Though I thoroughly expected to spend most of my time this year writing about my existential experience of turning 50, life seems to take over. Forget about trying to dissect my inner being, my innermost needs and wants. Forget about spending time in meditation seeking my path as I move towards the latter part of my life.
NO. I'm off to buy another horse. Have I ever explained that until I was 49, I had never even been on a horse? Emma had. She's taken lessons for years but not me. I had a bad experience with a trail horse when I was 7 and yes I do remember being 7. I'm not that damn old.
After that nightmare, I vowed never to come within 100 yards of another horse. I'd ride a camel first. Horses are big, really big, even ponies and they have nasty looking teeth. They poop in huge amounts. They pee in huge amounts. The males let their appendage just hang and dangle while they eat or relax. Seriously??? I don't want to see anyone's appendage hanging and dangling as they stroll through life and their's is not small by any stretch of the imagination.
But once again life stepped in. Emma started to ride again on a horse named Argo. It did wonders for her mental health and she and sweet fairy were entrancing, riding and frolicking with each other on their horses. When I would go out to the barn, special warmth would invade my senses and my all my muscles would relax. It seemed as if my mind could finally take an opportunity to leave all the worries it possessed at home and I was able to embrace the moment.
Sounds poetic, doesn't it? I even started enjoying shoveling shit and that is a new low because I certainly don't like cleaning up after my stupid pets - none of which I might add aren't really mine but that's another story.
The farm owner has become one of our dearest friends and eventually I bought Maggie Blue, a three year old Thoroughbred. I'm learning to ride. We're paying for our goddaughter, Pink Princess, to learn how to ride. And Liz (The true pioneer woman and epic at that) is helping me to harness train Maggie and prepare her for Western Pleasure showing. Maggie is my baby and I adore her although deep down I know she really just loves me for the apples but then my daughters just love me for the shoes they can talk me into so I'm used to it.
But, with any situation comes the rub. Ah, there's the rub. The rub being Beerhound, though he is to blame for every cat we have owned or fostered (we meaning Emma and I. Oh and I might add - I hate cats) has taken a very displeasing stance against buying another horse. I'm not sure why because after 26 years of marriage, three kids - 28 hours, 14 hours and 18 hours of hard labor in that order, 6 dogs, 14 cats, 8 guinea pigs, 2 rats (did he not see Ben or Willard??), 2 gerbils - totally useless for anything even eating, 6 deployments of 6 months or longer, four moves starting from San Diego where we actually owned our home to Virginia - the pit of southern conservatism (have you ever listened to our governor or Eric Cantor? Need I say more?) not to mention duty days, 3 month deployments, touring the Vatican on Christmas Eve while my mother was dying and I was stuck with two small children and a crazy woman, a week spent in the Virgin Islands while I was wiping baby butts, having dinner with nuns drinking their homemade wine while I was subjected to hot dogs, macaroni and cheese and mandarin oranges,
I'm taking a breath,
HE OWES ME!!!! A debt that he can never repay.
And the fucking horses don't even live with us so they're not chewing my furniture like his beloved Rue, who sleeps with us every night. Yes, a 75 pound pit bull baby sleeps in my bed and by the morning he has wiggled his little ole body up until his head is right between me and Beerhound. Usually on one of our pillows.
Ever smelled pit bull breath first thing in the morning? No? Worse than husband breath. At times, worse than husband gas depending on what Rue has decided was appropriate to eat the day before while no one was watching. I'll let you figure that one out.
So, I"m off to rent a horse trailer so we can drive 4-6 hours to look at three horses. Tomorrow I'll post my texting conversation with Beerhound and just for fun I'll post the picture of a chair lovingly given into our care by our neighbors because they moved and wanted it to go to a good home. It used to belong to Betsy's mom. Her mom died several years ago. Rue has really enjoyed it.
Namaste - this meditation shit is really going to come in handy.