Over at the driving range, there's a bunch of old coots who hang out and gossip and drink.
One day I happened to be nearby, idly chitchatting, and this well-preserved-by-scotch octogenarian looked me over, smiled, and said, "You look like you'd make a good farmer's wife!"
"Why's that?" I asked.
"Because you look like you know how to operate heavy machinery AND birth some healthy babies!"
And he grinned at me with a twinkle in his cataract-clouded eye, like he'd just paid me the biggest compliment he knew how to give. Which it probably was.
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