This is more than just a coincidence

The subtitle of the blog is I don't know how this happened because I often find myself in unexpected situations. This week was filled with them. It began with a request for a middle school substitute teacher at the school I visited last week. Yesterday was my first day, and it was filled with all the energy and excitement you should expect from a new job teaching at an exclusive prep school.

The next morning (today) I was up at 6am excited to volunteer at the Savannah Book Festival. I was there to help because hoards of people were expected to descend on the Savannah Theater at 7:30am. I have to say book lovers are the nicest people, and the lines were very orderly. I even met a couple from New York. We were all very excited to meet Douglas Preston. He is the best-selling author who has written about Amanda Knox, the American college student who was studying in Italy when she was accused, convicted and exonerated of murdering her roommate Meredith Kercher. I obsessed about this case for years, oscillating between her guilt and innocence. Our family had an unfortunate experience with the Italian authorities as well when an electrical fire destroyed our home. Douglas also had a jarring experience with Italian law enforcement while doing research for a novel in Italy. And so it was with deep excitement that I arrived at the festival looking forward to meeting Douglas. That is when it happened. At the moment I most believed it could happen. Just before the crowds came. The doors to the Savannah Theater were open and he walked in with an easy stride. I said good morning Douglas. He was warm, affable and genuine. I told him I spent seven years in Italy and was fascinated with the Amanda Knox case. We became fast friends, quickly transitioning to hushed tones when necessary. The most incredible conversation of my life was cut short when my supervisor for the event needed my help. When told her I was talking to Douglas she swept him deeper into the theater to set up for the most exhilarating presentation ever.

Selfie with Douglas Preston 

Some of us are better one-on-one while others are better in groups. Then there are the gifted few who are spectacular at both. Douglas Preston is one of those people. He told the wildly fascinating story of his new book, The Lost City of the Monkey God. It is a magnificent tale of his expedition in Honduras to one of the last scientifically unexplored areas on the surface of the earth. He gave the audience a synopsis of the adventure in a forest with deep vegetation, deadly snakes and quick sinking mud that could easily swallow an adult human. He peppered his talk with searing details about the deadly fer-de-lance snake known as the ultimate pit viper. It was sleeping under a member of the expedition's hammock. A former British SAS (a combination of our Army and Navy special forces) on the team stabbed it in the neck which caused the snake to explode into a violent cloud of dust and venom. I was riveted to my seat. The SAS guy cut the head off and left it as a warning to the others on the expedition because where there is in one fer-de-lance there are many. He answered a few questions about the Honduran government's plans to turn the site into a tourist attraction. He said they would like to but, almost everyone on the expedition contracted an incurable tropical disease known as leishmaniasis. They were treated at the National Institute of Health and are doing well. He made a joke about it being highly contagious. I recovered from that scare quickly. Then the lights came up and I sat in my seat anguished that I did not get a picture. I exited the theater with the other attendees when I remembered to be present in every moment. That's when I recognized his backpack and said, "Mr. Preston," touching his shoulder lightly. "Mr. Preston, can we take a selfie?" He turned to me with a warm smile and said yes let's go outside for better light.

I thought the Amanda Knox, Italy, Savannah, Douglas Preston confluence was just a terrific coincidence, but while reading his Wikipedia entry I saw that Richard Preston is his brother. Richard Preston is the author of the Hot Zone. The breakout non-fiction thriller about Ebola. Hunter's Godfather is a Veterinarian in the Army. He recommended the Hot Zone to me when I was going through my fascination with Ebola. It gave me a healthy dose of reality while scaring the heck out of me. I am not sure why all those details came together at this moment, but I am off to start reading Douglas' books. Something important happened today. It does not make sense yet, but what I know for sure is that it was an extreme pleasure to meet such an accomplished journalist, author and human. Yay!

I love Savannah!

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.

There are no heating pipes down here

Saturday after the vision board party I felt so alive. I was elevated to a higher frequency. Chronically cold between October and March not matter what, I suddenly had hot feet. The soles of my feet felt as if I was standing on heating pipe. Savannah has a sub-tropical climate. There are no heating pipes in houses. My reality glowing with expectation of the massive possibilities ahead of me. Sunday came and went. I was focused on the important call a local recruiter scheduled with me for Monday. That was today.

I prepared for the call as is my way. Laptop, hard copy of my resume, my new Lilly Pulitzer planner and phone all on hand. I eagerly watched the clock on my iPhone change to 10:00am. I took so much pleasure last week when my 10:00 called me at 10:00 on the dot. I returned the favor. We chatted briefly before getting down to my resume and more importantly what kind of work do I want to find. We went over the economics of the area. The small market for a person with my skills. The competition from the universities in the area. All facts that drain my life force, and brought that winter chill back to my feet. She sounded hopeful, but the words she said sounded hopeless. Just more confirmation of what I have experienced over the past year.

