Cliff was still recuperating from his quadruple bypass surgery when I found out my current favorite folk singer, Iris Dement, had a concert scheduled in Iowa City, Iowa. That's about six hours from here, but it seems to be as close as she'll ever be. I wanted so badly to see her live and in person, and I told Cliff about this golden opportunity.
Now, Cliff could care less about Iris Dement. Neither her singing nor her politics are in line with his way of thinking. He'll gladly tell you, "I wouldn't walk across the street to see Willie Nelson or George Jones."
But he saw how badly I wanted to go to this thing, and he told me to go ahead and buy the tickets; and I did.
So the last Saturday of this month, God willing, we'll be sitting there watching Iris. Cliff will be saying, "Here's another one of your hair-brained schemes." I'll be smiling.
My regular readers will recall how much enjoyment I was getting out of our neighbor's filly colt, until David took her south, along with her mother.
I miss her.
Lately, my grandson, Arick, has been buying, selling, and breaking horses. Horses are at an all-time low, as far as prices are concerned. When Arick was here the other night, I asked him how much I'd have to pay for a young horse.
Cliff hit the ceiling. His sister Charlene and her husband were here, and I think Charlene thought we were going to be name-calling before she left; she kept trying to change the subject. Obviously she doesn't know her brother very well. He rants loudly and well, but his heart is made of putty.
So once everyone was gone, I said to Cliff: "Remember when I insisted you build that shop, even though we hadto refinance the house to do it? You were hesitant, but I insisted. Because I've seen so many men die while waiting to see their dream come true."
"... and remember when we went and bought a brand new John Deere tractor on my birthday, because I wanted you to have it?"
"Tell Arick to get you a colt," he said. And there was no anger or resentment in his voice... only love.
That's my husband.
Of course, when there's an unruly adolescent horse outside in the pen, he'll be saying, "Here's another one of your hair-brained schemes."