One day on the 405 Freeway on my way to a therapy session (while my car was over-heating in snail crawl traffic) I got it! Yes, he had gotten me good! But I could handle this. Twenty-two years with Mr. Urban-Urbane had taught me to fight. Then, then came a terrorist attack on my main man! I must go back to him! Mr. Smooth wasn’t giving up easily. I had a fight with one of his ’97 Pontiacs running a red light in the rain while I crossed a street. It sent me to hospitals and rehab for six months of learning to walk again” –told you “Soothe & Smooth” was a killer. I wound up crooning to my crushed leg, often. I also became focused, centered and philosophical because there was plenty of time to evaluate my life. I was wiser and older and Mr. Smooth hated aging women. And now there was a war. My country was at war! (Medley) My final plea with Mr. Urbane to forgive me for deserting him and preparing for forgiveness and looking to the future. It was agreed that this had to be. Thought some might work–the bold
