learned, it doesn't matter how or why the vaccine performs the way it does because the vaccine is not a prophylactic. At best, it will decrease the severity of symptoms, but it cannot prevent them. 

I spent the next few days sleeping as much as I could and dreading the time I needed to spend in front of my computer. It took a few weeks to feel normal again. And by then I hated my new job. I left the job I had for three years to spend more time with Hunter. Only to realize working from home solved some of the conflicts of Ryan's travel schedule presents, but not all. Facing down the barrel of motherhood is a defining moment in every mother's life: your child or your career. 

The wise women among us say we can have it all, just not all at once. I have so much and I have deep gratitude for it all, but I knew I had to start thinking about work differently. Hunter is at the age where he needs more and with Ryan gone most of the time and family in NYC and Chicago. I'm all he's got. I needed work with much more flexibility. And that my dear friends is exactly what I got. Until next time on The Cat.

Xena Taught Me Italian

As unlikely an Italian teacher Xena: Warrior Princess was, she was certainly the best. I am referring to the eponymous television series of the late 1990s. I was living my second Italian adventure from 1996 to 1999. I set lofty goals to speak Italian with better fluency, but I was not progressing fast enough. I desperately wanted to be fluent and make friends with my wildly fashionable neighbors. There were a few American television shows that were consistently dubbed into Italian: Baywatch, Friends and The Robinsons aka The Cosby Show. Italians could not say Huxtable so the whole thing became The Robinsons, but that topic should be dealt with in a separate post.

And so it happened that after Friends and before Baywatch, Xena: Warrior Princess aired. It was as banal a start as any of my other potent obsessions. A stoic, dark haired lady with bangs, clad in leather and weaponry. She was mostly in a bad mood in the early seasons. Nothing much to see. Keep it moving. The action was sometimes fun, but the critical piece was the dialogue. The language was simple and I could understand some of what was going on from the tone of voice and the action sequences. But, the devil was, as they say, in the details. I could not grasp details of the story arcs. This was during the early days of the internet and a quick search led me to Whoosh! Here I could find an episode synopsis. Once I caught up to the current season I was able to read what happened. By the end of the season I spoke Italian..well almost. Enough to have vivid conversations about fashion, food and culture with my wildly fashionably neighbors. After I finished with my graduate program I moved back to the States and watched the show in real time.

I tried in vain to find real life fans of the show, but no one I met watched with the same sense of wonder. The obsession was part nostalgia for those amazing years in Italy. The other part was the way the show portrayed an independent woman living by her own set of values and those values changed as she gained more life experience. There were tragedies for sure, but also a romance for the ages. I chose to keep my love for the show to myself and moved on to other pursuits. I never went to the conventions or cosplay events. I had a different relationship to the show, and it had nothing to do with the costumes. It was about the journey of self discovery, the adventure and motherhood. The show thinly disguised complex subjects of violence, love and forgiveness. It had one the best character development arcs ever.

The years passed and Xena faded into the background of my life. Then late last year one of my favorite episodes was on television. A strange sensation washed over me. It felt like running into an old friend that was once a source of great comfort. I began to poke around the internet to see how the years had treated my favorite characters. The years had been kind. I found the Xena Warrior Podcast (XWP). Three film students dissected each episode and gave lots of background information about the show's directors, writers and producers. It was as if someone flipped a switch on inside of a dark closed off room in my heart. Suddenly power, energy, and what felt like my my whole life force, was flowing into a long forgotten part of me. Then in the middle of season five they started talking about something called RETREAT. A weekend billed as an event where you can talk about Xena all weekend long and no one looks at you funny. I listened smiling with interest that slowly transitioned to hope and finally desire. A few key strokes told me everything I needed to know: It was a few months away in California just outside of Los Angeles.

The XWP hosts spoke about RETREAT as if it was paradise. I still thought of it as an extravagant indulgence. I could not travel across the country for a four day trip about Xena. A show that went off the air almost 20 years ago. The idea was ridiculous and crazy. I had just started my first full time job since my arrival in Savannah. It took me two years to find this job. The thing is the more I thought about it, the more I realized I could not, not travel across the country to talk about Xena all weekend with other fans who felt a deep connection to the show.

Retreat was almost three weeks ago and it was PHENOMENAL. I made it a priority and took the time from work to go. What about Hunter? I recently learned an important lesson regarding motherhood. I am a better mom when I am a happy woman. It is important for Hunter to see his mom passionate and excited about her life. As soon as I signed up to go an entire world of other fans going to RETREAT became available to me. I was dropped head first into the Xenaverse and it was marvelous.

Once on the ground at RETREAT things quickly escalated to an effervescent sparkle. All around me there were causal conversations. What surprised me most was the topics discussed were not hyper focused on the show, but around RETREAT itself. I had the greatest sense of belonging I have ever known. I found the others like me. 

