Magnum PI DejaVue and a Jail Break at the Farm

We had a jail break yesterday. Apparently our horses, Buddy and Shorty, both lacking anything important resembling manhood (studhood?), were quite upset when their female pasture companion for the last month had to go back to her home way out in the country.

I didn’t realize just how upset they were…..

….Until I returned from picking up HorseGirl from cheerleading camp only to find my baby girl running up and down the barditch between our farm and the football field and acting like a lunatic. Then I saw them….the big beasts that had just busted through my pathetic attempt at a horse fence. They were enjoying the munchies available on the other side of the road…..visitor’s side concession stand.

I slammed on the breaks, hollered at HorseGirl to jump out and get her horses, backed up that minivan and jumped out with her.

HorseGirl hollered at my baby to go get halters. Meanwhile HorseGirl and I did everything in our power to keep the nutless wonders contained and calm. Belly scratching was working pretty well…until Buddy decided to move and my sandal clad foot decided to be under his 25 year old hoof.

Forgive me Father…I know not what I said, but I’m pretty sure it probably wouldn’t be suitable in church…..if I ever went.

Pretty sure my mom wouldn’t approve either.

Halters arrived, horses were under control, and HorseGirl led them both back to their jail…er…uh….pasture. A little feed, and our adventure was over….I thought.

A few minutes later, my hubby calls and asks if the horses are out. I told him, “Not anymore.” He said he was listening to the police talking about horses being out and trying to find them.

I looked out the window and saw no less than two cop cars driving by. HorseGirl was trying her best to hide until they drove away. I figured they were trying desperately to find the “loose” horses and in an attempt to relieve their desperate search, I walked out to give them the scoop.

The first police car had already driven off, but the second one, unmarked yet obviously a police package car (I know this from my years of being a sheriff’s daughter—valuable and important information for life), was still driving slowly. I waved. He rolled down his window. I didn’t recognize him. Strange– because I know almost everyone of any authority around here. It makes me feel important.

I gave him the whole ugly story, including the part about the agonizing pain on the top of my foot, then stuck my hand out towards him and introduced myself. He obviously needed to know me. Had he been bald and wrinkled, I might have been less forthcoming, but this older dude was still sporting a good amount of hair that was actually still on his head, plus he had a thick salt and pepper colored ‘stache on his top lip.

Since I consider myself quite a connoisseur of attractive older men, I had dubbed him worthy of knowing me. He reciprocated the introduction, handed me his card, and we parted ways.

Five minutes later as I looked at the name on the card, I had a serious dejavue moment.

Serious dejavue.

Flashback to 1980. I was about 12. We had a fun lady coach for junior high athletics. She always commented how her husband looked like Tom Selleck/Magnum, PI. He came to a few of our trackmeets, and most of us agreed. At the ripe old age of twelve, we all helped her admire the deliciousness that was her man.

Time passed. Thirty years to be exact. As the CSI photo enhancing computer in my head did its amazing aging work, I stood there realizing that I had just had a personal encounter with Magnum. Him. That man who was once the spouse of my coach.

Poor sucker.

Next time I see him, I have to tell him. HAVE TO. It’s a desperate obsession.

Am I weird or what? Do any of the rest of you remember this?

So yeah….crazy horses and a huge dose of dejavue. Turned out to be a good day, I’d say.

7 Responses to “Magnum PI DejaVue and a Jail Break at the Farm”

  • hahah wow!!! And you being “weird”? heck no!!! Your more normal than most people!!! Anyways, hows that foot working out for ya? Swollen yet? Anyways, sounds like you had quite the adventure for one day……

  • nitahoo:

    I had never in my life heard my mother utter a single “cuss word” until that one day when she screamed out about five of them all strung together like Christmas lights. They rolled off her tongue like a sailor’s and into the innocent ears of five of my 12-year-old slumber party girlfriends when that dang horse stepped down the back of her heel and shaved off a couple of layers of skin! Suddenly our little planned horseback riding adventure didn’t seem so fun. Most of my coming-of-age moments were a little more subtle than this one. This one hit me in the face like a tidal wave. No telling what it did to my friends. This was back in the 50’s, and “cussing” just wasn’t part of our Leave It To Beaver lives. In later years, I would have flashbacks of that moment when my boys would push the grocery basket up the back of my leg.
    I guess the only thing that comes close to the pain of an 1100 pound horse stepping on your foot is the pain of dropping a 5 pound can of Crisco off the top shelf onto your big toe! I’ve done both, but not recently. What a colorful life we lead!!

    • Okay…I just got nauseated thinking about your mom’s experience, and I can only imagine the daggers those boys experienced coming from your eyes as you maintained your composure in the shopping cart adventures. I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry over either experience. It all hits a little too close to home. And the Crisco can????? Oh my.

  • Have you considered stand-up, dahling?

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