Men are falling from the sky!

A fellow returned Peace Corps volunteer told me, “Sarah, boys are just falling from the sky, I met Luke at a bar last night and now he’s my boyfriend!” --Not this sky, kiddo; I thought. Between classes (with kids 7 years my junior)

and singing at senior housing communities, I seriously doubt anything but snow from this sky. Yesterday afternoon, my grandfather, who had previously been joking about finding me a lonely rancher sat me down for a serious discussion; “I don’t want you to die alone, Sarah.” “Oh Lord!” I thought, on my way to work “Now I’m dying alone; and here I was hoping for at least a Golden Girls’ house beforehand.” At work last week, a little lady from Laos (mother of 10) put me on a machine with a former marine, not so bad looking. “Sarah, you single?” She asked. “Good; Robert, he single too. He vewy nice boy.” I mentioned this to another girl at work, and found that an entire ploy is in place to get Robert and I together. Don’t worry, she said, If Robby doesn’t work out, Sam over there is single too. I know he’s a good man. He loves hunting and fishing. She then proceeded to list each of Sam’s material possessions (and describe his hunting trucks). After all, she says, I don’t want you dying singe, now. Imperfect though they may be, men are indeed falling from the sky, like half fermented grapes from the very well functioning village grapevine. It won’t be long before I find myself on a date at the shooting range, pheasant field, or ice fishing pond some Saturday afternoon.