Somehow at dinner the subject of moving to Texas comes up . . . not a discussion so much as a stream of consciousness monologue by my wife, who has relatives in Texas, and it’s much cheaper to live there than it is here, and so on.
“But what would you do for a job?” she asks me.
Now I have no interest in moving to Texas, and thus no interest in trying to answer that question, but my son is ready with a suggestion.
“Rodeo clown,” he says. “Squirting flowers at bulls.”