NOVEMBER 11, 2012 3:49PM

Red 'n' Me

Rate: 6 Flag
A mild-ish version of 'The Look', as explained below.
The message here? Don't mess with The Redhead,
in this case, by taking her picture.

     It's thirty years today, and I still don't know why she let me hitch my battered wagon to her thoroughbred self. 
     I recall vividly, and undoubtedly will until I die, the first time I saw her: Sandals, cut-off blue jean shorts and pink halter top, her glorious mane of curly red hair pulled back so it wouldn't get in the way as she worked.
     She was standing hipshot, and looking at me either quizzically (a kind interpretation) or as if she'd just discovered something new and perhaps disturbing on the bottom of one of those sandals. 
     A year or so afterward, I'd follow her to England, where she was working in a pub, only to find she'd already returned to Canada. Our letters to each other outlining our respective plans were caught in a postal strike.  
     I was able to fulfil a secondary purpose on that trip -- touring the dying Triumph motorcycle factory. I'd later write a newspaper business feature and two magazine articles about that tour -- and highlight her in the latter two. It was the first use of "Tiny Perfect Redhead" or "TPR" in public, but it wasn't the last. 
     Here's a partial list, in no particular order, of what I love, respect and admire about her.
  • She's a redhead. I can't help that attraction -- it's lodged in my DNA. Her hair colour when we met was the same shade as my paternal grandmother when she was young (although I only ever knew that august woman to have white hair). My father was blown away by that when he first met the TPR.
  • She's a gifted, patient joiner (as in cabinetry). I can build anything strong and ugly; she'll make it look right later.
  • She's also a gifted, intuitive mechanic. Years ago, I was having trouble with a motorcyce engine, and came home from the office one day to find the top end stripped down to the crankcases and ready to work on, everything neatly laid out and labelled. She doesn't even like motorcycles.
  • She could, if she'd a mind to (which she doesn't), fashion curses in English, Gaelic, Polish, Russian and French. Maybe Latin, too. 
  • She loathes shopping -- of any kind -- even more than I do.
  • She has "The Look", which can freeze bone marrow. Actually, all redheads have it -- ask Scanner or Older/Exasperated -- but hers once reduced a used car salesman almost to tears when he initially rejected her offer. Foolish man.
  • She has a razor sharp intellect that's made me play catch-up for three decades. Her slogan is: "If you're in the right, the arguments marshal themselves".
  • She can out-work any human being I've ever met, especially me, despite being all of five-foot-one and 102 pounds.
  • She likes Canadian-rules football.
  • She can make a dirt molecule scream in terror at twenty feet.
  • She spent time as a kid up in a tree reading books, as I did.
  • She still reads a lot, and was once a "slash-and-burn" (according to the editors) reviewer for daily newspapers. She also invented the "Bore-o-Meter", which was the number of times she wanted to hurl a book at the nearest wall out of sheer boredom and frustration.
  • She's a terrific and inventive chef.
  • She loves music, from classical to rock to punk (well, The Clash, anyway) and would easily win any "Name That Tune" contest. Her singing has been likened to that of Edith Piaf ... by a Frenchman, no less.
  • When she was a reporter, she icily snarled at a self-righteous, dissembling pig of a labour lawyer, "Lying may be a prerogative of your profession, but it's not of mine". I wish I'd had a camera -- "The Look" was out in full force that day.
  • She agreed to get married on Armistice Day because, well, after all, it was a truce.
  • The hair colour has changed over the years to a kind of tawny gold, and it's much shorter. But the person under it is the same one I fell in love with all those years ago.
     So, yes, I'm obsessed, besotted, enthralled, bewitched etc. I like that. Plus I'm no end of proud and smug.  
     When I was a newspaperman, I signed off on all my stories with "30" -- meaning "the end".
     Here's to a lot more than 30, TPR. Happy anniversary. Slainte.
1-Biker 001 
Yeah, I don't know why she'd bother, either. 

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Happy Anniversay, you guys are certainly a success story!
I have never read such love and passion for one person in my life. You are a good man with a wonderful woman! Bless you both with another thirty years and may they all be as good as the first thirty!
Love and Light
another red head lol
Nice to hear that some pairings hold up undiminished over the years Boanerges. Charming write-up and I'm sure it won't just be the hair that's red if and when she sees this.
So enjoyed this peek at TPR, I've been wanting to see this woman who won your heart so long ago and every day since : )
Happy Anniversary to you both!!
That she's a joiner is enough to make me respect her, right there, not to mention all the other things you've got listed that look.
(I love using that look too -- sometimes, one must.)
...and excuse me for using the initials -- was just shortening, not usurping or being too familiar on purpose...
: )
Happy 30th to you and the TPR. It seems like you're perfectly matched, and it's so great to hear that the magic hasn't diminshed in 30 years and doesn't look like it's going to anytime soon. Happy Anniversary to the both of you, and here's to many more!
Happy 30th to you and the TPR. It seems like you're perfectly matched, and it's so great to hear that the magic hasn't diminished in 30 years and doesn't look like it's going to anytime soon. Happy Anniversary to the both of you, and here's to many more!
Scary.....and to think my good friend she's friends with a 6ft Amazon witch redhead with the same inherent qualities as you describe in the TPR it a wonder either of us are still alive or they both just put up with us out of wicked amusement. My Best as Always...........older/exasperated
No, not so much a good man, GA (lots of people would attest to that), but an incredibly lucky one. We've done good for a couple of kids who started out broke in a trailer park.

She didn't see this until this morning, Abra. Didn't want her to make me take it down.

JT, anyone on the receiving end of "The Look" had better pray it's not the full force one. It reduced that scumbag lawyer to stammering incoherence (and maybe caused internal bleeding). As for calling her the TPR, no problem at all.

Thanks, VA. And yeah, we're still dancing to the music. Well, not literally, at the moment. We blew up the speakers a week or so ago ("If it's too loud, you're too old" is great until the tweeters self-immolate). Back in the groove sometime this week, I hope.

O/E, we're truly fortunate sons. Luckily for us, we both know it, the consequences otherwise being too awful to contemplate. My best to M and the Coven.
I wish I had seen this sooner! Happy 30th!!