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My wife can operate a gas photospectrometer, a saxophone, and a chainsaw. She’ll make you the best cup of coffee you’ve ever had. She can taste a glass of wine and tell you where and when it was made. Her cooking is better than my mom’s.
She is always the best looking woman in the room.
At 6’ tall she commands attention, but is humble enough not to notice. She could bench-press you if she wanted, but she’d rather demurely charm you to your knees. Her music collection includes Bach and the Butthole Surfers. She can tell you the genus and phylum of every flower she planted in her yard, while she trouble-shoots the irrigation system she installed.
She has an infinite well of compassion, but does not suffer arrogant fools gently. She sets ridiculously high goals, and achieves them. She is relentless like the tide. She is patient like a stone. She is a force of nature.
She looks great in heels and in work boots. She doesn’t know how to wear make-up, because she never had the need. She has climbed mountains and leapt from airplanes. She is not inhibited.
She never fails her friends. She loves her children, but does not spoil them. She is instinctively a great wife and mother.
Her laugh isn’t a polite, dulcet titter. It is full. It is huge. It adds an exponent to any joke, drawing in everyone in earshot. It is the difference between laughing and blowing your drink out your nose. I suppose that her laugh, above all else, is what I love about her.
It what can only be a proof of God’s ridiculous sense of humor, she loves me – a short, skinny guy who looks not unlike a flustered weasel. She is completely committed to me. She would go anywhere and do anything for me; but she will not let my bullshit go unchecked. When I am an ass, she says, “You are an ass.” When I am unfair, she says, “You are unfair.” But she always says, “I love you.”
And she does.
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Ass, gas or grass. Nobody rides for free.
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