Proper Barn Attire Required

A few weeks ago I happened across an advertisement for a boarding stable which went so far as to give dress code requirements. I snorted and moved on to other web surfing.

You see, I own and care for a barn. No, wait, make that two barns. Two barns filled with miniature horses who easily create as much manure as their larger cousins. People ask me "But what do you do with MINIATURE horses." The correct answer is "I drive them, teach them tricks, train them, play with them. I can do anything with minis that others can do with big horses, except ride them." The realistic answer is "I feed the front, clean up behind, and keep their hallway cleaner than my own."

Do I wear "proper barn attire"? Oh, you betcha. In the morning I go out to feed in my pajamas and cowboy boots. Used to go barefoot or in sneakers until we found a snake in the barn. Now it's boots. An hour or so later, I'm dressed up... in shorts, a tank top and nasty sneakers with my usually unbrushed hair tied back in a pony tail. That's when I begin cleaning the percheron sized collection of poop out of the stalls.

After two stalls on a lovely Aridzona morning, I have to jump in the pool to soak my clothes (I do take the nasty sneakers off first), in order to have the strength and courage to clean another two stalls, after which it's time for another dousing in the pool. At that point it's too hot to consider cleaning the other 4 stalls, so I haul out the leaf blower and blow the accumulated dirt and hay out of the barn aisle.

After that, it's time to ditch the tank top and shorts and go for the swim suit and sunscreen and another dip in the pool. I then refill the water buckets, set up the misting fan for the comfort of the current mother and child (the child whose birth I assisted while wearing my wet swimsuit and flip flops) and put away my tools. Resisting the urge to point that misting fan at myself for the remainder of the day, I take another dunk in the pool. Thus ends the morning routine. The evening routine utilizes the same wardrobe choices only in reverse order, beginning with the wet swim suit and ending with pajamas and boots for snake patrol.

Several times a week, I have to spread all that poop around the paddocks. Those days I'm a real dish. Barn attire then includes the wet swimsuit, wet tank top, cowboy boots, cowboy hat and sunscreen as I drive the lawn tractor with scraper around the paddocks. Just call me princess.

I, only half jokingly, told a non-horsey friend that I was considering just painting my fingernails black since I could never keep dirt out from under them anyway. She said "That's just a little gross Jean." I started to explain to her that she didn't truly understand the definition of gross, but knew I'd only get a glazed stare. For the true definition of gross, see equine placental membrane and products of deworming.