In 1997 when Xena first cast her spell on me I quickly understood a particular writer had the strongest point of view when it came to her character. Steven L. Sears is best described as one of the architects of the Xenaverse. The driving force behind Xena. He wrote many of my favorite episodes. The ones that explored esoteric concepts, explored alternative histories, and stretched my imagination. He brought to life a flawed woman who easily demonstrated rage, sorrow and joy. Sometimes viewers were treated to all of those emotions in one episode. I wondered for years who is Steven L. Sears, and how did he form this character. I had the conversation in my mind often. To be perfectly honest, dearest reader other than Hunter, meeting and discussing Xena with Steven L. Sears has been my heart's deepest desire.

In the months leading up to this extraordinary adventure I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Looking any farther ahead made my head spin with confusion, anticipation and something dangerously close to the spiritual ecstasy St. Teresa experienced. This pivotal moment is depicted in one of my favorite baroque sculptures in Rome. A quote from her autobiography says it all: "The pain was so great, that it made me moan; and yet so surprising was the sweetness of this excessive pain, that I could not wish to be rid of it."

I overheard that Steven L. Sears was at RETREAT as he had been almost from the first RETREAT six years ago. This was one of the reasons I could not think about RETREAT before I went. It was the thought of meeting Steven that stirred the most profound emotions.

Notes for Steven

After dinner I headed to the outdoor stage where Hey, King played theme music from the show replete with drums, strings and singers belting out the mysterious Baltic chorus. I thought I had died and gone to the Elysian Fields. In a tribute to the Amazon tribes often among the storylines of the show, there was a dance party around a bonfire. Would be dancers and patient observers such as myself methodically filled in the area around the fire. The night air was layered with a cool dampness. No rain just the influence of the humidity and high altitude. Soon a DJ pumped tunes deep into the night air and revelers danced without care for rhythm or circumstance.

Steven L. Sears wears a trademark Indiana Jones styled hat. He is easy to spot in a sea of women. To be clear there were several men in attendance but, us women easily outnumbered them. I did my very best not to appear creepy in any way but, I kept my eyes on Steven praying to all that is holy for an opening to start a conversation. A few minutes passed. I moved into the same row with him. One of the event organizers sat close to him. Their knees almost touching as they exchanged photography tips. Talking into their cameras about the myths around flash photography. Steven's attention was drawn away for a second. I slid hurriedly next to the organizer and blinked quickly at her. Trying to contain my excitement and focus my thoughts: "That's Steven L. Sears right? Listen, I am his biggest fan. It would me the world to me to have a conversation with him. Do you think he would be open to that?" She looked at me intently. Immediately understanding the import of the moment. "YES, he would. He loves talking to us about the show. He will surprise and thrill you. He will answer all the questions you have and go deep with his answers. Talk to him," she gave my hand an earnest, tight, squeeze and a gentle nod. The us she is referring to are the other Xenites. The official name of the event is the Xenite Retreat.

I shot up as if someone pricked me with a sharp object. I ran, at top speed, back to my room. I wrote out my top five questions for Steven. The top five questions I kept close to my heart. The ones I nurtured, pet and refined for 21 years. I whispered them as I wrote them down. The words spilled on to the paper effortlessly. My pen was the guide, but the words poured from my soul. The action was perfunctory. Just a tool to help me prepare for the discussion of a lifetime. This would help me keep my composure and organize my thoughts.

 I 

walked back to the bonfire with carefully measured steps enjoying every moment. Back in the seats around the bonfire the organizer created fertile ground for me. When I found my way to the seat near Steven she gestured to me as she whispered to him. I read her lips, "That's her, your biggest fan." And just like that I moved closer and began one of the most intensely satisfying conversations of my life. Every question prompted new questions. We spoke for hours tumbling from one topic to the next. My eyes fixated on his face as we discussed the origins of Xena. The how and why he infused her with so much power and vulnerability. Why he cares about women's point of view with the sensitivity he does. We discussed my favorite episodes. Why he left the show. What he did while he was gone. How the Hollywood machine works. It was fascinating. Think of the most precious moment of your life. Now conjure the most delicious food you have ever tasted. This is what that night was like. The most incredible part of all of this is that it got even better the very next day. Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

I Am Getting Good at This

Practice makes perfect

The year is almost over and now is a good time to take stock in what I have accomplished thus far. I did not make the 1k followers on the Gram. I also did not become the Gwen Stefani of fashion, beauty and wellness, yet. I did something better.

I made peace with the here and now. I have mostly released the fear about tomorrow and the next 25 years. There are a few minutes a couple of times a week that I think about my retirement: How will I maintain the lavish lifestyle I have grown accustomed to? (Oh wait, I do not live a lavish lifestyle.) This new way of living in the fullness of the moment has energized me. I am doing much more with the new energy and confidence, but I am also taking it easy.

A few weeks ago my recruiter of almost a year decided to go back to school to complete her finance degree. I am thrilled for her, but it does mean that she will no longer be my contact at the agency. Let's call her Alberta for the moment. Alberta and I were working together to find my "forever job", while I build my forever business. When she initially shared the news I asked if I could call her back. I took a few hours to process my emotions. We had a great professional  relationship, and budding friendship was on the horizon. She helped my find several assignments that were fun, and flexible. The two of us could talk for hours about life, and the nature of work. I worked hard to cultivate that relationship, and now it was gone.

