It's hard to hold a candle... in the cold November rain...

Well, DUH!

Things Which Are Also Hard To Do In The Cold November Rain, And Which Axl Forgot To Include:

--get on a tractor and move a manure pile

--walk across a corral made up of clay footing (it's the slipperiest mud ever)

--keep your shoes clean

--stay warm

--wait for the school bus (although some of us are pampered and wait in the nice warm truck)

--hang out your laundry to dry

--look all rockstar-ish and confident as you swagger along

--swagger

--keep your hood up but not have it fall down over your eyes

--dry out the newspaper when it comes in, since the mailbox leaks

--catch the dog and dry him off before he storms into the living room and jumps up on the couch

--BBQ

--look at your horses without thinking they look like the "Before" picture.

--remember July and how hard it was to be thankful for the blistering heat despite the knowledge that this crap was on its way





Did I get all of them?  Can we write a whole nuther song?

Oh wow... what a week! (Pick your favourite!)

Honestly I don't know where to start!  It's all so exciting!

One: The most life-changing, amazing thing happened this week.  A new person, a brand new, tiny boy with black hair and beautiful cheeks and tiny little fingernails has joined our world.  And now I'm a GRANDGODMOTHER!  I think that's right, but being Mennonite, I'm not really sure what the deal is with godmothering other than it doesn't actually involve magic wands.

My best friend's daughter had a baby this week.  My best friend is a GRANDMA!  I'm picturing her right now and suddenly realize, holy smokes, for real, SHE is somebody's grandmother!  When I remember her on Wednesday night at the hospital, rocking that baby... yeah she's a grandma all right.

The new mother, KK, was understandably exhausted when I saw her at the hospital.  Poor girl could hardly keep her eyes open.  I remember that feeling too, being numb from the waist down, weak from exertion and dazed.  I also remember holding KK when she was a small baby, and now here she is holding a little carbon copy of herself.  The new father, beaming, handed the baby to me so I could hold him, and I was hit with a flood of emotions.

So yeah, that really is the biggest thing to happen this week.  The tiny boy is a really big event!

 Two:  Some of you may be aware that I wrote a book.  A novel.  I made a bunch of stuff up and spent a few years rewriting it until I thought it was pretty good.  I sent out letters to literary agents two years ago and as a result got proof that I really truly am a writer: I got rejected.  I did some more rewriting and editing.  People I respect and trusted gave it a few reads.  I sent out a few more letters.  And this time... the people who read for a living and could potentially guide me on a career as a writer are reading MY manuscript. I considered not sharing this here, because nothing has been decided.  I'm just a writer with big goals and dreams trying to get this thing going.  But I am sharing it because it's happening to me and I have friends who've been through the same process, and they shared the journey.  It's just so good after all this time to know that there is hope.  And I'm trying not to think about it too much or I'll go crazier.

Three:  I moved half of the manure pile this week.

Those of you who do not pick up after large hooved animals for a living won't understand the accomplishment, but let me tell you, I feel good about this.  Using a 1958 John Deere with a very small loader bucket to move the manure through two gates and down a hill is not a ripping fast project.  I wanted to get it all cleared out but half a pile is better than a big pile.  Anyways, eventually I'll get slick with the whole hydraulic loader controls and then I'll get that pile moved real slick-like.  Next year.

Four:  People magazine rolled out their Sexiest Man Alive issue.  Have you got yours yet?

I've got mine!!!  I haven't read it yet.  I JUST LOOKED AT THE PICTURES!  Bwahahahaha!

How cute is this guy?  Let's discuss it in more detail next week, shall we?  I think we shall.




Five:  Jethro and I are going to see OZZY OSBOURNE this weekend!!!!!!!!

Ozzy is so freakin' fantastic, and I know this for a fact because we saw him a few years ago.  The fact that dude is still alive is amazing... but regardless of his more recent portrayal as shaky and unintelligible, make no mistake,  THIS MAN ROCKS.  He sounds note perfect every time.  And also, he is Ozzy Freakin' Osbourne.  

