At the risk of saying, “Oh what a wonderful boyfriend have I, blah blah blah” . . . . I drove over to his house on Saturday morning, just after drowning a baby squirrel in a fish pond. In my defense, I tried to save it. And on the other hand, it was just a squirrel. Plenty more rodents from where that one came.
Got to his house just in time to be mad at myself for not having stopped for a snack, before I got on Rose and rode. He and his favorite niece had already saddled up and had a little girl on for her first ride (the little girls, not the horses). Quite the cute little princess she was, and after she was off, we were all set to go. Rose had the privilege of holding up my 300 lbs again, while they were on Sable & JoJo. It was a nice ride, the usual land we go through, with the added bonus of her riding up on a water moccasin. I’d had sense enough not to start riding through the creek bed just yet, so I didn’t have to turn and ride away.
This same favorite niece of his spent the weekend doing quite the unlady like things, such as farting and belching and claiming she wanted to catch a live green snake so she could dissect it (some sort of forensic biology major), with me telling her over and over again that she’d best find her a very country, very rural, practically backwoods fellow, because not many city boys would know what to do with all that farting and belching.
This ride hurt the lower part of my back, which is probably quite normal for a 37 year old, 300 lb, fellow sitting atop a horse for 2 hours. Even today, it’s a bit sore. Three ticks found on me have me convinced that I have already contracted lyme’s disease, and am just waiting for the symptoms to set in. Not that I know what they are, but I am sure they are horrible. Horrible.
I did get to meet “the gay brother” who is more open and out gay. All their protestations to the opposite, he seemed nice enough. He spent quite a fair amount of time within a stone’s throw of me, going to a late lunch in town with us, and a family cook-out for supper, and a visit to the morning flea market. I’m sure we can all have our drama moments, and I’ve no doubt he can as well. What I think they see as a bitchiness, I may have seen as just trying to hold your own in a family so large. I will admit to witnessing one moment when I thought he was truly rude, answering the phone. With no caller i.d., in a house that you no longer live in, a simple, “hello” is all that’s necessary. But aside from that, I thought he was mostly nice enough. Not that he needs my approval at all.
Saturday night brought a cooler temperature, which was a nice respite from the day’s warmth. Especially so since My Fella had refused to turn on his air conditioning unit yet. I thought it would be well past warm in his home that evening, but I will admit to a secret – the breeze was cool, and gave me a wonderful night’s sleep. It was a touch romantic too. It was cool enough that it kept us close for warmth, but just barely so. Just perfect. And I should admit that, waking early and looking out his bedroom window at the pasture is a far prettier sight than my bedroom’s view to the parking lot.
The flea market was interesting, with the differences between the truly trash to the fun-to-look-at flea market stuff, and the difference between “the old area” and “the new area.” One section was just trashy, the kind of trash full atmosphere that makes you wonder, “What kind of people are these?” Dirt and dirty, and items just thrown perchance on an old, rickety table as if they were ready to be thrown away. Then the new section with concrete walks and an open air market feel. Just odd. There wasn’t much in the way of people watching, most people looking like they were just from the area. A slight mix of latinos/Hispanics, but other than that a very Caucasian group of buyers.
On the very plus side, the cook out was delicious, with My Fella commanding the grill and every member of the family admonishing him to “cook the burgers” and not pile up a plate full of red meat. His dad made two homemade coconut pies – delicious. And of course, thankfully, the morning brought a country breakfast with his Dad’s biscuits, eggs from their chicken coop, and country ham. I had four biscuits. Two each with eggs and ham, then one with molasses and one with homemade apple jelly. (Do not put a fork in that jelly, the tines will tear it.)
It was a very nice trip, even if it was cut a bit short by my need to return home and pick up my friends at the airport. Even if I am slowly dieing of lyme’s disease, even now.
Got to his house just in time to be mad at myself for not having stopped for a snack, before I got on Rose and rode. He and his favorite niece had already saddled up and had a little girl on for her first ride (the little girls, not the horses). Quite the cute little princess she was, and after she was off, we were all set to go. Rose had the privilege of holding up my 300 lbs again, while they were on Sable & JoJo. It was a nice ride, the usual land we go through, with the added bonus of her riding up on a water moccasin. I’d had sense enough not to start riding through the creek bed just yet, so I didn’t have to turn and ride away.
This same favorite niece of his spent the weekend doing quite the unlady like things, such as farting and belching and claiming she wanted to catch a live green snake so she could dissect it (some sort of forensic biology major), with me telling her over and over again that she’d best find her a very country, very rural, practically backwoods fellow, because not many city boys would know what to do with all that farting and belching.
This ride hurt the lower part of my back, which is probably quite normal for a 37 year old, 300 lb, fellow sitting atop a horse for 2 hours. Even today, it’s a bit sore. Three ticks found on me have me convinced that I have already contracted lyme’s disease, and am just waiting for the symptoms to set in. Not that I know what they are, but I am sure they are horrible. Horrible.
I did get to meet “the gay brother” who is more open and out gay. All their protestations to the opposite, he seemed nice enough. He spent quite a fair amount of time within a stone’s throw of me, going to a late lunch in town with us, and a family cook-out for supper, and a visit to the morning flea market. I’m sure we can all have our drama moments, and I’ve no doubt he can as well. What I think they see as a bitchiness, I may have seen as just trying to hold your own in a family so large. I will admit to witnessing one moment when I thought he was truly rude, answering the phone. With no caller i.d., in a house that you no longer live in, a simple, “hello” is all that’s necessary. But aside from that, I thought he was mostly nice enough. Not that he needs my approval at all.
Saturday night brought a cooler temperature, which was a nice respite from the day’s warmth. Especially so since My Fella had refused to turn on his air conditioning unit yet. I thought it would be well past warm in his home that evening, but I will admit to a secret – the breeze was cool, and gave me a wonderful night’s sleep. It was a touch romantic too. It was cool enough that it kept us close for warmth, but just barely so. Just perfect. And I should admit that, waking early and looking out his bedroom window at the pasture is a far prettier sight than my bedroom’s view to the parking lot.
The flea market was interesting, with the differences between the truly trash to the fun-to-look-at flea market stuff, and the difference between “the old area” and “the new area.” One section was just trashy, the kind of trash full atmosphere that makes you wonder, “What kind of people are these?” Dirt and dirty, and items just thrown perchance on an old, rickety table as if they were ready to be thrown away. Then the new section with concrete walks and an open air market feel. Just odd. There wasn’t much in the way of people watching, most people looking like they were just from the area. A slight mix of latinos/Hispanics, but other than that a very Caucasian group of buyers.
On the very plus side, the cook out was delicious, with My Fella commanding the grill and every member of the family admonishing him to “cook the burgers” and not pile up a plate full of red meat. His dad made two homemade coconut pies – delicious. And of course, thankfully, the morning brought a country breakfast with his Dad’s biscuits, eggs from their chicken coop, and country ham. I had four biscuits. Two each with eggs and ham, then one with molasses and one with homemade apple jelly. (Do not put a fork in that jelly, the tines will tear it.)
It was a very nice trip, even if it was cut a bit short by my need to return home and pick up my friends at the airport. Even if I am slowly dieing of lyme’s disease, even now.
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