Winter Feet

Today I pulled out another of my beauty favorites and I just had to share. When the cool weather rolls around, my skin suffers from spot dryness, particularly my feet and legs. A few years ago, I discovered L'Occitane's Pure Organic Shea Butter. After my evening shower, I dab a small amount in my palms, massage it onto my (usually aching) tootsies and cover them with white cotton socks. In the morning, my feet aren't dry and itchy -- they're soft and comfortably moisturized with no oily residue. Great find!

If the Shoe Fits...

One peek in the far corner of my closet and you would think I had cash to burn on shoes. I haven’t arrived to the point where I started counting them, but the sheer quantity is enough proof that I have a footwear “issue”. It wouldn’t be so bad if I actually wore the shoes, boots and sandals, but I don’t. Well, at least not more than once or twice. I ponder if my issue is more severe than the average woman who, like me, just can’t walk past a shoe store without going “WOW!” at some piece of foot candy in the window. My problem? I don’t keep walking.

When I wander into the stores, usually with no cash on hand, I try on a pair or five until I “stumble” on the pair I can’t live without. I’m left uttering to myself, “Thank you, Amex!”

At home, I slip them on and strut around the house while thinking about the numerous outfits to complete the picture. Oh, the dreams... The plans I make for the edgy shoes with the funky heels, the suits I can wear with the stilettos, the skinny jeans I can wear with the riding boots. And, boy, do I! Fun is hardly the word. It’s amazing how sexy and uplifted a pair of new shoes can make me feel. Then, just like that, the love affair is over. It’s an easy parallel to my nephew’s birthday parties where his favorite new toy is the star of the show. For three days, you can’t pry it from him without the tantrum of all tantrums. Then on day four, the poor toy is tossed in the corner of the living room like it never existed. My shoes suffer the same fate; worn a time or two before I return to old faithful. Yeah, those black pumps or brown stiletto boots that go with everything and feel like my comfy slippers, too.

Where does such a sickness come from? Could it be that whole dopamine thing? Is it possible I get a rush from retail therapy? I mean, I have enough sense to steer clear of stores when I know my resistance is weak, but even that requires an enormous amount of restraint. Why? Maybe it derives from that one time, years back when I talked myself out of the coolest pair of boots. I got home and couldn’t think of anything more than the gut-wrenching words, “They’re the last pair in your size.” First thing the next morning, I made a beeline for the store, was there when the doors opened. The boots were gone. Someone had snatched them up, and I never saw that style again. They were that unique. Apparently I never recovered from that horror. So, what might be the best solution? Perhaps I need therapy, and maybe a little variety. As I scan the shelves I realize I only have one pair of gray shoes. With winter coming, shouldn’t I have a hot new pair to usher in the season? But this time they’ll be practical. A pair I can wear at least once a week. Hmmm… Where have I heard that before?

Writing: Defiance!

Writing. Hmmn… Let’s see. In a perfect world, when I decide to write a book, I pull out a pen and draft a tidy outline – or if I’m lucky a premise – then after momentary thought, I start my first chapter: “Her feisty ways were destined to lead her astray…” Aah, blissful fantasy! In the real world I don’t decide to write a book, the book finds me. That's not meant to imply that it's an easy feat. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Most of the time, guilt brings me face to face with one scathing word that never fails to give me chills; the word I dare not speak. "Outline," she whispers. For the life of me, I just can’t do it. And that's not from lack of trying.

I know it is proper to draw up a rough -overall and chapter by chapter- outline to understand where the story is going and what I intend to reveal at each juncture. A kind of map for myself. Well, sadly my literary world isn’t so structured and perfect. When my characters start talking to me they don’t give a damn about outlines.

In an unintended way, I know my characters inside and out long before their true stories emerge. It has become a vital part of my plotting. In order to understand which way is up, I need to know my main characters likes/dislikes, quirks, desires, family life, thoughts, and most important, their careers. For many writers, it is quite the opposite. Storyline first, then character formation. Though I tried like hell, that ‘proper’ format just didn’t work for me.