Don't forget, he used to look like this:

... and you know how I love a baby-faced British guy.  

In case I haven't mentioned it, Ozzy's new album is haaaavy.  Just trust me.  Ozzy invented this stuff. He still rules it!  

One more thing: this concert involves the two of us leaving the farm, as in, three horses, two barn cats, a house cat and a PUG, in charge of the grandparents and teenagers, going to the city, as in Toronto, and staying there overnight.  In a hotel!  I'll probably wake up at 6 am anyways, but I won't have to drag my butt out of bed.  Which is good because after an evening with Ozzy I'll probably be half deaf and all screamed out.  

Aaaaand, that was my week.

!!!

Sometimes I think I feel sorry for The Biebs.

You might wonder how I could feel sorry for a kid who's on top of the world.  Well, other than being unable to walk down a street without being attacked and feeling that nobody really knows him?  He's sort of missing out on a regular teenage life.  

I am alarmed and concerned that he does not have any concept of big and small towns. 

I didn't watch the American Music Awards on Sunday night because it was more important to me to attend a baby shower.  (Yep, I love my god-daughter more than I love rock stars!) I heard all about the awards the next morning on the radio.  I heard The Biebs tell the adoring audience something that sounded like this:

I come from the smallest town in the world, like 30,000 people...

I have so many problems with this statement.  So, so many problems!

First of all, in what universe is a population of 30,000 SMALL?  That is only small if it's a city.   And technically, Stratford Ontario is a city.  A small one.  

And seriously, smallest town in the world?  IN THE WORLD?  Really Biebs?  Really?

Honestly when I heard this I didn't know whether to smack my forehead... or his.

According to the Kitchener news, Stratford is #219 on the list of smallest populations in Canada. But that didn't sound right to me.  They must have meant small cities. Then of course if we take into consideration all the villages and hamlets, calling Stratford small is just ridiculous.  When your town is composed of three houses and a tiny church, then we can start talking about the smallest town in the world.   

To be fair, in the last couple years the kid has only been in cities large enough to support a giant arena to hold his hordes of screaming fans.  But at any time in the first decade of his life, did he not venture outside of Stratford?  Did he never drive through, like, Tavistock?  St Marys?  New Hamburg?  And those are just medium size towns; how about Shakespeare?  Harmony? Gads Hill? Amulree?  Geez, you want small, Biebs?  Shingletown!  Haysville!  Harmony!  

Man, has the kid been anywhere????

He's probably never heard of this writer guy called William Shakespeare either.  That "smallest town" happens to have a huge tourist trade thanks to a few little plays Will wrote.  

The kid would have to know this.  He used to play his guitar on the street corner so the tourists could fill his guitar case with cash.  As legend would have it.

I will say this: he's talented.  And he's driven.  He is not a superstar by accident.  He works for it.  He wants it and he's out to get it.

Next reason I feel sorry for him: he's a 16 year old boy.  He's surrounded by Kardashians and Katy Perry and Rhianna.  Up until about a week ago, he looked like a nine year old.  That's borderline tragic.

And of course the old radio station got hold of a clip of the boy's voice cracking during Sunday's performance.  Yeah.  There could be some rough years ahead.

Biggest reason I feel sorry for The Biebs?

THE COMBOVER.

Mrs Wolowitz????!!!!!

A couple of questions before we begin:

First, how many of us adults have lived with, or are living with, their parents?

(This is where I sheepishly grimace and do the wiggle-finger wave.)  Meeeee!

Second, anybody here ever watch a show called The Big Bang Theory?  (We kind of relate because we have a budding genius in the family.)  

If you watch it too, you might be familiar with a strange little character called Howard Wolowitz.  If not, let me introduce you.  

This is Howard.

He lives with his mother.  We never see his mother.  We just hear her.  And she's loud.  Raspy.  Harsh, and really, really irritating.  She yells when his "little friends" are over for a "play date."  She yells to ask what they're doing.  She yells to ask if they want cookies.  She yells.  He is 27 going on eight.  He rolls his eyes, yells back, and looks irritated.

