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Thursday, January 29, 2009

Twitchy

Run hands through hair, smile shyly, take a step back and then fiddle with the paper in right hand.

Oh man, I had about three good blog topic ideas and four or five lame ones; my body aches from the first hour-long ride on the big lanky gelding in over a month, followed by a day of painting ceilings; I am way behind on like, everything; I'm a confused, disorganized mess.

Scratch nose, wish to be elsewhere, push hair out of face.

I put myself on the spot here, I expect a level of performance in general that I can rarely achieve, and I'm getting tired of my own excuses!

Shift to the other foot, rub nose, scratch back of head.

You know, because in my head I have so much energy, so many ideas, that I could fuel this blog and a novel as well as countless lesson plans for any horse and rider combination, not to mention a column in the church newsletter, some disjointed poems, a few short stories and emails that may or may not make sense.  

But, in real life, I'm really tired and my muscles ache... I wish the studio could magically finish itself so it can make us a living instead of depleting us... and I don't know what to do next.

Lean forward, try not to crack a grin about the absurdity of all this.  Lean back.  Crack half a smile.

Examining the landscape inside my head is like watching Johnny Depp present an award on live TV.  Nothing ever stands perfectly still.  It's quite awesome and beautiful but also kind of disheveled.  

Scratch nose, raise an eyebrow, shift to other foot.  Repeat.  

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Why It Takes So Long To Paint A Recording Studio...

It has 12 ft high ceilings, or higher; there are three windows in every room; double doors; soundproofing panels which must all be cut-in around with a brush; and not a single right angle in the whole place.

Plus I'm very picky about how things are done.  I'm married to the place, after all.  I'm in debt for half a recording studio.  You're darn right I'm going to do my best work!

Sometimes I forget that the average person in this world doesn't know what the inside of a studio looks like.  Today's your lucky day though, because I'm giving you a special sneak peek inside our little Laboratory of Greatness...

This is one of our new Iso-booths.  Jethro calls it Booth B, or the drum booth.  I call it The Silo.  It's slowly taking hold as an official name, heh heh heh.  

With my trusty little Cyber-shot camera, I can't get the whole room in from floor to ceiling.  In this picture you can see up to the 12 ft height.  The yellow insulation will soon be covered with "architectural panel fabric" which is basically um, very expensive.  It's got to have a Class 1 Fire rating.  We do things right here, y'know.  And there's the blue ladder.  Ah yes, I spent a lot of time up there.  

In this shot you can see into Booth C, aka The Chicken Coop.  To the left is the window into the Live Room.  


Here's the door into the Silo.  It's a double door; you'll see the exterior door later in this post.  At this point, everything's been primered except what will be covered in insulation.


And here's the Silo door open, after I'd painted Montgomery White on the walls and Wilmington Tan on the trim.  Oh I know, so elegant, such gracious and classy names for biege!  It's like it's not even biege anymore because it's so uppity!  I do like these colours.  They're calming.  

From this window in The Silo, we can see into the Control Room.


When we turn around from there, we've got a view into the Live Room and the Chicken Coop.  

Oh look, here we are in the Chicken Coop, gawking in at The Silo and from there into the Control Room.  As you can see from the gear set up, there was a session in the next day.  Just because we're still under construction doesn't mean we don't have to, you know, earn a living.



I'd like to say that the yellow walls give off a warm glow but all I can think about is staying the heck away from it to avoid the insulation itch.  Yichhhh.    But it is amazing how a nice rug can really, um, tie the room together.  


We basically built a new building inside a building.  This is the new wall, which houses the new booths.  
The doors in front of you are to the Chicken Coop, then the Silo, and at the back, the Control Room, which is exactly where it was when the place was first built in the 90s. Up top, Jethro plans to put up a railing and make that little loft into his new office.  Yes, I'll be calling it the Hayloft.  I kind of have to, doncha think?  The higher level will become home to a whole whack of plants!!


