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“Will the drama never cease!” I exclaimed as I watched the Weather Channel. In RVA hurricanes are part of our summer weather, violent as they are. For days the hype built. Irene was huge, strong and getting bigger with each telecast.
The reporter was standing in surf in front of the Red Neck Palace in Kill Devil Hills. This beachfront cottage has been falling in the ocean for 12 years, at least. Hurricane Irene was on the way. At 14 mph she moved at my speed and there was plenty of warning to get to the grocery and stock up.
“It’s raining here.” Mary said. “I’m staying and riding Irene out. Stores are closed. Home Depot is open still. Oh, CNN interviewed my husband and it should be televised soon.” She continued. As we talked the TV flashed to Nags Head where Mary lives. Irene was arriving.
Irene was a big gal – as wide as Europe. Rain and wind projections and past experience said water would come in my house. For the first time in 18 years my house was empty – not one stick of anything, except sheets and towels, remained. “That’s all I need to stay at Sugar House – where life is sweet. I’ll camp out. The power never goes out. I can cook on the gas stove and take a hot shower. This’ll be an adventure.” I thought. My hurricane ready kit included projects to do sans electricity (in case power goes out), a good book, towels for mopping water, candles, matches, beach chair, health bars, chocolate and lots of diet coke.
The rain fell in torrents. The wind howled. I watched from each window while wiping up water blown through the sashes. Sheets of rain flew by. Blossoms on the crepe myrtles and flowers were blown off hours ago. The wind made eerie noises as it screamed by the front door.
Final cleaning to ready Sugar House for the next resident was my second priority, behind mopping up water.
“Just heard a tree’s down by your new house.” Wanda said. Thank heavens for cell phones. “Just saw it on Ch. 12. Thought you’d want to know."
Irene’s screaming winds and banging rain provided background sounds to the chat with my new neighbor I’d met the day before. “Yes, the tree fell. It’s on the other side of my house – well away from yours.” Alice volunteered. “I’ll call you if I see anything happening at your place.”
Lights flickered. “Is this it? Daylight’s fading. I better find the candles and matches now. “ I decided.
Ready for the worst I relaxed in my beach chair, watched wind-blown rain dance off the buildings, saw trees sway and connected with children and girlfriends, while sipping a Starbuck’s, brought in and reheated to make this adventure civilized. If I’m camping, I want all the luxuries.
Darkness fell. Sitting under the lone overhead light, I read, drank wine, and nibbled my dinner.
Perfect evenings end when it’s time to mop water and fix my bed – pads and layers of sheets piled on the floor on top of each other. As I crawled in, the floor got hard. As I settled under the covers, it got harder. My bones got sharper.
“And my children used to sleep like this! No wonder they were awake half the night.” I thought. “This sucks. Life here isn’t sweet now. I don’t do floor sleeping. What were you thinking! I can drive to my new house and that comfy bed would feel so fabulous. But it’s raining. I don’t know where trees are down or if the highway is open. I hate being out in driving rain. I’d better stay here. I can do this. Good night, Irene.” I said.
I must've slept as I woke to a breathtakingly beautiful morning. The clearest blue sky highlighted with pink puffies was my first sight. The quiet was almost deafening. Irene was gone. All was well. The drama had ceased.
With love on your 111th Birthday, Aunt Kate
“You’re wearing a path through my yard. You’ve got to stop that. “ Aunt Kate sternly said as she stopped me in my tracks on the way to second grade. Her yard was half way between home and school, a path walked almost daily. Filled with fear and trembling, I said “Yes, ma’m. I won’t do it again.” On my way I went, thinking “When is she gone so she won’t catch me again?”
Aunt Kate was a large woman with a strong voice. Married to my mother’s brother, Aunt Kate was a solid Christian, the first woman elected to the governing body of her church when women were more silent than heard. She was my god mother, a role she took seriously. And she was the woman who most positively influenced me and truly loved me.
Knowing how crazy my family was, she gave me glimpses of a sane, loving world. She bought me my first new tennis racket, replacing the hand-me-down racket from Mother’s teen years. With her I experienced my first airplane ride - all the way across the country. We were visiting her grandchildren, cousins who were my age. On that flight I sat by the window, taking in the scenery, spellbound by huge flat fields, glacier covered mountains and the Grand Canyon. I don’t think I moved a muscle.
The entire summer was spent experiencing life in Silicon Valley. There were strawberries to pick; the chilly very salty Pacific Ocean to wade in; a swimming pool for daily splashing and cousins to hang out with. I didn’t want to go home.
