My Summer of 2023 Renaissance

Last time on The Cat I was discussing options with my GYN. According to her, we had a bevvy of options from which to choose. I trusted her and was ready to explore. The first tool in her toolkit was low-dose birth control. It promised an end to the the roller coaster of emotions, pelvic pain and hot flashes. Sign me up!

The initial weeks on this protocol were phenomenal. I felt better than I had in months. My energy was up and my pain was down. My general outlook on the world was positive and optimistic. Low-dose birth control where have you been all my life? I wondered why I hadn't done this before. Things were looking up. I began to use the membership we have at the YMCA. Lifting weights, building muscle, and looking good.

By the second month the tides were turning, in the wrong direction. Summer was in full swing. Hunter and I decided to try FOUR different summer camps this year. With my job at The Savannah Book Festival my schedule gave me the flexibility to try camps with hours and locations that were previously out of reach.

Along with a diverse sampling of summer camps, Hunter had a two-week trip to Chicago, and I had a week in NYC planned for work. It all went off without a hitch, except for the mood swings. They were back. 

Spikes of fury and exasperation, some provoked others outsized reactions to normal inconveniences became frequent occurrences. A few other unmentionable symptoms kept me awake at night pondering the purpose of low-dose birth control and my harried existence. I traded my life for an existence. I was not living. I suffered physically in ways that sent me spiraling into despair one moment and feeling awkward and uncomfortable in my body the next. 

With the side effects outweighing the benefits, I ended my relationship with my GYN, and her protocol. Instead, returning to my acupuncturist and an herbal treatment plan. Within days I felt better. I emerged from a fog of incoherence like Italian Renaissance painter Botticelli's The Birth of Venus. I was refreshed, sharp and filled once again with my robust, impulsive life force.

As I basked in the newness of my post-hormone replacement therapy emergence, an urge to celebrate my survival and reinforcement of my ability to trust myself above all else became imperative. 

What better way to celebrate my renaissance than with Beyonce's Renaissance tour. Until next time on The Cat.

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.

Some Words Are Best Said in My Voice

On Friday, June 24, 2022, the long delayed TEDx Savannah live event was held at the Yamacraw Center for Performing Arts. I love all things TED. It was one of my tethers to the cultural movements at home during the Italian years. There certainly were times I thought I could do a TED talk. Or wouldn't it be fun to do a TED talk, but I never imagined that it would arrive in my grasp, but it did.

The road to TEDx was a winding path of self-discovery, courage and mental toughness. I was a TEDx Savannah volunteer in 2018. It was one the most thrilling experiences of my life. I didn't understand then what moved people to take on such an opportunity for growth. All the work for applause didn't make sense. Things began to shift for me in 2019. I reframed the idea into what my message could mean for others. That my journey and experiences could add value to the lives of others began to take shape. 

That's the boldness of giving a talk such as TED or TEDx. I imagine super famous people are invited to give TED talks, but TEDx is different. As speakers, we decide that our message has value and pursue our chance to get on stage.  

I had a few hurdles to cross to get to that stage. Including a massive panic attack on my way to the most incredible mall in the world, which happens to be located across a massive bridge in Jacksonville, FL. There was also the emcee's email stating I had PTSD, which sent me into a spiral so intense that it altered my speech and my perception to accept that I do in fact have PTSD. Everyone around me knew it accept me. I was repeatedly reminded of that fact as I tried to distance myself from that reality, even in my talk. What a gift to receive. All of those experiences afforded me the opportunity to see myself as deserving of grace, tenderness and love.

The link doesn't go live for another few days. Big TED has to review and approve. Next steps are to allow the rest of this journey to unfold as the universe intends. I allow for things to stay as they are (unlikely) or something fascinatingly better to come into being a new reality.

Here's What I Watched in 2021

Have you been watching all the things on television? I have tried, but there is so much "must watch" tv and so many different platforms I have to put in as much energy into watching TV as I do at my job. It's a confusing time for so many reasons and watching tv should not be. Here's what I watched and loved in 2021:

1. Succession is an HBO show about a ruthless media magnate, (Is there any other kind?) Logan Roy, who built his empire and a family to fear and work hard for his affection. Creating insecure minions and children that hope to one day inherit the business in the process. Of the three siblings I was drawn to Siobhan. A stylish political operative with a good heart. She seemed like the obvious choice as the successor, but as the series develops, we learn that Siobhan is more like her father and brothers than she led us to believe!

2. The Mandolorian is a member of the Star Wars universe, of which I am not well-versed. However, you don't need to be a fan of the George Lucas phenomenon to fall for the ubiquitous BABY YODA. Like animals and infants, he is nonverbal. All his emotion is revealed through the giant eyes in his wrinkled, green face. The first season is good, clean fun, with action and adventure galore. By the time the second season finale comes around you'll be (1) wondering how they were able to keep that secret; (2) thanking whatever magic makes CGI work and; (3) looking forward to seeing Mr. Pascal in more stuff.

3. Star Trek Discovery is the Star Trek little Black girls have been waiting for our whole lives. The first in the series from the perspective one of the ship's officers instead of the Captain. There's an important Vulcan storyline that will leave you gasping for air. Most importantly there's Sonequa Martin who is reminding us to trust ourselves more than anything else each time she is on screen. 