I was standing in the doorway of the Control room to take this picture.  Those are the double doors to the Silo right in front of us.  On the far side of the Chicken Coop doors you can see the steps upstairs, and a little bit of the lounge.  To your right, not visible, is the kitchen.  This whole Iso-booth area used to be open space.  It was beautiful but... Jethro said it well.  "It's a recording studio, not a restaurant."  

Here I am last week, sitting on my cute scaffold, which is much tinier than Big Dusty Dude's man sized scaffold.  I sat most of last week after stepping stupidly off a 2 ft bench.  I'm over it now.  I mean, I'm not berating myself so much, and I'm walking without a limp!

Yeah, I know, the bandanna is way cool.  And yeah, I matched it to the green walls.  Dude.  I'm like, almost perfeshnul.  

Just dig me, laying on that perfect pale green on the trim.  Ohhh yeah.  We had to match the paint here to the original walls, and didn't quite have it on the first try.  Hey, four coats of paint just make the walls look smoother, right?  The guys got to roller on the green wall.  That's how the got four coats on in one day.  Meanwhile I got two sets of door trim done with my little paint brush.  Oh but if you could see those clean hinges... I'm so picky.

 
And finally, here is a look from inside the Live room, into the Chicken Coop on the left and the Silo on the right.  
The yellow wall is all painted up like it has always been that way.  You'd never know that the window into the Silo used to be the original door.  I still have to paint the trim, clean up the glass, and paint baseboards.  I figure with all the trim and doors left to paint, I've got two days of work.  (I've got a teenage helper this week who is done her exams, yay!)

I haven't shown pictures of the inside of the Chicken Coop, or the Piano booth, aka the Granary, because a) this post would get too long and b) I think they'd all start looking alike after a few more pictures.  

Now at this point, many people start asking two obvious questions that are so clear to me, that I forget how puzzling this can be.  

First of all, What exactly is an Iso-booth?  

It's basically a soundproof room.  It means that the musician inside is isolated from the others.  The Silo is legitimately soundproof; it's a room inside a room, with it's own floor built on top of rubber blocks.  The inner walls do not touch the outer walls, which eliminates vibration, buzzing, hums, and the noise from the garage next door!  Each wall is made of up several layers of particle board and drywall.  

The next logical question is... Why do you want all the musicians separated like that????  Aren't they supposed to be recorded together playing the same song?

Good question, and luckily for me I've been answering it the right way!

When each musician is in a separate room, they are wearing headphones so that they can hear each other as well as the engineer, who is in the Control Room.  If one screws up, the others can go on.  Later, only the messed up guitar track, for example, has to be re-recorded.  Truth is, most songs are done with many, many takes, with the best performances chosen for the song.  

Also, if everybody's in the same room, the instruments will all be "bleeding" onto each other.  You can imagine how serious this is with the drums.  They'll be in every single mic.  The drums have to be isolated.  So we put the drummer in the Silo.  I still think it'd be fun to put the drummer in a real silo!  Whoooo that'd be one hell of a reverb!

Of course, another good reason to isolate is protecting your music from the outside world.  Most studios, like ours, are located in busy cities.  You don't want the rhythmic beeping of a truck reversing to mess up your saxophone track.  Plus it's nice to keep the music inside the studio rather than all over the neighbourhood.  Believe it or not, not everybody likes jazz.  Or whatever it is they're working on that day.

Now Jethro is off to work for the day, and since he's got a session, I'm going to get a big round hay bale today for the horses at The Little Valley, and go for a ride.  That teenager who's off school for the week is going to get a lesson from me.  She's got to earn her keep, and I need teaching practice, so that's our day.  Tomorrow... back into a can of paint for us.

Any questions?

Thursday, January 22, 2009

Remember how I promised I'd do a "Best of 2008" thing?

Well I finally sat down long enough to put it together.

Don't forget to leave a comment agreeing or disagreeing with my awards recipients.  By the way, there will eye candy for everybody.  You're welcome.

Now I have to send out my Christmas letters...

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

This could seriously cut down my productivity...

