Monday, November 07, 2005

my husband the polo player

First of all, I know, I should be working. And I will get back to work. Today was rather a bust because my better half otherwise known as my Hubby, was home. If any of you has ever tried to write a novel while sharing a room with a spouse, you will understand when I say it's impossible. It's not because he doesn't understand I need to concentrate. It's just that he can't be in the same room as I am without asking me questions about every five minutes. Or turning on the television, getting up and leaving the room and leaving the TV on, or standing right behind me, looking over my shoulder, reading what I've written in a very serious voice.

He wants attention. And since he's not home that often, I gave up and gave him some attention. Anyhow, as most of you know he's a polo player and travels a lot and is gone a lot, so I am thrilled to have him underfoot. Most people don't know what a polo player implies, except they have visions of very wealthy people galloping around on shiny little steeds called Polo Ponies (they are horses, really. Polo Pony is just what they're called.) But that is only true for a small percentage of polo players. There are the rich and famous, but they are not the professionels, they are the patrons. In fact, professional polo players are horse people, and like most people in the riding and the horse business, it's mostly living on a tight budget but we've been priviledged to live in some gorgeous places, and it's nice to rub elbows with the rich and famous, lol. My husband was 8 goals and now he's 5 goals. Ten is the best you can be, and minus two means you're just starting. It's a lot of fun, can be dangerous, and is gorgeous to watch if you ever get a chance, do go and see a game.

And hardly anyone believes I'm married to a polo player. Once when I was in the supermarket a man came up to me with a clipboard and asked if I would answer a questionaire. I said "Of course!" He started by asking how old I was. I lied, of course, and said 30. He raised his eyebrows, looked at my three kids, and said, "Is that your real age?" I said no, and added two more years. He still didn't believe me so I said, "Well, put down 39, it's close enough." He did, sighed, and asked me if I had any children. I pointed to my three. He put that down on the paper. Then he looked at me and said, "What does your husband do?" Well, that was an easy one. I gave him a big smile and said, "He's a professional polo player."

The man stared at me for a minute. Then he took the paper off the clipboard and tore it right down the middle. "If you're not going to tell the truth, you shouldn't have agree to the questionaire," he snarled, and stomped away, leaving my three kids howling with glee, and my face bright tomato red.

9 comments:

Tara Marie said...

When I was a kid I worked on a horse farm in exchange for riding lessons, I know exactly what you mean about "horse people."

I guess if my husband were away on a regular basis, I might not mind when he's home when he should be at work. When he decides to take a day off during the week, I ususally tell him to keep out of my way and not to disrupt my schedule. He usually says something about me being evil and we both laugh, but we both also know I'm kind of serious--LOL. Hmmm, maybe he is too.

Why is it men require so much attention when they're home?

Sam said...

I was wondering the same thing, Tara Marie!
I was reminded of a puppy who wanted to play.
But he's a lone a lot when he's travelling, so I guess he just wanted some conversation. And I'm usually very chatty, lol.

Cheyenne McCray said...

LOLOL. Too funny! But 39 isn't lying about your age, is it? How could he think you look any older. I've met you for gosh sakes!

Sam said...

Oh Chey - You are So sweet!!!
I always lie about my age. It's genetic.
Actually I'm so bad at math I just can't keep track of it, that's all.
All those darn birthdays, lol.

Karen Scott said...

Lol!!! I can't beleive you stopped to answer the questions in the first place! I avoid those people like the plague!

Madeline Hill said...

HEY SAM.. no matter how you cut it, it sounds WILDLY ROMANTIC to be married to a Polo player!

I am sure the separations make for great reunions!

Wynn Bexton said...

Another amusing blog. And imagine that - a polo player!!! Wow, I'm impressed! (that's quite a bit classier than a plain ol' cowboy, right?)

Sam said...

Hi Karen,
I was with my kids and thought I'd give them a little lesson about civic duty and being polite. Hahhahaha. Whenever you try to teach a kid something it usually backfires.

And Maddy, it's nicer when I'm with him! I don't like separations and reunions, lol. Oh well.

Wynn, there are a lot of cowboys who play polo! They pick up some extra bucks that way. I know a family who raise polo ponies on their ranch. They're all very cowboy. There is an interesting mixture of people who play. My husband comes from a horse family from way back. His grandfather started the polo club in Paris and was in the Cadre Noir - the equivallent of the Austrian riding school with the Lippezzans. (pardon my spelling, lol - it's early!)

Daisy Dexter Dobbs said...

Sorry, I’m late on this one, Sam, but I’ve been in deadline hell working on my EC Christmas Quickie and another newly contracted book for another publisher. The only way I can manage it is to pry myself away from the lure of blogging during the day. ;-)

Like Madeleine, the term polo player elicits thoughts of romance for me. When I think of polo players I immediately picture Ricardo Montalban as the sexy Latin lover in Neptune’s Daughter, the old movie with Esther Williams.

LOVED the story about the researcher with the clipboard. VERY funny! :-D