I gotta man

The great thing about Molly and/or home invaders constantly ruining our laptop is that I get a brand new computer for my birthday every year without fail!

This consistent blessing allows me a chance to go through a bunch of old photos as I move them into a safe place. Every year I spend a day or two in front of my new screen, shaking my head and laughing. Sometimes I get a little misty when I see all our life projects lined up in a row like that. Land, babies, livestock. My life has turned out nothing like I ever thought it would be.

Every day is chok full of rich, strange moments. Why am I planning my goat pregnancies around my cousin’s wedding? Why am I canning 300 pounds of tomatoes? Did that ricocheted bullet fragment actually just hit me in the leg?

I had a most of this dirty work buried somewhere deep in my soul, but it would have died or at least stayed dormant if it weren’t for Seth Teter. Whenever normal people tell me I cannot do it, he tells me I can. Or even better—he tells me we can do it. And together, in most cases, surprisingly, we can! And we almost have —as long as it can be sold on the farm & garden section of Craigslist.

Every day that I take the long gravel road to Possum Street, I look in the review mirror at all Seth’s children, and I cannot help but feel lucky that I found such a partner. Such a man. Like, a real man. Who can do things. Who wants to learn to do other things. I bet he can’t even name three video games.

And because of this man, I’m able to just quit my job, and hand over the keys. I give him soul custody of my future financial situation. Of my health care. Of my babies.

I don’t think I could have picked a more patient, trustworthy, loving and slightly insane human to guide this ship of Teet off a steep cliff into financial ruin.

Oh, come on. I’m kidding. We’re totally going to be crazy rich soon!

Therefore, I salute you, Seth Teter. My lanky gentleman farmer. Seven years and ten days ago at an Athenaeum in Columbus, some whacky guy in a kilt made it official, and I can’t believe we’ve pulled it off. Especially the last 10 days.

Thank you for letting my call you a bull piss ant when we were putting in the new floors upstairs. Thank you for making me eat sushi 10 years ago even though I thought it smelled gross. Thanks for telling me about Stroh’s beer. Thanks for dragging me, kicking and screaming, to Bangs, the happiest place on Earth. Thanks for painting over that terrible lime green color that you said you thought would make me happy but didn’t. Thank you for the balance you bring to my life. And the genes. I think the girls are really going to love the genes you have shared.

If something ever happened to you, one of our friends or loved ones would have to take me out behind the barn and shoot me. Especially if you had died of rabies. You can never be too careful with rabies

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  • Sarah Lozecki

    Rabies are a bitch.