I sprained my ankle on Monday night. 

After more than a week of standing on a bench, a small scaffold, a very big scaffold, and various ladders, I stepped the wrong way off a 2ft bench and folded my ankle right over sideways.  I'd been reaching for the paint try, which was set on the little scaffold at waist height, and suddenly I was on the floor with a paint roller beside, and a hurt spot in the middle of my back from scraping the bench.  

Thinking, ow ow ow ow this is not good ow.

Jethro walked in with a length of baseboard, said, "Hi honey," and walked back out again to get a nail setter.  He came back seconds later and all I could think of was, "Hey, guess what happened."

So he got me an ice pack from the freezer, duct taped it around my sock, and I got back to work.  I was thinking, I can manage this.  Hey man, nothing new.  It doesn't hurt that bad.  I can finish this job.

I really sincerely want -NEED - to finish this job.  We need to get the studio up and running and earning money instead of sucking it out of us.  I get the cold sweats when I consider how much this renovation is... no let's not go there ok?  Jethro wants to make music, no matter how much he loves to build things.  That's what they do there: make music.  Also I want my life back!  I'll set it aside to get the studio back into shape, because this is how my family makes a living (snort, haha, whatever that means) but I haven't been on a horse in a month, I haven't made up any lesson plans, and I haven't written enough of anything.  However, I feel like I can't get on with my stuff until this is DONE.

So Mnday evening I limped out of the building, stepped sideways in the snow and wrenched that weak ankle AGAIN. 

Let's just say I was very quiet on the way home.  

Then I swallowed three industrial strength advils and a panic pill and stayed passed out until sometime the next day.  

I went back to work yesterday, but I was very slow.  I got a little nifty machine which I call the Rolling Tractor Seat.  I plunked myself down and painted anything up to arm height.  Bubba helped me out by grabbing tools for me so I wouldn't have to get up and hobble across the room.  I've been injured often enough (through being a bone-headed clutz) that I quickly develop tricks to get jobs done.  

I really tried not to feel sorry for myself.  But by evening I was wearing thin.

Almost ten years ago, I sprained this particular ankle for the first time.  My 3-year old colt, MC, confused my "jog" cue for "buck" and launched me straight up.  I landed on -yep, you guessed it- my left ankle.  That's the only time I've ever failed to get back on the horse after a wreck.  But the injury only slowed me down; I was on crutches for a week or so, and later that summer, we went to England for a family wedding, and I went riding, danced all night in high heels at the wedding (there may have been alcohol involved, I'll ask Jethro since I believe he was sober that night) and climbed cliffs in Wales.  When we came home my ankle was a little worse again.  DUH!  I still did an entire show season with my good horse, Champ.  I got permission from the ring steward to stay on my horse after the speed events, since getting on and off was difficult. (We've always had a safety rule at that saddle club that riders must dismount and lead the horse out of the ring; this prevents stampeding horses running down anybody near the gate.)  

Champ and I earned Reserve Champion in speed events.  Then I went to physiotherapy for eight months.

Tonight I have planned to attend a Riding Instructor's training course.  I could go and lean on my cane.  But with me being so slow with the painting, I feel like I should stay and get more done!!!  He's got a string session tomorrow.  I have to get the piano booth done.  I'm so close.  I gotta get it done.

I feel kinda like how I imagine I would feel if I'd been hit by an imaginary truck.

At least tomorrow I will be forced to sit on my butt and read and write.  

Gah.  Okay.  Here I go.  Dragging my butt off to work.  I've got one last burst of ambition and it's gonna get used up real good and hard today.

I'm sorry but I gotta say it.  It sounds so much... cooler... to explain the ankle with "I got bucked off a horse" than "I fell off a 2ft bench."  


Monday, January 19, 2009

Boiling brain, aaaarrrggghhh

It is REALLY NOT POSSIBLE to write/blog/take notes while crouching on a scaffold surrounded by paint trays and brushes and rollers.  