Back when I wrote my first novel, it was more a stream of consciousness that led me through the story. I managed to make it through but the editing was way brutal. Of course I learned from that and have developed a moderate structure that works for me. My editor calls me defiant, but I say why tamper with what works? In a perfect world, it would be easier for me if I did follow the “rules” but my way flows much better with my twisted thought process.

A steady flow of ideas are constant in my mind, but my characters? They tend to wake me at 3am, telling me what they do and what kind of life they’re living. I reach for my notepad from the bedside table and jot down everything they say. Desi's burnt out from the hustle and bustle of NYC life. She wants to move and find a new home to launch her catering business and heal. Jason, a single parent, is a news editor and reluctant workaholic dealing with the murder of his youngest sister. Emmy is struggling to launch her clothing line when she falls for a Wall Street stock broker. Eve is an exotic dancer perfectly comfortable living life on the dime of her host of married men. Eddie owns a bookstore he's redeveloping to boost sales, while tending to his high school sweetheart who is dying from a malignant brain tumor. Zippy and Cheryl are twins who share a very deadly secret. My characters all embark on separate journeys, each in their own novel.

These are abbreviated starting points that I build on and work with before I begin constructing the plot. Writing is my joy, and when I began doing it the "proper" way the joy faded and it became just another job. Yikes! Upon completion of my fifth book, an arduous project, I went back to doing it my way, and I’ve been more productive. I won’t deny that an outline is great for most, but it just doesn’t work for me. An outline can set the stage for all things to come and provide a seamless foundation for a complete and succinct work.

Everyone has their own way of doing things. Maybe I am a bit (ahem) defiant, but nine books later, it hasn’t failed me! I try to celebrate my accomplishments and honor my craft. It’s a gift I cherish, cuz at the end of the day, my work is thoughtful, edgy, mysterious, engaging, relatable and entertaining. It’s complete. My characters have stories to tell and I listen. It’s fun. I’m living my dream, everyday. How hot is that?

Gluten: The Hidden Enemy

"Gluten is a protein in wheat, rye and barley. It is found mainly in foods but may also be in other products like medicines, vitamins and even the glue on stamps and envelopes." --Medlineplus

Who knew a simple question, two little words, would hold the answer to everything? “What’s gluten?” It is not uncommon for me to overlook something mentioned as an afterthought in nutritional guides, but with “awareness” growing to the forefront it’s hard to be blind. Why the hunger for knowledge about everything gluten hit me, I still don’t know. Having said that, I recall the day I lazily dragged my laptop across the sofa and decided to look up this elusive gluten and get to the bottom of it.

I should say that for most of my life I’ve been plagued by one ailment or another, even developing chronic conditions not usually seen in young adults. It caused my doctor a pause since my tests were immaculate and everything seemed to be in “working order” or so it seemed. My childhood? Well, that’s another story. I’d rather not travel back to my youth and the countless visits to doctors with varied problems: anemia, hives, abdominal aches, etc. It is much easier to start where the details aren’t so fuzzy.

For years, I struggled with (and was tested for) unexplained vertigo, severe bloating, sinus problems that just wouldn’t go away, insomnia… well, you get the idea. I’ve seen more ENT’s, neurologists and allergists than I’d like to recall. Quite a while back, I went to see a gastroenterologist. After a very uncomfortable endoscopy, he diagnosed me with acid reflux. Yes! Finally an answer. NOT! It was one let down after another.

Then I stumbled across this gluten “thing” and on a whim I Googled it. In that moment, time stood still. As I devoured the knowledge buried in cyberspace, I was dumbfounded to see that almost every single symptom of a gluten allergy was related to me! It was like a brief snapshot of my medical history.