Eight weeks at Camp Alleghany in the West Virginia hills were heaven. Another whole summer away from home was better than good. Home sick was never in my vocabulary.
When my parents went away for months, I got to stay with Aunt Kate. These were the times I got As at school. The routine was rigid, centered on doing homework and all that makes A students. She was so authoritarian I didn’t want to know what any consequences were so I always followed her rules and life was good.
I never really got how special Aunt Kate was until she and Uncle Garland moved to Westminster-Canterbury, where you could live and be cared for ‘til you died. She wasn’t going to be a burden to her children in declining years, as she experienced taking care of her father in his decline.
Born in 1900 she delighted in telling every and anyone how old she was. On her 90th birthday the whole clan, 60 strong, gathered from across the country to honor her. Many of the nine girls named Katharine after her were there. My daughter is K8.
When my marriage ended, I dreaded telling her, fearful she would be disappointed in me. Again she wanted to provide for me.
Aunt Kate began to slow down after Uncle Garland passed away. Soon she gave up leading Stretch-&-Tone for sister residents and her church activities. Failing health and memory took her to assisted living where she lived in a room with familiar furniture and a hospital bed.
I took her to see my new home, bought with her blessing. I dreaded telling her son and the infirmary team that she’d fallen on the stoop and skinned up her shin badly. Luckily nothing was broken. When I told her son about it, he said she was always klutzy, another little known fact.
Faithfully I visited her, noticing each time how much thinner and frailer she was, how little she asked and how much I loved her. One visit was unforgettable. Aunt Kate was sitting in her favorite chair with her half eaten lunch on the tray before her. When I asked about her meal, she said “I’m waiting for the train to come. It slows down so I can pass my tray though the window to them and the poor people on board will have something to eat.” She didn’t mind if I waited with her until the train came.
After I left, I had to pull the car over and park while I wept with a broken heart. My precious fairy godmother Aunt Kate, whom I loved dearly, was gone. The woman who really, really loved me had been stolen by dementia.
Aunt Kate was a large woman with a strong voice. Married to my mother’s brother, Aunt Kate was a solid Christian, the first woman elected to the governing body of her church when women were more silent than heard. She was my god mother, a role she took seriously. And she was the woman who most positively influenced me and truly loved me.
Knowing how crazy my family was, she gave me glimpses of a sane, loving world. She bought me my first new tennis racket, replacing the hand-me-down racket from Mother’s teen years. With her I experienced my first airplane ride - all the way across the country. We were visiting her grandchildren, cousins who were my age. On that flight I sat by the window, taking in the scenery, spellbound by huge flat fields, glacier covered mountains and the Grand Canyon. I don’t think I moved a muscle.
The entire summer was spent experiencing life in Silicon Valley. There were strawberries to pick; the chilly very salty Pacific Ocean to wade in; a swimming pool for daily splashing and cousins to hang out with. I didn’t want to go home.
Eight weeks at Camp Alleghany in the West Virginia hills were heaven. Another whole summer away from home was better than good. Home sick was never in my vocabulary.
When my parents went away for months, I got to stay with Aunt Kate. These were the times I got As at school. The routine was rigid, centered on doing homework and all that makes A students. She was so authoritarian I didn’t want to know what any consequences were so I always followed her rules and life was good.
I never really got how special Aunt Kate was until she and Uncle Garland moved to Westminster-Canterbury, where you could live and be cared for ‘til you died. She wasn’t going to be a burden to her children in declining years, as she experienced taking care of her father in his decline.
Born in 1900 she delighted in telling every and anyone how old she was. On her 90th birthday the whole clan, 60 strong, gathered from across the country to honor her. Many of the nine girls named Katharine after her were there. My daughter is K8.
When my marriage ended, I dreaded telling her, fearful she would be disappointed in me. Again she wanted to provide for me.
Aunt Kate began to slow down after Uncle Garland passed away. Soon she gave up leading Stretch-&-Tone for sister residents and her church activities. Failing health and memory took her to assisted living where she lived in a room with familiar furniture and a hospital bed.
I took her to see my new home, bought with her blessing. I dreaded telling her son and the infirmary team that she’d fallen on the stoop and skinned up her shin badly. Luckily nothing was broken. When I told her son about it, he said she was always klutzy, another little known fact.