4. Sense 8 is a Netflix show by the Wachowski sisters that I ignored for years. There was a lot of talk about it, but nothing about it resonated with me. A close friend encouraged me to get past the first few episodes and IGNORE the Daryl Hannah character altogether, and instead focus on the broader international themes, diversity and relationships. Once I did that, I was in love with the story of human connection, love, sex and adventure. 

5. The Expanse in a space odyssey. I don't get to use the word odyssey enough. The Expanse is well, expansive. It begins with a missing woman and a quirky detective hundreds of years in the future, but as the final episode of the sixth season approaches, we find our characters at the far reaches of the universe fighting each other for survival against an unknown foe. 

This list is by no means exhaustive. Admiral mentions goes to What We Do in the Shadows, The Mayans, and Pose.

Woman on the Verge

My work from home situation

For weeks as the impact of the pandemic spread through our lives, I wondered what was next. I did my best to live in the moment as the media onslaught seemed to threaten our existence on the planet. I adjusted to working from home and homeschooling, but as my professional responsibilities ramped up, I began to feel the pressure. How to care for my son, work 40+ hours a week and manage to eat and sleep? With a key element in my support system in NYC dealing with a prolonged cough and nationwide restrictions, I found myself increasingly overwhelmed. My son's every need rested squarely on my shoulders. I felt the weight of it deep in my heart. Long accustomed to "handling" difficult situations well, I began to feel torn between motherhood and career with renewed intensity.

We are all coping with COVID-19 in various ways. Each of us in our private circumstance, but the minute we compare our situation to that of others, we have slipped into despair. Comparing our insides to the outsides of others is not only a waste of time. It is also irrational behavior that we all engage in from time to time. It is normal to have the thought, but it's important to let the energy of the thought pass through you as quickly as possible.

I was having trouble doing that. I was comparing and despairing that others were having an easier time managing their time and stress level. When I finally snapped out of it I remembered the best advice I can I take is my own. My son needed me. He is a social creature. The abrupt end to the social engagement of school, and a wildly disrupted routine was taking its toll. The school district offered one hour Zoom calls, but they did little to stem the tide of boredom and loneliness.  

When our children are not well, we are not well. As I sunk into this awareness I also began to speak up. I shared my list of anxieties with my virtual book group: The Cheetahs. They showed me enormous compassion and kindness, and I began to think clearly. Finally.

I had a few conversations with my boss and our HR Director. I chose to step back from work for a period of time. Two weeks to spend with Hunter, and two weeks part-time. Enough time to get him moving outside in the sunshine. Shower him with affection. Spend lots of time making eye contact with him and assuring him that we are safe. Yes our routines are disrupted but, I remind him often that we have each other. We take it one step at time and recognize that this is all temporary. We have started a gratitude practice. We document on paper all the things we are thankful for especially when we get down. 

Summer camp begins on Monday, June 1. It will mark my return to fulltime work. This time with my son has been an amazing experience. He teaches me patience in ways that are new and often challenging. I am excited for this next chapter. I look forward with optimism to the opportunities for growth that are ahead. 

A TEDx Talk Deferred...

Last time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary I was gushing about my only in my wildest dreams opportunity to give a TEDx Savannah talk. I was beside myself with pride and joy when things began to take a subtle turn into what I am calling the unstable unknown.

It began in early March. Glennon Doyle released her third book in her memoir series, Untamed. To say that I was looking forward to this third installment is an understatement. I listened to the second in the series via audiobook with rapt attention after Oprah named it to her book club in 2016. I had not read that kind of raw honesty that managed to inspire while it shocked me since Maya Angelou's I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. I could not stop thinking about Glennon's meticulously chronicled life and in particular her exploding marriage.

Then suddenly she met Abby Wambach and in quick succession dating and marriage. It was a lot to happen to someone who I thought I knew and understood. I was more curious than ever about Glennon. I thought she and Craig were working it out, but when she described what their sex life was like after she discovered he had been cheating on her for years, I was not altogether sure how they could move forward. Turns out they could not move forward, at least not as husband and wife.

I am not ashamed to admit that I am a Glennon groupie. I am a devoted follower on the Gram. So when she asked that we pre-order her third book I did. That allowed me to get have the book within day of the release delivered to my home. There was a book signing in New York that I hoped to attend but, my TEDx photo shoot was scheduled for the same day.

I highlighted my way through most the book within a few days. Savoring every detail especially that parts of her burgeoning romance will Abby. The book challenges women to put themselves first and let the rest burn, which is a radical concept because women are more often coaxed and cajoled to put themselves last. Placing the needs of their children, husbands and other obligations before their own. Here Glennon advocated revolt against all that. Focus on self and let the rest burn. Radical thoughts indeed.

When the book concluded, I was revved up with no place to go. I was finding my way back to a book that sparked the first revolution of my adulthood: The Celestine Prophecy. I recalled there were some sequels to it and began to look for them. Instead, a deep red background with gold lettering appeared in my suggestions feed: Mary Magdalene Revealed. It stopped me in my scrolling. This book called out to me in a familiar voice that I wanted to learn more about.

