My Husband Is a Lawyer (for Real)

I had a conversation with a friend of the MiL's today who reads this blog. (Hi, Mikey! Did you know your name always makes me think of the old Life cereal commercial: "Give it to Mikey. He'll eat anything!" Except this Mikey is female and probably won't eat just anything, and . . . Jesus Christ, Kristin, get back to the POINT.) I think everyone the MiL knows reads this blog, because she has disseminated the URL to every person she's ever met. Which is fine with me, because really, what's a blog for but to stoke my ego by writing obsessively about myself and pretending there are lots of people who find that interesting? Even if they don't comment (NOT-SO-SUBTLE HINT).

The point. Having trouble with the point here. So, Mikey-who-will-not-eat-anything mentioned that I am being careful not to disclose that A. is a lawyer. There was no intentional subterfuge on my part about this and I was not aware that you didn't know he's a lawyer. I might have mentioned it in passing at some earlier time, but I wouldn't want all of you to think he's just some one-dimensional redneck. So let me clear this up: He is a lawyer. And also a redneck. More a redneck than a lawyer, though. He wears a suit every day and sues the federal government. He is very, very good at his job, but he really prefers his sheep. And can you blame him?

So, yeah. Just thought you should know. Husband=lawyer. A lawyer who is at this very moment smashing apart a steel sink with a maul in preparation for a junkyard run. I love this man.

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