One week at church when I was married and living in Provo, a woman stood up and told us the story of how she met her husband. I had always admired their relationship:
"I saw John for the first time when he was shoveling my grandmother's driveway."
I thought it was ingenious. How could you really go wrong marrying someone who had gone out of their way to serve your grandmother?
Two days ago, my brother, Tom, called me just to see how things were going. He's a busy guy with a career as a Navy doctor and 4 kids, so the fact that he called me is pretty remarkable.
After I was done telling him about what's current in my life I asked what was up with him.
"I'm pretty sore from snow-shoveling."
"Is there seriously that much snow in Washington?"
"No, there's just a lady who's husband is deployed right now, so I shoveled at her house too."
This is my new-found criteria for me wanting to date/cuddle/kiss/marry anyone. You must be a snow-shoveler.