I need a hole in my head

My back finally went out last week. It had to happen. I didn't do the sit-ups leading up to Makena's seventeen pound arrival and I was now paying for it. So to help me along, my loving better half had a masseusse come to the house to give us much "kneaded" massages. The plan being, that when one was getting massaged, the other would be watching Makena. Jack, after all, is sort of like a self-cleaning oven. Give him the remote control and a friend who is easily hypnotised by electronic diversions and he's good to go. Just pull the plug out when you want to get his attention back.

So I was the first to get massaged and as I was relaxing and unwinding, Linda (the masseusse) asked me when I was bringing Nuiumaia (New Maya), my horse, back. I had sent him to a ranch, just before I left for Guatemala, so that he could keep company with other horses during the summer and have wide open spaces to romp in. I told Linda that I had gone up to visit him earlier in the week to make arrangements for his return, and I had discovered that he had bonded with another horse named Sizzler and that they were inseparable. Now it was time to bring Nuiumaia home and I knew he was going to be upset to be alone, that I would be stressed out worrying about riding or walking him every day (as I used to do before Makena) because, realistically, I knew that I wouldn't be able to do that anymore. So I was feeling guilty, too.

Linda, conveniently, had studied animal husbandry before she became a masseuse and insisted that I had to bring Sizzler back with (and for) Nuiumaia so that we could all have peace of mind (she included herself in the "we"). Remember, this conversation was happening during the massage that was supposed to relax me. I told her to forget it and that I'd rather have a hole in my head because one horse was enough work, but two? Besides, my "first" husband would never go for that. I say "first" because how much more of me and my animal antics could he take? The thought of adding another horse to the mix might quickly make him realize that it might be cheaper to divorce me. No, forget it, I was chosing to save my family and my marriage and Nuiumaia would get over it. Conversation over.

So the massage ended and I got on with my day. I separated Jack and his buddy from the video games, packed Makena and the kids into the car and took them to a birthday party, then spent the rest of the afternoon running errands.

I came home and the first thing out of my husband's mouth was, "Call the ranch and do what you need to do to bring Sizzler here." Huh? Say what?. Then he said, "Have them brought at the same time because I don't want to pay two trailoring fees." Two trailoring fees? And here I thought I was insane. Linda sure worked a number on my husband because, in one little hour, he was a changed man. A horse whisperer with a heart of gold."

So I attempted a smile and he smiled back, shaking his head, and I said, "Is this my birthday present?" and he said. "Yep, happy birthday."


I always tell people that our house is like "Green Acres". Except that I'm Eddy Albert and my husband is Eva Gabor. You get the picture?

One acre, one son, one daughter, one dog, one (big) African desert tortoise, 11 chickens, 2 leopard geckos and now, TWO horses.

So, yeah, next time I'm thinking about getting a massage, I'll just get a hole in my head.



Is - still married