My guitar is neuter, I suppose, but my banjo is definitely female. And thereby hangs a tale, which I can't forbear telling again here:

About forty-five years ago, when my Beautiful Wife and I had only been married about four months, I had to call her and tell her, "Won't be home until all hours tonight. A rush job came up that I HAVE to finish before I can think about coming home!" My newlywed wife was not enthusiastic, but what can you do? I dragged my weary carcass into bed about two o'clock.

The very next night I had to call her AGAIN and say, "I've got ANOTHER rush job; you go to bed, and I'll be home when I can!" Further unenthusiastic rumblings. This time it was about four o'clock when I left the office.

The following morning I was able to assure her that the situation that caused those late nights was over, and I said, with a grin, "I hope you didn't think there was another woman!"

My new wife's reply: "Well, the thought had crossed my mind!"

(Have patience; I'll get to the punch line in a while!)

Over the years, with the crazy hours I had to work sometimes, we built up a legend of "the other woman" at the office downtown. She was a statuesque Nordic blonde, sort of a Swedish masseuse type, with long blonde braids down her back, and her name was Olga.

When I retired in 1996 I decided that I'd always wanted to learn 5-string banjo, so I did. When I could afford to replace the El Cheapo piece of junk I'd been learning on, I had Mike Ramsey build me a beautiful natural blonde curly-maple open-back, and had him inlay the name "OLGA" at the 10th fret.

I said nothing of that name on the fingerboard to my Beautiful Wife. When at last that long-looked-for UPS shipment arrived and I opened the case, there, for all to see, at the 10th fret was the name "OLGA", my new mistress! My B.W. nearly collapsed on the floor, laughing.

Dave Oesterreich