I've become accustomed to the pace of life in Smallburg.

I'm not kidding when I say the town shuts down at five o'clock. Okay, a few shops stay open til six, or maybe eight on Fridays, but the general idea is that you get your butt home for dinner.  Then you do stuff at home until it's time to go to bed.  None of this shopping until ten at night.  That's just crazy -- you're supposed to be tucking into bed at ten!

I can see that some people in this world would be appalled by the small town routine.  But overall I do think it's healthier.  Like it or not.

One afternoon just before suppertime the kids and I had to run into town for something.  I can't remember what.  We were at the big intersection where the main street crosses the big highway.  I was about to turn right for home, and at the red light I looked left, way down the hill and over the bridge and back up the hill again.  There was one car -- one car -- way off in the distance at the other set of lights.  That's it.

"Wow," I breathed.  "That never happened this time of day where we used to live."

The main drag in that town is like a four lane highway.  Pretty much from 8am until 9pm it's oozing with traffic.

It gets busy in Smallburg too, much more than it was decades ago.  There are two new subdivisions going in, and one of them I'm quite opposed to.  I think it eats into a really good chunk of land, it's cut off from the rest of the town by the highway, and it's totally sprawly in that we-moved-here-from-the-city-because-the-prices-are-just-unbelievable  kind of way.  Honestly, what the hell is an "adult lifestyle community" and if it's all adults with no kids how come they need such damn big houses???  But that's not the point really; the town's just gotten too big for me.  I still love it... I can shop there, because they've got my favourite thrift store in the world, the best bookstore in the world, a groovy used furniture shop, a hardware store, a really neat little cafe and a gas station that serves diesel for our little VW.  It's a great town.  I just feel like it's getting too big for me.  Too fast.

Then I drive into town in the early evening.  The main street from the highway is almost empty of parked cars.  This time of year people are starting to leave their houses and work on their flowerbeds.  In front of the shops, the street is wide open.  Sigh of relief.  Peace.  Don't shop - go home.  Relax, work, have a freakin' life.

Going back to the town I lived in for twelve years is like culture shock now.  It hasn't sped up that much in nine months, but I've slowed down, in a really good way.  Unfortunately, I've become even less tolerant of traffic and people and busy-ness.  It grates on me, it rubs my easily frayed nerves.  My chest tightens when I drive through town to run errands.  I worked so hard to dull myself to the noise and constant buzzing energy.

I will miss the way my little section of street was like its own little world.  In the summer, it would take me half an hour to walk past three houses because I had to stop to chat.  It was nice.  It sometimes kept me from getting stuff done, but I liked my neighbours and I liked to stop and chat with them.  Leaving that block was getting harder and harder though.  The stressed-out non-stop world outside was always lurking.

As I write this, I'm in my room in my parents' farmhouse.  Not far from the house is a road with giant tractor-trailers roaring past.  Why doesn't that bother me as much?  I grew up like that?  They go away?  They zoom by one at a time, one lane in each direction?  Is it the wide open field to the north that calms me, or the other field to the east?  Horses across the lane behind the barn?

In a matter of days, we officially won't live in the Big Town anymore.  I'll miss the friends, I'll always have a little room in my heart for the place I raised my babies, but I won't miss the town itself.  It will grow without me.

I'll be listening to the crickets and tractors and trucks, horses munching, wind blowing.  I'll have all my town stuff done in time for dinner.

Today I was driving to the dump in my pickup truck...

...with my window down, the passenger window down a crack, the dog beside me with his tongue hanging out, my new pink John Deere cap on my head and a can of no-name "Sprite" in one hand.  Under my feet were the Taz floor mats I found up in the barn (buddy who left 'em there ten years ago probably not gonna miss them I figure).  I was wearing a plaid shirt and rubber barn boots.  The sun was hot, the air was cool, and I had a truckload of garage and barn garbage and useless plastic car parts I just couldn't wait to get rid of.

I took stock of the whole thing and realized, "Holy crap, I really truly am a hick.  There is just no fighting it."


(Also not worth fighting: trying to decide if I'm going to write about our weekend in St John's Newfoundland, or musing about moving the last of our worldly possessions out of the mostly empty house that will only be ours for another four days.)

Turns out I drink a can of pop once year to remind myself I don't like it.  Scratching the top of the grinning Pug's head is more fun than steering with a can in hand anyways.

I should write something!

But instead, I've been riding, and flinging manure, and trying to get caught up with my real life after our short-and-sweet trip to Newfoundland for the Junos. I have more to say about Newfoundland, or at least what I saw of it, which I'll be sharing next week.

