I'm Just Saying

I can still hear you.

Each morning, before the dawn breaks and the world still belongs to the inhabitants of the woods and fields, I hear your soft nicker.

Honestly,” I remarked to Paul while putting away groceries (oh, alright, a six-pack) after a trip to the store, “whatever happened to Southern hospitality? All I did was tell the cashier I had correct change, and she nearly bit my head off.”

Reading a recent survey about what married couples fight about the most was quite revealing to me. It seems recurring fights about money, chores and parenting styles often lead to recurring arguments that take a toll on a relationship.

Two Fjords have taken up residence at the Funny Farm—not the long, narrow Norwegian inlet of water, but rather, the small, hardy ponies from the same northern European address.

But oh, how much more they represent.

Paul’s ‘Morgan Manor,’ or ‘Morgan Mansion,’ or, my fav, ‘Morgan Motor Court’ is near completion.

It had been a tough week…broiling summer temps and an unwell horse that needed round the clock care. When the worst had passed, I was looking forward to no longer nodding off in a camp chair next to a stall, but rather, actually inside the house.

Sometimes you run across a story that’s just begging to be shared. For a couple of reasons.

First, there’s the staggering miracle which occurred, and secondly, it all relied upon the perfect precision of bringing together a gaggle of folks who all happened to be at the right place at the right time.

Having lived here at the Funny Farm for over 23 years and having gone through three trucks and five vehicles, it is only the purchase of Paul’s dream car, his ’64 Morgan Plus 4 (he gets annoyed if I leave off the plus 4), which has resulted in the construction of a garage.