After we hung up I looked at my planner to see what else I had planned for the week. I felt the opposite of what I felt on Saturday. I would certainly prefer to start a business while I have a job, but that just might not happen. I heard Sara Blakely, the creator of Spanx on radio yesterday. She detailed the challenges she faced and the risks she took to bring her vision to life. She made it sound doable. As if anyone one with an idea, drive and support could make it happen.  I have to stay close to the fuel that keeps the vision alive.

My vision board from the party

I signed up for another Hilary Rushford class. She's a stylist, blogger and IG guru. I posted a picture from Glennon Doyle's IG page about the women's March and she noticed. Entrepreneurs are everywhere making a living from their ideas. I want to feel that sense of success. There are days such as Saturday when I feel I can do this. Then I have days like today when I wonder if it's a pipe dream.

This is my idea of a good time

I attended the Brunch and Vision Board party this weekend. The lovely Samantha Calonita hosted. She created the MeetUp I joined when arrived in Savannah last year. I cannot believe it is a year already, but I will save that discussion for another post. This post is about the party.

In the strictest sense of the term I am a vision board novice, but as far the brunch and party parts go I am an expert. In our first apartment in Italy I had a dressing room we named the Dollhouse because I kept the dolls from my doll collection in there. I decorated the walls and furniture with my images from my favorite magazines. I used the pictures to inspire my fashion choices, make up looks and hairstyles. Vision boards are a more strategic approach on how to bring your goals and dreams into your reality. If you believe in the Law of Attraction then maybe working on your own vision board will help get you closer to your goals.

The event was held at the Coastal Center for Developmental Services. This is organization provides an important service to the community. It helps differently-abled adults find jobs. They also have a catering program. Partying with a purpose is my idea of a good time. The time I spent at the party was well spent. I became emotional speaking to the group about the coaching call Samantha hosted in early December. I told them how that call released me from the fear that was holding me back from my purpose. The simple question what would you do if you were not afraid set me free and I have been on fire since.

That freedom from fear has pushed me to take new steps to connections that are dramatically changing my life, but back to the actual vision board making. Sam provided all the practical materials such as the foam boards glue and stickers. She also had a ton of magazines on hand. I curated several images in anticipation of the day. My unfinished board also deserves its own post.

This group of women is incredibly supportive. Everyone is speaking their truth and supporting each other. Not surprisingly this kind of vulnerability among women causes quite a few emotions to surface. I was not the only one who shed a few tears. They were tears of relief and joy. I sat next to a woman who spent three years in Madrid. She is working on her personal fitness certification to launch her personal training business. Our discussion deserves its own post. We had an intense discussion that did not leave much time to work on our boards. I am happy I left room to add more to my board as my journey continues. The board in a spot I can see easily and others can as well. Nothing is done alone. Support is essential to success. Building my tribe and my success one day and one friend at a time.

What happened next was unexpected

I spent the last 90 minutes alternating between being a fan girl and budding entrepreneur. I have not eaten yet, but my I am buzzing with energy. When I moved to Italy with my chemically treated hair I worried if I would find someone to take care of it. I was convinced that someone was not me or Ryan. The search was exhausting, and I was not alone. One of my friends had her brother fly from his salon in Atlanta, GA to Vicenza, Italy to do several of the other black girls' hair. That was not a sustainable practice for him.

Ryan helped me a few times but, eventually I took matters into my own hands. As is the custom in our times I googled how to self relax kinky hair. That quick search led me here. This site is an amazing resource. Back in 2011 it focused primarily on hair, but evolved to encompass skincare, supplements and entrepreneurship. She detailed her journey of quitting her high powered corporate job to focus on her "side hustle." Her "side hustle" includes a proprietary blend of hair oil, bamboo tea and supplements. I bought the tea. It has a mild flavor, but the benefits include longer, thicker hair AND nails. Nadege is such an inspiration. I interact with her occasionally online, but in putting my no-fear practice into action I reached out to her on Instagram about the business ideas I have. I sent her a link to my blog and asked her to comment. Then I waited.

What happened next was unexpected. She responded quickly asking if we could chat because she had a lot of questions for me. I was beyond excited and tumbled head first into full on fan girl mode. We messaged back and forth a few times to accommodate our schedules. We agreed upon 10 am Tues January 16, 2018. Today! I was thinking about it all weekend long. I created an outline for the conversation because I did not want to geek out and forget the purpose of the call, which with my excitement could happen.