Within a few days I found myself besotted. It was moving, expansive and inspiring. The book is about the nature of love and the rightful place of the feminine in Christianity. It reveals what has been hidden from us.

As I sat fully immersed in the wisdom of the author, I was also working on the meat of my TEDx Talk. My talk is about authenticity and the only path to it is vulnerability. Both Untamed and Mary Magdalene were full of instructions of how to express those concepts. I was living inside my inspiration. I was eager to extol the joy of my self discovery when COVID-19 began to work its way into all of our lives.

The call came during my daily walk. It was one of the TEDx organizers. He called to say the event was being postponed. That was expected in light of the daily developments. He went on though. The event was postponed until next year. That last detail left me reeling, but I quickly saw the reality of the situation. The virus was only beginning to affect every part of our lives.

The Silvery Fox Rises

As a teenager family members warned advised that I could expect gray hairs early because my parents and grandparents began to grey in their twenties and earlier. I shrugged it off. I was 15. What did I care about turning gray in my twenties?  Besides I couldn't do anything to stop it.

As this genetic trait began to rear its silvery head in my late twenties as scheduled, I did not think much of it. It did not bother me until they started to pop up around the edges of my hairline. I plucked those in my thirties until my hair stylist noticed the thinning. She put a rinse on them and told me to stop plucking my hair out. She began to put a dark rinse on my hair every time I went, which at that point was a few times a year. I didn't notice how gray I was becoming until I moved to Italy and was left to my own haircare.

Overnight I was in charge of doing my hair myself and immediately noticed many, many gray roots sprouting. I tried a series of temporary and permanent hair color treatments. The henna experiment was an unkind period as it turned my grey hairs an evil shade of orange that was difficult to explain. When I became pregnant I found an all natural Italian alternative that worked very well. Overtime once every few months became a monthly "touch up". Soon I moved to twice monthly. You see where this is going.

My black but, receding hairline

I began to notice some thinning around the edges of my hairline. This is the area the greys are concentrated or perhaps they are the ones I see the most. They were taking the brunt of the constant coloring. Earlier this year I had a serious decision to make: My hairline or grey hair. In the weeks that I tried to stretch the coloring process someone would inevitably notice grey hairs coming in with a snide remark. Of course I know I should not care what people think, but it bugged me.

People mentioned it as if it was a unique discovery. One that required an immediate remedy. This applied to strangers and friends. Sometimes I would get a quiet nudge and a whisper: Hey you have some grey hairs coming in, they'd say. A relative suggested I keep hair mascara in my car to help with quick NECESSARY touchups. I spent sometime looking inward on this. Eventually I saw the truth. My grey hairs triggered people's insecurity. Not the other way around. Armed with that knowledge, I gained momentum.

The initial transition was gradual. I bought several headbands to assist. Within a few weeks it became obvious I was aware of my grays. That I was leaving them there on PURPOSE. Dear reader I wish I could tell you no one noticed and I lived happily, greyly ever after. The truth is everyone noticed, but they were kind and all those headbands I bought helped me ease into the new look. It was an adjustment for sure, but I slowly gained confidence in the look.

Mara Brock Akil

Most people think I am in my late twenties or early thirties which is a such a phenomenal blessing. There are sometimes, lots of times it gets weird though. People react in often bizarre ways. Either they don't believe me, not sure why I would lie about being 46, or they get mad. The grey hairs eliminated that awkward conversation. Now it is obvious that I am a woman with some life experience under her belt. No more age questions. No more surprises. Amen. 

I was still wearing headbands when I saw this picture of Mara Brock Akil. She recently stopped coloring her grays and was embracing "the power" she felt. This photo gave me inspiration and courage. She looked glamourous and beautiful in her greys. I knew then I was ready. I saw a way forward. I could be grey and stylish, which is something I have a deep desire to be.

I do very little halfway. Once I have an idea in my head I take it as far as I possibly can. When I found myself struggling with art I found a way to study art in Italy. Once I discovered Maya Angelou I devoured everything she wrote. Saw her speak twice and met her once, but I digress. We are talking hair today.  It took some research to find grey hair extensions. It is not something in high demand, but I found them. Varying shades of them. Everything from 20% to 80% grey. I went with 80% #becausemickie. After a few weeks I was ready for more. Let's kick this grey up a notch.

#becausemickie

My next look was 'both/and', a new concept the author Glennon Melton advocates. Sometimes things are both/and. She also says sometimes things are hard and we can do hard things. Self acceptance can be hard, but we can do hard things.

This time I went 80% grey and upped the ante with the addition of silvery/white highlights. It was a gorgeous look that was both glamorous and edgy. Braided hairstyles are temporary. After a few weeks I took the braids out. By then I grew a few more inches of (gulp) salt and pepper hair. I leaned further. I bought special shampoo to "whiten" my natural greys. Now they have a shimmery quality that I absolutely love.

It feels as though I am in my own skin for the first time in a long time. I feel attractive in a deeper way. It feels like the beauty on the inside is showing up on my head. This kind of evolution would not be complete without something to commemorate the change. And just like that I added Silvery Fox as a new pronoun. Yes pronoun because I am so over the alter ego phase of the aughts.

