You Know Your A Real Horse Person When...
You change lanes while driving and your "inside" leg moves to apply pressure.
You click to your dog.
You click to your friends.
Your daughter's birth announcement reads: "it's a filly!"
You've taught your dog to lunge.
There is at least one saddle in your living room.
You wonder if Hoofmaker doubles as a moisturizer.
While jogging, your "inside" leg extends farther to help you balance.
You think the 5th fairway would make a great galloping lane.
While walking your dog, you hold the leash like a rein.
You post over speed bumps.
You half-halt your dog while out walking.
You explain to your husband's doctor that you knew he was sick because he was off his feed.
You show up in city clothes dressed for appointments and when you get there people reach over the breakfast table to pick alfalfa out of your hair.
You're trying to get by a co-worker in a restricted space and instead of saying "excuse me" to him/her, you cluck at them instead.
No one wants to ride in your car because they'll get sweet feed and hay in their socks and purses...but that's ok because then you'd have to rearrange all the tack to make room for them, anyway!
Your spouse does something nice for you and you say "good boy" or "atta girl" and pat him/her on the neck.
Your boyfriend complains that you love your horse more then you love him and you answer: "And your point is?"
You are totally grossed out by human hair in the sink or tub, but don't mind horse hair in your washer, on your clothes, in your food.
You consider a pristine golf course as a waste of good pasture land.
You buy duct tape by the case, and carry rolls in your pocketbook, your briefcase, and the console of your car.
You dress like a lawyer on weekdays and someone who needs a lawyer on your days off.
You pull a $17,000 horse trailer with a $1,700 pickup truck.
You realize that finding a horse shoe truly is lucky because you've saved ten bucks.
Your trying to get by a co-worker in a restricted space and instead of saying "excuse me"to him/her, you cluck at them instead.
You say "whoa" to the dog.
You say "whoa" to your truck.
You bring the new saddle to bed so it can be worked on while watching TV.
You see the vet more than you see your own doctor.
Your horse gets new shoes more often than you.
You put a gun rack in your pickup truck to carry dressage whips and riding crops.
For once you have extra money to buy yourself something, and you get the check out counter and decide that you don't really need that shirt anyway. That $25 could be an entry fee!
The real estate agent asks what kind of house you are looking for, and you say, "More than six acres."
You are unreasonably pleased to get a horse item, ANY horse item, as a gift. "They really cared!!!"
You actually like all horse items, any horse items, regardless of execution.
You stop channel surfing at Budweiser Clydesdale commercials.
You actually get to a point where flies don't bother you so much.
Your horse gets more compliments for grooming than you do.
You've considered moving into the barn, since it is cleaner than the house.
Your spouse hangs around the barn hoping to get a massage when you've finished on your horse.
You run your tongue over your back molars and idly wonder if they need to be floated.
You can find your boots in the dark by the aroma.
You leave work feeling stiff, tense, with a stomach- or headache, and all those feelings disappear the minute you go through the first gate to the ranch.
You hate posing for pictures unless you're on your horse.
You spend a lot of $ on a trip to Europe and end up spending most of your time watching horses.
You chirp to, cluck to or spur your truck/car.
The concept of sleeping in on the weekends has long since faded from your memory.
You don't have to be asked by your non-horsy family what you want for Christmas anymore...they now get their own horse catalogs.
You keep a spare curb chain in your purse for emergencies.
The family photos are in the bedroom; the horse photos in the den.
The board check is paid before any other bill.
Your instructor and vet are the only non-family on your speed-dial.
You always have new foal pictures in your wallet.
The photo Christmas cards feature the horses.
You have memorized the addresses of your breed association and AHSA, but forget your own number.
You've spent so much time at the boarding stable that people think you're the maintenance man.
You coax your horse into the trailer with a carrot, give him a bite, and walk out finishing it yourself.
