TLC has many things going on at this point in her life. She’s planning to catch y’all up ASAP. Y’all have me for another post or two…or three. It is what it is.
Have I told ya’ll how much I adore My Sweet Hubby (MSH)? He is the BEST. He has so many good qualities it’s almost unfair to the rest of the men in the World. (Do NOT, under any circumstances, reveal to him I have said this…I’m doing my utmost to keep him on his toes, don’tchaknow…)
Two MSH stories:
MSH walks every single day to our gate and back (one mile round trip). With his best friend, our very sweet chocolate Lab, Buddy Boo Bear. They do this without fail. Makes no difference if the temperature is 10 degrees or 100 degrees. They are dedicated/determined/sometimesalittlenuts. They’re both inspirational to me. I, on the other hand, walk about once a month. And that, My Dears, takes me several weeks to get prepared for in so many ways. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally.
Three weeks ago (Oh, Lordy. It’s almost time for my monthly walk. Crud.), I headed down our very steep hill with My Guys. Trying to be as optimistic, positive and excited as they are. As we approached the first cattle guard, this conversation ensued:
MSH: Did I tell you I rescued a big turtle last week?
ELC: No. No, I would remember that.
MSH: He’d (Of course, he has no idea if it was a male or female turtle. I thought it was nice MSH didn’t accuse this not-very-smart creature of being a “her.”) fallen into the cattleguard. It wasn’t easy to rescue him. And I learned, pretty quickly, he was a snapping (Again, could have changed it to “her,” right?) turtle. But I knew he was scared and I needed to help him to freedom.
{Allow me to interject: In our Big Tank, we have about fifty catfish. Some are huge. Ten or more pounds. And we have some humongously big turtles. We would really prefer that the turtles go visit someone else’s tank, as they eat our fishfood and generally make nuisances of themselves.}
MSH: I faced him in the direction of G & B’s tank (our neighbors’…). He turned around and headed back to ours.
Hearing MSH tell me this sweet story? It perked me right up, quickened my steps, and put me in a mucho better mood. Adjusted my attitude fast. I hugged him and told him how proud I was of his caring, kind heart.
Story Numero Dos:
Last week, MSH was laying on my (I mean “our”) couch one lazy afternoon. Looking at a colorful, big brochure.
ELC: What’s that you're reading?
MSH: It’s a brochure for Indian motorcycles. I’ve wanted one of those since high school.
ELC: Indian? I’ve never heard of those and I’ve sure never heard this story—that you’ve wanted one since high school.
MSH: Really? I’m almost certain I’ve mentioned them to you before. You’ve heard of Indian motorcycles. You have to have heard of them.
ELC: Nope. Neither.
MSH: I could get one for about $25,000.
ELC: We’ve had this motorcycle discussion one hundred and one times. You’re not getting one. They’re dangerous. There’s no point. You don’t need to kill yourself or someone else. I'm sorry. I truly am.
MSH: I don’t think I need your permission.
ELC: Are you insane? I am NOT riding in a sidecar. I can’t believe you’d even suggest that.
He stopped looking at the brochure…looked up into my shocked eyes, and said:
MSH: The sidecar would be for Buddy. Not you. I was going to get him some goggles and a scarf, too. He’s not getting any younger, you know. (He’s 8 years old.) He needs to see some of this World before he gets too old to travel.
I shook my head, turned and walked away. As I got into our bedroom, I had to laugh and laugh. Silently though. I could NOT let him believe, for one second, that he’d rattled my cage. Went to my closet and texted TLC to tell her her Dad’s latest cRaZy idea.
The man’s an enigma. I
love him. I can’t imagine my life without him. We’ll have our 36th
wedding anniversary in September. If he hasn’t bought an Indian motorcycle and
headed to Colorado
HAPPY, HAPPY Friday-In-My-Mind, Darlings!
Wherever in the World Y’all are...
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