Tuesday, March 25, 2008

The Hunt Continues (Parenthetically Speaking)

Bear, Finn, Sarah, and I (two Sarahs, and yes that is just as confusing as you would imagine) spent Easter afternoon in the bitter cold Missouri crosswinds, hunting for eggs (easy pickins) and milking cows (not so easy pickins) at Shatto Dairy Farm.

(Finn literally milked a cow. It may have been the one that gives rootbeer milk. I'd advise you ask if he has washed his hands before you shake. He's four. The only place you know for sure where his hands have been are on a cow's utters. I can testify that that is not the extent of his daring dexterous feats. I'm just saying . . .)

As Sarah (she looked supercool amid the dairy attendees--and she's single! You heard it here) and I waited for the Egg Hunt to commence, Bear filmed the experience for . . . something.

(I'm never sure where that video ends up. But he does record it in high-def. Because he is a geek. He has a card that corroborates that membership. Ask him to show it to you. Next graf.)

Bear weaved in and out of the crowd, trying to capture the ambiance that is northern Missouri on a cold spring day. (Insert irony.) And as Sarah and I talked about Finn's strategy (which ended up being "Yank the egg from the hands of the young and hesitant), I caught a glimpse of Bear across the crowded egg field.

Black Fink jacket. Green stripped hoodie. Aquaman t-shirt elegantly caressing nearly-40-year-old beer belly. Webby Vans. Half-structured bedhead. (Yes, an overaged, overbellied catalogboy for Urban Outfitters.) All cast against Kansas City Chiefs red, baseball caps, bulbous parkas, and Sunday plaids.

And I realized, right then and there, why I married that man nearly 15 years ago.

Still sizzling after all these years.

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