The Silvery Fox Rises

Diana IRL

It is always best to start at the beginning. And for me the beginning begins with Diana Ross. When I was a kid I was sure I was going to be a megawatt star when I grew up. I envisioned my childhood as a long, slow walk to stardom. But, when I turned 11, right when I expected to be discovered as a child prodigy with a unique-once-in-a-generation voice, I was asked to stop singing in the choir at school. It was a devastating moment to be sure. By that point in my life I had perfected holding the microphone, stage presence and a hurried autograph for fans. All that came crashing down around my tiny shoulders. What remained was my high esteem for Diana "the Boss" Ross. And so when by chance I emailed a friend happy birthday last month and she told me she was going to see Diana Ross I peed a little in my panties. I do not know this person very well so I tried to play it neutral.
Me: Oh really? W-ow.
Her: Tomorrow night. Jimmy got tickets. Amy and all the girls are coming. You should come we have sitter for Hunter
Me: Where? Errr..Where is Diana

Diana and her sparkly red jumpsuit in 1983

Ross playing?
Her: Downtown Savannah

She continued to text me with the pre- and post concert happenings. There was something about a well connected lobbyist visiting from Atlanta that I just had to meet. As hard as tried to follow the details, I was enraptured with the prospect I might at long last see Diana IRL. In 1983 I watched Diana enthrall thousand in her iconic Central Park concert wearing among other memorable outfits, a red sparkly jumpsuit. I vowed then that I would see her in concert some day. Dear reader that day arrived.

Can you believe there were tickets two days before the performance? I called another friend who just happened to be free and purchased two tickets just two days before the concert. The Johnny Mercer theater is a smallish venue. The seats I picked were on the ground level off to the left side of the stage but, far closer than I imagined would be available. It was a cold night and the icy air circulated in the lobby as we waited to enter the theater. My friend the birthday girl arrived shortly after. Suddenly my friend complained of how hot she felt. We all sort of stared at her when she began to fan her pelvic area. We laughed nervously with her until she said, "I'm hot, hot. I'm perimenopausal you know." Her boyfriend shrieked, someone guffawed and I stared slack jawed at them both. Without skipping a beat she laughed and threw her arms around him. Soon the concert started and I was transported to another place where doo wop and disco ruled. Of course there were several outfit changes. All the primary colors were covered. She mentioned her daughter Tracy Ellis Ross' show Black-ish. Tracey and I are the same age and I sometimes wonder how my soul did not end up in Tracy's body so that Diana could be my mom and I could play in her closet. I resisted the temptation to go too far down that rabbit hole.

Diana at the Johnny Mercer

She looked great. Her voice sounded amazing. It was a lovely night, and I could not stop being grateful for the opportunity to see her IRL at long last. Since my arrival in Savannah two years ago these serendipitous events have happened with more and more frequency. It could be coincidence. It could be right time, right place. No matter the reason or the cause, I am thankful for all the opportunities to experience once in a lifetime goals such as seeing The Boss in concert. Amen.

Magical Manifesting

Yes I wore gold lame to axe throwing

Happy New Year! Eight is my lucky number. It is also my favorite number. Big things always happen for me around the number eight. I knew 2018 was going to be smashing but, it far exceeded my expectations. I started off with wild experiments, hopes and dreams. I made the scary calls, sent the bold emails and trusted my instincts. The best part is the work paid off. I had an incredible year filled with joy and deep satisfaction. Yes there were a few unfortunate surprises to be sure. Turns out my cholesterol is on the uptick! And lots of false starts in the career sector, but I finally landed a job that is flexible and interesting. I planned a major power move with the negotiations, but that all changed at O'Hare airport last month.  That story will have to be told in another post.

Today's post is about two key events: (1) My Life Coach (2) My birthday celebration. My now coach began as friend when I first arrived in Savannah almost two years ago. (Yes, I am coming up on two years here!) We saw each at events around town. I even participated in some of her career coaching sessions, but there was some part of her practice and self expression that was just north of my boundary of esoteric. I am learning that some people lean into that. What I mean is they embrace or confront that which feels uncomfortable. I typically run turn away from circumstances that make me uncomfortable.

As 2018 began to wind down I determined I wanted to accelerate the positive vibrations in my life. Yes the esoteric vibe is rubbing off on me. Since my arrival in Savannah my life has picked up momentum. I love it and began to feel there is more out there me now that I am back in America. Italy was a great experience, but there were certain limitations that are no longer factors in my life. I made a conscious decision to level up.

And so it happened that when I was in NY I heard knife throwing and axe throwing were a thing. I love all sorts of weapons, but especially knives. This immediately caught my interest. When I returned to Savannah I made a list of activities I wanted to try. Axe throwing was in the top five. The nearest axe throwing classes are in Atlanta, which is an almost four-hour drive. I did not fuss about it. I wrote it in my book, set the intention to go axe throwing and closed the book on it for the time being. I did not fuss or worry about it. I let it be.