In the hours before I returned her call I asked myself what lesson was in this challenge for me: Get up and keep pushing. I called her back to get the details and started scheduling meetings with her replacement. During my evening meditations I have focused on my awareness of the present moment, my intuition and what my body is communicating to me. I have sought to be bolder with my thoughts and actions. Through this meditation I have made space for the most exciting and fulfilling experiences and relationships I have had in the last six years.

Bringing Hunter into this world has been the most incredible gift of my entire life. Motherhood, although deeply rewarding, can be terribly taxing. I wanted very much to be a perfect mother to fulfill his every want and desire. My inevitable failings discouraged me. I quickly trapped myself in a place where my needs were at the bottom of the totem pole.

I made small changes at first because that is how the big changes happen. I did a little everyday. My intentional daily actions made a difference, and the results have been brought me tremendous joy. I have made new friends and deepened existing relationships. Life has been particularly sweet lately. I made a few strategic decisions to shift my thinking at the start of the year. I am in love with where those changes have brought me. Of course there have been challenges, but I have learned to weather them better. I knew 2018 would be awesome, but it is turning into spectacular.

Once upon a time I practiced a lot of over thinking. More recently I decide what to do based on the following three questions:
Does it feel good in my body when I think about this choice?
Is it authentic?
Does it support my journey?

When I can get yes to those three questions I know it is the right decision.

A few weeks ago I saw Hunter's karate school was offering adult Krav Maga knife combat instructor classes. I was interested but, there were a few factors I had to consider. I decided to treat the uncertainty about the class and how to make it work with Hunter's schedule as noise. I asked myself the aforementioned questions. With my answers sorted I signed up. The class was intense. Electrified knives were involved. I tussled with my partner for a few hours. Taking turns wrestling each other to the mat and dodging that electrified knife. To complete the course I had to teach a specific technique to the class. I left there well fed in body, mind and spirit.

This Thing with Anthony Is on Again

Hunter drew ears on Anthony's head

The years between 2000 and 2004 were fueled by a mostly healthy obsession with the lead singer of the Red Hot Chili Peppers (RHCP), Anthony Kiedis. The period culminated with meeting him at his book signing at the Barnes & Nobles at Astor Place in New York. Afterwards I placed the book in a place of honor and felt sated. And just like that it was over. No more cyber stalking. No more memorizing all the lyrics and parsing their hidden meanings. I had a great story to tell about me and the artist who inspired me to live my life with more vitality, less fear and a heap more intention. I set my mind on meeting him and made it happen. I had renewed faith I could accomplish anything I set my mind to and that was worth the price of every concert and plane ticket I paid to get close to him. It changed me in ways that here I am fourteen years still thinking about him.

At this moment in my life I do not have four years to spend on a celebrity obsession crush. The only way to stay off another Anthony binge was to expel it all in a speech at Toastmasters. I have been stuck with my Toastmaster progress. I have three projects left and have been stalled all summer. Then two weeks ago someone mentioned meeting a celebrity and all the frenetic Anthony drama came rushing back to me in a waterfall of emotion. I found the book he signed easily. It was in storage while I was in Italy, but came to me easily when I searched for it.

My eighth speech: When Your Celebrity Crush Is More Than a Crush

Revisiting that time in my life was exhilarating. It was more than a crush because my interest in Anthony exposed me to so much more than just his music. I became interested in what inspired him. That included the poetry he read: Charles Bukowski. The movies he enjoyed: Amorros Perros.  He took me on adventures that I would have otherwise missed. I traveled to Ireland to see him in concert, and had the time of my life. 

I listened to some of the songs from that time to get me in the mood in the days leading up to my speech. Before I began my speech, I dimmed the lights and let the opening sequence of my favorite video play for the audience. Had to make sure everyone knew who I was talking about. Most did, some did not. Most of the members of my club are aeronautical engineers from India. Had to be sure they knew the RHCP.

This was my chance to share such an intimate part of myself with people who did not know about us (Anthony and  me). I was a ball of nerves, but it felt delightful to share this with my colleagues. I introduced them to an amazing artist and a special person.

It just so happened the Toastmaster Area Director was visiting our meeting. She announced that I my speech was wonderfully done, and encouraged me to me to wait for it..enter the humorist speech contest next year. 

Anthony is still challenging me to move beyond my comfort zone and live life with more exuberance and vibrancy. Thank you Anthony, who knew we would last his long. 

Anthony Kiedis' Signature

Like a Virgin; Shiny and New

This was one of those summers that as a teenager I would notate as being a turning point. An awakening, the beginning of the beginning. The Summer of 2018 will go down as one of those. I did the things I did not think I could. I crossed a meaningful threshold. Most importantly I stepped back into the joy of my life.

Three years ago a battery exploded in our apartment setting the course for series of challenges I was not sure I would survive. I lost most of my worldly possessions and Italian law enforcement wanted to throw us in jail for arson. Even though we were cleared of all wrongdoing in the case, it was a devastating blow to my sense of safety in small rooms and in the world at large. I was filled with fear all the time even though I jumped out of burning building and saved my life. I worked slowly to put the pieces back together. In an effort at total transparency I will tell you that after I jumped out of that window and clawed my way to safety I heard God's voice. He told me to look around and see that he had not forsaken me. It was a euphoric experience. I clung to it, hoping I would hear him speaking to me clearly again. He has not; at least not in that dramatic sort of way I hoped for after.

