Luke said if I was going to use the picture of him at work, I had to title it correctly: underbuild reconductor.
One of my favorite things about being a lineman’s wife is all the cheesy sayings like I didn’t come to see the light show, I came to put it on and feel the charge, hug a lineman. Seriously, someday I’ll have to force my husband into one of those puffy paint sweatshirts just for photo’s opportunity, or maybe I’ll wear one of those shirts with a machine embroidered substation and written in the awful font popular in 1988: proud lineman’s wife.
Tonight as I kept him company on the couch we read lines from [this site] in our best fake accents, with a slur like an entire package of Big League Chew in cheek’s corner. I’m pretty sure all this laughter forced his 103 degree fever down.
In truth, my favorite thing about being married to a lineman is driving around the island, looking up.
Our girls love it.
The whole town knows it. There’s a road that cuts the center of the island heading north and for fifty or so hours a week the lines are beginning to look a bit more spiffy each day.
Oh how they cheer when they notice him in the sky. Truth be told it’s mostly the under five-year-old crowd. Lucy’s friends that are boys are smitten with the trade, most impressed with the super-cool trucks.
On this particular day we waved and clapped and hollered beneath the lines. It was fun to be a cheering squad. It was a bit over the top, but we meant it. Plus he was up in the air with another super-cool island daddy.
Giveaway winners announced [here] soon.