I'm so far behind on email it's stoopid.

Because I'm lazy, and don't understand facebook, I'm doing it this way instead: HI EVERYBODY!

April is almost over.  We're emptying our house this next week.  (And filling mom's house.)  Meanwhile the grass is green and sitting outside no longer requires a warm sweater.  It's bearable.  I can survive this.

Annyong took this picture with the iGadget. She's an artist, what can I say.

She sat outside with the PUG this afternoon, soaking up the sunshine. He smells warm when he's been basking in the sun.  Sometimes we stick our faces in his rolls of neck fur to get that scent.

Happy weekend...

JUNO AWARDS SHOW! Good show and best red carpet EVAR!

Edited: got home, had a nap, got on with my day and realized I could have done a better job of this.  New improved with more pictures and possibly more verbal coherence!

Most award winners got stranded elsewhere due to either St Johns fog or Iceland volcanic ash (and the mysteries of airports and flight schedules).  We were lucky to be there and we worked it!  It was a super awesome amazing fun day at the Juno Awards!

Before we get to the news and stuff, here's my dress!!

Who am I wearing?  Well I'm glad you asked!  SWERVY by Cara Winsor Hehir!

And how do you like our sweet home for the weekend?  I know - gorgeous!  Opulent!  (Believe it or not, less expense than a hotel.  Shop local, people, avoid the uniculture!)


Okay, first of all, this is Jethro's fourth consecutive nomination and as long as we're we're involved, he gets all the engineer nominees together for the red carpet.  He'll contact as many engineers and producers as he can can and convince them to crawl out of the shadows and be terrified by the crowds and cameras.

Yesterday, we rolled up to the red carpet in... wait for it... A YELLOW SCHOOL BUS!  Oh but that's not all, oh no, are ya ready for this?  It was... THE SHORT BUS!!!!

Oh man it was hardcore fun.  All these fans are lined up along the street trying to get a good look at the Famous People and here comes a bus, not a limo but a bright yellow school bus, so of course they all freak out expecting somebody Famous to get out.  It must be one of those wacky edgy irreverent rawk bands.  And then, out gets us!

All the kids screamed anyways, just in case I was hiding Drake or the Biebs in my jacket. Ha.

Wait, we're not nobodies!  This guy gets nominated for awards!!!

I love this guy.  I'm his biggest fan.  I'm the president of his fan club.  I'm serious.

Here's the other great thing: usually us nobodies get dropped on the red carpet way before the Famous People, but yesterday afternoon, our hilarious short bus deposited us just before Michael Buble!  So yeah, I knew who they were screamin' for and it wasn't us!

But we spent a good long time there soaking it up.  We managed to get Cara's husband Kevin a ticket for the concert.

Yessss!  I loved this because he's a guy who's all about St John's.  He technically is "from away" but this guy knows his stuff and loves his Newfoundland.  He gave us so much history and info on the province and the city, which made it so much fun to bring him along for the crazy red carpet ride!  Plus he ran into all kinds of people he knows, of course, him being a local and all. I hope this totally boosts his cred up at the high school he teaches at.  Hey kids- your Mr Hehir is cool!!

He's lifting the horns and I'm holding up my cute little Led Zeppelin clutch purse.  It matches the fakey-snakey jacket!  I am so easily thrilled.  Makes life interesting. 

I got to walk past Mulroney and all the guys from Alexisonfire!   I love Alexisonfire.  I was standing there mentally processing that I was mere feet away from them and could talk to them, but they looked so rockstarry and it would have been really awkward to try to strike up a conversation right there when Ben Mulroney is doing his interview and basically my brain sort of fizzled.  So I just stared at them like a moron but I didn't drool so I'm okay.  And then a voice announced Hedley's arrival, and you might know I have a goofy enthusiasm for that band, like, I love that band, so I got over my awkwardness and pulled on Jethro's jacket to slow him down a little -- we have to stop to say hi to those guys.  It's tradition!!

I was rather irritated to find out that the network didn't air a red carpet show.  I mean, even though I didn't manage to photobomb a camera and mouth "Hi kids!" I was hoping they'd be at home and see their parents.  I figured it'd be good for a laugh.