In the weeks and months that passed I tried to put the whole thing behind me, but the feeling that I was not safe anywhere lingered. Coming back to the U.S. was supposed to help, but there were even more unknowns here to keep me trapped in my fear. I was jumpy, skittish and a general mess. Last year an overcooked hotdog brought the fire department to our home. Hunter and I were so lathered up that the firemen insisted on coming into the house to make sure we were as fine as I said we were.

Then I started blogging regularly. Started a Meetup group to find my people. (It is thriving by the way.) Met the founders of my favorite podcast, and told them how they inspired me. They thanked me on social media. I met a Meetup platform director she loves the community I am creating. I was elected vice president of my Toastmasters club. I registered with a temp agency. My recruiter and I developed a candid relationship. She told me frankly that I am overqualified for most of the jobs in Savannah, but she can keep me busy if I am ok with assignments that are not as challenging or well paid as my previous roles. I agreed and once I let go of money and status I began to truly HEAL.

I accepted a two month temporary position at the most well known retail corporation in the world. It was basic office work, but the hours aligned with Hunter's school and karate schedule. It was also close to home and low stress. Most days I came home with enough energy to work on my special projects and spend quality time with Hunter. My days were filled with new people living in circumstances so vastly different from my own that I told them very little about myself. My days were filled with dramas tiny and large, and all the hot gourmet drinks I could drink, which wreaked havoc on my skin. I gave up trying to find a permanent position at this place. Although it is a multi-national corporation this particular location does not have a position for someone with my particular skill set. Let's leave it there.

Once I sorted through that dilemma I strapped in for the journey. I learned a lot about Savannah and the America of 2018. Juggling a full time job, a four year old, a husband in Afghanistan, and the rest of my life built my confidence back up a little bit at a time everyday. There were small indignities to be sure. Someone asked me to cut out little carboard ID cards, but I did it gracefully because I was out in the world in this place where no one knew about my past. I was just a lady in an office who wore nice clothes. I adored the anonymity. And it allowed me to shed that ash that clung so tightly to me.

I feel a bit like a virgin: shiny and new.  

The Revolution Is Being Televised

A few months ago I was Hunter's escort at a play date. His friends have a trampoline in their backyard, which is standard in these parts. No playdate is complete unless I am part of the fun. I climbed onto the trampoline enthusiastically. He squealed with glee at the sight of my bouncing. After a few minutes I noticed my panties were wet. Each jump forced out a bit of urine? Yes, that is a question. I was not quite sure it was pee because well I did not feel the urge to go. I reluctantly left the fun, peed and returned. To my utter shock more liquid came out each time I landed. I had no desire to pee. I cut the playdate short to go home to change my pants. At home my pants were wetter than I have ever experienced.

I discussed the events with a few of my female friends and they all agreed that they have similar experiences, but advised I should mention to my gynecologist. Today was that doctor visit. My doctor nodded knowingly as I whispered discreetly that I had trouble holding onto to my urine while on the neighbor's trampoline. She looked me straight in the eye. All her attention focused on me. She was taking this trampoline business seriously. I was not exactly prepared for this level of intensity. Boy did she have news for me:
I have a weak pelvic floor
Been peeing wrong
Kegels should not be quick bursts of squeezing
Physical therapy is an option (digital penetration is part of the deal)
Amazon sells the Apex for $249
And lastly, surgery is also an option

My head spun. That is a long list of options for something as frivolous as trampoline jumping. But it was more the idea that a part of my body is weak that worried me. My allergies leave me wilted most days. I just do not have the energy to be as active as I am wont to do. This has been a source of concern. I love pushing myself physically either through weight training or whatever of the moment martial arts catch my interest. My allergies have slowed me down a bit and I no longer feel strong in my body. THIS. MUST. CHANGE. The change might just need to begin in my vagina.

In addition to the aforementioned Apex and other comments on the list, I remembered the actress Regina Hall speaking about her Yoni egg. I laughed at her shenanigans. I boil eggs, peel eggs and eat eggs. What I do not do with eggs is hold them in my vagina for safekeeping. This will require a great deal more research, but I have to tell you I am intrigued at the promises of not just a stronger pelvic floor, but a super charged love life. Who among us ain't down for some supercharged lovemaking?

Jupiter stools are suddenly in my orbit

Parenthood is a wild, wild ride. Super Bowl Sunday is our one year arrival in Savannah, GA. We arrived at our hotel in the afternoon checked-in, got the animals situated and ventured out for food. Everyone was watching the Super Bowl at Buffalo Wild Wings and for some reason we thought that would be fun. The Atlanta Falcons were playing that year and Buffalo Wild Wings was ground zero in Savannah. When we arrived the atmosphere was jubilant and chaotic, but once the Patriots took the lead the place quickly emptied out.

My how things have changed. This year we spent the evening with our neighbors, had dinner and went on with our usual Sunday routine. It was a busy week. I made my first steps into the sport of competitive childcare.

