Freakishly Strong

I��ve always known my husband was strong. But lately, I��ve realized it��s more than that. He��s mutant strong. Scary strong. Thank-God-he��s-on-my-side strong. Wrestle-a-wild-boar strong. Bring-on-the-zombies strong.

“Look at these guns.”

While working in Canada, he went to a dive bar with a coworker. They��re minding their own business, drinking a beer at a table for two. A super-sized, muscle-bound, spends-too-much-time-in-the-gym, steroid-popper makes eye contact. Gorilla guy storms over, looking for a fight. My husband is ever the strategist. To avoid a brawl, he invited Captain ��Roid to arm wrestle, winner buys the other a drink. Muscle man agrees. Sits. They clasp hands.

Eric (my husband) says, ��GO!�� and holds his opponent��s hand in the starting position. The other guy struggles to move Eric��s fist.

��Go!�� Eric taunts. The guy struggles. ��Any time.�� He holds position a little longer, then asks the guy if he��s ready. Eric slams the guy��s fist onto the table.

Gorilla guy is stunned. Absolutely in shock.

Eric tells his friend to get the guy out of there, and the muscle man is easily led away, defeated. The sore loser didn��t even buy Eric a drink!

I knew this story! Yet it took seeing something else to convince me, after a LONG time being married to this Hercules, that he really is freakishly strong.

We were moving fences over the weekend. The chickens had decimated every molecule of vegetation in their yard, so they needed fresh plants to murder. Eric and I moved the fences. All by ourselves. We lifted and dragged the pole fence panels and didn��t even take them apart.

Sawyer keeping watch over the girls in the south yard.

I��m so sore! Even though he did most of the lifting.

But that didn��t even convince me.

Last summer, I covered one door of the hen house with chicken wire to open for a breeze on hot days. The other was to let them into the chicken run. We switched their yard to the other side, so I began removing the chicken wire. One staple at a time.

Eric said, ��Let me save you some time,�� and ripped the sheet of fencing from the boards. Then he TORE the sheet of chicken wire with his BARE HANDS.

WHA…..?

I was stunned. Jaw hanging. Impressed.

��You just tore chicken wire with your bare hands,�� I said.

��Yeah…�� He smirked.

��You��re a freakin�� stud.��

Now the chickens have some new digs, which will be bare dirt in no time. Then we��ll move them again.

Anyone know a good chiropractor?