On my way home today, Two Broom's calls me. And she says "What is the name of that horse you rode in the parade?" "That horse I rode" is my horse of 9 years. A very distinct black and white paint horse. She knows dang good and well it is my horse. I raised it from a foal. They came to see it when it was a tiny baby. Two weeks ago, she asked "What's the horse that Wee is riding?" Uh...Wee's horse. But it is husband's mule, and cgfg's horse. In the scheme of things, this is absolutely so unimportant its not funny, but it is a prime example of how deeply the possession issue runs in this family. They refer to this farm I live on as husband's. And I'm sure "that horse" is husband's, also. And I wonder why there's issues.