People who have known me for years understand it when I pull a tissue out of my pocket and hay falls out. For those who have just met me, I have to fill them in on my preoccupation with equines. They still don't get it, but that's okay.
Just to give you an example of what being a horseperson really means I'll site some examples:
- I am totally grossed out when I find a human hair in my food or in the bathtub, but not bothered at all by horse hair on my clothes, in my hair, or on my dinner plate.
- The back of my pickup truck looks like a rolling tack room complete with riding helmet, horse blankets, and hay cubes.
- I say "whoa" when I apply the brakes to my pickup truck and pat the dashboard saying, "good girl".
- I love pickup trucks.
- The only time I go to the grocery store is when I run out of carrots and apples.
- I have to dump shavings out of my shoes before going to marketing meetings.
You get the picture.
At least I own stock. The only problem is, my stock has eight legs. Horses are definitely my bag.