I love my husband.
The Bean is staying home this weekend. All weekend. WITH the Dragonmonkey.
Where am I going to be?
I’m going to be up in Bakersfield, flinging myself on one horse after another.
Meanwhile, he’ll be stuck in Orange County chasing after a hyperactive almost 2-year old.
I really, really, REALLY love my husband. Now THAT is a man worth having.
Horses, horses, horses…. HORSES! Yeeeeeah!!!!
I’m going to clean pens. I’m going to throw flakes of alfalfa. I’m going braid manes and pick out eye goopies. I’m going to heave saddles on broad backs.
And I’m going to ride.
I plan on riding horses until my thigh muscles give out.
If I feel like I’m getting too hot and I might be in danger of heatstroke, then I’ll take a break.
And give a horse a bath.
This weekend, it is ALL about the horses.
Come Sunday, if I can walk a straight line without looking like I’m holding an imaginary barrel between my knees, then I haven’t done my job right.
This weekend is my last hurrah— it’s my bachelorette party of pregnancy. At four months I’m already starting to pop out. I figure this is my last chance to safely ride a horse until February, so I plan to make the most of it.
I’m going to use a western saddle. I’m going to use an Australian saddle. I’m going to crawl up bareback. I’m going to lope in arenas and ease my way amongst horse-eating “oil donkeys” out on trails. I’m going to pick hooves and avoid the stinging swish of tails as they swat at summer flies. I’m going to scratch itchy spots and lift manes to air out sweaty necks. I plan on every fingernail having identical black crescent moons of horse grime embedded so deeply underneath my nails that I’ll be picking them until next week.
Take THAT, my fancy Newport Beach coworkers.
And this time, I am GOING to take photos, by golly, so you can hopefully see the gorgeous array of horses Bunnygal has the pleasure of owning.
Horses, horses, horses, horses. HORSES!
I love you, Bean.