True Grit(s)

Dear Laney,

Last Monday (hooray, we've made it past last weekend!), we went to dinner with your grandfather to Clay and Connie Mercer's house. Clay has chickens and dogs and ducks and a goat and a donkey and Heaven only knows what else hanging around in his backyard. And sure, those things are cool...

But you know what else he has? HORSES. And more than Mac O'Cheese, more than Dora 'Splora, more than opening presents that belong to other people, you love horses.

Clay was kind enough to saddle up one of his horses so you could go for your first-ever horseback ride. The two of you rode together at first, then you got to ride all by yourself.

To say that you thought this was cool would be like saying - heck, I can't even come up with a comparison. For several days after, you would announce to me, apropos of nothing, "I ride horse." And we would all agree that yes, you had ridden the horse. "I ride horse." I know, I saw. "I ride horse." No kidding. "I ride horse." I've seen the pictures.

I was particularly fond of Clay's horse Tucker, who is basically a much bigger version of our dog, Gus:

He reminded me of that drunk guy who winds up in every picture taken at a party. That's him on the right.

I wanted to bring Tucker home with us, but your dad expressed concern that he would come home from work one evening to find Tucker and me on the couch, watching Oprah. Entirely possible.

Figuring that your dad was missing Montana, Clay was nice enough to take your dad out for what he described as "South Georgia's answer to dog-sledding." I wasn't with them at the time, but I know it involved a dog - also, a truck and a case of beer and a firearm or two and the hunt for wild hogs. I can only hope that the radio was tuned to a country station so that I can continue imagining this as a perfect storm of southern stereotypes.

Knowing that your dad is a mountain man, Clay was kind enough to point out the highest point in Dooly County, although your dad said it pretty much looked like the rest of the cotton field that surrounded it.

Thanks so much to Clay and Connie for a great night - we had a blast.

Tell Tucker to come visit.

Love,

Mom

ADDENDUM: I have since received a enlightening and informative e-mail from Clay, further explaining the field trip he took your dad on:

Re: the truck ride, I left the radio off so I could provide Thor with the best, most informative information regarding the countryside and, since he was a guest, offered him choice of weapons (rifle or pistol) and explained the rules of etiquette involving hog hunting from a truck (everything right of the centerline was his, everything left of the centerline was mine) and politely pointed out that he shouldn't fasten his seat belt in case, while running from the law, we got stuck in a ditch and had to run for it. Many a redneck would have let him strap himself in and then run off and left him. Not me.