Testosterone.

I would like to inform you from the beginning that this post has no homesteading purpose.  You will not be any wiser after reading this.  But because I am a woman, and have emotions, I must share with you my emotions at this moment:

This is my man. He is shooting my Mom's gun and wearing my Dad's jacket (roughly five sizes too large for his, ahem, shorter stature). 


What is the point of this, you ask?  Well, let me explain.  I love my husband.  And we both love to shoot our guns, or anyone elses for that matter.  So when I see my husband like this, frankly, I go weak at the knees.


I realize that some woman may find expensive dinners, or rides in fancy cars, or expensive gifts romantic.  And if that's what they want, well that's just plum fine with me.  But as for our romantic escapades, I'll take shootin' pistols with my hubby any day.

I appreciate the fact that Stuart is a man.  That sounded not quite as strange in my head.  But I like that he has hair on his chest (too much information?).  I like that he can, and does, grow facial hair.  I like that he digs in the dirt and eats meat and on occasion, smokes a pipe full of sweet tobacco.  I like that he can sip on a tasty microbrew for an hour and engage in heavy theological conversation.  I like knowing that to defend my honor, he would fight if necessary.  I like that he has wisdom.

And testosterone.

Men should be men.  They should not be women. 

The end.