Within a few months a friend came to me with the idea of driving to Atlanta to GO AXE THROWING for my birthday. I was floored, ecstatic really is the word to best describe it. And that my friends is how manifesting works. Within a few weeks we were on our way to Atlanta for a day of axe throwing. I could try to explain the how and why manifesting works in greater detail, but I'm not sure I can. What I do know for sure is I want to elevate my life this year. I want to it fill it with joy, sweetness and success. Some of that could could happen with positive thoughts, but generating high powered positive thoughts takes some work. That is where the Life Coach comes in. We are almost halfway through our journey, and already my life is sweeter. I say a lot more about how I feel. I feel a lot more of what I say. And dear reader it is all about what you feel in your heart.

Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

The End Is Near: Watch Killing Eve

What's your rut got to do with it? Everything if you ask me. One person's rut might be another's pinnacle. Of course we are all on our own journey, but if you are like me and seek to live a life beyond having your basic needs met then you could be in a rut. Taken a step further you may not even be aware that you are in a rut. I had an inkling I might be. And when that happens I set a goal. Nothing big or especially glamourous, just something that I could focus on intentionally. I chose to drink a gallon of water a day, and it changed everything.

I have a dear friend. I will call him Larry here in order to protect his very gay identity. He visited me in Italy, and was one of my first gay friends to get married in New York when it became legal. He still lives in New York, works in finance and has his finger on all things pop culture. As I write this, he is spending the holidays with his family in Taipei, Taiwan, which is the new Paris. A few months ago he asked me if I was watching a popular British television show: Killing Eve. The show has been on my radar for a few months, but I finally got around to watching it. Best decision I made this Fall. It shifted my perspective just enough to give me some much needed impetus.  

Motherhood asks a lot of women. Motherhood asks a lot of me. I thought being a good mother meant I had to put my needs at the bottom of a very long list. Good mothers give their children everything right? WRONG. That practice sucked the vibrancy out of my core. The voice in my head that sounds like Oprah tried to remind me to put on my oxygen mask on first, but I had trouble doing and believing it was right. Enter Villanelle the professional assassin at the center of the Killing Eve tv series. Not only does she exercise her agency at a very high level, but she is also impulsive. Ok, she is also a sociopath, but let's not get caught up in the details! I thought motherhood meant I had to shutoff my impulsive nature because well, I didn't want to be reckless with a baby around. Here is the thing: my uninhibited nature is the core of being. Without it joy and vibrancy receded into the background of my life. 

Watching this little show with Sandra Oh aka Christina Yang as MI5 spy, Eve Polastri and Jodi Comer with her glowing "disco ball" skin, as Villanelle, a professional assassin, inspired me to pivot to another direction. Villanelle does everything at level 10. It is all full speed ahead for her. Act first, think later type of gal after my own heart. She is joyous, impulsive and a tad reckless. Attributes I gave up in hopes of becoming a more mature, maternal version of myself because I can't fuck up raising my kid. But..that lady sucks. I am sending her back to that tiny, dark corner in my brain where she sprang from.

Which brings us back to Jodi Comer's skin which goes beyond inspirational. The luminosity of her skin is aspirational. Skin with an elusive clarity that reflects light is a gift you don't even know you have in your 20s. You just wake up and light beams out of your face with you scarcely noticing it. In your 30s you learn that your skin is changing and if you do not learn how to take care of it, you will live to regret it. Some of us heed the call; others put it off for another few years. Well dear reader I will tell you that when approached my 40s I took decisive action that paid off. I diligently researched products, and techniques. I also began my journey into the world of anti-aging supplements at that time. I eventually found the right combination that made my skin radiant. I carefully tracked the results. I discovered that what I put inside my body was more important than the creams, serums and masks I applied. This stuff takes hard work. Once I had Hunter skin care is one of my passions that fell to the bottom of my list. Those pregnancy hormones definitely made me lazy. That was five years ago. Each day he becomes more self reliant leaving me with time to reflect on my needs. And boy am I needy.

Watching Villanelle is highly entertaining, and I am well aware that she has an army of makeup artists and a skin-health consultant to get her skin gorgeous. Those pesky details do not distract me from the attainable goal of glass-like skin. Recently I assessed my skin care regimen and products. There are still a few gaps, but I realized quite quickly I need to drink more water. My allergies are still kicking my ass, but I am fighting back much harder with a strategic response: OTC medication (Allegra+Zyrtec), exercise (spending time on the stationary bike everyday, getting some running in) and chugging copious amounts of water.

I am up to 80 ounces of water a day. It has been a few weeks. My eyes have stopped tearing and are less puffy. I feel more energized. I am a lot more active because drinking all that water means I go to the bathroom very often. My skin is clearing up. Also, I learned about a few interesting products from the In the Cut article linked above. Most importantly I am taking responsibility to incorporate more joy in my life.

Last year I closed the blog out strong by posting everyday. The results were invigorating. This year is a bit different because of my new JOB (yes, I found a job), but I do intend to close out strong nonetheless.

In love and pushing for more, Mickie

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.  

Cook for 50 men. Screw 55

Many years ago by accident I encountered the book The Color Purple. I watched the movie on HBO as a very young adolescent. It was Christmas and the adults were playing cards. I snuck off to watch HBO hoping to catch a glimpse of something sexually explicit. Instead it was the middle of the movie version of The Color Purple. I watched absentmindedly. Clearly this movie was for adults, but not in the dirty way I was hoping for if I am being perfectly honest. My dad barged in sensing I was up to something I should not be doing. To my surprise he was well acquainted with the movie. He pronounced the movie a travesty and walked out. I found his observation curious. The movie seemed ok, from what I could understand.

