I did something totally out of character yesterday. I actually engaged in a literary activity known as "research". It was very exciting! I put the words "Aspen condos as a reward for wildly successful first-time novelists" into Google, and it came up with a whole list of links and sites, starting with "opportunities in the housekeeping, food service, and car parking industries."
So I am On. My. Way.
18: I'm thankful that, in this country, if you don't want to count cows, you don't have to. My husband and I grew up together. We met when I was just a year old and he was three, although we didn't begin dating right away. Being LDS, we adhered to the counsel that young people not get seriously involved with anyone until they were potty trained. We've taught our children to live by the same principle, and it has been a blessing in our lives.
After he came home from his mission, my then-crush and I attended the University of Utah, where I received a degree in Music as well as an encouraging invitation to "not let the Kingsbury Hall door hit you in the butt on the way out", and he graduated in accounting and finance.
During those illustrious years, we married and started our family. And all that time, my husband worked for the Church in their Welfare department. As an accountant, the high point of his year was the annual inventory of the church farms in northern Utah, and for one day every spring, he put on jeans and sneakers, and, calculator in hand, counted cows on the Church-owned ranch.
And with every bovine head accounted for, he felt a little piece of his soul die.
So, after a few years of this, we decided to make a radical career change, and the next thing we knew, he was a Federal agent and we were living in the beautiful Northwest, to our knowledge a good 900 miles from the nearest Mormon cow.
We have never regretted that decision. It has sent us down paths we never even knew existed, and provided us with adventures we never could have imagined. While I have had the occasional phone call that went something like, "Pack me a bag. I'm off to hunt white s*prem*sists for a couple of weeks," for the most part it has been interesting and exciting and a totally awesome ride.
Now, he keeps tabs on a different type of b*llsh*t producer, the kind that straps bombs to its chest and blows up public markets or burns schoolgirls in the streets for not wearing enough shrouds over their heads.
He's still doing his part for the welfare of humanity; that's always been his nature. But these days, he does it with a badge and a gun.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Security is a real issue for our family, which is why I put certain letters in as (*) in the hopes that Google won't send the kinds of people who look up those words over here to my blog. So, please don't use them in your comments. You know you were about to. Don't deny it.