In our nearly 34 years of marriage, Elaine's and my marriage has evolved to a certain way of doing things. She handles most of the inside-related decisions, most of the outside ones fall to me and so on to a variety of other tasks.
And so it is with our annual May task of picking and pitting cherries. Elaine holds the step ladder while I pick the cherries from our North Star tree while later she pits the berries.
Today for a magazine article we went fly fishing on the Smith River with two local anglers: Al Kittredge and Lisa Hall. Upon arriving home, Elaine told me that she would not be able to pit today because of a sore wrist incurred while fishing. Thus, the cherry picking and pitting fell to me.
It did not take long into the pitting process before I discovered what a rotten job this is. Juice frequently went into my eyes, shirt, and pants as well as into the wall. Some 20 minutes transpired while I was picking a quart of cherries, another 30 went by while I was pitting them.
After a particularly juicy sour cherry sprayed me, Elaine quipped: "Welcome to my world."