No we did not get anywhere near the Bieber and therefore I still don't know if he's bigger than me.  Jethro is really worried that the kid has a combover.  The screaming was deafening, I'm not kidding.  I gotta admit, I don't get it.  He's adorable and cute and he's a pretty good little singer, but I don't get his music.  Is it because I'm not 12 anymore?  Is it because my kids don't listen to pop?  The place seemed overrun with weeping red faced pre-teen girls.  Wow.  OH well, the world has recovered from hordes of crying fangirls before, right?

I'm sure I'm forgetting something I wanted to share with the world, but I find it hard to remember all the things I liked from the concert.  Honestly I think Billy Talent's performance of "Saint Veronica" was nothing short of awesome.  Best show of the whole concert, in my opinion.  Those guys are always, consistently, a great live band, and this current record is one hit after another.  If you don't know them, check them out!

I really liked the Metric performance too.  I think Emily Haines is one of the coolest chicks in music right now.  She's unique and knows how to rock a sparkly silver dress with matching high heels.

Anyways, by the end of the concert I was all Biebered-out and totally over-Draked.

As for the afterparties?  The usual: go to a sponsored party at some club, try to grab as many free snackies and drinkies as possible, don't grab too much or you'll feel ill.  Yell over the loud music.  Hang at the edge of the crowd to avoid getting squished.  Wonder who the heck all these people are.  High five the ones you know.  And make sure you pick up for free bag o swag when leaving.  It's costly to do this weekend thing.  Grab the swag.

Know what's funny?  The contents of the swag bags fall into three general categories: snacks (Vitamin water, Sun chips, energy bars, hopefully some chocolate, all of which becomes Monday morning's breakfast), shampoo and stuff (wow, lotions, make up, razors, shampoo, styling stuff, and all full size bottles too), and... condoms.  Which made me laugh, because basically what the corporate sponsors are telling us music biz types is that we need to eat better, wash and take care of our hygiene, and make sure we don't reproduce ourselves.

And that's my report on the 2010 Juno awards.  (But we weren't quite done with NFLD yet...)

At the Juno Awards!

Here we are!

Can you see the guitar on his tie?  He borrowed it from his son - it's the rock n roll hall of fame tie!  I'm wearing a dress by SERVY by Cara Winsor Hehir, a designer and generally awesome goddess from right here in St John's!

No Jethro didn't win but the Juno went to Dan Brodbeck who came to NFLD with his wife and kids and the grandparents too!  What a buzz for the whole family!

Well it's bedtime but we must go out and get some good old Newfie style partying in tonight yet!

The St John's Report: This is my new favourite city.

And that's saying a lot because I don't really love cities all that much.  I even like the airport here.

Rock star sightings?  NONE so far.  I think everybody's still in Halifax, or Montreal, on account of so many planes turning back because of freezing rain and fog and general nasty weather.  We were lucky to land when we did, because on the first try we sat on the plane for half an hour before it was decided to not take the chance.  I'm cool with that.  Except I'd already taken my little white pill so I was on super-slow-motion by then and Jethro had to sort of peel me out of my seat and gently drag me back through the airport.  I was basically a Ramones song for awhile there.

Seriously, two rounds of applause for the captain when he safely landed that big bird!

So no rockstars, however, I did walk past the one and only BEN MULRONEY!  Sorry Non-Canucks, you might not know him and let me tell you he is THE nicest guy on TV.  He is even nicer than Ryan Seacrest.    If they were in the same room they'd spend an hour going, "No, thank you, no I insist, after you, etc."

He looks exactly the same in real life too!

St John's looks just like I hoped it would, as in, the way those tourism commercials brag it up to be.

Yes, the houses really are all different colours!  And they're all built into the hills like this!  It's so purty!

I think you walk downhill and take an cab home?  Better have good brakes, and learn how to start off on a hill in your standard shift car!

And the people here are wonderful.  I have never met a Newfie I didn't like and so far the fine people of St John's are proving it.  We have to bring the kids back here someday.

Oh look!  Check out this magnificent building:

Or as we like to refer to it, "Home Sweet Home!"

And I'm posting this for my mom because I can't wait until I get home:

MOM!  LOOK AT THIS PITCHER!  I saw it in an antique store window and shrieked, right there on the street!  Or maybe that little pitcher screamed silently at me; either way there was shrill noise!  Isn't it shiny?  doncha just love it?

Must go- I'm off to meet Cara and family!

Tonight: Big Fancy Dress Up Gala Awards Dinner Show!

Watch the Juno Awards on Sunday!

CTV Juno website! If we can sneak past a camera I'll wave at ya.

Throwing things into suitcases and getting ready to party with rockstars

alternate title: IF IT'S CLEAN, IT'S FORMAL WEAR.

