Hubby tells me he has arranged a 'surprise' for me. Hubby goes on to say it's an all-day surprise that does not involve the sprouts.
My mind starts spinning. If you know me well, you know I hate surprises. Hate is the wrong word. I loath them. Despise them. Entirely.
I begin asking questions such as:
Who is watching the kids?
How long will we be gone?
Where will this take place?
What should I wear?
Can we afford this?
Does this involve white water rafting, bungee jumping, or anything else I wouldn't do?
He refuses to answer. His silence enrages me. I begin to piss on his parade. I spend the morning returning the silent treatment and grumpily packing bags for the boys.
Very, very grumpily. (is that a word?)
We pull up to my mom's, kiss the boys and head out. 20 minutes into our silent ride, he reveals the destination - Estes Park. A smile begins to creep it's way onto my face, but I suppress it. Oh how I wish I were normal.
We arrive in Estes and the smell instantly reverts my memory to childhood. No place on earth smells more heavenly. I'm beginning to crack.
As we eat our lunch, I decide to go ahead and halt the abuse I've been unfairly making him endure. He's worked hard to make this happen.
We've got less than 30 minutes left until we 'check in' at our destination, and I make a pinky promise with myself to make the last few minutes enjoyable. I do my best to stop acting like a jerk.
Is there help for people like me?
We leave the restaurant and pull up to this sign-
Meet Whisky.....MY HORSE for the next two hours.
I'm in instant love, and starting to conjure a plan for squeezing her into our car without being noticed.
We saddled up...
The next two hours were full of this...
and this...
and this...
(Look at that wagon. It's as if someone placed it there just to tease me.)
My boots have never been so happy.
To my amazing husband-
Please forgive me.
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