Monday, September 29, 2008

Mustangs and Marriage


The way to marital bliss is long and tortuous for many of us men. The language of love that our women speak comes from outer space and we often stumble through life learning a word here, a gesture there, and a phrase or two along the way.

My good brother Mike, for example, kept telling his wife that her favorite horse was a worthless bronc. Hey, what else can you say about a 3 year old Mustang that she rescued from the BLM. It was gentled enough to handle, but who wants to risk their life trying to ride the thing, since no one has ever even tried? Why couldn't she see his concern for their safety? So, with the high price of hay and all, why not sell her to the Elmer's Glue people and be done with it? It just makes perfect sense.

He was wearing out the couch, which is a side effect of sleeping on it. And if that isn't bad enough, the sting of wondering what he said wrong that felt so right, was pure puzzlement.



I dunno Mike. Why don't you bring that widow-maker over and lets mess around with her a little? Whoa... looky there, picture proof of the potential your wife kept insisting was there. That horse is no killer! Riding Allie for your wife was a little phraseology in the pure mother tongue-of-love. Now repeat it over and over so you don't forget how to say it...now that you are all rested up from sleeping on a REAL mattress!

Pics of Mike on Allie's virginal ride, Saturday--these are the real deal:

6 comments:

Mike and or Cindy said...

I am trying sooo hard not to say "I told you so!" HA love the pics and I love Allie too. We are taking her out tonight. Yehaw!

Mike and or Cindy said...

Hey! In my excitment I forgot to mention I LOVE MY HUSBAND TOO! Especially since he rode my baby. You got one thing wrong though, men's love language is from OUTERSPACE. (=

BonBon said...

Way to go! I don't know why this made me tear up a bit. I don't even like horses (all that much. Did I just say that blogoutloud?)

EyeDoc said...

That little mustang is a great horse. If you keep her blanket wet for the next few months, she'll be as safe as any horse you could ever find. All she needs is someone to teach her what all the signals mean--she's a sweetheart!

EyeDoc said...

Bon, we could fix that little problem you know...imagine--a deserted beach, a white horse with flowing mane and tail, seagulls and salt in the air, his strong arms around your waist as you gallop through the spray on the edge of the surf to some secluded and secret cove...better stop there!

EyeDoc said...

Hey! I was just visitor number 5555 to my blog. (I've a numbers fetish. I pulled over on the freeway to take a picture of our toyota when it hit 100000 and 200000.) Kinda like "a billion served!