Many years later I stumbled upon the book. I had not interest in it because by this time I had seen the film in its entirety and was fairly certain the book had little more to offer. I was living in Rome for the second time. The receptionist at my mother's job was just a few years older than me and we had become friends. She came to visit and brought her a dogeared, underlined copy. She asked if I had read it. I shrugged it off, but she insisted I should read it. She left the book behind after her visit. My cousin's name was written inside. I am not very close to that cousin and felt awkward about reading her book. After the first few chapters I could not put it down. I felt as if a secret passageway had opened in my head. Suddenly I had deeper access to the human experience. I understood love, God and womanhood as never before.

I had just fallen in love for the first time and had my heart broken. Badly. It was a difficult time. The Color Purple and the Tragic Kingdom CD got me through it. A few more years went by and Alice Walker published a novel about how the book became a movie, and the controversy surrounding the film. In certain African American male circles it was seen as anti-male. In other circles it was viewed as anti-woman. It was the eighties. Race and gender were different then perhaps. For me it was an enrichment of  what had become more than a book to me. It had become a map for how to find my way, my happiness.

Fast forward twenty years. The concept of The Color Purple has been knocking around in my head. For no specific reason I downloaded The Color Purple audiobook read by the author: Alice Walker. Listening to the author read a novel is in itself a special gift. The author's voice will tell you the things you need to know. It will answer the questions in your heart. I didn't know I still had questions, but I did and heard the answers. I am set to begin my fourth listening. I hear something new every time.

My mother is here with me while Ryan is off keeping our country safe. I started talking to her about the experience in a dreamlike state. I even coincidentally found it on my bookshelf this morning. We spoke about how my cousin's book came into my possession. She made the notations and underlines many years ago in her first and only reading of the novel. She opened it to a passage she had underlined: "She ran a roadhouse. Cook for fifty men. Screw fifty-five." I say it out loud and laugh. I tease her. I say, "Ha! You like that part the best huh?" She said no she didn't like it at all. I laugh some more. Push her to explain why she would underline something she didn't like. Finally she said she liked the sentence, but disapproved of it as a way to live. I say it is one of my favorite lines in the book. It is an audacious line. An absurdly bold thing to say to a parent, but I am grown. I say all sorts of bold things these days. This one got her good. She stared at me as if I suddenly transformed into Twilight Sparkle.

Twilight Sparkle

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?

The Handmaid's Tale vs. The Bold Type

Two of my of the moment favorite shows: "The Handmaid's Tale" and "The Bold Type" (TBT). Both shows tightly focus on the female experience in our current time-ish.  If you have not heard by now that Margaret Atwood's 1980s novel The Handmaid's Tale has become a hit tv series on Hulu you have disengaged from pop culture in a very real way. And that is perfectly ok. The thing is this might be the appropriate time to reengage. Let me give you a hand.

In "The Handmaid's Tale" Peggy from Mad Men is now June/Offered in a dystopian, totalitarian America where the birth rate was so low and Americans so fearful that they allowed a religious cult to take over the government and institute ritualized sexual slavery to save us all from ourselves. That is the gist of this dark, often mysterious show. What's that now? Why would you want to watch that? Because it inexplicably timely. The characters accept each new assault on their freedom with some consternation, but never the anger and outrage one would expect. At least not until it is too late.

I watched the first season last summer binging episodes late at night and reading blogs that unpacked each of the dense storylines. I eagerly awaited season two as it moved into unchartered territory. The first season ended with the book. After the first few episodes of the second season I stopped watching. It was torture porn. Every week June/Offred was assaulted or demeaned in some unspeakable way. The other characters did not fare any better. I asked the ladies on the forum I follow closely to let me know if the second season turns the corner to something more positive.

That turn happened recently. The women gained some power and exercised it to make things better.

Then suddenly there was talk of June/Offred's unborn baby being taken from her and the forgotten horror of child separation as a practice in the fictional country came rushing back. But not just on the how. This was also happening here in this country, in this time. It was incredibly hard to watch the news and the show. Watching life imitate art should never be this painful. I think another hiatus is needed from the "Handmaid's Tale". It has become too hard especially in light of the separations at the border.

After feeling drained and oppressed I switched to TBT. It's a "Sex And the City" (SATC) millennial version with a lesbian, bi-racial character. This fixes many of the diversity issues we saw on our beloved SATC. In stark contrast to "The Handmaid's Tale" I feel uplifted after watching TBT. I love seeing these young women critically engaged in their careers and friendships with one another. There are no oppressive patriarchic systems crushing them out of existence. There are male characters in supporting roles, but the drama is not typically about them. There is even a female Editor-in-Chief who could easily be the villain, but she is not. She is finally the good boss that seeks to mentor these three young women as they navigate the cutthroat fashion magazine world in New York.

