My muscle


My girl is a muscle.

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When I asked her to help me with the groceries, she grabbed one bag and then demanded that I “load ’em on!” She slung five bags on each arm and started towards the door. She panted it out and nearly made it (I had to take two at the end).
When Ri was in preschool, she was friends with a teeny weeny little girl names Bell. They were nearly the same age but Bell maybe weighed 35 pounds wet. Ri, on the other hand, weighed in around 70. She is, and always has been, thick and strong – just like her daddy. When other kids would mess with Bell, she’d get in between them and protect Bell with all she had. Bell’s parents loved it and when Ri showed up at Bell’s birthday party, Bell’s dad exclaimed “There’s the muscle!”

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It has stuck with her ever since for very good reason….

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