I'm tired of working like a man. I think I want a bubble bath and some chocolate.

You know, I spend a large amount of time lately covered in sweat and dirt.  Horse dirt, rust dirt, used motor oil dirt, and good old fashioned dirt dirt.  It's kinda gross but it's okay because for the most part it washes off.  Sore muscles don't wash off so easily.  But at least I can see that we're getting stuff done around here, and I love getting stuff done.  And I love a nice warm bath at the end of the day.

Know what else I love?  Getting clean.  I clean up pretty good actually.  For example, it was nice to go out on Monday night with a dear friend, eat a great meal and experience awesome entertainment.  I went out with my long-time-bestest friend last month to an author reading, which was a wonderful combination of Biddie, books, and wearing clothes that smelled good for a change.  And, a few weeks ago, a family friend, a guy I refer to as "my big bother" got married and I attended the wedding in a dress chosen and accessorized by my stylist/daughter.  I love weddings.  Drinks all round.  (Seriously!)

However, Jethro is building a giant brick fortress in my mother's backyard when he's not holed up in the recording studio.  Greeeeaaaat.  I will be shovelling gravel and crushed limestone out of the back of the truck all weekend.  But dude, at least when the Vikings or that pack of coyotes in the bush come to attack the farmhouse, they won't get past Jethro's brick wall.  It does so much more than just hold up the ground that our pool will sit on.

I'm not kidding, when that pool is full of water I am going to build a raft out of pool noodles and float for a few hours.  With my painted toenails sticking up in the air.  Maybe holding a little foofy drink with an umbrella stuck in it.  Wearing a John Deere hat so people can still recognize me.

The Man With the Words... Poet Shane Koyczan

On Monday I made a big trip, or at least a much bigger trip than I usually take these days.  First I ended up in the old neighbourhood which is a whole other story and much more enjoyable than I had myself worked up for.  In the late afternoon my friend Leslie and I made our way south into the seething simmering Megacity of Toronto.  I'm not kidding by the way, it really is called the Megacity.  Weird eh?

We took the scenic route and saw, um, lots of intersections.  But we were never technically lost because she's so chill and cool.

We had a reason to be there, aside from the two of us getting the heck out of the house together wearing nicer clothes than usual and not having any kids trailing us.

Shane Koyczan was our reason!

I couldn't remember this guy's name for the life of me before Monday evening.  I just knew that when Leslie suggested this evening out, I eagerly accepted the invitation.  Me getting out of the house is a big deal at any time, but since moving out to the Ol Homestead, I act like Toronto is at least an 8 hour drive away which it isn't.  In fact, the daunting task of actually getting to the other area code took up so much brain power I couldn't remember exactly anymore who/why I wanted to see this guy.

Oh yeah, THAT GUY.

Oh my gosh, seeing him was well worth the drive!!

He's a poet.  He performs his poetry on stage with a nifty trio of musicians with the cool name of Short Story Long.  Occasionally he sings and is much better than he says he is.  He is totally captivating.

He can swear like a trucker and two seconds later bring you to tears.

He's funny and heartbreaking.

He's adorable and interesting.

I have messed around with words, but hearing and seeing this man makes me feel that buzzing mix of "I will never write anything this good" and "I am seeing fractals and mental fireworks and I can smell the stars!!!!"

Some of you who watched the 2010 Olympics might remember him reciting his awesome "We Are More."  If you didn't catch it, please watch it now, because when he was done I was cheering.  

I decided to buy a CD, partly to share the experience but also because I like to shell out 20 bux to support an artist.  My money is hard earned and scarce but this matters to me.  I hear it's really hard to make a living as a poet.

After the show Leslie and I stood there clutching our new CDs and debating whether or not it's cool to ask for a hug.  I seriously wanted to hug this guy.  The girl before us hugged him so that settled that.  I am such a starstruck fan at things like this.  I agonize over what to say and how to act and afterwards always think I came off like a slobbering idiot.

Well so what, I got my disc signed and both of us girls got our big hugs!

You know what?  If words could heal the world, I think Shane Koyczan should be like, doctor-guru-shaman of all nations or something.  I'd create a new job just for him if I ran this place.  He is just that awesome.

To beard or not to beard... or something...

The big news in facial hair this week:  Brad Pitt has shorn off his long grey, often beaded and totally scraggly beard!  He showed off his liberated chin at the premiere for a movie called "Salt" in which his wife-lady does a whole bunch of stunty things and wears some wigs.

They look fan friggen tastic, even if, in my opinion, Angie could gain 10 or 20 lbs and look less skeletal.  Honestly I think she's gorgeous but just too thin.  Them six kids must be running her ragged.  Listen, Jolie-Pitt younguns: let Mom eat!!!

But I digress.  Beards.  Love em or hate em?

I must be honest.  I like beards.  Maybe it's because I grew up with a Dad who always had a beard, and it looks normal to me.  I'm pretty sure if I was a dude I'd beard it up regularly.  I'd try em all - the goatee, the Amish chin beard, even the currently unfashionable moustache.

