How can turkeys stay awake....

I mean, I ate turkey three days in a row and I'm so sleepy. And they're like, MADE OUT OF TURKEY! Like, wouldn't they just fall asleep ALL THE TIME?!




(my daughter added this to her collection of weird/ dumb things said by her mother)

Merry merry happy happy etc etc....!

Well people, thanks for joining my Christmas blog party, and if you missed it, I'll catch you next year!

I'm going to take a week or so off. I plan on hunkering down with the family and it would be kinda uncool to be blogging when I could be actually interacting with my favourite humans, you know, in real life, in real time.  Keepin' it REAL man!

I've been doing some serious soul searching these past couple weeks, and giving myself a few good pep talks.  Gotta do that sometimes.

Conclusions:

-Not everybody (Me) is happy during Christmas... and yes there is a lot of pressure heaped on us, to be and act and do what somebody decided we should act and do and feel.  I think we should be allowed to feel how we feel.  All the time.  So yeah, I feel chafed and scraped by that kind of happiness-conformity.

-Doesn't mean I have to be miserable.

-I'm the only one who gets to decide how miserable I'm going to be.

-The very core of Christmas to me, is good.

-I have family that I love and who love me back.

-I AM BLESSED.





I hope all of you, each and every one of you, finds something to be blessed with this Christmas.

Be well, be merry!  (Unless you don't wanna be!)

ps,
41.  Forty-one.  Forty-ONE.  There's the hill, and I am on my way down the other side.  Should get easier from now on, eh?  hahahahahahahahaaaaa

ANNUAL HICK CHIC Christmas BLOG PARTY!!!

GET IN HERE!

Feeling festive?  Not feeling festive and actually feeling quite miserable?  Either way -- especially if you're miserable -- let's party blog-style! Let me show you around.  Don't let the cat out, and look out for the spinning yelping Pug. I've been totally busting my butt to get this place all prettied up.  I mean the photo shoots were an event, blah blah blah.  But it was all worth it.

You can kick off your boots here.  

I hung up some stockings for you.  I can add more!

Okay, just hang on, do you LOVE my wallpaper?  It's VINTAGE!  My whole house is vintage!  I just knocked a layer of dust off and moved in!  Totally authentic, man. 

So yeah, I found these old chairs in the hay mow and don't they look lovely now?

I'm feeling particularly fond of anything angel-related these days.  (Some of you already know why!)

Need a drink?  Cupboard's over there, help yourself to a glass.

Let's have a toast.  Why do we call it a toast if there's no actual toast involved?  Well what the heck, I'll drink to that anyways.  

Here's to... all of us!

Alright, let's cut the crap here.  There are some of you out there who aren't really feeling it.  

Yeah, I see you.  

Come over here.  

Step into this quiet room, all of us.  

Honestly?  This time of year can be a real bitch, am I right?  

Let's just fess up.  Some of us have reasons to dread Christmas.  I personally feel pretty rotten about this, because A) I am a Christian and this occasion marks the beginning of, well, everything, and B) because it's my fricken birthday, so I should be thrilled and happy and insufferably joyful.  I should be.

I'm not always, though.  

I loved Christmas when I was a child.  Mom did a great job of sheltering us kids from the nasties of life.  All I knew was, there was a fake tree in the house covered in shiny stuff (Oh Shiny!) and everybody gets presents on my birthday!!!!!!!

But then I went and grew up and had to deal with the pressure to shop and give and spend and cook and clean and decorate, and oh my gosh, wrap presents straight and with minimal amounts of scotch tape. And the pressure to be merry.  

I hate the commercialism. I've never in my life had a comfortable amount of money to live on.  I don't know what it's like.  And when the world is telling you to SPEND or else everybody will know you don't love them... it's awful.

Oh but there's more.  

Some of us are dealing with mental health problems, or physical health problems.  Or both.

Some of us are grieving.

Some of us are alone.

Some of us are homeless.

Well guess what.  YOU CAN BE THAT HERE.

Because hey, life isn't fair, people.  It just isn't.  

But.

We're ok...

We are breathing.  

If that's all we've got, that's something.

And for me, I've got to remember why I'm celebrating in the first place.  

This guy.

(that's supposed to be Jesus by the way, as opposed to that totally philosophical dude you sat beside in the train station.)  (wait a second...?)

And if you're not into Jesus then you can look at Christmas as simply Peace On Earth.  We could all use that right?  

So let's not be fake -- you are feeling how you are feeling.  You're allowed that.  

We're gonna be okay though.  

Whew.

Alright?  

Here's a big virtual hug and a virtual kiss on the forehead and now take a deep breath, and let's get out there and DO THIS PARTY.