After hours of exhaustive “symptom” research, I had to ask myself, “Is it possible that I’m allergic to gluten?” How can I have a healthy existence without whole grains?! Rather than consult with my over-confident doctor, who over the years has grown weary of me and my minor complaints, I decided to do my own at-home test first. Proud to say that after a tedious month of micro-managing my eating and staying gluten free, I feel better than ever! I mean GREAT is an understatement. Gone are the daily headaches and vertigo (that even a neurologist couldn’t figure out). Gone is the listless feeling and fatigue. No more digestive problems, bloating and shortness of breath. My head and sinuses are clear, my thinking focused and my concentration is no longer three steps behind the norm. Could it be possible? I wondered. Surely Dr. Gastro would’ve figured this one out.

Being my own test subject, I decided that the only real way to know if I was on the right track was to indulge in a chock full of gluten day -- formerly known as normal eating. Boy, did I pay for that. Not only did I blow up like the Michelin tire dude, I had a hard time falling asleep and I woke the following morning with my old friends: splitting headache, stomach pains and spinning room.

That day, I made the decision. Give the gluten up completely! No easy feat for a woman who devoured whole grains, rye bread, brown rice, pasta -- and what is breakfast without cereal or waffles? Oh, and I can’t forget the alcohol. No alcohol! A glass of wine or bubbly used to help me loosen up at networking events and cocktail parties. Now the mere thought of one drink comes with morning-after flashes.

That aside, I’ve discovered a very healthy way of eating for now sans gluten. And another revelation: Many restaurants serve gluten-free foods. I'm probably way yesterday but it's music to my ears. I’d love to say I miss having my favorite cakes, cookies and brownies but with the after-effects, it’s easier to say sayonara!

These days, I’m flying high on my newfound knowledge. But I’m left a bit peeved. How could something so serious have gone undetected? There’s no doubt that I now have the answer that’s eluded me over the years. Now the real work starts. A new journey is born. I’m setting out to learn any and all I can about gluten and living a gluten free lifestyle. Luckily I have a nutrition guru on hand to set me straight with the proper supplements and meal plans to keep my body fueled. I'll see doc soon and discuss this “thing” though I don't need confirmation anymore. My body doesn’t lie, and I feel amazing! Another day has passed without the debilitating headache and no more background nausea... That’s all the testament I need!

GOOD Hair Day... Everyday

Today I had a spa day… for my hair! When I tell you about my products, you’ll understand why it wasn’t just “shampooed” and “conditioned”. I pamper my hair twice a week now thanks to my soulmate, Juan Juan. My hero! His line of hair care products has made a bigger difference in my life than I ever thought possible.

Being of Native-American and African-American descent, my hair is, well… complicated. If you like reading maps, you might be able to see the divide in my hair. Big problems for me since forever! Two completely different textures on one head…NICE! With hair so complex, it didn’t take long for me to go the DIY route as no salon was ever able to give me the lasting results I sought.

Without a beautician running the show, I was essentially starting from scratch but that didn’t stop me. What products should I use? Many recommendations came from friends and family but they didn’t have the two hair types, so I was usually left half satisfied. And so the quest began…

I made my way through practically every hair care product on the shelves, never having total contentment for one small reason or another. Split ends, oily or dry scalp, flaking. Determined girl I am, I started doing what comes so natural now. I read the ingredients (duh!) and learned that most of them contained a loong list of questionable ingredients that mimicked the fine print on my multi-page auto warranty. To say “I was disgusted” is an understatement. I was positive the chemicals were doing more harm than good. And I’m allergic to sulfates! Why hadn’t I noticed these ingredients before? So my new “All Natural” mission was born.

Fortunate for me, it didn’t take years of sampling and disappointment for me to find what was just right for me. I wandered into a tidy little beauty shop and the owner off-handedly suggested J Beverly Hills. I was naturally skeptical but willing to give it a shot. That turned out to be one of the best beauty decisions I’ve ever made! To say, I was rescued by Juan Juan’s products is an understatement. His sulfate-free shampoo (for fragile hair…YAH!) and Everyday Moisture Infusing shampoo, Rescue conditioner and Masque -- for all hair types -- have ended my search for the perfect-for-me hair products! My hair is infinitely shiny and healthy now, and it’s no longer a chore to tend to my locks. It’s a treat.