I sat prepped and ready in my dinning room which I converted to a home office. My notes, phone and laptop all handy. She called at 10:00 on the dot. Her voice was relaxed and easy. I stuck to my outline and asked her to let me gush about how much I admire her before we officially started. Of course she let me and she was absolutely flattered. I moved to the next section of my outline my Italian shopping-vacation idea. She loved it and we immediately moved to who else is doing this and could I partner with her. Of course my fear that a partner would steal my idea came up, but we focused on the potential positive outcomes.

Next we discussed some of the controversial posts on her blog and how the negative comments  drove her forward. She said they pushed her to move sometimes in a different direction. She did not allow them to discourage her. She took a look at my Instagram page. She made a few comments, but the very best part was she told me how to grow my following which, was the golden nugget I have been looking for since I started this journey. Throughout the conversation she was passionate, kind and curious. We went deep at times, which I did not expect. We talked about fear. Not just how to push pass it but, how to process it. How to use it to propel forward. Toward the end of our chat she asked how I felt. I responded that I felt amazing. I announced with my chest puffed up: I possess all that I need to make my goals a reality whether it is growing my Instagram page to 1k by summer, partnering with Cheyenne on shopping vacations or monetizing my youthful looks with live stories. I was pumped. I could hear her smiling through the phone when she said great, just remember that feeling will disappear by tomorrow. I laughed so hard. She laughed too, said it again for emphasis and then added do not let the dissipation of that joy prevent you from moving forward.

Together we set a few other goals, and she told me to feel free to reach out to her again for advice or to share in the joy of the victories that will come. The most powerful advice she gave me was to create more content. She even offered to feature me on her blog once I meet my 1k followers goal.

Clearly once a month posting is not going to help me reach my goal. According to Nadege, the most successful bloggers post three times a day. Do I have that much to say? You bet I do! Stay tuned.

You look good for your age or age ain't nothin' but a number

Happy New Year gorgeous family and friends. The year is off to an ice cold start. My gay BFF sent me a text last week asking if I knew how cold it was in New York. I replied ICE COLD. He laughed then added that it was so cold gay guys were declining random hook ups! Cleary the weather caused tragedies both large and small along the eastern seaboard.

As the snow and ice rolled in thoughts of New Year's resolutions remained top of mind. I threw out the concept of a resolution and focused on goals, dreams and tactics. I thought instead about how best to challenge myself and summon the strength and grace to plough through the inevitable obstacles that will come.

Me using my favorite Instagram filter

I hit a milestone birthday last month. I turned forty-five. As I enjoyed my birthday spa day a friendly lady sat in the pedicure chair next to me. We started speaking and I told her I was celebrating my birthday. She asked how old I was. I hesitated to say because people make such a big deal when I do. I have heard comments such as, "Wow you look good for your age", which although a compliment is not exactly what I look forward to hearing on my birthday. I resisted, but when she mentioned being an older mom I came out with it. The lady painting my toes the fiery red Ryan likes stopped what she was doing and called Susan and Patty to come look at the forty-five year old lady who looks twenty-eight. All sorts of questions followed until I was able to change the topic to something less objectifying.

When the attention was off me at last she asked in a hushed tone what's your secret. Then stopped short and said clearly it is your genes. I said yes some of it is genes, but I do have a borderline obsession with my skin. She wanted to know more. I told her about the grandmother who looked at least twenty years younger and insisted on only drinking room temperature water instead of cold water even during the warmer months. I would hesitate on calling it the fountain of youth, but I think she was onto something.

In the days following my birthday I thought about ways to improve the clarity of my skin because (a) there are no filters in real life and (b) the most important part of a good regimen is consistency. Korean skin care remains a staple in my skin care arsenal because it is wallet friendly, effective and exotic. Today I found myself at the local Ulta today under the guise of browsing, but who am I kidding. I was lucky to make it out of there without all the colors in the new Lancôme Shaker Liquid Lipstick collection. I ask who among you can walk out of Ulta or Sephora with an empty pair of hands? I salute those of you who can. Wherever you may be. Exercising a herculean level of restraint, I stocked up on Tony Moly Sheet masks and headed to the register. They were buy one get one half off. I have used a few different sheet masks over the years, but today along with facial sheets I also grabbed "Peeling Shoes." They are sheet masks for your feet. I do not know which genius Korean scientist created these but, I hope to one day thank her on Instagram. I CANNOT wait to try them because it is never too early to start getting your feet ready for summer.