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

What would Oprah do?

It was approximately two weeks ago when I received the text message asking to substitute for three days in row. Was I available? Sure was my quicker than quick response. The fun aspect of teaching is the unpredictability, and flexibility of the schedule. The kids are different every single time. Even when I have met them before. And let me tell you dear reader these teenagers are not at all like the teenagers we once were. One of my biggest challenges is keeping them off their phones. This can be tricky because sometimes they need their phones to access images for art class or their calculator for math.

My final class had rehearsal for an upcoming theatrical performance. The office asked me to stay to help with another class while the teacher went to direct traffic. It is a huge campus. Getting parents and students on and off campus is quite an operation. Half the class wanted to go to the café while, the other half wanted to play basketball. I tried to get them all to the café but, that did not go over well. I let some of them go two at a time. The rest of us waited at the basketball court. I squinted under the beautiful Georgia afternoon sun as it transformed one the schoolyards into a glowing, hazy idyll.  

A woman with long, straight, grey hair styled in a simple chignon approached us with a broad smile. She was thrilled to hear I was her substitute. She said she heard great things about me from the staff and the students. I beamed feeling pleased with myself. We chatted easily for a few minutes when she asked me to come up to her classroom before I left for the day. As she walked away I asked offhandedly what subject she taught. She responded math, advanced math...She threw the end of her sentence over her shoulder casually: equations, simple stuff.

I clawed at my collar bone as if I suddenly found a barnacle attached to it. My jaw tightened as I bit down on my second molars now that my wisdom teeth are gone. I stumbled forward dazed, shielding my eyes as if an interrogator's flashlight shone in them. My Georgia idyll suddenly a darkened tunnel devoid of light. The once vivid colors were all faded hues of blue. It felt as though I was in an episode of the Netflix show Ozark. Someone called out Ms. Mickie. I took a seat staring at no one in particular. Ms. Mickie, my mom's here can I go? Yes class dismissed. I groped around for my purse and tried to regain my composure.

I hate math. No math hates me. It has always hated me, and somehow I found myself in its fiendish clutches once again. I was prepared to tell the teacher I had made a mistake and I was not available the days she needed me. If her dates changed I would not be available then either. I took uneasy steps toward the building. Contemplating the end of my first steady-ish job since my arrival in Savannah. Then, as one is wont to do I thought what would Oprah do. I visualized my tunnel again. I saw a glint of light at the end this time. As I moved in the direction of the light, I realized Oprah was standing at the end holding a sign that had this written on it:

I walked into to the classroom a little more surefooted. I came clean right off the bat. I told the woman and her neatly coiffed chignon that the very last thing I wanted to do is let her and her students down. I continued, it has been years since I worked with equations and would feel more comfortable if I could come in one day to observe the class. She was very kind and gracious. I went back a few days later. She had her lesson plans laid out for me. Homework, quizzes and tests with the most gorgeous answer keys I have ever seen. When I left the building my Georgia idyll returned to me in her all her splendor. I have some homework to do this weekend and I am ok with that. I will be prepared well prepared next week. Thanks Oprah you are the best!  


 

Sold to the lady from the great State of New York

Let's get right to the point shall we. I had my wisdom teeth removed on Monday. I put off having them removed for years. I erroneously believed they belonged in my mouth because they grew there. Over the years I have dealt with the difficult ups and downs of them erupting to the surface. The pain oscillated between excruciating and mind numbing every few months. But the procedure to have them removed filled me dread. I put it off every year at my annual check up. Well dear reader that train came to a screeching halt at my recent trip to the dentist. I have early stage gum disease. Yikes!

My dentist strongly recommended I have the offending teeth removed as soon as possible. I was still skeptical about the procedure until I went for my consult with Dr. T. He was affable, professional and Australian. He systematically allayed every fear I had about oral surgery. He expertly outlined the procedure to include a low dose, pre-op tranquilizer the morning of the surgery. SOLD to the lady from the great State of New York! The worst part of a medical procedure is the anxiety about what could potentially go wrong. What's that you say? The recovery is the worst. No, that is why pain medications exist--along with the opioid crisis. #keepingit100

Monday was D-day. I started my cocktail of tranquilizers and analgesics first thing in the morning. The rest is as they say is a blurry haze. Ryan drove me to my appointment, waited for me to be done and drove me home. I have spent the last four days recovering. I have eaten plenty of bananas, mashed potatoes and ice cream. Folks warned me it could be two weeks before I felt normal again. Apparently some people sleep it off and go to work in the morning. 

