Recently hubby and I were in the car, he had just finished driving us through a scary stretch in the torrential rain when I turned to him and complimented his motor-vehicle operational skills. He looked out the window at the surrounding traffic and asked, “What?”
I repeated myself, “You’re a good driver”
He looked more confused than before.
Alright, you egotistical maniac, how many times do you need to hear me praise you?
For the third time, “You’re a good driver”, this time v – e – r – y c – l – e – a – r – l – y.
Hubby laughed and thanked me. Then he told me what he’d heard.
“There’s a chicken truck,” followed the second time by “Can we drive it?”
If anyone ever asked YOU if they could take a chicken truck for a spin, you’d probably assume you heard them wrong, but hubby knows better than that. Of COURSE I would want to drive a Chicken Truck; he just wondered where I saw one… (And by the way, I totally DID see one this weekend! I about died!)
I love, love, LOVE livestock. One day, when we’re not renting a home in a cul-de-sac, I’m going to have chickens and a Holstein cow. Mostly I’m excited about the cow. His name will be Sir Loin and he will wear a purple sash.
I once dreamt of having 59 cows, all wearing green and orange silk sashes. Hubby and I would walk them, 4 at a time, around the pasture each evening, and the 59th cows, the most important cow, Sir Loin, wore a purple sash and was walked privately in the sunset, after all of the other cows were put away for the night.
I was successful in convincing him to one day make room in our hearts (and our yard) for “The Loin”, but hubby swears he will never walk any cow, Sir or otherwise, on a sashes of any color no matter what the time of the day.
And um, yeah, I do totally dream of cows.