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When you start sharing your life with horses, you expect that there will be challenging times. Stories abound of horse people being kicked, bit, stomped, thrown, bucked off, trampled and crushed,

And if that’s not challenging enough, we mustn’t forget the whole money thing.

Nope, can’t forget that.

If you think renovating a house can be a money pit, try keeping horses. Actually it’s a lot like having children. There’s always something else to do or get for them that you know is going to score a direct hit to your bank account.

I’m going to let you in on a secret  – a peek behind the curtain so to speak, to understand some of the lesser-known perils. These are so little known, I’m pretty sure you’ve never heard of them, unless you’ve been with me at a party when wine or mojitos or margaritas were on the menu.

And I’ll warn you in advance that I’m going to mention underwear and bodily functions. In case any of you are squeamish about these topics, you may want to stop reading right now.

First up:

The Case of the Itchy Bra

It was one of those days back at the tail end of winter, before spring was even a glimmer in anyone’s mind. The pasture was frigid and windy. I mean really windy. The folks delivering hay would deposit it in little piles around the pasture, so that everyone in the assorted mini-herds could get their share.

In theory it was a great idea.

But in practice, it was a different thing entirely.

The wind was the downfall of this brilliant feeding idea.

In winter the horses get hay twice a day – morning and night. And then I go out around noon to supplement our two old sweeties with grain. So I was doing my thing, and complaining soundly about the wind, when I noticed most of the luscious, green hay had blown out of the fence and into the other pasture away from the horses.

Being the worrier and quasi-Jewish mother type (no offense to all of the real and wonderful Jewish mothers), I worried that the horses were hungry. I took it upon myself to gather up the hay and toss it across the fence.

You know where this is going, right?

I would toss and Mother Nature would toss right back.

Hay in; hay out.  In and out in and out.

Sometimes I’d hold a handful up so one of the horses could eat.  They seemed grateful. Though they could have just been amused at the drama unfolding before them.

What else was there to do on a cold and windy day? And I suspect they find me quite amusing.

Bud and Peppr finished eating and I loaded up and headed for home.

That’s when I noticed something scratching me, under my bra. I tried to reach in and remove whatever was causing the problem. But I was strapped into my seat belt and wearing my heavy duty Carhart barn coat.  And I was driving.

In other words, that plan wasn’t working so well.

I wriggled.

I squirmed.

I tried to scratch.

As soon as I got home, I pulled off my clothes. And there, inside BOTH cups of my bra was LOTS of dried hay, crushed up and scratchy.

Now, be honest. You’ve never been warned about hay in the bra as a peril of horse keeping have you?

I can guarantee it isn’t in any of the horse books I’ve read.

But now you know.

Consider yourself warned.

P.S. Don’t worry Bud and Pepper. As far as I’m concerned, the benefits of horse keeping FAR outweigh the perils. The two of you are in my list of top ten best things in my life. That is if I actually had such a list.

P.P.S. Tomorrow I’ll tell you the second peril. Stay tuned!

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