(Calgary, 2008)

Normally I start packing a few days ahead of time, but I had this cold, see, and then a big bin showed up and I had to fling some metal into it -- oooh flinging metal!  Sweeeet! -- then I had an appt with DOCTACHAN which took a very long trip down the highway and blah blah blah I didn't pack a thing until this morning.  

Truth: Jethro and I stood in the bedroom at the farmhouse and did "Are we taking this" to each other for what felt like an hour.  I almost left without any socks.  But I think I have about 5 pairs of tights.  Fishnets?  Hmm, east coast, that's appropriate, right?  

I'm pretty sure we both have enough undies for the trip.  I mean for each of us.  

More than ever, since I've been living in farm country, I'm seeing the contrast between Heidi the Hick and Heidi the Wife of the Recording Engineer who Gets Nominated for Awards.  Like, I packed two pairs of boots and neither are useful barn boots.  I packed no overalls.  However I do have my pink John Deere hat.  Gotta keep it real.  

Let's have a look (because I'm either a huge narcissist, or have no embarrassment capabilities) at the two sides of me:

(with my farm dog, winter 2009)

(Calgary, 08 in the most awesome dress evar)

(prettying up the big fella instead of myself)

(Vancouver '09: the dress I wore to my prom is so tight 20 years later it's making my forehead vein pop)

(I shouldn't even post pix like this - what the heck is wrong with me?)

(Like high school, only older and heavier!!)

How many times have we done this and I still can't believe it.  Me, the little dork covered in pony dirt, and him, the kid from the big house behind the feed mill, walking past all the famous people and being unrecognized on the red carpet!!!!

Aw, he's more than paid his dues.  He deserves a fun weekend. "Give me a weekend there, I'll pick up that east coast accent."  

Geez, my bestest friend Biddie was there for less than two years in her teens and I can still hear the accent on her!  

OH and I haven't even told you what I'm wearing.  It's a surprise.  Even to me.  My blog buddy Cara is going to surprise me!  

Okay I'm officially excited now.  The plane takes off at dark o'clock....

Random disjointed um, things? from my feverish stuffy head

Hang on.  Gotta sneeze.

Yeah.  We had this huge massive I mean gargantuan machine here at the farm today to pull down the remains of a steel building

and then SMASH it

then pick it up in its jaws

and drop it into a bin

and then SMASH it down so it all fit in there.

Oh man, it was so awesome, I don't mean awesome in the overused kind of way but like, the true, original FULL OF AWE meaning of the word.

I was full of awe watching the thing!  It was like a dinosaur.  With jaws.  Teeth.

Then it curled itself up and looked like it was taking a nap on it's little cute trailer.

I hate grocery shopping when I'm sick.  All the food looks like plastic.

Ellen Degeneres is funny.  She always looks like she's not quite sure what she just said.

I haven't felt like talking to anybody for a week.  Of course now I really don't want to talk at all to anybody since I sound like a three-pack-a-day smoker.


Man, Adam Lambert is friggin FABULOUS.

And he must be huge.  Is he a large person in real life, I wonder?  When I meet people in real life I'm pretty much always surprised by their actual proportions.  I bet he's really tall.

Possibly 7 ft tall with his hair all glued up.

I wonder who I'll be surprised at this weekend at the Junos.

omg the junos are this weekend.

I wonder what famous person I'll embarrass myself in front of this year.

I'm betting it'll be the Bieber.

I'll be amazed if he's taller than me.  Is he taller than 5' 1?  I'll be floored if the kid is actually tall.  Holy heck, what if he's like, Jethro sized????  I'll shriek.  Then he'll think I'm shrieking simply because he's The Bieber and I'll laugh because being bieber has no influence in our home... then he'll be embarrassed/ irritated and then I'll be embarrassed.

See?  Just called it.

Hang on.  Gotta blow some of my brain out through my nose.


Adamlambert just told a singer to GET THROATY.  I might have to use that.  (That's not dirty, is it?)

Gah.  I think I'll take a bath and get into my bed.  Maybe I'll throw a few things into the suitcase first.  Maybe I'll surprise myself once I get to St Jawn's.  "What the heck did I bring this for???"

snrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Here have more giant industrial machinery.

Okay, g'nite.

Holy heck I'm leaving in like, three days!!!!!

Jethro and I are going to Newfoundland for the Juno Awards!!!

I better start packing!!!!!

We really should book a hotel room!!!!!!!