Faithfully I visited her, noticing each time how much thinner and frailer she was, how little she asked and how much I loved her. One visit was unforgettable. Aunt Kate was sitting in her favorite chair with her half eaten lunch on the tray before her. When I asked about her meal, she said “I’m waiting for the train to come. It slows down so I can pass my tray though the window to them and the poor people on board will have something to eat.” She didn’t mind if I waited with her until the train came.
After I left, I had to pull the car over and park while I wept with a broken heart. My precious fairy godmother Aunt Kate, whom I loved dearly, was gone. The woman who really, really loved me had been stolen by dementia.
What's Going On Isn't What You Think Is Going On
I was feeling overwhelmed. My book Smart Women Make Their Own Rules was in its final stages of printing, plans were underway for signings and there wasn’t enough of me to go around. How was I going to manage all that and a relationship too?
“I’m in his sights, I know it. I just don’t know what I want to do.” I told Smith. “This is going faster than I thought.”
“So why are you resisting what’s happening? He’s offering you what you want. What’s going on?”Smith asked.
When feeling out of control, I resort to getting order by making order out of chaos. An energy zapping messy office bookcase was the target. At completion many books were stacked up to go to Goodwill, notebooks were tossed and old journals were set aside for my old journal ritual.
Journaling is a marvelous tool. I started the practice when my marriage was falling apart, life was too painful and I was at my wit’s end. As life changes, journal pages fill and they rest on a shelf until ritual time. The ritual is quite simple: I burn each page, scattering the ashes in a special place in my garden.
In the cover of darkness, I sat in my garden and watched flames consume each page. One page was different with columns on it vs. the paragraphs that cleared my head. “Hmm, I’d better set this one aside and read it later. It looks too different.” I thought.
In the light of my cozy room I read the set-aside page. It was titled My Man – 2004. In two columns were lwords - the values and traits I wanted in my man. As I read it, I was awed. I couldn’t believe it! I wrote it in ’04 and here I am in 2011- reading each word that described Admiral.
“So why am I hesitating?” I ask myself. “Smokie, you don’t feel like you deserve this guy. Look at your self esteem. You asked for this man and here he is. You are so worthy of this guy. Get over yourself. “
New Friends among Forever Friends
A few days later Admiral and I attended a fund raiser for Children Inc. to see Seldom Scene, whose banjo player was a college friend. People that had blown me off chatted easily with me – because I was Admiral’s date. “I remember the time you landed your helicopter on my dock! It was most exciting.” one snooty gal exclaimed. When I told Admiral how suddenly I was okay to talk to, he laughed and said “Sounds like ‘em.”
We flew to Raleigh to celebrate the birthday of one of his first grade friends. I love private flying – no rude TSA! Classmates howled as they recalled Admiral’s antics. There’s a lot to be said for one who has friends from elementary school.
The next day we returned to Richmond in time for another of Admiral’s friend’s birthday party who goes to my church. Richmond’s small world makes life easy often. More stories came out about midnight takeoffs to the Bahamas from Florida, how he helped people sleep because he fixed their boat air conditioning on sultry hot nights, and rendezvous in exotic places on his magnificent yachts. Always the gentleman, he stood by quietly and smiling as people told stories on him with delight.
The Smart Woman’s tradition of going to the Urbanna Oyster Festival with friends was coming up. “Do I invite Admiral? What the hey, let’s do it." I thought. Not only did he gladly accept my invitation, he used connections to arrange a splendid parking place inside the tiny town where parking miles from the action is the procedure. One more time he shows he’s my kind of guy.
Wandering through shops, looking at the sites and eating oysters is the activity. As we chatted and strolled through an art show, he asked me what I was looking for on match. “My last first date.” I replied. Grinning widely, he said “Me, too. “
We flew to Raleigh to celebrate the birthday of one of his first grade friends. I love private flying – no rude TSA! Classmates howled as they recalled Admiral’s antics. There’s a lot to be said for one who has friends from elementary school.
The next day we returned to Richmond in time for another of Admiral’s friend’s birthday party who goes to my church. Richmond’s small world makes life easy often. More stories came out about midnight takeoffs to the Bahamas from Florida, how he helped people sleep because he fixed their boat air conditioning on sultry hot nights, and rendezvous in exotic places on his magnificent yachts. Always the gentleman, he stood by quietly and smiling as people told stories on him with delight.
The Smart Woman’s tradition of going to the Urbanna Oyster Festival with friends was coming up. “Do I invite Admiral? What the hey, let’s do it." I thought. Not only did he gladly accept my invitation, he used connections to arrange a splendid parking place inside the tiny town where parking miles from the action is the procedure. One more time he shows he’s my kind of guy.
