A Noteless Discovery, Yes.

I am here to tell you about my new discovery!

Well of course the discovery is new. Please excuse the redundancy implied by a new discovery, but as is the case with discoveries, new or otherwise, I am excited! About my discovery, yes.

I must admit that discovering the new world or discovering the law of gravity or discovering gold in them thar hills' would be infinitely more gratifying (read: financially rewarding) than my new discovery, but those discoveries are already ... discovered, leaving regular folks like me to discover the more mundane stuff.

This is not my first discovery. I have discovered lots of things. In the past. I discovered that Mr. Waller, my neighbor when I was a kid, spent his afternoons 'visiting' a single older lady down the street which made it lots easier for us kids to sneak into his orchard and steal his peaches on hot summer afternoons. I also discovered that my parents disapproved of his delightful afternoon visits, but I didn't understand why.

But now I get it, yes.

So I am here to tell you about my new discovery!

And here it is: I am a Miss! Not a Ma'am. I am not Ma'am or a Madame or even a Hey Lady. How can that be? you ask, because you embrace the old notion that women of a certain, um,age or women of a certain, um, stature in society, perhaps, are Ma'ams.

False.

Actually, I learned that when I am not in the presence of a distinguished and handsome gentleman (read: The Hub) I become a Miss. Right before my eyes! The handsome early-30's gentleman at Costco says Thanks for shopping here, Miss. The clerk at FoodMaxx bags my food and with a smile and says, Here you go Miss. Even the fellow at the Halloween store with the fake scar asks, Can I help you, Miss?

Sadly, he did not have any rubber chickens available for purchase.

So, no. It is not Mom Jeans or under-eye puffiness or slightly-drooping jowls that constitute aMa'am.

It's a Man that constitutes a Ma'am.

Sweet Holy Moses!