I was up and moving on Wednesday. Not because I felt better, but because I signed up for a HubSpot marketing workshop and was not going to miss out. I made it, but definitely pushed myself a little too hard. Savannah is a hotbed of startups and the like. Workshops featuring entrepreneurs, their peers and wannabees such as your truly flock to these events. We were a small group of eagers excited to be in our coveted spot. When I got home I was limp. I still got a lot out off the workshop and even made a fortuitous professional connection. He is a Savannah College of Art And Design professor who launched an arts advocacy organization. 

I took easy it yesterday, and started eating solid foods today. I had a giant turkey and cheese sandwich with mayonnaise, lettuce and tomato. Life is good. 

  

A thing of beauty

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. 

Welcome to the Terror Dome

Like many of you I have a few phobias. They are all well managed. I hate to fly, but love to travel. With meditation, prayer and glass of prosecco I do just fine on planes. Since the apartment fire in Vicenza I am a tad claustrophobic. I cannot tolerate small, windowless spaces for very long at all. High bridges over large bodies of water are another trigger to panic, but if I am prepared for them I do just fine. The problem today was I did not have a chance to prepare.

I had a meeting with the CEO of a nonprofit this afternoon. The headquarters are on the far side of town in a neighborhood I am not well acquainted with yet. He asked me to create a proposal for my dream project for the organization. I was excited because I spent the days leading up to the meeting studying their website and digital footprint. I left feeling inspired. The position could have a tremendous impact on the community. Before I headed to my car I called my friend who helped to schedule the meeting. We met briefly in her small, windowless office. My chest started to feel a bit tight, but nothing I could not relax through.

As I walked to my car I considered a small celebratory gesture. As in a decadent cocktail before happy hour, in the middle of the afternoon. The only problem was the reception in that part of town was sporadic. Too weak to find a the kind a trendy spot that could make my fancy cocktail. I had a general idea of how to get home. I decided against the celebration since the cell signal was so weak. I had a general idea of where I was and started driving in the direction of my house, but before my GPS could get a signal I found myself on the ramp for the Talmadge Memorial Bridge to South Carolina (SC).

Talmadge Memorial Bridge

Let's stop right here to look at the bridge. This is a scary view. (I did not take the picture. It came up when I googled Talmadge Bridge.) The steep incline limited my field of vision. The narrow lanes  were recently expanded due to the frequent collisions. On the other side is a steep decline that leads to a two lane road surrounded by marshland. Good grief was I scared. The name of the bridge is under scrutiny as the City of Savannah wrestles with its confederate past. Eugene Talmadge was famously elected to Governor of Georgia four times from 1933 to 1937, 1941 to 1943 and a fourth term in 1946. He died before his inauguration. He was a well known white supremacist. He actively promoted segregation and racism in the Georgia University system during his tenure. The Girl Scouts (and me) would love to have it re-named for their founder and Savannah native Juliette Gordon Low. 

That is probably enough history for today. Back to my detour. I was not happy about my impromptu bridge crossing and less happy to have crossed state lines into SC. I have nothing against SC. It is a beautiful state. Charleston is gorgeous and Beaufort is a delight. I just did not want to be there today. I was on one of those roads that will not let you make a U-turn for miles. It was such a pain, but the worst part was I had to cross the bridge to get home. I would have done almost anything not to cross that bridge again. 

When I finally made it back on the bridge in the right direction, I stayed as far left as possible and went as fast as I possibly could. Which was about 45mph because my deepest fear is that I will loose control of the vehicle and end up plunging over the side of the bridge. Geez, I watch too much TV. I made it back just in time to have a margarita with my neighbor before her kid came home. I left when her bestfriend called. She has lupus and just had her hip replaced. It was grounding reminder that even when faced with deep seated phobias, things could be much more challenging. I have so much to be grateful for everyday. Even when I end up across state lines life is very good. 

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