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Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Family XI: FarmWife

The main thing you have to know about FarmWife is that I like her rather a lot. I whuffle at her every day, and I don't do that for just everyone.  She's got a deaf ear and a bad knee, and if I were buying her I'd run the other way after the vet check. I've got her now, though, and do you know what? She's perfect for me.

Some people have wondered whether I only love FarmWife because she feeds me. This is because she once went on an online forum and answered a question—"How do I get my horse to follow me without a leadrope?"—with the phrase, "hold food." It's not true. I love her for that reason, sure, but also because she knows that there is only one part of my back that likes scratching (the plumpy bit behind my ribcage), and because she knows I like the sides of my face rubbed and the inner (but never the outer) corner of my eyes, and because she can tell when I'm feeling playful from the shape of my nostrils alone, even before I cavort a single bit. She's always up for a romp, or a hug, or a quiet chat, or any old thing I might require of her except a big flake of alfalfa. That's one thing she NEVER offers up.

FarmWife is a very good mulewoman. She is also known for her excellent writing skills, her love of singing, and her ability to identify any pure- or crossbred dog known to man.

FarmWife blogs too, though not nearly as often as me, Fenway Bartholomule. You can check it out at www.puddlerun.com.

FarmWife is a passable illustrator, a rather good cook, and a good friend. She loves Wickersham, food, nature, and animals. She loathes folding laundry but can sweep 'til the cows come home, which means her floor is usually in better condition than her clothing. Despite having a somewhat rumpled appearance, she is a fine conversationalist and a mannerly woman who generally makes a good impression upon the public.

FarmWife has never scared me, though she did use pliers to remove the tartar from my teeth one day. It happened next to the rhododendron, and I don't blame FarmWife. I blame the rhododenron, and we have not been friends since.

FarmWife loves being a writer but secretly dreams of being an architect, too. She has a bachelor's degree but no other training, so I don't see a huge career shift in her immediate future! That's just as well. I'd miss her if she had a full time job, and she gets by by doodling little pictures of pretty houses and cozy barns. She loves historic structures and timber-framed homes, but she's absolutely terrible with a hammer. She keeps trying to build things, for which she deserves some credit.

FarmWife is a little bit lazy, a bit of a procrastinator, and a very kind person. She's also ridiculously happy most of the time. Her cheeks sometimes hurt from smiling, but can you blame her? After all, she has me—Fenway Bartholomule—and a million other beautiful things.

Ears,
Fenway Bartholomule




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