 I'd grow it long and braid it.  I mean, why not have fun with your facial hair?

I'm in the minority though, because all over the interwebs, poor ol' Brad was scolded for having that thing on his face.

Look, I get it.  He's so handsome, why should he cover his good looks?  (And if we're keeping track, I LOVE his crow's feet and I'm so grateful he's letting himself age.  I think he keeps getting more interesting and better looking.)  Has it occurred to anybody just how difficult it must be for handsome men to face the world every day?  Why can't handsome men be loved for their personalities instead of just their handsome faces?

   Love me for my brains!!!!!!!

Besides this is not the first time Brad's tried out the beard.  He grows a pretty serious face crop.

Well, you know me.  I like em pretty and scruffy.  Impeccably groomed men make me... nervous.  I like pre-mussed.  I like some imperfection with perfection.  Like, since perfection is a lie anyways.  I like men who are real and aren't afraid to let a bit of stubble show or get the hair messed up.

Not everybody feels that way!  Johnny got his fair share of criticism that year he walked around with his Captain Jack beardling going on, but Brad has just been raked over the coals!  

Everybody was all, "Who the hell does Brad Pitt think he is?  Brad Sparrow? Get that thing off your face!"

And Captain Jack was all, "That's CAPTAIN Brad Sparrow to you, dahling!"

People seem to forget that Brad was rocking the beard beads, like, ten years ago, back when he was Mr Jennifer Aniston and she barely tolerated his dirty hippy look.  He even had little silver bells knotted into his chin fur, although I couldn't find a pic of it. 

Yeah.  I don't think she liked it much.

But he's appeared in public all baby faced again, and Angelina is smiling and Brad is doing his Bradthing and the angels are singing.  

Oh my gosh, who knew shaving could bring this kind of happiness????

From Scruffy to full on Skeevy?  Still pretty underneath it all?  Jethro's beard used to be black.  Now it's silver.  Pretty!

this is my "I'm too busy to blog" blog!

I wanted to write about that big bug building a nest in the sunporch, buzzing around me while I hang laundry on the line.

Also about nests, I wanted to write about the barn swallow family moving out.  Got pictures too.

I wanted to write about Brad Pitt's beard-ectomy.

But instead I'm going to saddle up a horse, move some s**t, and then do a trip into town to return an extra kid and fill the trunk of my mom's car with groceries.  Okay, technically, I'll change and wash my hands, THEN go into town, take the extra kid home, go to the tack shop next door, and then all those groceries will end up in my mom's kitchen.

And I've already written more than I had time to write.

Okay!  Sheets on the line!  Spotted gelding wearing a saddle!  GO!

(forehead slap) THIS is how I should have creatively dealt with the truckload of scrap tires!

I WISH I'D THOUGHT OF THIS FIRST!!!

Is it better to be paranoid and justified, or unaware and shocked?

I ask this because I am reminded regularly that crappy things happen to good people.  And why not?  Crap happens, man.  It just does.  Crap does not care who it happens to.

So if you're totally paranoid, maybe you're miserable but at least you're prepared.

But if you're blissfully oblivious to all the peripheral bad stuff, you get to go on with your life and be basically... mellow?  numb?  happy?

Then when the crap hits the cool air distribution device, you will be shocked! stunned!  blindsided!  that such a thing could happen.

"I can't believe this," you could tell the reporter from the local news station.  "This is the kind of thing that only happens to other people!  You hear about this all the time but it never happens in your own life!"

But now let's consider you as the prepared pessimist.  "It was only a matter of time.  It's not a case of if it happens, it's when it happens."  No shock, no tears, just a bummed-out realization that there's one more crappy thing done and out of the way.  And then you get on with your life.

I think about these things way too much.

So, here's what I ask you, anybody who's still following along here:



Who's better off?

So the $400 pool is not actually a bargain???

When we decided to move out to the country, I PROMISED the kids we'd get them a pool.  You know those round plastic pools, about 4 ft deep, with the inflatable rim?  I reasoned that I didn't want to have to run them into town every hot day to use the township pool.  I wouldn't be able to send them down the street to a friend's house anymore.  And besides, maybe I'd like a swim too.  The inflatable pool seemed like an ever better idea when we decided to temporarily move to the Ol' Homestead with the grandparents first.  We can take it with us when we move!

Being July, and having just survived a heat wave with the exact same temperatures as Miami Florida, the pressure was on.  I PROMISED that pool.  PROMISED.

Good news - they're on sale.  We decided to buy it before they're all gone.  Jethro and I both looked slightly ill at the checkout.  We have so many things to pay for.  Debts to pay off, bills to pay, repairs to be paid for.  BUT WE PROMISED.  We mumbled to each other about how our kids are pretty happy about there at the Ol' Homestead, and don't get bored, and haven't complained about the lack of X-360-Nintendo-sega-64 game things.  They've been pretty low-maintenance, really.  Also, WE PROMISED.

Once home, the full reality of the country landscape hit us.

This property slopes gently away from the road.  A truly flat space of lawn is hard to find.  The spot we picked out is just barely big enough to shoehorn that pool between the house and the back lane.  We'll still have to do some levelling first.

