Leila Shea Christensen

You’d think that was me talking, right? After all, I didn’t plan to move out to the middle of nowhere where it’s normal to get your eggs from the backyard. Technically, it’s not the backyard – it’s the chicken coop.  But you know how I feel about technical. I was an English major, remember? Maybe I shouldn’t bring that up – maybe then you’ll be expecting some Jane Austen quality work. Forget it. This is a blog.  So back to the post…

This was Reece talking on our way home the other night. (Right before our car started smoking. Yikes. Dad, Reece and Logan fixed it. Manly.) When Reece lived in Utah, he liked country MUSIC. The rest of it – boots, hat, Carhart jacket, chicken coop, cows, guns, pigs, etc. – were not exactly on his radar. I mean, take a look at him. Does THAT picture look like a country boy waiting to happen? I think not.

(Reece is the boy in the picture. The only boy. Duh.)

But check out the afters… and before you ask, YES, it is the same boy. But I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t recognize him. After all, I didn’t! No, I’m not kidding. When I came out to visit after the “transformation” a cowboy came up to me to hug me in the airport. I thought that was rather forward of him. And then I realized it was Reece. Ooops.



The Cowboy Casanova has arrived.