When I want volume, there's a shampoo and conditioner for that. Unruly hair? No problem. Best friend with the crazee wild hair is hooked on the Control Taming shampoo and conditioner. J Beverly Hills has something to treat all of the common troubles we encounter at one time or another on our color-treated, over processed, stressed hair. Not to mention it keeps my hair healthy.

After several months of regular use, I returned to the quaint little shop and bought six bottles of each... and a few bottles of Crazy Straight – for my sleek, chic days. And what girl can resist the Leave On conditioner? I did say I was a shopaholic, right? Hehe. This time it paid off big. Many years have passed and I'm a happy hair girl!

My Divorce from Motorola

Do you remember those grey boxes about the size of an unused bar of soap? There was a tiny screen at the top displaying a line of…..numbers? Can you guess? The PAGER! Yes, the old trusty pager: people would call a number to reach you then type in a number to be sent to your pager(what geniuses), then once we got the page we had to either find a telephone booth, use your work/home phone or if you were really ballin’…a really big cellular phone. My love for Motorola started way back in time, where if you weren’t a doctor you’d get an arched brow tossed your way for having one. Drug dealer? Not hardly. Tech junkie in the making? Hell yeah! My loyalty to Moto continued all the way to 2009. That’s way more years than I’d like to admit. Phew! There was the occasional affair with NEC, Samsung, LG, Ericcson, Nokia, but Motorola was built tough and made for me. Clumsy? No problem. The first few bumps, drops and bruises were free.

As the new frenetic telecom upswing was born, it wasn’t long before I ditched the pager and bought a cellular phone. The evolution of mobile communications has been fascinating – and sometimes head-spinning to say the least. I’ve had cellular devices that were as big as a bowling ball bags and some that fit neatly into that small 5th pocket on my jeans. Cute, yes. Functional? Well that’s another story.

Lately, my current weakness has been smartphones. And being the loyal little lady, I managed to stick with my favorite brand of course. Good ol’ Moto. Nextel i930, Moto Q and Motorola Q9h Global... At each juncture of my mobile madness, I would say my device truly surpassed all others. Nothing compares to these way advanced features! I was so wrong.

After years of lusting after the right device that could do everything except use the bathroom for me, The Holy Grail, I am excited to say that I’ve crossed over. Yes, I’ve divorced Motorola and after almost ten months, I haven’t looked back. The scroll keys, frustrating upload/download speeds, confusing and unreliable media options? Things of the past.

I have stepped into the crackberry realm. Now when I say “This device rocks!” I mean it. For real. Write it down: Blackberry Bold 9000. Now THIS is pure gold. Every aspect of this device packs a punch. First and most important is the trackball – what did I ever do without it? How did I function with only a scroll wheel in my life? With the Bold 9000, I can manage my exhausting world and entertain myself effortlessly from the palm of my hand. I now have everything I need and everything I don’t necessarily need. Seriously, how cool is that? A media player with phenomenal sound quality and enough space to hold my insane music library, a gig of device storage and expandable storage option, video capture, functional and reliable internet access that looks like a mini laptop browser, email, email and more email. iPhone, eat your heart out! Blackberry is coming and they’re coming strong. I must confess, I’m not one for the touchscreen but I do like apps and guess what?? I got a qwerty keyboard along with a screen that looks like a handheld version of my flat panel (the quality is bananas!), and Blackberry App World!!

This is a union that will not be broken. I may have caught on a little late, but I’m Hooked!! If you are a girl on the go and you’ve grown weary of untangling cords and searching for more than one device at the bottom of your handbag, the Blackberry Bold just might be for you. Give it a shot. I doubt you’ll be disappointed.

Diet: Was It A Thursday?