Wandering through shops, looking at the sites and eating oysters is the activity. As we chatted and strolled through an art show, he asked me what I was looking for on match. “My last first date.” I replied. Grinning widely, he said “Me, too. “
When is 'no big deal' a big deal?
Weeks later over dinner Smith said "Sounds like you're softening on Boats. You're really enjoying his company now." "Yes, I am. He's so kind and dear. He's really a dear man. Our conversations are so open and honest and from the heart. No holds barred. I call him Admiral because he's all about boats. And we agree politically." I said. "But I'm still not sure."
During another boat outing Admiral said “There’s something I have to tell you. It’s no big deal but you need to know.” My stomach clinched and my mind raced with all kinds of ideas about what dreaded thing he’d say. Finally I said to my gremlin Bitch, “Silly girl, be quiet and listen.”
Admiral continued “Some time ago I had a cancer diagnosis. I went to the best surgeon and he told me they got it all. Seems it’s back now and I’m looking at radiation. It’s no big deal.”
“Oh my! I’m so sorry to hear that. What can I do for you? How can I help you?” I asked. Selfishly I was relieved to know my mental gymnastics were just that.
“I have a doctor’s appointment next week. I’ll probably have treatments. I hate that it means I may have to be here in cold weather. I really don’t like cold weather.” Admiral said matter of factly.
“No one’s going to the doctor with him and that’s not right. This is big and I can’t let him go alone. I’ll ask him if he wants me to go. I don’t want to push in where I’m not wanted, tho” I told Kathleen, my mentor in all things single.
Several days later I was sitting across the desk from Dr. Roundface with Admiral with a list of questions to ask in my Mother mode. Dr. Roundface covered all points and Admiral said “When do I start? I want to leave for warm weather soon and treatments are keeping me here too long.”
When I and friends need reinforcement, I email a prayer request to girlfriends to pray for the person and the situation. Such a note promptly went out requesting prayers for my precious Admiral. Kathleen’s email came back “Precious. Hmm. Sounds serious.”
During another boat outing Admiral said “There’s something I have to tell you. It’s no big deal but you need to know.” My stomach clinched and my mind raced with all kinds of ideas about what dreaded thing he’d say. Finally I said to my gremlin Bitch, “Silly girl, be quiet and listen.”
Admiral continued “Some time ago I had a cancer diagnosis. I went to the best surgeon and he told me they got it all. Seems it’s back now and I’m looking at radiation. It’s no big deal.”
“Oh my! I’m so sorry to hear that. What can I do for you? How can I help you?” I asked. Selfishly I was relieved to know my mental gymnastics were just that.
“I have a doctor’s appointment next week. I’ll probably have treatments. I hate that it means I may have to be here in cold weather. I really don’t like cold weather.” Admiral said matter of factly.
“No one’s going to the doctor with him and that’s not right. This is big and I can’t let him go alone. I’ll ask him if he wants me to go. I don’t want to push in where I’m not wanted, tho” I told Kathleen, my mentor in all things single.
Several days later I was sitting across the desk from Dr. Roundface with Admiral with a list of questions to ask in my Mother mode. Dr. Roundface covered all points and Admiral said “When do I start? I want to leave for warm weather soon and treatments are keeping me here too long.”
When I and friends need reinforcement, I email a prayer request to girlfriends to pray for the person and the situation. Such a note promptly went out requesting prayers for my precious Admiral. Kathleen’s email came back “Precious. Hmm. Sounds serious.”
Boats, Planes and Convertibles
“What can you lose?” Smith said to me over dinner one night. “He sounds nice. Accept his next date and have fun. You don’t have to marry him.”
Taking Smith's advice with a fun what-the-heck-can-I-lose? attitude I accepted his next date. It was truly amazing. At 0-dark-early Boats picked me up and drove me in his antique Model A to the small local airport. With only a purse and picnic lunch I had prepared in hand he flew us to another rural airport where we got in his cute convertible and drove 20 minutes to his boat! My head was reeling. Was this really happening to me? Pinch myself!
At the helm Boats skillfully guided his 35’ power boat from its slip to the open waters of the Chesapeake Bay. Did I say it was a childhood playground for both of us? The October air was warm, boat traffic scarce. “Be careful. Don’t lead him on. Be clear that you’re looking for friendship and fun. Sounds like you’re in his sights.” I thought.
