When are you dazzled by BSOs?

      "You're the first to see it. Admiral just gave it to me."  I glowed to my daughter during her birthday dinner.   "It's a friendship ring."  The BSO (bright shiny object) sparkled in the light.    
      Girlfriends are the best for sharing yummy exciting things, relishing them over again as you tell each detail of events.  Three weeks earlier I called Artsy. When she answered the phone, I blurted “Admiral just asked me to marry him and I said YES!  Can you believe it?”
     “Were you surprised?” she asked.  It’s been 7 weeks and I’m surprised at me!  When he asked me, I   said ‘I’ll think about it.’  then 5 minutes later I said yes.  This wasn’t part of my plan as you well know. So it looks like I’ll get a new plan.” I said. 
      “I couldn’t wait.” Admiral said excitedly.  “I had to give you this.” He handed me an oval highly polished brass box I’d seen at his home. “Oh, geez.  What is this.  Can I fake being excited about this box?” I thought. 
       In it was a present, wrapped by Admiral himself. The layers of paper and scotch tape gave way from the little square box, revealing the most beautiful ring. It was gold with a sparkly sapphire surrounded by tiny diamonds.  It took my breath away.
      “I wanted to give you something special.  Let’s call it a friendship ring for now.  I’ll get you something better later.” Admiral said.  
     “You know, we’re celebrating my daughter’s birthday tonight.  It’ll be a double celebration and she’ll be the first to know about the ring.” I said, surprised and loving the bright shiny object on my hand.    

How many things go in a ring box?

      Artsy and I began a Smart Woman's tradition with the Urbanna Oyster Festival.  We invite friends to go with us   This year our guys are our invited guests to share the fun.  Thousands flock to this waterfront town for two days to devour the featured bi-valve, making good parking impossible.  Hearing us whine about parking being less than easy, Admiral, with a quick phone call, arranged prime parking for us in town!  Don't you love a man who gets things done!   
       As things usually go with friends in crowds, we got separated from Artsy and her guy because of the big black monster.
      The bus was gigantic and black, like the one Pres. Obama used on his August Midwest tour.    Admiral was beside himself with excitement. 
      “What’s so exciting about a bus? It is chilly and I’m ready to get out of the cold for a while.” I thought as I agreed to touring this black monster.   Admiral was quick to point out the differences between the one he owned and this one since this one was glitzy and filled with lights, chrome and mirrors. And that was the inside.
      Warmed again and still full of oysters, we walked to the car in the primo place, looking for Artsy and her guy with each step.  Of course, in my effort to travel light, I’d left my cell phone in the car.   When we got to the car, we found a note from Artsy.  “Come on in the restaurant around the corner and get warm with us.”   That’s a smart woman!
      The drive home was warm and very short as we recalled the best oysters (fritters from the Lions Club, she crab soup from the Methodist church), the people we saw and vows to save the date for 2011.
      Over casual suppers and outings in boats, planes and old cars, Admiral and I got to know each other better. Respect deepened as we shared gut and heart wrenching losses of marriages from death for him and divorce for me, dreams gone awry and unplanned successes that took us to mountaintops.  We realized how precious our relationship was.  To be healthy, acutely mentally alert, totally in charge of ourselves, and to have fabulous resources was a miracle at our age.   At times we understood each other better than we understood ourselves.
     Birthday dinner with my RVA daughter was another first for Admiral.  He was finally meeting a child he’d heard much about.   She knew this was special as she’d never had more than a fleeting glimpse of men I dated.  After opening her presents, she handed me one.  “You gave me a birthday present already. What’s this?”  I asked about the ring-box shaped, beautifully wrapped package.
     “Open it and see.” she grinned.  
     “It’s a pacifier.  What’s happening?  What in the world… I get it!  Are you…? “ I asked excitedly.          
     “Yep. Due in late May.  Congratulations, GoGo.  Grandbaby #2 is on the way.” she announced.  “You’re the first to know so keep it quiet ‘til I can tell the rest of the family.”
      Then she said, “Hey, Mom, I haven’t seen you wear a ring for years. It looks like Princess Kate’s engagement ring.  What’s that?”    

A Phenomenal Woman

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I’m not cute or built to suit a model’s fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I’m telling lies.
I say
It’s in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That’s me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
Like a bunch of honey bees
I say
It’s the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That’s me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can’t touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can’t see.
I say
It’s in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace on my style.
I’m a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That’s me.

Now you understand
Just why my head’s not bowed
I don’t shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say
It’s in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand the need for my care.
‘Cause I’m a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That’s me.



by Maya Angelou

Up Close and Personal with the Man in the Moon

        It was time for the acid test. Girlfriends, cherished soul mates who speak truth, met Admiral.  The evening was great fun and noisy, of course, with a dozen women talking at once.  Admiral loved every minute of being the only man there and being the center of attention.  He grinned from ear to ear, posed for snapshots, and talked easily with all.  The next day each friend confirmed what I felt - he's a keeper. 
       "Let's fly up for the day." Admiral said when I talked about an extreme acid test - meeting my Delaware family.  “You set the date and I’ll get us there in time for lunch.” he said. 
       The flight to Wilmington, DE was easy and scenic. The little 'potato chip' plane flew smoothly under Admiral's control, across the Chesapeake Bay, over farmland, cities and interesting landmarks.
       The whole clan picked us up at the airport and took us to a charming restaurant in New Castle.  The minute Admiral left the table they were full of questions about this man.  “So, are you taking flying lessons?” # 1 Son asked right off the bat. 
       When Admiral returned, the questions changed.  Yummy food was consumed over easy conversation with a heavy helping of check-out-the-new-guy-this-must-be-serious undercurrent for this first meeting.  
       Enjoying ourselves caused a later-than-planned departure for home.  The return flight was expectedly smooth.   Colors were brilliant as the sun set.  Lights twinkled on the ground below and in the heavens above us.  Conversation was animated as usual.   Suddenly the plane was in a steep bank.  “What’s going on? I’m going to throw up. This is the end.”  I thought.  
       When I felt the plane level, I opened my eyes.   We were flying straight into the biggest full moon I'd ever seen!  I felt like I could reach out and tickle his chin! 
       Admiral held my hand and said “Look, the moon’s laughing at us. Do you think he laughs as much as we do?” 

Camping Out with Irene

“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.

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. “