Hunter is at a good day care program at the local YMCA. It is a lottery funded pre-k, which means it is very competitive. How competitive you ask? So competitive that I was number five in line at 4:30am on Thursday morning to register. I expected there would be a line,  but I thought it would form around 5:30 with the doors opening at 6:00. I packed a little breakfast and had my favorite podcast downloaded ready to spend 90 minutes or so in my toasty, warm car with the heated seats at a comfy medium. No such luck dear reader. Instead I found myself fifth in line under an awning, in 34 degree temps with the most caffeinated, friendly and inquisitive parents this side of the Holland Tunnel.

I suffered through a barrage of questions regarding which kid was mine; inane banter about the Super Bowl; and of course praise for showing up for our kids. I was dazed and confused. I mostly grunted and nodded to most of the questions. I had my hood pulled all the way up and probably gave off the vibe that I was not as caffeinated or eager to commiserate.

Once I completed registration I headed back to the house for some hot tea and waited for Hunter to wake up to get him ready to head back to our regularly scheduled programming. The rest of the week was uneventful except for a visit to a very fancy private prep-school nearby. I took a friend who works there up on her offer to visit the campus. It was an eye-opening experience. I attended private, religious schools growing up in Brooklyn, but this was a next level experience for which I was scarcely prepared.

The classrooms were not the traditional desk, chair and linoleum floors of my youth. There were bean bags, electric screen whiteboards, 3D printers, Jupiter stools with laminate inlays that serve as collaborative spaces for students. All the rooms were warm and inviting with quite nooks tucked in corner spaces for quiet time. I walked around starry eyed wondering if this kind of place was right for Hunter. It goes without saying this kind of education is not cheap. This is a vision I had not considered before the visit. My outlook was limited to options in my immediate radius. Ladies and gentleman I have a lot to think about.

Jupiter stool with white laminate inlay

The male gaze is a thing

The male gaze

As young women we learn all about the male gaze early in adolescence. Many of us oscillate between craving it and avoiding it. If you are one of the lucky ones you never come to hate or fear it due to a traumatic experience. Over the years I moved through many feelings about the male gaze, but I am happy to announce I am mostly indifferent to it especially as it applies to my fashion sense, and this is a thing now. In Italy I observed a movement among a younger generation of women who appear to be unconcerned with what their male peers find attractive. They dressed to appease their internal aesthetic or perhaps as an aversion to their mother's or father's idea of beautiful. This segment is averse to the traditional standards of beauty: push-up bras, neatly coifed hairstyles, structured dresses. Instead they opt for bag/saggy jeans with low crotches, sport bras and a generally more androgynous look. I thought this was a teenage fad but I found there were quite a few women in their thirties and beyond rocking this look.

Italian streetwear

Enter the Man Repeller blog. The creator Leandrea Medine is a style icon known for her eccentric, eclectic and (need another 'e' word here) evolved sense of style. She does not dress to attract the male gaze in the traditional sense. Instead she seeks to express herself through fashion. Her style is part Carrie from Sex and the City and part something entirely of her own making. I saw her at the airport last year in Amsterdam. I was travelling with Hunter and he is the only reason I did not go fan girl hysterical. She was wearing one of her more subdued ensembles and she was with her husband casually making their way to the next gate. I stayed close, but not too close rehearsing what I would say and how I would say it. The words never came and she boarded early as a first class passenger. I did miss my chance to speak to her about what inspires her fashion choices, but thought it was best to admire her from afar.

Leandrea style collage

At a glance her style looks haphazard, odd perhaps even unappealing. And that is where this concept transitions from weird to fascinating. These looks are all carefully curated. The first is a bit edgy due to the cropped sweater, but the second is quite odd. Notice the cuffed jeans and the stark white boots. The third is gorgeous. I have a pair of similar shoes. This is fascinating because except for the first look those are not the kind of outfits one would wear to girls night out where the objective was to attract male attention. She is not dressed to attract the male gaze, but for her own personal expression. There is a movement to dress in an original, anti-supermodel way and I love it. Some would argue this is an evolution of queer-girl style. Lesbians who have little to no regard for the male gaze have dressed this ways for years and years and years. But this trend is moving into the mainstream. It is standing out from all the other trends that come and go. Of course I have a few androgynous pieces in my wardrobe but, I have leaned away from the more creative utilitarian pieces that would make me a card carrying member of this revolution.

Me wearing a pair of low-crotch pants 

As women the male gaze is constantly upon us. As women in the western world we have immense freedom of choice to decide how we react to it. Some of us choose to embrace it, others choose to avoid it, while some choose to let it not explicitly inform their sense of style. To some the baggy pants are just ugly, but the Italian women wore them with so much confidence I eventually grew curious. I see their low crotch pants and checkmate the move with hot pink heels. Let's call it the selfie gaze. An expression of how I want to see myself.

