Saturday, September 25, 2010
Only two things stand in the way of our love:
A. He's happily married.
B. He's 76.
He's not bad lookin' for 76...that's ALL I'm sayin' people.
I met Toots, I mean Arnold, after taking the kids mountain trout fishing. We swung by his ranch.
We met his horse that pranced like a dancer in the sun. Its pen was pristine. The straw on the ground was fresh.
Arnold purchased it from a trainer following a broken pelvis problem. It WAS a racehorse (I knew it) facing a bullet to the head. He rehabilitated it preventing both from being put out to pasture.
We fed it brown sugar roasted oats. Arnold poured delicious handfuls of what looked like granola into our palms. (I would have tasted it but I was trying to make a good impression.)
Isn't that sweet? (Please God, never..EVER let Braja remember I'm alive.) Braja lives in India. (No cows were hurt. I SWEAR!)
Real cowboys...are cool.