Or if you prefer Brad Pitt, Justin Timberlake or George Clooney you can have them too.
OR if you prefer Sean Connery, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Richard Gere, you can have your pick of them.
Take whoever you want. I've got my manly man.
I know it's not our anniversary of anything, or his birthday, or Father's Day, but can I tell you a little about him, please?
He gets up every morning to go running, be it rain or shine, sleet or snow. Injuries notwithstanding, he wakes up and works out. (He'd make a great postal delivery person, am I right?) He's itching to run another (his 20th?) marathon this fall, but we just can't find one. I told him to organize his own. Why not?
He works hard at his job and is fast on his way to becoming seriously world famous. No, I mean it. Can I brag (more) about him for a second? He had a meeting with ConAgra (flour) a while ago, and they told him that because of the research and a method he developed while getting his master's degree they have changed and improved their methods for milling flour. Tell me that's not hot. It's hot.
He changes diapers, feeds babies, kisses owies, disciplines the wild hooligan, and does it all with a couple pounds more patience than I have.
You want to know the piece de resistance? When he wears holes in his pants from all his rough, tough, manlimanliness he asks me to patch them up again. Sometimes though, there are other things that I want to do. In those times, he takes needle, thread, and the approved for-cloth scissors (he's learned his lesson about my scissors) and patches up his own pants. Self sufficient. And that's my definition of a manly man.
His brother Ken is quite a catch too.
What is your definition of a manly man? I hope you have one. And I hope he treats you well.
Treat him well.
(Final note, just because it's random. I had a dream last night that my mother, my old friend Angie, and David Archuleta had lunch together at the mall. He sang to us while we ate. It was pretty sweet. But no, you can have him too.)