Of course these shows are not met to be competitors in any way. What they are though are places where modern women can see themselves. Where we can indulge in the fantasy of other realities for ourselves. This is harder to do in "The Handmaid's Tale" of course. I cannot help but see myself in the characters even, or perhaps especially, when they are in their darkest hour.

Yep, I kept the ring

Last time on the Cat Who Swallowed the Canary I was having a moment at TEDx Savannah. I was on the precipice of discussing a little known fact about myself. When I ended my engagement with my first fiancé (yep, I kept the ring) I moved back to Brooklyn, New York from Rome, Italy. I worked hard to build a new life in my hometown mostly confident I had made the right decision. I landed my first job in finance. The job was stressful. There was a steep learning curve and the first tech bubble had just popped. I made time to date and create a robust social life. My cousin and shared a smashing apartment in a trendy neighborhood in Brooklyn with a sweet commute.

My boss at the time, let's call her Roxanne, was a stickler about time. It did not matter how late we stayed to get work done; at a few minutes before 9:00 am Roxanne made the rounds through our maze of cubicles to make sure we were in our seats. Late arrivals were not tolerated. My last Tuesday in the office began with a start. I slept through my alarm, and was running ten minutes behind. I pulled myself together quickly and bolted for the train. I was close to making up the time, when the train stopped just before it entered my station. Unbelievable! When the doors opened I slipped out with my eyes focused on getting through the turnstile. That is when I noticed a colleague from another department. He was rushing into the train. The expression on his face gave me slight pause, but then I thought about Roxanne staring at my empty chair in the meeting and regained my momentum.

I climbed the stairs out of the subway two at a time. At the surface I checked my watch. It was 8:55. It would take me another three minutes to get to the 33rd floor of WTC 2, but there was smoke and what I thought was debris coming out of WTC 1. I called Roxanne to tell her there was an incident and I would be late, but I could not get through. I know now from trauma therapy that I went into shock as my brain tried to protect me from the horror that was people making the awful choice to jump out of the windows of the highest floors of WTC 1. I continued to make my way to the building when the second plane hit. I was less than a block away. The ball of fire the explosion created was so big and so hot that I could feel the heat on my on the side of my face. There was a collective scream from the hundreds of us on the ground, and then a stampede of people running at me. I hid in a small space between buildings until there was a clearing. Then I ran.

I made it home to Brooklyn just before the Towers collapsed. I saw the ball of fire for weeks after in my nightmares. I worked for a large firm with an even larger parent company in Hartford, CT. With our headquarters destroyed, our fearless leaders decided to relocate us to CT.

When the dust settled we were asked to document the belongings we had in the building at the time of the attack. We were reimbursed with very few questions. With everything that had happened it was difficult to remember everything in my desk. In the end it did not matter much. Creating the list more than anything triggered survivor's guilt. I was wracking my brain trying to remember if I left my sweater on the back of my chair or not while others had lost their lives. It was a difficult process to work through, but being in Hartford helped. The distance created a much needed buffer.

Having survived together, my colleagues and I were tightly bonded. We recovered together in a sort of cocoon. We had shared this singular experience. One which very few people could understand. When I left the company five years later my anonymity and individuality returned. It was a relief to forget. September 11 anniversaries came and went. Fewer people knew I was there that day. It receded into the background of my life.

I was the guest speaker on base in Italy one year during the memorial, but was so triggered that I stopped talking about it for another few years. Then TEDx Savannah came up on my radar. This year the event is being held at the Savannah International Trade Center. I tried my best not to say the name of the location because every time I said it, I said world trade center. In this year of living authentically I recognized the Freudian slip. Instead of ignoring it I embraced it. In my correspondence with the Nick, the volunteer organizer, I told him I was there that day. He mentioned it at the first volunteer session. I knew there was a chance he might, but I was unprepared to speak about it with strangers. I faltered a bit. My apprehension is rooted in my desire not to profit in anyway from the lives that were lost that day. I honor them when I live. When I pursue my dreams. When I am fiercely authentic in my life that was spared on that tragic day. I survived that day, but I thrive everyday after.

It is called the present because it is a gift

When my eyes are open, and I mean all the way open I encounter inspiration everywhere. And by open I mean being present in the moment. I have been working at this for a few years and I am still a novice. I still plan as far out as I can and panic if I do not have anything in my planner at least two months ahead. I am a control freak and planning provides the much needed illusion that I have control over what happens in my environment. I have made incremental progress in dismantling this thought process, but I still have a long way to go. I have been practicing the art of letting go and accepting what is. No easy feat for an anxiety prone, control obsessed, introverted extrovert. We all have our challenges, and like hard work at the gym I am beginning to see the fruits of my labor.

I have a cohort of neighbors that meet every Sunday. Some of us go to the same church and others just live in the neighborhood. We meet to discuss our week, the challenges we face and we pray for guidance and strength to overcome them. We also practice the fine art of gratitude. We discuss all we have and give thanks with the expectation of what we will receive. Sometimes the discussions go deep extending into spiritual warfare, premonitions and the gift of hindsight. It is that kind of group.