The end is near and it's just the beginning

Every year around this time I look back at the goals I set for myself at the beginning of the year and take stock of what I accomplished. My list of books to read is typically lengthy and I almost always get through it. This year with the aforementioned challenges my book game fell way off. Luckily I found a way to make some headway on my list quickly. I am borrowing audiobooks from the library. Not sure why I did not think of this before, but it is a great way to get through lots of books when you do not have a free hand to hold a book. I am using Libby, the app the friendly, stylish, tech-savvy librarian recommended two weeks ago. I love her it. In the two weeks since I downloaded the app I have listened to three books on my phone, and working on the fourth.

The first book was one I had at the bottom of my list, but on my list nonetheless. I wanted to know what Hilary ever did to make people hate her. If you are wondering the same Crisis of Character is the book for you. Man listen, this guy is salty about the both Hilary and Bill Clinton and Monica. It is one of those ripped from the headlines tell all books from a White House insider. 

I dispatched with the Clintons fairly quickly and moved on to Toni Morrison's God Help the Child. Lawdamercy her books can be an intense intellectual exercise.

She did not disappoint. It is her first novel set in modern times, and as a special treat she is the narrator. Typical Toni themes: race, love and mother-daughter relationships are included of course, but also a female entrepreneur and a passionate love affair. The remarkable aspect of the book is that at 86 years old Toni is fluent in social media and current affairs. Not her best work, but there is a twist at the end.

The Underground Railroad is a book I put off for months because who wants to follow up Toni Morrison with a book about slavery, but just like real books someone borrowed the Aziz Ansari book, and Colson Whitehead's Pulitzer Prize winner was ready for download. In it he reimagines the underground railway as a subway with an actual train. I sort of regret putting off reading it for so long. It is dark subject matter for sure, but Colson is delicate with the characters and their circumstances.

Next up was a book on parenting because I am in need of advice. We pledged to forgo corporal punishment when we first met. Ryan did not grow up in a spanking house. I certainly did and hated it, but it did not deter me from breaking the rules. Instead it made me resourceful; finding ways to get around getting caught. For now time-outs work on Hunter, but I don't know how long that will hold. The book was electronic, not audio. That is a no-go for me right now. I returned it with one click and stumbled onto The Language of Flowers. My Toastmaster mentor Terri recommended this to me months ago.

I started it tonight while Ryan was outside grilling an ax handle steak on the grill. Did I mention it was 75 degrees today? That is how this place got the nickname "God's Country", wait no this is the Peach State!

Me trying to look suburban

The year is quickly coming to a close, and every year I say I am going to do more with the blog. Yet here I am with the new year coming at warp speed with no new exciting things happening on the blog. Of the many goals I had this year posting more frequently was definitely on my list. As we slide into 2018 I am going to try meet my goal and post new content everyday. This should be easy because I still have not found a job. February will be one year since we moved back to the United States of America where a TV star is the President.

To be perfectly honest being back is not what I expected. I expected to continue being a harried working mom, but without a nanny or husband because Ryan would be gone for three months shortly after we got here and I could not bring Marina with us. I thought I would miss Italy more than anything in the world. I was certain I would face discrimination based on my race, my bi-racial kid and my white husband. Maybe throw in gender and my northern accent for good measure. The Georgia state flag does incorporate the confederate flag...This gave me a general sense of foreboding. Most of all I thought I would be working at the Army base with a 45 minute commute wondering how I ended up working in a stifled office as a mid-level government employee in the deep south.

It is with great joy and exquisite pleasure that I tell you none of those events came to pass. The government job has not materialized. My transfer remains tangled in red tape that I fear will never be sorted. We live in a beautiful, safe and diverse community in one of the fastest growing cities in the country. Convenience and yes southern charm is everywhere. My little family is happier than we have ever been.

At Sam's. Buying in bulk is so American

A job would be nice, but I know the perfect opportunity will come when the time is right. For the time being I am focused on spending these precious days with Hunter and Ryan. He heads back to the middle east in a few months. Let us hope and pray things go smoother than last time he was gone. More on that hopefully tomorrow.

She Wasn't There!

We moved to Pooler in April with very little fanfare. In fact there was not any fanfare. We patiently waited for our new neighbors to come through with cookies and homemade pies, but they never came. Turns out the whole thing is part of suburban mythology, and that's ok because everything else about this neighborhood is the American dream. It was never the version of happiness I had for myself. I planned to live in a sprawling four bedroom apartment with a wraparound balcony in a desirable part of town in walking distance to the supermarket. I never considered a real live stand alone structure with a yard and a driveway. It was not the story I told myself about who I wanted to be when I grew up.

And then it happened, and now we have lovely neighbors who feed our cats when we are away. Who popover unexpectedly in need of medicine or encouragement. My favorites are the playdates. Hunter has bonded especially well with four year old soon-to-be five year old Josiah. There was a fast connection with these two. It warms my heart to see Hunter developing bonds with other children.

Today I had test, a mission if you will. Josiah's mom asked me to pick him up from the bus stop located 50 meters from my front door, and keep him with me until 5:30 when she could pick him up. She has helped me out in a pinch so I enthusiastically said yes. Priscilla told me the bus arrives at approximately 4:15. Hunter and I headed to the bus stop at 4:05. My stomach lurched when I opened my front door. The bus already dropped off the children on my street. I grabbed Hunter's hand and ran but, the bus was pulling off. I hoped it was a different bus, the wrong bus, the big kid bus. I wanted it to be any bus besides Josiah's bus. I waited a few minutes when it began to rain. Hunter had begun to complain when a bus made its way to where I stood.