(Can't ride a horse like that either but it's so frickin cold I'll pass, thanks.)

So my brain's OUTTA CONTROL but I don't have time to get it out  GGGAAAAAAHHHHHH and I wanted to tell you about ADD and closets and how those two subjects are connected to my new book and how my imaginary friend Nikki never folds socks.  I'm thinking about what really motivates the kids in the book that approximately 50 literary agents seem to think is NOT SUITABLE FOR THEM AT THIS TIME and I'd like to change a few things in that one too but I can't cuz I have to walk THE PUG and get some groceries so my kids don't STARVE and then hitch a ride with JETHRO down to the STUDIO where I will WORK and I really feel like I gotta get going.  

Sorry.

Please discuss amongst yourselves.  

Also I still intend to post a special Hick Chic Kiss-my-butt-2008-buh-bye Awards post before the end of January.

What, am I still here?  Damn, I gotta go, now, STOP DISTRACTING ME.

Okay, see ya.  

Friday, January 16, 2009

The Hick Chic Guide to The Difference Between Cold and Very Very Cold

I'm just gonna come right out and say it: Don't insist that it's cold where you live if you're talking to a Canadian.  You will not win that argument.  Unless you live in Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana or Idaho.  Or like, Ukraine.  

Fellow Canadians?  Don't pick an argument about how cold it is where you live with anybody from Winnipeg.  I don't know why, but Manitoba is colder than where you are.  Just tellin' it like it is, folks.

Mind you, I'm cold for half the year.  I start wearing a toque in October.


And the further it's shoved down on my head, the better!  I want my delicate little ears covered!  
But I digress, just slightly.  

At what point are you justified in whining about the cold?  I'm here to help, with my compilation of the Indications Of Very, Very Cold.  Anything else is Just Cold.  (So man-up and wrap a scarf around your face and get to work, ok?)

IT'S VERY, VERY COLD IF:

-you can see your breath inside the house, it's very, very cold.  (Think I'm kidding?  In my childhood, our house had no heat upstairs.  After the electric baseboard heaters were wired up, it was bearable.  These days when we visit the farm, Mom sends Dad upstairs to turn on the heaters before we get there.  To think that he grew up like that... and she grew up with no electricity at all...)

-your snot freezes inside your nose within seconds of going outside.

-when you breathe in, your sinuses hurt.

-the diesel engine does NOT want to start.  You glow plug it four times before it splutters on, and then it runs reluctantly.

-there's frost inside the vehicle.

-after driving for twenty minutes, it's running smooth, but there's still no heat coming through the vents.

-the dog trots extra fast, and your walk is shorter but feels longer.

-horses leave the barn, go outside, take a wiz, and line up at the door to get back in again.  (Wimps!  They're wearing fur coats!  Geez.)

-the school keeps the kids in for recess.  (Wimps!  They're wearing snowsuits!  Geez.  Actually I'm just jealous because in the 70s we got out butts kicked out no matter what!)

-you're wearing long johns under your pants, a T shirt plus long sleeved shirt plus sweater, and covered up with Grandma's crocheted blanket, and there's a chubby Pug on your feet, and you're just starting to feel contently warm.

-your old housecat hasn't been seen much lately, because he's on a bed... under the blankets.

-the barn cats have made a nest in the shavings in the corner of a horse's stall. They'll brave the possibility of hooves for that warm place to huddle up for the night.  (It is cute, isn't it?)

-your mom keeps talking about retiring from her job and not leaving the house until April.

-your son wears ski goggles to school, in order to shield his eyeballs from the stinging cold.

-he's also wearing a bright orange ski mask - it's technically a warm colour.  Every little bit helps.

-your daughter has actually put on a long sleeved shirt under her sweater, and wears real winter boots to school instead of those silly fake Ugg-boots.

-it takes the dog about 2.8 seconds to get outside, across the deck, down the steps, take a wiz, and run back to the door.  

-it's -15 Celsius and that's the warmest it's been all week.  