The group has three other moms. They seemed comfortable in their roles as wife and mother being a priority in their lives. Careers are important to them but, not the driving force of their lives. Meanwhile I felt as if my entire identity was crumbling as I struggled with my job search. The stay-at-home moniker hung over my head like a dark rain cloud holding heavy with water threatening to beat me into the pavement. I held this panic tight in my chest until one day I expressed this fear out loud to the group. I was embarrassed but, also worried I would insult my friends. They empathized with my struggle, and encouraged me to let go of the vision that raising my son and taking care of my family was less worthy work. Turns out I was the only one judging myself. When I stopped judging I had more energy to focus on a solution. A solution that would meet my needs as a sometimes single parent when Ryan deploys.

I stopped worrying about my CAREER. I kept searching, but with less desperation in my heart. I used this blog, my meet up group, Toastmasters and volunteering at events I am interested in to refocus on what makes me feel alive. Ironically the more extracurricular events I participated in, the more energy and passion I had for my family.

During one of our Sunday meetings one of the moms with older kids asked for my resume. She circulated it among her friends who it turns out are a who's who of Savannah. I started getting calls asking what kind of work I was interested in because my resume states I can do almost anything. Flattered, but not exactly happy because it had been a year and no serious job offers. Then on a whim my friend mentioned me to her CEO. He and I chatted one day on my way home from school. Honestly, I was not well prepared for the call. I was driving home from school and therefore exhausted. We agreed to meet in a few days.

I was better prepared for the meeting at his office. I understood his business and had intel about  the recently vacated marketing position. The goal going into the meeting was to secure a full time position. Figure out childcare later. I was reciting this in my head as the CEO said he did not consider me for the marketing position. I almost missed it because I was not paying attention. I was not in the moment. I took a few solid deep breaths and looked around the room with new eyes. I realized I was not there to ask him to hire me. There was something bigger and better in store for me.

Positve thoughts clear the way for success

It has been an exciting week. In fact the entire month has been filled with revelations. Some more obvious than others. For years no matter my relationship with church I observe Lenten season with either giving up something I enjoy, or doing something kind more often. It is a practice my aunt who passed away last year helped to instill in me. This is my first Lent without her so I was particularly resolved to do something intentional to recognize her in a spiritual way.

I gave up saying and believing anything negative. Anytime I had a negative thought I would stop myself. It was hard because it is a habit I have indulged in for quite sometime. Thinking the worst of someone, a situation or even myself as a way to cope with disappointment or the unknown. To help me maintain the new mindset I let people know I was working on being more positive. When my conversations give me the opportunity to say something negative I stop and do something else. Anything else.

As a result of this new practice I feel more positive and happy. In addition to a better sense of well being, I am having more fun. There is so much time left over for other things to include sleep. I have slept more in the past four weeks than I have in the last four years. This is not hyperbole. The week after I found out I was pregnant with Hunter was the last time I remember resting my head on a pillow and drifting off to sleep for more than four continuous hours.

Can all this be attributed to a small change in my thinking? This is the wrong question. The correct question is can a new mindset change my life? The answer is unequivocally yes.

Ryan heads out next week. He had two weeks off from work and we decided to make of the most of the time together. We lived a reverse schedule. Staying up all night and sleeping well into the afternoon. He heads back to the office tomorrow, but not without us spending sometime in the outdoors. Remember that crossbow I received for Christmas? I finally had my chance to play with it somewhere other than my backyard.

Out in the wild blue yonder

Perception is reality

I hated hearing this term and I heard it often especially when I worked in New York. And yet yesterday surrounded by young teenagers listening to them discuss their love lives, as well as the love lives of others, I reminded them that perception is reality. The classroom went quiet. The same thing happened when I told them I love coincidences. This time the question came back quickly: Ms. Mickie what does perception mean? I laughed but my students were serious. They had no idea what the word meant. I told them it is the conclusion people come to whether they have all the facts or not. They gasped with recognition of the concept. I enjoyed the look on their faces as I exposed them to a new idea even if it was not one of my favorites. One of the highlights of the day was a teacher coming into the classroom and asking where Ms. Johnson, the regular teacher, was. I said she is out today. How can I help you? Then directed at no one in particular she asked, "Well who is in here with you guys?" We had a laugh because she mistook me for one of the middle school students.

This sort of thing happens with some frequency here. More than it happened in Italy. I think Americas are more focused on age than Italians. Once someone finds out my age they ask several questions. When they do not believe me I wonder if this is the sort of thing people lie about. Eventually the questions shifts to what do I do to keep the wrinkles at bay. Once upon a time I had an arsenal of skin care products. I have culled it down to the bare necessities of which sheets masks are my favorite. Here is the newest addition to my collection, and yes it rubber.

To take the edge off a long day some folks binge watch their favorite show or have a glass of wine or do a Korean face mask. I do all the aforementioned because why not treat myself when I clearly am so deserving of pampering. I am certainly a fan of the cotton sheet masks, but when I discovered this rubber treasure I could not wait to experience the benefits. The rubber makes it easier to handle and apply which is a great bonus, but what I love most about this mask is the two-step process. First I applied the cream, then the mask. It was a very satisfying experience especially after a long day. I think I look hella sexy too. You see the come hither look in my eye? Irresistible. 

Walmart surprises me sometimes. I expect to find the standard fare of beauty products on their shelves, but if you keep your eyes peeled, pleasant discoveries can be found.