This is the first week in nearly 20 years that I have not been employed by The Tampa Tribune. The divorce, prompted by the elimination of my job as the columnist for BayLife, was final Sunday. So as of Monday, I became a free agent; free to speak my mind without editing; to criticize if I feel like it and to laud and be saccharine if I prefer. I can now write about my family, my grandchildren, Baxter the dog, the cats, the neighborhood if I feel like it and no longer have to worry about what editor likes what kind of column or whether I sound like a neighborhood columnist at a weekly newspaper, as one editor snarkily put it.

And I can cuss if I like.

So this is a very big, very exciting week.

The Little Prince, who lives across the street and, at 15, is full of himself, is driving. He piloted his mom's Honda to and from the Mother's Day celebration my daughter hosted for the family Sunday with me in the car. We had no close calls.

He worries about me, which is a wonderful thing. I was out the other night but neglected to tell him I wouldn't be home. Nor did I turn off all the lights and I left the television on, tuned to Animal Planet, for Baxter the dog.

"Something's not right over there," he told his mother. "I'm going to check on her."

I guess he thought he'd find the body with flies buzzing overhead.

Just about the time I pulled into the driveway he was using the house key I gave him to open my front door.

"Where have you been?" he demanded. "I was worried about you."

"Wow. How nice," I said.

Where I'd been was to Emily's 8th grade awards dinner. She graduates from St. Paul Catholic School in St. Petersburg tonight and heads off to St. Petersburg Catholic High School in the fall. Like the Little Prince, who will be a sophomore in the International Baccalaureate program at St. Petersburg High in the fall, Emily is incredibly bright and driven to excel.

Thank God, they both have heart, however, as well as brains.

Seems to me that heart is in short supply these days.