06-13-04 - 12:02 p.m.
the sweet lummox in rumpled denim is a 54 year old vietnam vet who, after 30 years of marriage, lost his wife to cancer. he has five children, three grandchildren, and an arab mare named meow who rescued him from a downward spiral of grief. our date evolved into a bewildering whirlwind two days of livestock auctions, barbeques, horse feeding, horse bathing, horse riding, and a trip to a historic pony express station where he told me i was nice and shyly kissed me. we took a trip to dairy queen with his mother, a tiny firecracker of a woman named zelma who loves to gossip and told me, over a cotton candy blizzard, that i "could do worse than jim." and now that he ambles daily through my line at walmart and i have begun to anticipate making his change, i am inclined to think she is right. he is tall and tender, with messy gray hair in need of sprucing. his humor is of the dry variety; a homespun will rogers who survived the carnage of nam and went back for more, so he could see the world beyond fallon on r and r. he loves horses and so do i; he intends to help me buy one, once my place is horse-proofed. his smile is goofy but his handshake his firm. i like that.