I asked “Where are you headed?” “Well, you said you’d like to go to Tangier Island for a day trip so that’s what we’re doing.” he replied.
Conversation centered on his world built for two, his collection of antique cars he restored himself, numerous boats and planes used for his business and adventures on the water. The scenery was watery and chanting was esy as I sat by him in the double wide captain’s chair built for two.
Tangier’s harbor is quaint and colorful, lined with work boats, buoys and stacks of crab traps, tools of the many watermen who ply the waters pursuing those local crustaceans.
With his boat tied up at a dock, we strolled along the streets of Tangier, dodging golf carts, bicycles and the occasional truck, taking in the small community. We talked about life as we grew up, our adult lives with spouses and life today as singles. "You've been single too long" Boats said. I didn't know what he meant and I did think about living alone so long I get set in my ways like concrete.
Our picnic lunch we consumed onboard after an ice cream stop on land and watched boats come and go. The ride back to the marina was quick and easy.
The boat was putty under his control, docked flawlessly in its slip like it’d never left. After a short ride to the airport (no security checks here), we were taking off again in his plane. Destination Richmond before sunset. From the air we found many private grass airstrips, cultivated farm land and forests, traced rivers flowing to the Bay, discussed clouds and continued playing ‘Do you know…?’
Boats landed his plane for two flawlessly, taxing to the hanger where we disembarked. The ride to my house in his Model A was delightful. He recounted driving it across country from Washington,DC to Seattle with his grandson a few years earlier in the Great Race. He declined my offer to come in after he deposited me and the empty picnic basket in my home.
As I closed my front door, I was reflecting on my date with Boats, a most unique successful man with plenty of toys that ignite my sense of adventure. As he drove away, I heard “aahooga”, a fitting “Good night” from an old car in mint condition with a delightful outrageous man who likes to play behind the wheel. Smith’s advice was spot on – have fun with the guy to have fun with.
Taking Smith's advice with a fun what-the-heck-can-I-lose? attitude I accepted his next date. It was truly amazing. At 0-dark-early Boats picked me up and drove me in his antique Model A to the small local airport. With only a purse and picnic lunch I had prepared in hand he flew us to another rural airport where we got in his cute convertible and drove 20 minutes to his boat! My head was reeling. Was this really happening to me? Pinch myself!
At the helm Boats skillfully guided his 35’ power boat from its slip to the open waters of the Chesapeake Bay. Did I say it was a childhood playground for both of us? The October air was warm, boat traffic scarce. “Be careful. Don’t lead him on. Be clear that you’re looking for friendship and fun. Sounds like you’re in his sights.” I thought.
I asked “Where are you headed?” “Well, you said you’d like to go to Tangier Island for a day trip so that’s what we’re doing.” he replied.
Conversation centered on his world built for two, his collection of antique cars he restored himself, numerous boats and planes used for his business and adventures on the water. The scenery was watery and chanting was esy as I sat by him in the double wide captain’s chair built for two.
Tangier’s harbor is quaint and colorful, lined with work boats, buoys and stacks of crab traps, tools of the many watermen who ply the waters pursuing those local crustaceans.
With his boat tied up at a dock, we strolled along the streets of Tangier, dodging golf carts, bicycles and the occasional truck, taking in the small community. We talked about life as we grew up, our adult lives with spouses and life today as singles. "You've been single too long" Boats said. I didn't know what he meant and I did think about living alone so long I get set in my ways like concrete.
Our picnic lunch we consumed onboard after an ice cream stop on land and watched boats come and go. The ride back to the marina was quick and easy.
The boat was putty under his control, docked flawlessly in its slip like it’d never left. After a short ride to the airport (no security checks here), we were taking off again in his plane. Destination Richmond before sunset. From the air we found many private grass airstrips, cultivated farm land and forests, traced rivers flowing to the Bay, discussed clouds and continued playing ‘Do you know…?’
Boats landed his plane for two flawlessly, taxing to the hanger where we disembarked. The ride to my house in his Model A was delightful. He recounted driving it across country from Washington,DC to Seattle with his grandson a few years earlier in the Great Race. He declined my offer to come in after he deposited me and the empty picnic basket in my home.
As I closed my front door, I was reflecting on my date with Boats, a most unique successful man with plenty of toys that ignite my sense of adventure. As he drove away, I heard “aahooga”, a fitting “Good night” from an old car in mint condition with a delightful outrageous man who likes to play behind the wheel. Smith’s advice was spot on – have fun with the guy to have fun with.