Josiah ran off of the bus sobbing into my arms. To complicate matters his shirt was on backwards. When I asked what happened he said he wanted his mommy. I explained she was coming to get him later. That only seemed to make matters worse. He cried harder. After a few minutes Josiah calmed down enough to tell me it was dress backwards day at school. He also told me he was on the bus I saw pull away as I approached it. The driver dropped off the other kids then made another pass for his guardian..me. Eventually Josiah told me he forgot to tell his mother the bus comes earlier on Mondays.

Once we arrived at my house he calmed down and he and Hunter got on with playing. Priscilla came to pick him up at 5:30 as discussed. I told her what happened as we both competed to apologize. Me for missing the bus, her for not having the time right.When Josiah came to the door he was  unprepared to leave. He was stalling because he and Hunter were having fun. Priscilla reminded him that they discussed me picking him up today. He screamed but she was not there! He was emotional again. It was a dagger through my heart, but we all laughed knowing it was no one's fault but acknowledged it was scary experience for Josiah and me. Welcome to the 'burbs.

The Best Four Days

You know that episode of Xena: Warrior Princess in season 2 when she goes to the Land of Chin and she is dressed for the those below freezing nights? It is one of those high adventure story lines that gave the fans details about Xena's backstory.

Well that episode was running through my head all weekend as I paraded the streets of Eastern Europe, specifically Croatia and Slovenia. It was one of those unplanned adventures that ended up being the best four days I have had in long, long while.

To get the full effect of the trip I need to provide some context. Ryan and his brothers are serious Stars Wars geeks, with my father-in-law serving as the ring leader of the group. When he suggested Ryan come home for Christmas so they could all go see the Stars Wars premier together Ryan became a little teary eyed. It all happened so fast and my work is so crazy at the moment, it was impossible to get away for three weeks with a little over a week's notice.

Friends and family thought I was crazy. Who stays in a foreign country ALONE for Christmas, their birthday and New Years? It probably sounds incredibly lonely, sad and downright depressing. My dad kept asking how long I was planning to wait before I bought my ticket. To be honest I did think about buying a last minute more than once, but I didn't. My aunt asked how I could let Ryan take Hunter away. I reminded her that Ryan is Hunter's father not some random guy from who-knows-where. I stuck with the plan and part of the plan included taking care of our three cats while Ryan took Hunter on his own very big adventure.

It was Hunter's first transatlantic flight and it went very smooth. He watched movies, ate, slept and was in great spirits when they arrived at their final destination.

Introducing my doppelgänger, Ky. What's that you ask? What's a doppelgänger? It is a German word for twin.

Introducing Ky My Doppleganger (I am exhausted in this picture)

For a few months now I have heard that there is a woman in the community that 'some' people think we look alike. (I am not one of those people.) Imagine my surprise when my friend Ky told me she was sick of people calling her Mickie. Incredulous, I inquired about the circumstances. Of the five people that have made the mistake of calling her Mickie two of them I know fairly well. They whole thing is weird but the best part, no the funniest part is her response. It something like this:

Oblivious person: Hey Mickie how are you?
Ky: Excuse me?
Oblivious person: Oh I'm sorry. I thought you were Mickie...
Ky: (All smiles) No, I'm the other black girl.

The oblivious person responds in various ways. It ranges from embarrassment to annoyance. The weird part is the reverse does not happen to me. As in I have yet to have someone think I am her. This  confusion was the spark of our friendship. We were acquaintances before (we were in Tanzania together last year) but, the hilarity of the situation created a simpatico familiarity. It was this new friendship that took us to Eastern Europe for New Years weekend.

We took a shuttle bus of all things to Croatia. The three hour drive went quickly. We had just enough time to drop our bags off at the hotel and make it to one of the outdoor concerts set up around the city. They keyword in the previous sentence is outdoor. I was freezing and no amount of hot wine could change that. We lasted approximately 45 minutes in the below freezing temperatures before heading back to our warm hotel. The next day was filled with sightseeing and preparation for our zero dark thirty train ride to Slovenia in the morning.

Ljublijana, Slovenia has been on my must see list for years, and with good reason. It's beautiful, cosmopolitan and has a dark side. Lots of dragon and witch motifs around the city center. All told it was a great trip. Looking forward to a visit in warmer temperatures.

I am well-rested in this picture

How to Survive Surviving a Fire

Jumping out the window to save my life was just the beginning of the story. In the weeks and months that followed a lot happened. We moved twice, not including the original move from our apartment before settling down in the new place. At one point we were managing three apartments, moving our belongings around as needs arose. All that moving was exhausting and a dear friend asked what I was doing for myself to remain resilient.

Ryan's mother and childhood best friend came to visit, providing much needed support. While we had help with Hunter, I went London to see my cousin. Even in August London is cold! The cooler temperatures were refreshing. I let my cousin dote on me. She cooked all my favorites and we spent most of our time talking. Our conversations went way into evening hours reminding us both of our childhood summers in Guyana.

