When one of your co-workers lives where the streets are gravel and he happens to raise sheep, “ewe” never how a conversation might evolve. 

That happened one day recently when I tried to compliment my colleague Kent Darr — who writes about commercial real estate by day but in the evenings puts on overalls and tends to his sheep in rural Lacona — about his wardrobe. 

Kent was wearing a sporty peach-colored shirt one day, similar to one I had seen him wear that’s a cool mint green. Not thinking about his bucolic background, I asked him, “So how many hues are in the ‘Kent Collection’?” 

He paused thoughtfully and then replied, “Well, if you count what [my wife] Sue has, we’ve got 19 ewes.” 
     
Having lived in Wyoming, I’ve heard you never ask a rancher how many head of anything he owns. I guess that applies to shirts, too.