My boss picked me up at some ungodly early hour, which was actually fortunate because once I had bullied her into taking me to Tim's for my caffeine fix, we got hopelessly lost and had to resort to calling my husband for directions. This was really, really embarrassing as the location to which we were heading was less than 10 minutes from my house.
But I digress. The grand plan was that after a few hours Rob was supposed to pick me up and we would head out with the kids to our next event of the day. So you can imagine my surprise when only a short while later my van skids to a halt, the children are forcibly ejected and my husband yells out the window as he zooms off, "The horses are all out, I have to go round them up". It turns out they had pushed down the fence and wandered in to the neighbour's field which had the all the appearance of an African Savannah with enticing waist high grass. The barn manager and the property owner were both at work, and as it was my husband's horse that had probably led the frontal assault, he felt obliged to try and mend fences so to speak.
He returned some time later, definitely worse for wear. Soaking wet, freezing cold, worn out and more than a little pissed off. It would appear that all the horses were frisky, and after chasing them around the field for an hour my husband came to the realization that not only did the herd have absolutely no intention of returning to their rightful paddock, there was not a damn thing he could do about it. His more immediate concern however, was a very good chance he was going to expire right there and then in the long grass and not be found until spring (much like the little cadaver in our freezer). When I answered my phone to the sound of tortured breathing, and what I assumed was an obscene call, was merely my husband, gasping his last. I quite thought I was going to have to improvise and rig up my jumper cables as a makeshift defibrillator.
Once he was sufficiently recovered, we took off to our next - thankfully uneventful - event of the day, but on the way home I decided to check in with the barn manager as to the status of the horses. She was still stuck at work and the horses still mowing down on the neighbour's property, so I suggested that Rob return to the barn, but this time take re-enforcements in the form of Zach & Lindsay, and this, my friends is when the fun began.
Two facts to keep in mind. First, the waist high grass and second my daughter who has all the grace & co-ordination of a hippo on roller skates. Sadly there wasn't time to record the escapades, because it would have gone viral for sure. Picture my daughter running through the field after the horses, running, running, running, then gone. Face plant in the dirt. Totally disappears from view. Cry goes up "I'm alright" and gamely off she goes again. Running, running, running and gone. I wish I could say that was it, but sadly she was in for several more nose dives before the round-up was complete. It was like a giant game of Whack-A-Mole, you didn't know where she was going to pop up next.
Maybe it was luck, or maybe it was the uncertainty of where Lindsay was going to suddenly materialize in the field, but the tactics worked, and half an hour or so later everyone was back where they belonged. However, Lindsay & Zach were coated in a thick layer of mud, and god only knows what else. I didn't even want them in my van, never mind the house. My husband thought this was hilarious and amused himself with taking pictures, but then he isn't the one who had to spend the rest of their Saturday evening up close & personal with the washing machine !
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