So, since I don't have to leave for work yet, I'm back in bed with the very warm sleeping man, covered in  three layers of flannel, thick comforter, and thermal blankets, with snoring hot-potato dog, and ancient cat.  I think my toes are thawing out.  We must think warm thoughts.  

This always works for me.

Bundle up, cover your skin, and think warm thoughts!

ps- although I didn't personally send it, I apologize for the cold air, to all my southern neighbours. I may be grandstanding that it's colder up here, but I feel your pain.  Believe me, I feel it!

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

This week, paintbrush & phone juggling...

Next week, chainsaws!  hahaha

Yeah, still painting the studio.  Jethro begged me to come back and help him, and I can't resist those green eyes of his...

Monday, January 12, 2009

Everything's Golden, baby!

So I caught the Globes last night.  It was all fun n games until I shrieked, "JOHNNAAAAY!" and then the rest of the family had to SHUSH so I could soak up his raspy voice and watch him fidget with his hair and scratch his nose.  Aww.  So awkward being himself.  How cute is that??!!??

Do you think I can find a picture?  Geez.

However, I do have something for you to marvel at while I'm back at the studio flinging a paintbrush:

Ricky Gervais, who is hilarious, and brought his drink up to the stage with him...



And Mickey Rourke, who looked absolutely 100% like a perfectly scuzzy, road rash ROCK STAR!



Still working on the Best of 08 post.  Still painting, still fumbling with typed words, and anticipating a very cold ride on Bo the Grumpy Gelding this week.  Stay tuned!

Friday, January 09, 2009

Gotta go!

If this whole horse business-music business- published (someday) writer thing doesn't happen for my family...

Maybe I can still get a job painting rooms for people.

I'm busy with primer and a paint colour called "Wilmington Tan" which is really a nice way of saying "cream colour".

But I found a nice Johnny picture for you.  I just couldn't leave it alone.


Notice he's in a kitchen, which is a room I haven't spent much time in lately, sadly.


Must walk pug and get on the road.  

Okay.

Seeya.

Wednesday, January 07, 2009

PERFESHNUL.

For two mornings this week, I'll be doing chores in somebody else's barn, and getting paid for it!  Do you know what this means?  It means that I am a professional.  I am an Equine Feed Dispersal Logistician.  H2O Distribution Administrator.  Manure Removal Technician.

I am She Who Leads The Horse To Water.  Not just water but also the big paddock with the round bale in the feeder.  

Hi, I'm Heidi.  I'll be your Person Who Lets You Out of the Barn.

I'm the Professional S*** Slinger!

Also Jethro has decided he needs me to help paint in the studio again this week, before they have another client in for a session.  So I'm kinda sore and extremely tired.  I'm going to sleep now.  Jethro and the Pug are already snoring, and the cat has claimed my left arm.  

If you can think of any more official-sounding Job Titles please share!

Monday, January 05, 2009

In with the old, out with the new. Wait, I think I meant- hang on, what?

So it looks like this year's going to be, like, a year.  You know, with days and stuff.  Much like last year, only NOT.

snicker.

Looking back on 2008, I have mixed feelings.  

Soon after the year got rolling, before the long difficult winter was over, I started getting those familiar and awful thoughts again.  I've come to call it the "Kill kill die die" process.  I'd been doing alright up till then, but things started to unravel.  Basically I felt like I was either going to die or kill myself.  Any normal person would likely head off to the doctor at that point, or at least question the normalcy of these thoughts, or lack of, but no, even after having been through this before, I was just looking on like a bystander and thinking, "hmm, look at that.  Evil thoughts again.  Huh."   Isn't that ridiculous?  Like, I knew this was bad, but all those years of conditioning kicked in.  Keep going.  Gotta feed the kids.  Either smile in public or fade into the background.  Get invisible.  Head down, feet moving.   Meanwhile the dishes rot in the sink and the paper piles up on the floor.  

What really told me that it was time to get help?  Once I started thinking that I was going to have to leave my husband- that's when I knew.  I didn't, and still do not, want to leave him!  

