I called Daddy this morning to catch up on all the latest. What fields are getting bushwacked, what animal needs to be fed, who died, who moved, doctors appointments and birthday parties. Mama was sleeping and towards the end of my conversation with Daddy he said, "Uh-oh. I heard a shoe slap on the floor in yonder. Your Mama's after something."
And I said, "Quick Daddy: How many years you been married?".
"Too numerous to count... 48."
John says they don't even keep folks on death row that long.