When is the last time you saw one of these in your back yard?
Yeah, me too. Until Monday, that is. This bad boy showed up and, in less than half an hour, all the pesky wheat standing between me and my berries and cherries was g-o-n-e! Yes, I can now just walk straight across to where I know the bounty is, rather than have to walk aaaaallllll the way around the wheat field and then hack through the weed trail that is the narrow space between the wheat and the trees/bushes/berries/cherries.
I called the kids to witness the grain carnage (because there will NEVER be wheat there again) and they thought it was just about the coolest thing ever.
McH is now on the brink of ordering the shed he wants, which is actually more of a barn at this point because, yes, I have agreed that if we have a place to house them, and if we have a pasture ready for them, and if we have the money for them, and if we can find a good deal, then maybe NEXT year we will get a couple of horses.
You see, for the almost 12 years we’ve been married now, I’ve heard over and over about McH’s horse. The horse he had as a teenager and LOVED. The horse his mother had to use as payment to the divorce lawyer. The divorce lawyer who McH has a deep and abiding disdain for. The man has wanted another horse for as long as I have known him (McH, that is, not the lawyer. I don’t know the lawyer. The last anybody heard of him he was on his way to the pokey).
And then there is L~, my middle daughter. Unlike her older sister, she doesn’t read much. Oh, she can read. She can read very well, actually. She just doesn’t like to. Unless, of course, we are talking about her own personal copy of Cherry Hill’s Horse Care for Kids (or whatever the title is). The girl is horse obsessed. The truth of the matter is, at her age? I was also horse obsessed. Oh. my. word. I wanted a horse.
So here I sit, wanting my husband to be happy (not that he’s some miserable, crotchety fool, stumping around the house grumbling about his need for a horse, but you know what I mean) and wanting to give my little girl something I never got (which, yes, yes, I know, is what leads to spoiled, entitled children).
Whatever. The Wheat is Gone!!!!!!!! (and please tell me I’m not the only one to hear Glen Frey singing in my head when I say that).
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.