Unlike poor How-AHHHD my mother is not irritating.  Sure, she can't quit mothering, but I assure that if I, at the age of 61, end up with one of my adult children and the grandchildren (not to mention the spouse and house-pets) living in my house with me, you can bet I'll be mothering them all too.  

We mothers can't help it.  It's like a switch gets flipped the first time we hold our children and that switch can never, ever be turned off again.  I really think my mom's doing quite well, considering.  She'll start into one of my teenagers on the merits of cough syrup or the pressing urgency of homework, then stop, turn her head, grin, and announce, "I'm not your mother!"

This approach seems to be working.  Example:

The other evening, Bucky yelled, "Mom!"  

And because that switch never shuts off, and also because Grandma is really good at her job, before I opened my mouth she'd already replied.

So Bucky, the quick witted little smartass, came back instantly with "You're not my mother!"

Sometimes we accuse her of overfunctioning, but she has proven that without her, there is no functioning.  I suspect she enjoys being She Who Runs The Place, even if it is a lot of work.  It would be tempting to just let her run my life... I mean, she's good at it and it would be so easy.  But I've never been good at being...run.  Besides, I moved out at age 20 and have had a few years worth of running my own place.  Not as well, maybe.  But I managed to get two babies to the teenage years without any catastrophic accidents or extreme neglect!

Yesterday morning, I had to take my truck over to the garage.  Mom followed me with her car, since I would rather not walk down the highway back to the farm.  After parking the truck, I headed over to her car before going to the office.  I had to drop off a bag in the car.  It was raining and miserable out and I was motoring, but my extremely on-the-ball mother already had her window down, cold rain lashing at her face, as she yelled across the parking lot, "DON'T FORGET TO TELL THEM YOUR LEFT HEADLIGHT IS OUT!"  

I yelled back, "YEAH I'M GONNA!"

Well by the time I opened the passenger door to throw the bag in the car, she was already laughing.  

"I sound like Howard's mother!"

So yeah, we have a pretty good sense of humour.  All the way home we snorted and giggled about HOWAHHHHHD!

In the evening, she drove me back to the garage to pay for the truck and bring it home.  We got home about the same time, and as soon as I got out of the truck she was standing there beside her car, grinning, and yelled...

"TELL YA LITTLE FRIENDS YA GOT YA HEADLIGHT FIXED!!!!"

And so, little friends, I would like to tell you that both the headlights in my truck are working.

(How did I function without her?)

"Frankenfinger" and other (stupid) mutilations.

The nasty wound on my right ring finger looked like a smile yesterday.  I'm totally serious.  So I got a red Sharpie and drew eyes and little red fangs for it.

It seemed like the right thing to do, since Jethro insisted on setting up a weird computer screen/ iGadget/ Face Time thing to talk to his engineer, Bubba.  Poor guy just thought he'd be having a conversation with Jethro about work and their Mo-vember projects.  They started their moustaches late, but Bubba is blessed with a manly face that can grow stubble by 4:00 pm, while Jethro has more of a sparse facial foliage situation.  (It's great because when I see Johnny Depp on a magazine at the grocery store, I can say stupid things like, hey kids, look how much that guy looks like Daddy!!)

So Jethro and Bubba are using the studio as an excuse to use fun new technology.  Of course, when I saw Bubba on the screen, and realized he could see me too, I did what any normal, almost 40 year old crazy woman would do.

"Hey!  Wanna see my wound?!?!"

It only occurs to me tonight, now that my daughter mentions it, that he didn't really seem all that enthused, but really is just the kind of nice fella who wouldn't diminish my excitement by going, "Oh dude, no.  Keep your raw meat digits away from me."

Anyways.

I'm thinking about a gruesome new movie.  It's about a dude who has to... okay, are you ready for this, because if my smashy finger grossed you out, you better not keep reading, I'm serious... buddy cuts off his own.... ooooh boy, leg-adrenalin, you can feel it, don't pass out... arm, in order to survive.

