Not an April Fools joke.
Scott had just gotten home from work today and I needed a break from a hectic day. So, we went outside with the dogs for a bit. Izzie started barking and "boofing" her little head off and while I was trying to quiet her, Scott mumbles something about letting her bark at a guy at a horse.
I ignore him, as significant others sometimes do.
Scott says something about the horse again.
"I always see him; he goes down for a soda at the machine. He'll be back again."
It's still not clicking.
Then, I hear, well, clicking, on the street.
Or more like a clip, clop, clip, clop.
I almost dropped the leash. Trotting past our house at a leisurely pace is a tall, thin man on top of what looks like a peculiarly small horse.
The guy rode down on his horse from his nearby farm, down our street to the soda machine at the fire hall across from our home, bought a soda or two and then rode back on his merry way.
We're not in Jersey anymore.
:: click heels three times ::