Why I Married a Boy Scout


Well, we made it. We had to drive through a blizzard to get here, but we made it to Nana and Papa’s house for Thanksgiving. We had to get through some pretty scary stretches of road, but once we hit Nevada, all was clear.

My winter experienced husband did the driving, calm-cool-and-collected through it all. But when we unloaded the back of the mini-van, I found his thickest parka, warmest gloves, and his size 14 Sorel boots beneath the suitcases.

“We were coming to sunny California. Why did you pack these?”

“Oh, you know. In case we got stuck and I had to dig us out or walk for help.”

Always thinking. Always prepared.

That’s why I married a Boy Scout.

(Oh. And he’s pretty darn cute in that uniform too.)


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