Oh, and it's based ON A TRUE STORY.

Kind of puts my little tragedy into perspective, eh?

So this brings to mind the kind of thing bored people talk about.  Would you hack off an appendage to save your own life????




What the HELL kind of question is THAT?



Okay, the real life guy is way way more brave than I will ever be.  However.  I would likely never be faced with such a horrible choice because I probably won't ever be hiking alone through a dangerous isolated canyon.  I'm a hick alright, and I like being surrounded by hayfields and cornfields and neighbouring red barns, but I'm not into full on wilderness.  Besides, hiking for me would involved a big donkey to carry my comforters, pillows, flannel jammies, slippers, and extra blankets.  


I love my appendages and plan to keep them all in good shape.

Okay, I guess you couldn't tell by looking at my poor little Frankenstein finger but hey, I was wearing gloves, and I generally try not to stick my hands and feet in sharp places!!!!  That little incident with the construction scaffold has learned me up real good.  As in, I'm not supposed to be doing construction!

You know how people get hurt and then say things like, "Oh wow, I had no idea how much I use my right hand until it was encased in plaster!"  Oh come on.  Give the extremities the appreciation they deserve!  Love your limbs!



So let's not speak of these awful situations, okay?

Instead,  let's talk about the star of the gruesome movie, James Franco.

He is kind of cute, right?  Maybe looking at his face for an hour wouldn't be so bad?  (Those of you who had to look away earlier can look again!)

I am considering developing a Depp Jr kind of fixation on him, since he chooses all kinds of wack roles including a stint on a soap opera, which was awkward because my mother watches General Inhospitable and had no idea who this "Franco" is really but I actually admire the guy for going from movies to soaps because, DUDE, nobody does that.  Brave.  Also he starred on 30 Rock as himself who may or may not have some serious um, issues.  He's unpredictable and I like that in my actors.

I wonder if he's disgusted by scabs.

"Hey Franco!  Wanna see my wound????!!!"

I promise I won't fool around with construction equipment anymore.  And I tell my hands and feet regularly that I love them very much.  

It's November, and it was so warm today...

...it was so warm, I wasn't wearing long johns under my jeans!

...it was so warm, I was tempted to lose the hoodie and just ride around in a long sleeved t-shirt!

...it was so warm, I actually busted a sweat when I was riding my little red mare this afternoon!

...it was so warm, Oakie was all sweated up from her neck to her flanks!

...it was so warm, I had to set the saddle pad and cinch out to dry!

...it was so warm, I did not wear my fuzzy hat!

...it was so warm, I thought of this picture...

One more day of unusual late fall sunshine tomorrow.

I'll be outside.  Seeya.

Remembrance Day Prayer

...that the brave people who sign up for the job come home whole, instead of in flag draped coffins.

...that we always remember how history can repeat itself.

...that Jesus said to love our enemies.

...that we as a species can learn to solve our differences without killing each other.

We're human.  My prayers might be impossible.  I have no enemies to love and those I once had, I only ever got as far as feeling pity for them instead of hate.




But I keep praying.

Things I can do ONE HANDED!

I've often considered the benefits of being ambidextrous.  It would really come in handy to be able to use either hand if one got injured, like say, you were on a ladder when a large and extremely heavy panel of metal scaffold ended up on your right ring finger requiring 5 stitches, or maybe just a really bad paper cut which left you incapacitated.  Okay, s*** happens, alright?

Sadly my early experiments in left handedness weren't successful.  As a result I've spent the last week fumbling through my life. That nasty injury is right in the fat part of the palm side of the knuckle... in other words, the grabbing-stuff part of the hand.  Plus it was really swollen and colourful.  Cal me a big suckybaby but it hurt! The stitches came out yesterday, my right hand is only half green now instead of mostly purple, and things are getting back to normal.  But, I gotta hand it to myself - see what I did there! - I did okay with one hand.

