Thursday, November 28, 2013

The First Annual Thevictorian Thanksgiving BARn-Field Horse-Donkey

Whoa, Nelly! You're not thinking we ATE it, are you? The First Annual Thevictorian Thanksgiving BARn-Field Horse-Donkey? No! What do you take us for, The French? We ate turkey like any normal old-fashioned American family on Thanksgiving.

It all started when Hick got up this morning and prepared himself for a trip to town to assist my mom with some heavy lifting. He stepped out on the back porch to feed the dogs, who were raising a racket on the front porch. "There's a horse or a donkey in front of the BARn."

That's kind of an odd way to put it, even for Hick. Our neighbors across the gravel road have two horses, and the ones next to them have a horse and a pony. I figured one escaped. I don't know where Hick got off insinuating that we had a donkey wandering around our acreage. It's not like anybody out here has set up a live nativity scene. That's in town. Of course I had to interrogate the witness.

"How do you know it's not the neighbor's horse? One of them is standing with its neck over their fence, looking this way."

"Because it's not a horse."

"I thought you said it was a horse or a donkey."

"No. I said it was a horse-donkey."

"How can you tell it's not the neighbor's horse?"

Sigh. "I KNOW what a horse looks like, Val. It's a horse-donkey."

"What do you mean, a horse-donkey?"

"A horse-donkey. Somebody must have bought one, and it got loose." Always the perpetual auctionophile, our Hick, assuming that horse-donkeys are traded willy-nilly at the auctions of Backroads.

"What in the world is a horse-donkey?"

"The horse gets with a donkey, or a donkey gets with a horse. You can tell by looking at it."

"Wait a minute! Do you mean a MULE?"

"Yeah. A horse-donkey."

I felt like George Costanza listening to Frank ask Susan's parents about the love life of the rooster, chicken, and hen.


  1. Val--You need to start your own Hick-Dictionary. The "horse-donkey" could be one entry. What would some of the other entries be?

  2. I was thinking mule all along. Do I win anything?

  3. Sioux,
    How dare you, Madam! Please cease blaring that suggestion all over the internets! THAT IS THE SECRET PROJECT I HAVE BEEN DEVELOPING FOR NIGH ON WAY TOO LONG! With a slightly different title. Why do you think my proposed handbasket factory is not yet up and running? My energy has been diverted.

    A lady reveals nothing. But some of my personal favorites are the Chair Banana, the Pot-Bellied Pig Bacon, the Hippie-Haired Hookers, and the Hospital Floor Donut. In my proposed tome, the entries don't actually have to be uttered by Hick, but simply perpetuated by him.

    Ahem. You do not win anything. Is knowing the name of a common barnyard animal not intrinsic reward enough?

    Had I thought of "mule" immediately, thus proving myself to be your ungulate-naming equal, I might have tossed in a handbasket coupon. Or my 5-year-old T-Hoe battery that just got replaced. That's a five-dollar value, you know. However, since I was slow on the uptake, which I blame on Hick's original declaration that we had a horse OR a donkey in the field, I am feeling a bit petulant. So no prize for you.

    Chex Mix season is just around the bend...too bad, so sad.

    Okay, I feel kind of bad. But not much. Here's your prize, which you probably already know. Hick was wrong in his "a horse goes with a donkey, or a donkey goes with a horse" scenario. It must be a mare and a jack, a female horse and a male donkey, to get a mule. If you use a stallion and a jenny, you get a hinny.

  4. I get it, remember that I am the mother of Adrienne. Adrienne had her very own vocabulary. I clearly remember the day she calmly explained, after having a swip (not a sip, or a swallow) of my beverage, where my leg pit was ....... She did grow up and now uses the same vocabulary as the rest of us.

  5. Kathy,
    She needs a blog to perpetuate her vocabulary. I'm sure she would understand that Hick is a master sweaver in the driver's seat.