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Dang! Looks like I have my work cut out for me if I ever want to make the rank of country boy. Apparently I ain't even made the grade for country girl yet...
In 1979 I had a summer job with the state and was trapping problem beaver in a pond up on Cedar Mountain. I was laying on the bank setting a 330 in the entrance of a bank den when a shadow came over me. I looked up to see a stunning, tanned out, brunette on a palomino. She was wearing chaps and a stetson and a sixshooter on her hip, with a big old chew in her lower lip. She asked me if I'd seen any cows. She looked tough as nails, but beautiful. I'm pretty sure she defined country girl.
My first wife always wanted to go Trapping, fishing, hunting and wanted to farm right up until after we were married, then she just wanted to Drink, watch Netflix and lay around. Maybe I'm just a bad judge of character but women can be deceptive so take it from me, marry for looks instead of personality
I've always said there is no difference between picking a good dog from the litter and picking a good woman. Both are a crapshoot. May as well grab the best looking one.