Xena Taught Me Italian

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Notes for Steven

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

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

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

 I 

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

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

It Was Never about the Mouse

Division H 2019 Humorous Speech Trophy

Toastmasters is changing my life in ways I could never had expected. What started as a networking opportunity when I arrived in Savannah two years ago has become a propulsive and joyful part of my life. I have been basking in the joy of bonding with a supportive community of friends and friends I haven't yet. On a whim I entered my local Toastmasters' Humorous Contest. I was talking to a close friend about my September 11 experience and remembered how I stayed up all night September 10, 2001 worried that I had accidentally insulted a colleague. I was able to find a nugget of humor in that interaction and spin it into seven minutes of hysterical laughter. I knew it was a funny story and an even better speech. I had the audience on the edge of their seats the whole time and my finish had everyone asking if the performance (yes, I am calling my speech a performance) was fact or fiction.

I was empowered to talk about 9/11in that safe space, but I also felt quite vulnerable. I have given my 9/11 speech before and this time my body still shook and my voice still quivered. I was keenly aware that opening up in this way invited questions that might be difficult to answer. Top of mind for me is to honor my boundaries and respect those souls who perished that day. Sometimes I experience questions that don't respect those goals, and that is the opposite of fun. Morbid curiosity just is not my thing. I won without thinking too much about what was next. 

It meant travelling two hours outside of Savannah to Waycross, GA for the Toastmasters' Area competition was next. This was my first time competing with members from other clubs. It is hard to describe the competing emotions I felt. Lots of new faces, my competitors had props, costumes and varying levels of experience. There was lots of laughter throughout my speech and a collective gasp when I revealed the context of the story as literally Ground Zero. I won second place, which was an accomplishment for my first time, but I went home thinking about how heavy the experience was for me. Actually is was grueling. It was clear to me that the other competitors had much more fun. They were not up there on an esoteric quest.

The second place win meant I advanced to the semi-finals. I went home wondering what it would take to compete and win at a higher level. I started thinking about costumes, music and props. Yes, that is what it would take, but it would also take something less tangible than all that. It meant I would have to take the competition less seriously and have a great deal more fun.

I thought about how different of an experience I could have had if I told a funny story instead of one that I "found" humor in. I decided to give a speech about a little girl with the same name as a famous mouse. How she was relentlessly teased until she was ten years old when Toni Basil became a pop sensation with her song "Oh Mickie You So Fine". With the goal to have fun in mind I found childhood pictures of me embracing the whole Mickey Mouse thing. I even played the Toni Basil video and did a few of the dance moves. I did my best. I had props and a whole lot of fun. In the end I claimed the second place trophy. Dear reader this was the best outcome I could have hoped for because the finals are at the end of April in Atlanta, GA. I cannot compete in a speech contest in April because I will be in California steeped in my ten-year obsession with the greatest warrior the world has ever known.

 Until next time on the Cat Who Swallowed the Canary.

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.

A Student of Modern Warfare

A few weeks ago I had the distinct pleasure to volunteer for The Gary Sinise Foundation's Snowball Express. Gary Sinise of Forrest Gump and CSI: NY fame heads up an organization that supports active duty Soldiers, veterans and their families. His foundation sponsors a special event: The Snowball Express. Each December the foundation hosts 1,750+ children of the fallen and their surviving parent or guardian at a five-day retreat. Last year they went to Disney World. One of my friends, female combat veteran, planned a trip to an Army base in North Carolina where the families would assemble before heading to Orlando.

Gold Star families hold a special place in my heart. They have made the ultimate sacrifice. I met of few of these families while we were stationed in Vicenza and the surviving spouses and children are so brave. At times I miss the close connection to the military and so welcomed the opportunity to drive the four hours to cheer the kids and parents as they boarded their flight to Disney. What I did not immediately understand was I needed to wake up at midnight to be there at 5AM when the families arrived at the airport in North Carolina. It took me  few days to wrap my head around the idea, but then I recognized what an extraordinary opportunity it was. I went to bed super early that Friday evening and woke up at midnight to get ready for an adventure. I was not disappointed.

The kids ranged from seven to 12 or 13 years old. They were ordinary looking kids. Nothing about them let on that they had lived through the nightmare of having a parent killed in combat. It was early and our exuberant holiday cheering may have slightly unnerved them. It was early for them, but we had been awake for hours. Once they were all assembled we waited on the tarmac for them to board the American Airline aircraft, and this is where it happened.

I saw a savage looking helicopter in the distance. It reminded me of a dinosaur. It was large, hulking and powerful looking. (It also matched my jacket, which was definitely a sign!) I heard some chatter around me about other helicopters, the Blackhawk and the Chinook, but the look of the Apache held my attention fiercely. I had never seen anything like it. I later learned it is a lot like a flying tank. It has a Rolls Royce engine, is mostly bulletproof and can climb to over 5,000 ft. per minute. These are the guys you call when something has gone wrong in the fight, and you need it fixed fast. After I stopped staring at the incredible machine I wondered why they were there, and the answer made me want to cry in earnest. Two Apaches escort the American Airlines plane with the children down the runway until the plane is airborne as a sign of respect, and just that small extra touch to remind the families of how special they are.

During the drive back the Apache became my newest obsession. I texted Hunter's Godmother when I got back to Savannah. Her husband flew Apache's in the Army and survived a harrowing firefight. She shared stories with me over the years, but back then I didn't know what an Apache looked like. My next stop was to find a book that could tell me more about the Apache. By all accounts Ed Macy's Apache is the best out there. The cover has these quotes: "Puts you right in the cockpit with your finger on the trigger. A truly awesome read." and "Thoroughly absorbing...A real find for students of modern warfare." I am not student of modern warfare, at least not yet anyway. In the meantime, this book and the trip to North Carolina have expanded my world view and for that I am grateful.

Until next time on The Cat Who Swallowed the Canary. 

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