I get to meet a blog buddy when I get there!!!!!!

No seriously I need to get crackin' on the packin' and I'm not even sure what house all of our fancy clothes are in.  This is kind of an awkward time to be going on a big business trip/ awards thingie.

Hey - guess what I'm doing to my hair for the Junos.  Guess.

Ready?

Here's a hint: I'm doing something completely different from any other time we've done the Party With/ In The Same Building As Rock Stars Event.

Okay - this is what I'm going to do with my hair....

NOTHING.

Absolutely nothing.

Not even my semi-annual haircut.

I know.  SHOCKING!  Really going in a different direction this time.  I'm so daring.  (And cheap.)

Gotta run- that load of stuff for the dump ain't gonna jump into the back of my truck by itself, y'know.

Heidi the Hick will now suggest fixes for a few problems.

I'm irritated by a lot of stuff.

First of all.

GADGETS TO TELL YOU WHERE YOU'RE GOING.


Ever see that episode of the office where Michael and Dwight drove into a lake?

We're all getting dependent on our GPS units.  Even dudes, who genetically, apparently, cannot get lost because they're not lost, have to GPS everything.  Then it's cloudy and the satellite can't beam its poisonous rays down to us and then everybody's lost.

MEN are losing their sense of direction!!!  This is potentially an emergency situation.

the fix: it's called a "Road Map"  It needs no batteries, or satellite link, or any other kind of technology other than a light source.  Even if you can't fold it again, it'll still work!

Here, our lovely friend Johnny demonstrates how a map works:

Simply unfold it, and look at it.  Also, it is possible for men to read it!  I know, I'm as shocked as you are.  But it's true.


Next!


TRAFFIC.

It's different here in farm country than it is in the Greater Toronto Area, but no matter what form, it bugs me.  When I lived in the subdivision, I was constantly aware of the danger my kids faced every day on the way to school.  We lived like, a block and a half away.  And yet regularly I feared for their lives, even in that supposedly quiet neighbourhood.  Wanna know why? Parents.  Parents on wheels, specifically.

It will always stun and disgust me the way a parent on wheels will some so close to running down someone else's child in order to get their own to school on time.

the fix: Start off earlier.  Or better yet, start off a lot earlier and walk your kids to school.  Oh, and also, open your damn eyes, and actually turn your head and look around.  When you look around, SEE CHILDREN and then WAIT FOR THEM TO CROSS THE STREET.  It's not that hard.  Smarten up.



Rural traffic is a different story.  I personally think there's too damn much here.  Oh check it out, I'm about to morph into a grumpy old woman.  These small towns around here are a lot bigger than they used to be.  People drive from home to work, and those distances have increased.  People are willing to drive much further.

What really bugs me is the drivers getting bent about the tractors using the roads.  Tractors are big, and often even with the right side wheels over on the shoulder, they're still hard to pass and get around.

the fix:  suck it up and follow the damn tractor.  Start off earlier.  (I say this like I'm good at it... I'm not...)  You cannot pass the tractor until the yellow line is broken instead of solid, so calm down and wait.  Don't complain about the farmer -- he's just trying to get to work, like you.

About that yellow line: it's there for a reason.  If both lines are solid, you can't pass.  If it's broken on your side, you can but oncoming traffic can't, and vice versa.  You better look on down the road too and look out for passers.



The big highway north of us has been a big problem for, oh, forty years or so.  There's been talk of expanding the highway or building a new one to go around the small town the highway runs through.  Each one has insurmountable problems.

If the highway gets expanded to five lanes, two in each direction plus a turn lane, all the historic buildings have to go.  The town will practically be decimated.  This town is well known as an antique mecca and business will suffer!

Not only that, but many farms along that corridor will have huge chunks of land sliced off.  Very few farmers are into that idea.  They'd be financially compensated, sure, but that land can't be replaced.

Now if a new highway is built, a lot of farmland will be taken completely.

the fix:  More of the dirt roads in this area will have to get paved, and traffic increased there in order to take the pressure off the highway.  I don't think this would be popular either; some people like living on a dirt road because of the low traffic.  Others are sick of the dust and ready for asphalt.

Our road was dirt a few decades back.  My dad says my grandma used to go out with a watering can on laundry day so the dust wouldn't end up on her clean stuff hanging on the line.


Okay that felt all serious.  I'm not in the mood for serious.

Now I would like to fix Chad's hair.