I can drive with one hand.  As long as the vehicle is automatic transmission.

I can ride with one hand.  I couldn't deal with the saddle and cinch but I can get on a horse bareback from my little stepladder.

I can pick up construction trash with one hand.  (That'll be the extent of the work I do on the new shed from now on.)

I can throw dirty clothes into the washing machine with one hand.

I can teach a riding lesson with one hand - especially if it's an off-site lesson and the girls already have their ponies saddled.

I can pet critters with my left hand.

I can kick a hay bale across a floor with my feet and then use my left hand to heave it upright and then stack it in the aisle.

I can do up the snap on a halter with my let hand but holy crap is that tricky.

Other stuff... well you figure things out when you have to.  I found I can balance the manure fork on the palm of my right hand for leverage and lean into my left hand to pick up the poops in the corral.  I hook my right arm under the bars of the gate to open and close it.

You know what I absolutely cannot do using only one hand?

Wash dishes.

If only my kids weren't smart enough to figure out that my finger is healing up now...

You know you're a success in this world when you have your own clothing line.

Bucky, my enterprising 14 year old son, announced this evening that he'd like to create his own clothing line.

At first I imagined a store full of solid coloured hoodies with metal zippers instead of plastic, and T shirts with smart-assy slogans on them, and jeans.  Maybe a few hats with flames on them.  You know, the Bucky Uniform.

But no.

He carefully spelled out for me the name of his new clothing line.

D Ü S H

Yep, sound it out.

Well, I had to ask.

Will you be making a selection of, say, knapsacks and satchels?

Yes. And handbags.

Only they won't be called handbags.  They'll be known as... geddit?

Why am I so proud of this kid?  Yes people, this is what a few years in the Gifted Program will do!

Figures.  We're such a creative bunch around here.  Jethro thinks he should do clothes called GRABBY.  They'd be women's clothes with extra wide sleeves and pantlegs, allowing big mansized hands easier access. I countered by instantly creating a clothing concept called EVADE.  

But I think for sheer wittiness and goofy cleverness... BUCKY WINS.

See ya at the mall, kid.

Hey!!! Who's the NEW CHICK???!!!

Got exciting news from the Hick Chic herd!!

We brought a new horse home on Sunday evening.  So much for all that talk of two horses being the perfect number eh?  Ha!

Monday morning I put the two mares in the corral together, before setting all three loose in the pasture.  The thing with horses is that they go bonkers when a new horse is introduced.  I expected all kinds of squealing and kicking while they get their new pecking order together, even though I know all three of them are pretty mellow.  

Total non-issue.  The biggest problem was Copper fretting about her beloved being on the other side of the fence.  She only cared that this new horse understands that Phoenix is hers so don't get too familiar.

As for the new horse... she's no stranger.  Some of you might remember a pregnant mare at the Little Valley, where I did my instructor training.  Now Oakie has joined me here for the winter and if all goes well, I'll keep her!  Yeah I'm pretty sure she'll be staying here with us for a long long time.

She settled in nicely on Monday.  I planned to saddle her up but I accidentally hurt my hand while helping with a little construction project here on the farm, which makes me think maybe I'm not cut out for construction.  I've got 5 stitches and a big bandage, but Oakie does a nice neck-rein, so as soon as it stops raining I'll get a kid to tack up for me and I'll ride one-handed!!  She has a sweet little rocking-horse lope.

They've developed a routine:  Oakie decides to take a walk.  Phoenix stops grazing and follows her because he's got to be the herd boss/ pseudostud and it's his job.  Copper follows him because she has to.  Her world revolves around him.

I did see the girls grazing near each other while Phoenix wasn't paying attention.

And today, when all of them took a break to lie down, he was so worn out from the increased herding he had to stretch right out with his head down in the grass.  Poor guy, exhausted by the demands of the two women in his life!

They're a nice little herd.  She fulfills my need for a red horse.  She's a nice solid shiny contrast to my two speckled frecklies.  And for the first time, I can go riding with both my kids!