I confess. I’m guilty. I’ve lived by the D word time and time again. Yes, I mean the dreadful DIET! Over the course of the past decade I’ve managed to (ahem) pile on the pounds that came so gradually it’s hardly noticed – without a complete obsession with my body. I admit, my head was in the sand so I wasn’t ‘watching my body’ as closely as I did when I was younger. And I refused to give overt attention to the mini shopping spree’s I’d go on to supplement my spreading waistline. (What can I say? I’m a writer. I can be aloof.)

One day I woke up and I was way overweight and not at all feeling comfortable in my skin. I felt sloppy, sad, disgusted, angry, disappointed in myself, you name it. So, the D word became a way of life for me. The result? One failure after another, and an extra ten pounds for my effort. Excellent!

Atkins, South Beach, Apple Cider, Celery Soup (yuck!), low fat, Acai Berry… I did ‘em all, to no avail. So I ditched the D and joined the gym with the enthusiastic fervor of a marathoner in training. Surely this would work if I just counted my calories and followed my husband’s strict fitness lead. I did shed a pound or three but after almost a year I was without a doubt in better shape but the pounds just weren’t falling off. “Has my metabolism changed?” I wondered (cuz surely it wasn’t my late night woman-on-the-go noshing). So my ritualistic gym-time with the honey waned and became as visible to me as my treadmill turned clothes hanger.

One monumental day came about back in April. It’s ironic that this was the one time I didn’t note the day on some healthy living site, my schedule or task list. I remember it vaguely. I was in my usual rush, grabbing my lunch on the go and I paused outside of Wendy’s. It just didn’t feel right. It's time for better choices! Five minutes later I was in my office having a breadless sandwich. A delicious chicken salad made with fresh grilled chicken, a sliver of bell pepper, onion and a zesty yogurt spread. All fresh, no additives or preservatives. Healthy eating with my usual bottled water. The satisfaction was so great, it followed me. I wanted every meal to be so guilt free and satisfying. And away we go!

Five months later and I’ve dropped 26 pounds. It slid off almost as innocuously as it appeared. I’m a girlie girl so it was the summer of the sundress for me. I noticed a couple pairs of sandals were slightly bigger and blistering my toes. But that’s it. Intentional or not, I hadn’t been paying attention. It wasn’t a mission this time. 26 pounds. Hard to wrap my arms around that. It feels good, can't deny that, but I still have a few more to go. Maybe I can’t find the celebration in me cuz it wasn’t some trailblazing D word. It wasn’t just something I was doing to look better. It was that thing I had to do to feel better, to be good to me.

This morning I dug into my early-fall wardrobe and I realized, “Oh shit, I can’t fit my clothes!” On one hand, cloud nine. No lie. The other side of the coin was my prep time to get out of the house had been used up on clothes. Where’s the celebration? Twenty-Six pounds is a huge achievement for me. I’m the chick who celebrated five pounds with every diet, no matter how bizarre. Why can’t I celebrate now? Maybe it’s because I feel a celebration in me every time I make the right choice about what I put into/on my body. I love myself a little more everyday for that. Maybe that’s the celebration. I’m happy, I’m healthy, I run every morning and I’m loving my body. Wow! That’s huge. One day in early April, I decided to change my point of view, and I changed my life. I think I feel a celebration coming on.

Just Blog It Already!

