Tigger in Cape Cod

Dreams do come true.

A while ago, I posted that I envisioned one of the requirements of being a writer was writing from Cape Cod with a cat on my lap….

Preeey close…

About 2 months ago, I was REALLY in Cape Cod, at a beach house writing with old grad school chums and some new friends.

I loved it. The ocean and my girls from college and other amazing women fueled me. I felt I belonged and have a purpose.

We were talking, sharing stories, ideas, experiences. Naming things from the beach, like Mr. Ray, with scientific nomenclature “Look! It’s articulated! Gather!”

Disney Pixar

…joking about being workaholics and techie nerds. Exchanging book lists, favourite apps, and personality tests..

So what does this have to do with money?


Power to be ourselves.

I was in the company of those who are bosses at fortune 500 companies, take calls from the mentally ill, write code, edit for a paleontologic journal, publish, and sell real estate.

Oh, and most do this with kidlets to boot…

I was a bit tipsy with Pinot and wonder.

There weren’t these quiet mornings on the cape with a cat on my lap as I imagined, but fun chatter of 8 women who had lived half their lives and learned and were sharing so much. We all had 1 friend in common, so, for me, it was like seeing different sides of myself in 7 other people. Educated, graceful, witty, insecure and


I had always been a bit ashamed of my Tigger side, working in male-dominated petroleum science. If one wasn’t serious all the time and brunette, then one was stupid.
I have been called that to my face by a very angry, worn-out hag at a former employer and a drunk manager. At the time, I didn’t consider the source nor did I realise that verbal abuse at the workplace was illegal. I internalized it, and hated myself even more.

I’ve tried over the years, to hide Tigger-friendly and outgoing- for fear of being attacked again.

As I near 50, I begin to not care; for now I have financial security and self-worth.

At the cape, there was a bit of Tigger in each of us-even the high-powered; the silly, kindhearted goofy bit came out, yet we are all successful in different ways.

I realised being myself at work is ok. Not that I will suddenly go pouncing into my coworker’s offices, but that I can be friendly if I feel it’s safe.

Some of my dear friends hate getting older-I don’t. I feel more powerful and happier. Secure in who I am-curious, smart, willing, cold if you cross me, kindhearted and helpful if you don’t.

When I was younger, I heard the words “know thyself” and I always hoped I would, like Miss Maya Angelou.

That last evening on the beach, my intestines betrayed me from red wine and lobster, so I took a quiet evening on the sofa, getting to know one of the ladies better. I’m glad I did.

As we left the next morning, I said goodbye to the lovely house, knowing I would be back someday, bring my husband, and rent a lap dog (husband allergic to cats) and write, and fly kites, and be a Tigger on the beach.


The trip didn’t quite end there. Just as we were driving to the airport, my heartburn and chest pain worsened. My jaw began to ache.

I thought that I was having a heart attack and was so embarrassed to admit that and ask for help. I pulled the car over and explained. These wonderful ladies took care of me. First to Urgent Care, then an ambulance to Cape Cod hospital. Tests, and meds and rest and my best college buddies right by my side before I was cleared and left in a panic to make the flight to London. My friends and God had me in their arms that day.

I still tear up when I think about the incredible LOVE I felt that day…

From my fellow Tiggers.


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