Like Two Dogs Meeting in the Park
Lunch with a stranger is awkward at best, especially when you're sizing each other up with the dating agenda. Boats took my coat to hang up, pulled my chair out for me to be seated and asked the waiter to bring some water. He got points for that.
Throughout lunch we discovered we grew up 4 blocks from each other, went to the same church and he delivered my family's newspaper. My brother's best friend grew up next door to him. We spent childhood summers at the river (a Richmond tradition). Being older than I, our paths never crossed. What a small world - so like RVA.
After graduating with an engineering degree (I' ve never been able to talk to engineers or make sense of what they say) he began a business making gizmos for yachts. I'd heard of the business last year from a church member who was moving to Europe to handle the company's Middle East business.
He sold that business after decades of bounding success, retired and started two more businesses which he gave to key employees. (Dang! How generous. I'm impressed.) He told me about his suburban house, winter home in Florida (he hates cold weather) and his future plans.
His wife died suddenly in April (they just married the previous December) and now he's single again. He likes being married. I felt a catch in my stomach when I heard that. A rule of mine was at least 2 years being divorced or widowed and here I was with a guy whose wife passed away 6 months ago! Yikes!
He had gobs of fun toys - motorcycles, antique cars, and boats (How does he have time to play with all of that?) He said his world was built for two and he was one looking for his two. More points for having a clear goal.
"Do you like to garden?" he asked. "Well, I have a little piece of dirt I dig in." I answered. He has extensive gardens his next-to-last late wife planted and admits he barely knows one plant from another.
We played "Do you know.." and shared stories of match dates. His humor was delightful as he described the match gals and his adventures checking them out. They sounded too familiar. It's affirming to know the guys get a similar menu as the girls.
I thought "OK. You've done your career. I just wrote Smart Women Make Their Own Rules; the Professional Woman's Guide to Igniting your Power, got a new coaching client and have a keen focus for my future. You're kicking back and I'm rolling. I don't see much future here."
Three hours later Boats walked me to my car. For some reason I kissed him on the cheek. What was that about? I wondered. He waved as I drove by going to have dinner with Kathleen and tell her about another match date gone south.
Daily Boats called and emailed me. Checking caller ID I didn't answer his calls and returned emails 24 hours later. He was relentless. Guess he didn't have the same experience as I.
Throughout lunch we discovered we grew up 4 blocks from each other, went to the same church and he delivered my family's newspaper. My brother's best friend grew up next door to him. We spent childhood summers at the river (a Richmond tradition). Being older than I, our paths never crossed. What a small world - so like RVA.
After graduating with an engineering degree (I' ve never been able to talk to engineers or make sense of what they say) he began a business making gizmos for yachts. I'd heard of the business last year from a church member who was moving to Europe to handle the company's Middle East business.
He sold that business after decades of bounding success, retired and started two more businesses which he gave to key employees. (Dang! How generous. I'm impressed.) He told me about his suburban house, winter home in Florida (he hates cold weather) and his future plans.
His wife died suddenly in April (they just married the previous December) and now he's single again. He likes being married. I felt a catch in my stomach when I heard that. A rule of mine was at least 2 years being divorced or widowed and here I was with a guy whose wife passed away 6 months ago! Yikes!
He had gobs of fun toys - motorcycles, antique cars, and boats (How does he have time to play with all of that?) He said his world was built for two and he was one looking for his two. More points for having a clear goal.
"Do you like to garden?" he asked. "Well, I have a little piece of dirt I dig in." I answered. He has extensive gardens his next-to-last late wife planted and admits he barely knows one plant from another.
We played "Do you know.." and shared stories of match dates. His humor was delightful as he described the match gals and his adventures checking them out. They sounded too familiar. It's affirming to know the guys get a similar menu as the girls.
I thought "OK. You've done your career. I just wrote Smart Women Make Their Own Rules; the Professional Woman's Guide to Igniting your Power, got a new coaching client and have a keen focus for my future. You're kicking back and I'm rolling. I don't see much future here."
Three hours later Boats walked me to my car. For some reason I kissed him on the cheek. What was that about? I wondered. He waved as I drove by going to have dinner with Kathleen and tell her about another match date gone south.
Daily Boats called and emailed me. Checking caller ID I didn't answer his calls and returned emails 24 hours later. He was relentless. Guess he didn't have the same experience as I.
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