I have every good reason to stay hitched.  We're a team, man.  Like, an imperfectly matched team... think, big handsome Clydesdale hitched beside a flighty, over-sensitive, frizzy-maned   pony.


He's all business, throwing his massive chest into the harness, but always up for a nice forehead rub, always happy to soak up some affection.  She's all bursts of energy followed by eye rolling and stubborn fits of inertia.  He goes all day, regardless of time and temperature; she shivers in the cold and melts in the heat, can't function without a nice blanket to wear or a regular drink of clean water from a well scrubbed bucket.  He sinks into a stall full of shavings and snoozes; she turns around three times and makes a nest first before fidgeting and twitching herself to sleep.  Yet these two improbable partners work pretty good together.  With his giant hooves and her dainty muscles they manage to drag this crazy wagon down the road.  

I love him more than ever.

When I found myself plotting an escape, I knew it was time.  I paid my doctor a little visit.  I said I'd never go back on the drugs again, but I needed help.

Help came in a big red capsule that hated my stomach.  I couldn't eat for weeks, and after a few months had gone by, leaving me way too thin and very tired, I eventually noticed that the nattering thoughts had slowed.  Relief.  

In the summer, my big Husband and I celebrated our 17th wedding anniversary.  

I had planned on making 2008 a Very Big Year for me.  I envisioned getting my Riding Instructor's Certificate AND getting myself a literary agent to represent my book.  

Well, I didn't get there.  

Considering how I felt earlier in the year I decided to just be cool about it.  What good are goals if you can't readjust them?  I didn't give up though.  I overcame my nausea and got back in the saddle.  If I wasn't feeling well enough for anything vigorous, we walked.  I sent out about 70 more queries, got some rejections, and told myself over and over again that it's not over yet.  I had so many close calls but no bites.

So if it didn't happen last year, it can happen this year.  

I won't make any resolutions I might not be able to control.  I also have learned not to load myself up on a long list of improvements that will eventually overwhelm me.  (One year I vowed to Get To Bed.)  

For 2009 I've made a simple resolution that might end up being very complex:

KEEP A MORE BEAUTIFUL HOUSE.

Doesn't that sound silly?  Frivolous?  I think it makes sense.  This is my home, but I also do a lot of work here.  It's not healthy in any way to hate my home.  I'm not aiming for perfection, and I'm not trying to be something I'm not.  I just want to feel good about my house.  I think the effects could be very good for us in the long run, because clearing the junk off the dining room table means actually looking at that note from school about the field trip date.  Tidying the shoes at the front door means giving away things that don't fit anymore.  Dusting the bedroom means I'll feel happier about snuggling into bed even when I'm alone for the night.  

I couldn't have done this when my kids were small, with my scattered brain and sad housekeeping skills.  But I think I'm ready now.

Our Christmas holidays were frantic and fun.  Last night Bucky came over to our room at 11pm to tell us that he'd calculated our time on the road over the two weeks:  26 hours.  This included zooming up and down the highway between home and our family and friends, as well as our awesome road trip to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.  I might not have wanted to know about how much time we spent driving.  All I know is, it makes sense now as to why my bum is numb.  Geez.

I'm so sick of packing up a suitcase, so tired of loading up the car, but it was worth it, every minute.  

We also got some brief but precious horse time.   I didn't care about saddling up or looking pretty; I just hopped off the side of the hay feeder and onto my horse's back!  We did a very short ride through the snow banks in the corral.  It was better than nothing.


 I had some good stall-cleaning-meditation time in the barn too.  

2008 wasn't easy but you know, I'm not going to call it horrible either.  It was a learning experience just like every other year of my life.  Thirty-eight years obviously isn't enough time to make much use of all that learnin'.  I expect to be very smart eventually, like maybe the time I'm 88.

That's if for today... I have a laundry room to beautify before the dryer repair guy shows up tomorrow.  I think it's time to add to my Captain Jack poster collection.


Happy New Year everybody!