The first marriage proposal I received was delivered something like this;
"I'm thinking of buying a new place, saw it last week. There's a bigger stable yard so we could keep a couple of ponies for the children, as well as a couple of nags to keep us jumping. A pigeon pair would do me, but I know you've mentioned at least four so we could get in a couple more horses as they outgrow the ponies.."
"I'm sorry, what are you talking about," was my less than attentive reply.
"I'm asking you to marry me."
I haven't thought about it for nearly twenty-five years, until I clicked on a link from she who influences' blog, and surfed on into a blog called Confessions of a Pioneer Woman. In today's post Pioneer Woman describes a friend with time on her hands, Hyacinth. If you can't be bothered to click on the link, here are two sentences:
"You may not know this, but Hyacinth is also a radio host and has two successful shows in our area. And she's always so blissfully happy to be at the radio station rather than at home folding laundry and wiping her children's body parts, she'll often call me after her regular shows are in the can and kill time by conducting fake interviews with me."
It was the bit about ringing up and conducting fake interviews that had me shout out with laughter. I have a best friend who's like this. I scrolled down and her post for June 19 wiped the smile off my face. Beautiful, beautiful horses. Little girls with perfect, perfect shoulder/hip/ankle alignment, and outrageously rugged cowboys photographed doing outrageously rugged cowboy things. But the photos of the horses really take my breath away. I shall give up gardening and take up cowboying. Actually I think it's called wrangling. At least I have the right jeans, so that's a start.
