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Fifteen minutes later, I was in the company of both my friends and a glass of wine, feeling the kind of mellow buzz that comes not only from your first sip of the night but from the contentment of being with people who've known you forever.
That's when I saw him across the room. He was tall, strong, and quiet, sipping bottled beer and wearing jeans and, most notably, cowboy boots. And his hair. It was not only very short, but very, very gray-- much too gray for the youthfulness of his face but just gray enough to send me through the roof. Gracious, he was a vision, this Marlboro Man-esque person across the room. I inhaled deeply. I needed to see his hands.
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There is a lot more to this article, but I liked this part the best. Ree Drummond is the author of the Pioneer Woman Cooks Cookbook. She has written several articles about her life in the book, and she has a great sense of humor. This article is about how she first met her husband. Him and her are polar opposites; she was from a very urban city, and he was a fourth generation rancher. This combination seems to only happen in movies, but this is a true blue "city meets country" story. The way Ree describes her husband makes me laugh every time, and especially the last line in this section, because it relates to me so much. One of the first things I notice on a guy are his hands. If they are soft and perfectly clean, I generally steer clear of him. As a result, my boyfriend's hands are almost permanently stained with grease, and calloused from working. I thought it was amusing that her and I have the same taste.
