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It was good to be a girl growing up in the country. And where I live was truly country when I was fourteen. It's not so much anymore. Sure, it's RURAL, but the unique flavor of a community founded by five large families has been lost. Too many new folks just sleep in the houses they built or bought here. It's a condition of many small dots on the map. But I digress.
Like a lot of young girls, I loved horses. We had neighbors with a stable, and I had permission to ride four of the less valuable horses at will. With their own children grown and gone, the only stipulation was that I exercise all of them, not just my favorite. Now that's a deal.
It just so happened my favorite was a sweet, and smart, little guy named Sinbad who'd follow me around like a dog. He was the one who always galloped to meet me at the gate, ready for adventure. I never rode him far, mindful of the small stature he didn't know he had, but he's the one I missed when the stable was sold. Anyway, I loved horses.
So where I am going with this trip down memory lane? Right to last night.
Last night, all I had on my mind was finishing chapter ten. The current WIP has a March 1 deadline, but I want it finished now. So when my honey, this sixty-something, balding, near-sighted, ex-bad boy lead guitarist said it was time for a movie night, I stared at him. When he left to go pickup a pizza, I realized just how serious he was.
I was suspicious. I've lived with this man for almost twenty years. He goes along with the concept of movie night, but he doesn't initiate them. And he brought home a bottle of wine with the pizza! Yep. Suspicious behavior. I started to see dollar signs, as in whatever he wants to buy must be BIG.
Well, I must confess this morning, sheepishly, that I had it wrong this time. The spousal unit didn't have an ulterior motive beyond providing me with an enjoyable evening. We settled on the sofa with our pizza and cheap White Zif, and he selected a pay-per-view channel. The movie - Secretariat.
I love this guy almost as much as I love horses.