Flying High!

Cowboy here. The imp is beside herself with joy, into more mischief than usual, more mischief than the nonsense she pulls during “run amok week.” This is because my right hand was injured, a while before it’s completely healed. I’m keeping score; eventually someone I know walking around, a silly grin pasted on that sweet face, is up for some real retribution come hell or high water. You can bank on it. I told the imp my left hand was worthy. Sar fell over laughing at that remark. Now and again I notice she’s giggling for no reason.

Life continues – normal days plus bursts of chaos and mayhem – never a dull moment around that birbantella of mine. The newest dog, a Malinois shepherd was getting along with all the cats, changed its mind one evening, growled at one of them. The tomcat jumped on the dog’s head, basically beat the crap out of the dog until Sar stepped in. Dog got the message; peace reigns again. So! Life in on an even keel; back from Alberta. Doorbell rings while Sar is out shopping. Did I mention I married a birbantella?

Two guys are on my doorstep. One’s a Royal Mountie, the other looks like an Aussie ranch hand. They have paperwork for me to sign prior to taking ownership of a wild mustang. A wild mustang! That’s a horse in case you thought it was a Ford vehicle. I must have muttered something intelligible that got rid of them because my head was immediately filled with… “when I get my hands on her!”

Then I remembered my injured hand… that woman really pushed some limits. 1/The neighborhood covenants do not include horses as pets. 2/Neither do I. 3/Wasn’t planning on renting stable accommodations for a wild mustang. 4/Where in blazes was the imp planning to take it to tame it, etc? 5/Was she going to break her neck when the horse threw her off its back? 6/My left hand can accomplish a great deal!

Miss Innocent arrives home, a load of groceries in the car. I wait until all is put away. I casually mention the paperwork about a horse I specifically said was not imminent in our lives in this life time or the next. The imp raises an eyebrow in my direction; I cross my arms, give the imp a stern look. Sar giggles. Couldn’t help myself; burst out laughing, gave her a good hard swat using my LEFT hand. The imp runs out to the backyard; sics the Neo on me, climbs a tree.

I climb up after her, grab her, etc. Sar leans back in my arms…. Wait for it!
She says “ so when will the mustang arrive?”

It was easy enough to hold her in my right arm while my left hand made threatening gestures. I’m getting too old to climb trees; yeah, the imp keeps me young.

Other thoughts: A few questions some of you have asked over time.
Why do I hire Marines to protect my wife? Do you really think I’d put a well-trained Navy SEAL in a dangerous situation? I’ve seen Sar incapacitate Marines in a matter of seconds. They’re always amused to be watching over a pint-sized woman that I warn them about until they go against her wishes, breaks a few fingers, knocks a knee out of joint or puts them into severe intestinal distress. David says they should get combat pay; I agree. Sar’s a dangerous opponent when crossed. The kicker is the smile on that sweet face when she gets her way. I married a birbantella.

You asked how Sar can eat junk food and not gain weight. Sar has a high metabolic rate; burns calories while asleep. Also, she dances every day; jogs almost every day, lives life in double time. That burns a lot of calories.

How long have we been married? Not long enough; it will never be long enough.

Cowboy

Quick note: Sar posted a novella in the vanilla section of her fiction website - Tune the Violin, a favorite story filled with rich characters, a bit of history. Hope you enjoy reading it.