I returned to Italy renergized and prepared to deal with a steady stream of questions about what happened and where we were living, and keeping Hunter's routine as close to normal as possible. I won't try to pretend it was easy and it was not until my father and stepmother arrived in country that life began to feel normal again.

We had such fun together! They got to know Hunter, we took day trips and spent a lot of time at home eating, our favorite pastime. We were enjoying ourselves so much that my father extended his stay three weeks. We both had the time of our lives. The extra time meant a day trip to Rome, wine tasting at my favorite winery and more after dinner trips to my favorite gelataria for dessert. Saying goodbye is never easy, but these days with Skype and FaceTime it's not so bad. 

Our time in Italy is winding down. We should be back stateside by summer next year. The past five years here have been incredible. Good thing I took the time to make a few notes about it here!

Where There's Smoke...

This photo was taken a week before the fire

Most of you have some idea about the electrical fire that destroyed our apartment in Vicenza last month. The important part is we all survived. All the details are not here, and I some of them are thankfully are already forgotten. I may never know why it happened, but I know this for sure:

Each obstacle we are faced with is another opportunity to use our power to be great

Military life is transient. I make friends here and after a time they move on to their new assignment. Susan is one such friend. Last month she moved to Korea to further her career as an Officer in the United States Army. As is the custom, her colleagues threw her a farewell dinner party. I had never eaten at the the restaurant where the dinner was scheduled so I ate a big meal before heading out. I am loving those Chili's chicken fajita bowls right now. I ate one of those and then several boiled shrimp. Feeling satisfied, I left Hunter with Ryan in the living room and went up stairs to freshen up before dinner. I was powdering my nose when I heard a loud pop and the electricity went out.

I yelled down to Ryan that the electricity went out again. This happened fairly often if there were more than a few appliances on in the apartment. As I approached the stairs leading to the area where Ryan and Hunter were I smelled and saw smoke. I immediately new something big was on fire, but I was not sure where. I screamed for Ryan. I waited a few seconds to hear what was going on before I proceeded down the stairs, but the sound Ryan made let me know something had gone terribly wrong. The staircase quickly filled with smoke. I yelled for Ryan to get Hunter and get out. I could not see my way down and was still unsure of where the fire was. I quickly went over to the window in the upstairs hallway to open it so I could get some light and air to see my way down the stairs, but to my horror thick black smoke rolled me back onto my heels. In shock I gasped taking in a chest full of smoke. I stumbled back to the bathroom with eyes burning and smoke choking my throat. 

I forced open the window and leaned out trying to breath, but there was too much smoke. Without thinking I jumped out of the window onto the adjacent window of a nearby building and waited for the fire department to rescue me. It took the fire department approximately one hour to extinguish the fire and rescue me. They frantically searched the apartment before they found me on a nearby window sill. I was rushed to the hospital, treated for mild scratches and shock, and reunited with Ryan and Hunter there. 

The fire destroyed over 70% of the apartment. The kitchen and parts of the living room are ok, but the rest including the bedrooms and our clothes are mostly gone. The most important items made it out just fine: Hunter, Ryan and me.  

The details of the days and weeks have lost their clarity, but a few things stand out. Our support system rallied around us, providing shelter and emotional support until we could figure out our next steps. We are still figuring out some of those, but we are safe,

together and moving forward!

Where Did the Time Go?

As it turns out Hunter is not a baby anymore. He is a pre-toddler. In just under two months he will move to the the next phase of his education: the toddler class. In preparation for this new phase he needs to give up his pacifier and eat more solid foods. Where did the time go? It seems like it was just  yesterday when all he did was drink milk, poop and sleep.

These days he is doing much more than that. This weekend was Ryan's birthday and Hunter spontaneously said happy. All we want for our children is for them to be happy. That his first word was happy was one of Ryan best birthday gifts ever. He said it a few more times throughout the day and each time Ryan and I beamed at each other with joy

I have tried to interest Hunter in solid foods over the past few month without much success. All the food ends up in his lap. His recent check-up revealed that he needs to consume more calories like it or not. You know where this is going. He did not like most of what I tried to feed him, but moms have to be creative and persistent. I sat him down in front of one of his favorite shows and spoon fed him chicken, rice and vegetables. He protested at first, but every time he opened his mouth to cry I put a spoonful in and he ate it. He went back to crying as soon as he was done chewing and swallowing. We went on this way until all of the chicken, rice and vegetables were gone. The next day I tried homemade mashed potatoes. Things went the same as the day before. He cried, I put food in his open mouth, he swallowed and cried some more. On the third day I tried elbow pasta with tiny meatballs. I turned my attention away for a few seconds and Hunter had discarded the spoon and was feeding himself with his hands! In shock I just stared, and struggled not to make a big deal of it. I stared at him for minutes as he enjoyed his movie and his meatballs.

Preparing food for Hunter satisfies a deep maternal need to nourish him. Breastfeeding did not go so well for us, and cooking for him feels sort of like a do over. I am excited to cook my favorites for him because so far my instincts have been spot on about what he likes. I cannot wait for him to try my macaroni and cheese!