As I sit here, searching my mind for something deep and prolific to blog about, I find myself at a loss. Me! The woman who has an opinion about everything. There was a time when I could sit down and let ‘er rip; just unleash the beast within and ride with it. But in this the age of blogging for dollars and self-promotion, I confess, I feel a tad intimidated. That’s not from lack of topics, it’s more a desire to lay something down that’s “meaningful and relevant” to make my readers go “Hmmn”. After burning my brain for ‘blog ideas’ and seemingly coming up blank, I realized something new about myself. I’ve been writing fiction for so many years that it’s been so much easier for me to exist behind my characters. Being the real me is effortless in my non-technological relations so why have I found it so hard to hit the keyboard and say “Hey cyber-world, this is what I think!”? Isn’t it usually the other way around? Aren't people usually less inhibited in cyberspace? What’s my problem? I don’t have the answer to that, nor do I intend to spend a single minute doing a psychological profile to get to the bottom of it. Instead I will take the ‘baby steps’ road. I have a lot to say, a lot to share and plenty of knowledge clunking around in this head. I’ve got a zany personality and I’m a DIY kinda girl -- everything from beauty products, editing, publisher hunting, healthy eating and living, fitness, home decorating on a dime -- and I can’t help but shout my knowledge from the rooftop. My husband jokingly calls me MacGyver cuz if there’s a way to make it happen, I will! So please stay tuned. Once I shed this reticent skin – that is so not the boisterous in-your-face me, I promise not to disappoint. All I need is a toothpick, a #2 pencil and a wire hanger. MacGyver lives, baby!

When Did it Happen?

As summer comes to an end, I find myself in a more reflective mood than usual. Eek! I can’t seem to recall the defining moment that I became a card-carrying, tax paying, contributing member of grown up society. Seems like just yesterday when my only concern was where to find chalk to draw a hopscotch board, how fast I could fly down mini-bike hill or not having a care about what I ate. Gone are the days of mama hollering to turn off those lights and take out the garbage, when the biggest responsibility was to make sure I was inside the minute the streetlights came on. These days it all registers as a minor blip on my radar while I worry about stocks, my 401(k) rollover, paying bills, collecting rent, mortgage payments, school funds, volunteering, accountability at work, home and in my social life, and on it goes. Yet I hunger for the days of yesterday. Is something wrong with that picture?

I now understand that there is confirmed truth to the words “Youth is wasted on the young”. Truer words have never been spoken. Yes, I think sometimes it is okay to embrace my inner child. Dancing in the rain—or like no one is watching, watergun shootouts with the kids, and playing tag in the park. But let’s face it, no one wants to see a grown woman hogging the swings, trying to squeeze her way down the slide or dashing to the ground to fight for the prize from the piñata. It’s official, I’m a grown up. It’s only taken me a few decades (ssh) to accept that.

I’m not against being young at heart, that keeps us spiritually youthful. I just long for the days when it was easy. Days when the mention of Bernie Madoff, Client #9 and AIG didn’t register. Enron and SEC? Not a care about those entities or the daily barrage of the all too familiar heart stopping headline grabbing scandal. Whatever, let’s go shopping! But that was then. Without effort I’ve become a full-fledged expert on finance, politics and healthcare reform. As an adult now, I see the true value in being a child. Not a care in the world. Where to park my money wouldn’t matter if my only income was still mama’s wallet. Oh the blissful youth!

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not anti-grown up. I just tend to look at the big picture and I feel inundated with left and right deception from the very people we count on to help guide us in securing our affairs. I’m left asking “What does this mean for my future?” Has the value system in our world suddenly changed so dramatically or am I just paying more attention because without my youthful innocence I know what’s really at stake? Did that expensive education actually pay off or am I just an adult because I have to be?

Whatever the answer, it wouldn’t matter. The big picture prevails. I will press on and forge ahead, accomplishing what my heart desires. I will put my shoes in the right place when I walk in, get online pay my bills, turn off the lights when I leave the room, honor my writing deadlines, hook up with my people, cook, clean, chill with my friends online, watch some reality TV (guilty pleasure du jour), a cartoon or two, play in my makeup and dance in my living room. No more mini-bike hill for me. Oh, and most important: be accountable at work – I have a family there, too, that relies on me. Grown up, right?

I guess when you clear away all the clutter, we’re all still children at heart. If we allow our moments to grow with us, is it possible that we may find the key to our happiness? I decided to give it a try. Be happy in the moments of today and not unhappy because I won’t allow myself to stop longing for yesterday’s moments. I’m not the same little girl from way back when. It’s all real now. Try with me. Let’s play. The world is our playground. The game’s called A Peaceful Life.