My ol' man decided his tractor isn't powerful enough, so we might as well get a guy in with a Bobcat... and of course, that back door has been nailed shut for a few years.  We'll have to do something about that... especially since the back steps have been missing for a long time now...

Jethro started getting excited.  Oh boy, building a DECK!  This will involve power tools!

I started up a nervous sweat.

I calmed myself by remembering that this little back porch will be a nice spot for my parents to relax even after we move out and take the pool with us someday.

The grandparents deserve it.  I suddenly wanted badly to pay for it, and throw a brand new door into the deal while we're at it.  We'll still get the vet bill paid. We can do this.  We can do the work ourselves, and it won't cost much because we can shop around.  We can do this.

WE PROMISED!

It's been that kind of week, I guess.

And what I mean by that is, confusing.  

THE BOY!!!!!

BUCKY THE NERD!

BUCKY THE STUNT NERD!

BUCKY THE STUNT HICK ROCKDOG NERD!

What the heck!  How can my baby be 14?????  He's my baby for crying out loud and now he's bigger than me and has size 10 shoes!  He can do power tool things and lift heavy stuff, you know, if he feels like doing stuff.  He's spending mornings with one grandpa and following the other grandpa around at home.  He's building targets to shoot and driving anything with four wheels.

Did I mention he's bigger than me?

Okay I know it doesn't take much but still.

If it gets too hot out for the Guard Pug, we have a backup plan.

Larry's armed and he's ready for action.  I'd advise you to stay the heck offa mah prawpity.  

He is not afraid to go paw-to-paw if he has to.  

Nobody's gettin' past Larry.  

Larry does not sleep.  He guards.

You have been warned.

Heat + Humidity + No Breeze + Old House + Laptop =

ME WITH A MELTED BRAIN!

I'm in my room with a fan pointed at me.  The Mac White is on a pillow because I can't have it actually touching me.  I don't want anything touching me.

It's so hot I felt slightly ill this afternoon.  I felt like I could barely move.  Everything's slowed down to a crawl. Everything.

My horses spent the day grazing and sweating.

I took the Pug out for a walk at 7:30 and it was already hot.  I kept him in the house the rest of the day so the poor little monster could breathe.

Lucy the Feral Housecat has been.... mellow.

And I've accepted that until this heatwave is over my hair is going to be wet.  Could be from washing the sweat out of my hair or full of sweat, or maybe both... it's either deal with it or hack it all off.  (I don't want to hack it all off!)

You know what?  I'm out of ideas.  Can't even remember what I thought of writing about today.  I think my melted brain leaked out of my ears.

You know the air is like, THICK, right?  It's like breathing yogurt.

Only not cold out of the fridge, but warm.


Ewww.

Yep, that's all for me tonight.  I'll be here in front of the fan if you need me.  Not moving.

Heidi's advice on Staying Married for 19 Years

Yep.  Nineteen years of wedded bliss!  "Bliss" here includes a heated argument here and there (we really don't argue much), tons of laughing and a whole lot of leaning on each other when necessary.  I can honestly say it's all been worth it.  Feels good to be able to say that I made the best decision of my life when I was nineteen years old.  (A year later, at 20 & 22, we were married in the park.)

Of course it ain't easy though.

And, of course, I'm going to share my expertise.

1) Ladies.  Listen to me.  And remember this, because it is the most important thing to know.  Ready?

 He can't read your mind.

Do not expect him to "just know" what you're thinking, or what your problem is.  He can't even begin to guess.  Don't make him guess.  No, he should not be able to figure it out.  Not only is it unfair to him, it's unfair to yourself.  

2) Be honest.  Tell him the truth!  He's a man; he can take it.  I mean, you can soften it a little but no guessing games (see #1) and have the guts to tell the truth!

Example: the most evil lie women tell.  It is the most heinous lie because it comes off so innocent, so insignificant, but years of telling this lie can do so much damage.  Here is the horrible lie...

It's fine. 

Fine, my ass, it's not fine and you know it's not!  You say it's fine, and the male mind goes, "Oh, she says it's fine and that means it's fine" and he goes on with his day.  What else did you expect?  (See #1)

Other vicious lies include, "Oh nothing," as well as "Never mind."  It takes time to be honest but it's worth it.  

3) Don't tear him down.  Build him up.  Sure it's easy to tell him about all his flaws and all the stuff you want him to improve.  Keep in mind he'll get sick of that pretty quick.  We all know most of us women end up seeing marriage as an ongoing Husband Improvement Project but you married a man, not a project.  There has to be a focus on all the good stuff he's got going on too.  

4)  Get your reward system the right way around.  Let's have none of this crap where you make promises for jobs done.  Just dish out the rewards as much as possible - hey, it's your reward, too! - and then say things like, "Hey honey, you know what I think is really hot?  I loooove it when a man vacuums the living room rug.  Oooh that is sexy."

This approach works pretty good with power tools too.

5)  Remember: you like this guy.  

I think that's really the bottom line.  

I really, seriously, very much, like this guy.