He's taken on this kind of straightened and bleached idea.  It's not a Nickelbob anymore, but I'm not sure what it is, exactly.

the fix:  Man, cut it all off.  Maybe not brush-cut like little Bro, not down to the wood, but just try it short.  Either that or grow it out long again.  One or the other.  Not halfway.  I mean, Chad doesn't do anything else halfway.

Like, belt buckles, for example.

See?  That belt buckle is so awesome, it doesn't need halfway hair!  

Well I'm all done fixing things for today, and that barn isn't self-cleaning. Enjoy your weekend.

So chic. So cute. And such a little hick.

She learned everything she knows from me, obviously.

In keeping with avoiding heavy subjects: So I was talkin' to Bruce Springsteen at the gas station the other night...

...which made perfect sense, since we both had pickup trucks with big tanks to fill. I had my ratty ol' GMC and he had a nice shiny bright red Dodge.  I suspect he might have used it to pull the horse trailer to his daughter's horse shows.  But I digress.

I was really enjoying our pleasant convo, but I had to admit to him that I honestly couldn't call myself a huge fan.  It was all, "I mean, I like what you do and all, and I think you're handsome and well dressed, for sure, and most of all I believe you're a great lyrical storyteller!  It's just that I don't actually own any of your records..."

He shot me one of those sly grins, which made me blush.  Hot damn the man is charming.

It may have come up in conversation that I happen to know this really great recording engineer. Okay, it very strongly came up in conversation.  I did the ol' pluggin' of the biznass.

So we fueled up our trucks and away we went after a few nice little hug-pats and take-care-nows.

What. There's time to develop a friendship while filling a pickup truck with gas.  Trust me.

So far this dream is much more realistic than my usual subconscious disasters.

Well anyways.  I drove around to the exit, realized I just blew a huge opportunity and Bruce Freakin' Springsteen is right now at this minute walking into the restaurant beside the gas station (it's one of those big highway rest stops) and darnit, I am going to go in there and talk to my new friend Bruce.  Have I not read any of his lyrics?  I need to talk to him, maybe some of that poet dust will rub off on me.

Huh huh huh, that'd be alright eh? Huh huh huh.

I see my new friend in a corner booth, talking with a producer/songwriter Jethro knows.  I sidle up all confident and smiley, wait for them to notice me, and then we do the "Hey!  It's you again!" routine.  Then I start feeling like maybe I shouldn't have interrupted these guys, cuz they seemed to be talking about Something Important.

Right around this point a bunch of teenage boys wearing neon pink sneakers, jeans hanging off their butts,  hoodies, and that stupid feathered forward hairdo came strutting by.  "Oh wow," I groaned, "a pack of Biebers."

Chuckling ensued.

Then this is where I realized there was some crazy stuff going on over the sound system.  I knew that brand of crazy!  I ran for the DJ booth.  Every franchise truck stop greasy spoon has a DJ booth, am I right!?

I flung open the door, but instead of seeing my expected suspect, a portly dude was reading a sports report. This left me both embarrassed and perplexed:  first of all, oops, and second, why do all sports reporters often sport a paunch???  Third, why was this booth made of unpainted plywood?  Cheap.

I apologized and yanked open the other door.

"BUCKY!"  I roared.  "You know you are not allowed to drive until you're sixteen!  Now get your Dad on the phone and tell him Bruce Freakin' Springsteen is here and he should get here right away!"

Well when I got back to Bruce, my daughter was telling funny stories to the Biebers, which disturbed me, and poor Bruce was ready to leave.  Not without a big hug.

Because it's just not a typical dream of mine until a Rock Star gets hugged.

Destruction, Rebirth, and Easter

Is it possible to have new life without destruction first?


The old people pass on, new people are born.


The forest is burned but the ashes soon sprout new plants and trees.  Dormant seeds pop open and germinate in the cleansing rain.

I'm thinking a lot about flames and ashes, and rising out of the ashes, and the coincidence of a horse named Phoenix.  I think about blackened, warped steel and empty tombs.  


I have decided to avoid doing much thinking about the really heavy subjects during the month of April... it's my worst month.  While most people rejoice in green grass and daffodils, I wonder why I'm miserable.  I shouldn't think about the future, or make any crucial plans.  


I will just work.


I will fling scrap metal around, cart trash to the dump, pick bits of litter out of the ditches and the hayfield.  

I'll breathe in the smell of my horses.  


I'll write about it.


I'll be there for my loved ones.


We'll pick ourselves up and move on, because that's what we do.  That's what we've always done.  We'll rise out of the ashes.  

(Happy Easter... rise and shine.)