My wife is a sweet little thing. She’s conscientious (almost to a fault), polite, respectful and very much the Lady. She’s also a farmer’s daughter which means she’s one tough broad too. She grew up feeding chickens, haulin’ hay, and milking the goats.* But you’d never guess that by looking at her.
I’m endlessly amused by the reaction people have when they meet her and shake her hand–it’s a firm, confident handshake, a man’s handshake.
The other thing about Em that is a classic is that she’s a crack shot–sure and steady.
Go figure that.
What do you mean we’re all out of spelt muffins?
I’m sure there are a bunch of Yankee fans that would have loved to unload a couple of rounds after yesterday’s loss. Hopefully, the Yanks pull out a "w" today so we can digest and enjoy our Sunday.
Go git ’em boys.
* Several years ago, Em was up at her parent’s place in Vermont with her older sister. One day, they found a large black snake in the garage. They took a shovel, beat the crap out of the poor bastard and then Em used the side of the shovel to cut its head off. I listened in horror on the phone when she told me the story. My ass would have been firmly planted on top of the piano in the living room until the snake was gone. I likely would have wet myself. My tough guy wife, my hero.
Of course, Em also freaks out when she sees a city critter–a roach or water bug. What a wimp.