Here, have some Pigs In Blankets.  I don't know why we call them that.  They don't look like pigs or blankets. But it's all zero-calorie in Blog World, so eat up!

Have some veggies.  Why are veggies and dip called crudités?  Why????

Don't ask.  Just dip and eat.  

Party always ends up in the kitchen, doesn't it? 

Luckily there will be no dishes to wash!

You know how the big trend now is to make these tiny little burger things?  Sliders. That name really bothers me.  Like this food is so small, you can just slide 'em down your throat.  Fifteen of them.  Who cares, they're just tiny.

And here they're totally imaginary so go nuts.

Would you like to see the library?  I've been working on some renovations.  It's not quite done yet.  I still have to finish the skylight, and then do a good sweeping and dusting. But I think it's coming alone nicely.

I'm going for that "haunted chic" look.  How'm I doing with that?  

All I know is, I finally found room for all my books!!!

You must be worn out from touring my big old house.  Have a seat.  

You know what you need right now?

BLOG NOG!!!!

It's a new recipe this year!  

Fancy, eh?

Go ahead!  Even if you can't stand the stuff in real life, you will love Blog Nog!  So sweet!  So... noggy!

 And still with the name thing - why the heck do we call it egg nog?  What's a nog?  Where do all these names come from?  Pigs on Blankets with a Toast of Egg Nog.  

The heck?

Watch out for this stuff.  I think it might be embellished.  Enhanced.  If you know what I mean.

I'm just saying it doesn't look as innocent as the other mug of nog!

Of course we'll need some rum for the pirates.

Look at that eh?  Like magic.  I say RUM, I get pirate.

(Ain't he a nice present for me?)

And now you need to use the bathroom.  Party always ends up in the bathroom.

I get it.  This bathroom's so nice I never wanna leave either.  

Random Shiny Thing:

Let's go outside for some fresh air.

We can visit The Girls.

HI GIRLS!  Aw, they're all smiling at us!  

Let's go for a ride while there's still snow on the ground.  Snow is prettier than mud.  

Well ok, I'm cold now.  

Time to warm up! 

I'll just be here with my butt beside the fireplace for a few minutes.  

HEY can we get somebody in here who knows how to play this thing?

And who's got a lyric sheet for "You're a Mean One, Mr Grinch?"

I want you to drag out all your favourite offbeat, alternative, funny Christmas songs.  I myself will be searching for my Spinal Tap "Break Like The Wind" record so we can play "Christmas with the Devil." Oh easy now, it's all very cheeky.  Who's got some AC/DC?

We need to sing.  Hint: Happy Birthday.

Now I expect that comments section to be hopping harder than a mosh pit.  Crash this party.  Invite all your friends.  Have a nice little escape from reality and you don't even have to dress up or drive home afterwards! Or stagger home with your arm over somebody's shoulder, if that is the way you roll.  (I don't roll.  I rock.)

PARTY ON!

Oh, and, also?  Merry Christmas, whether you like it or not!

Bog Party is TOMORROW! Are you ready for it? Get ready!

I just wasted about 4 minutes of my life looking at this year's Kardashian / Jenner Christmas card.  

And it just reminds me once again that I am so thankful I'm not rich and famous.

So... ARE YA READY FOR THIS YEAR'S HICK CHIC CHRISTMAS PARTY?

I sure as heck hope so, cuz I'm not yet!  I still have to sweep the floor of my imaginary library, blast the fake snow off the pretend lane up to my dream farm, and think about decorating the house that might not actually exist.  Also food I like to think about preparing but only in my mind.

But hey, in Pretend World, I am just an unnatural force of decorating craziness! I am the master of Christmas!  Whoooooo!

Bring a really offbeat Christmas song to cheer me up about all the Bieberbuble records.

Bring some munchies (we won't put on any weight so go nuts)!!!

Bring a friend!

Now please excuse me, in real life I must go outside and redistribute some horse manure.

SEE YOU TOMORROW!

Annual Hick Chic Christmas BLOG PARTY!!!

WEDNESDAY DECEMBER 21

Show up here for all kinds of imaginary fun stuff!

I'll be serving up really great looking food that won't put any weight on you or cause any blood-sugar spikes.  

You can tour my imaginary house, which in my mind, I decorate lavishly.  Oh yeah, sparkly stuff hanging everywhere, and all that green stuff too that I hacked off an evergreen behind the house.  I just renovated the library.  You're gonna love it.  

If we're lucky some Famouses will show up too.  

Especially this guy!  (It is Friday today, after all...)

OO oo oo!  Wouldn't it be great if Johnny lets us count all his new tattoos? 

Where was I...

Oh yeah.  BLOG PARTY!

There will be drinks there that won't cause you to do anything embarrassing or illegal!  Well, unless you really want to. If that's your thing, man.  It's cool, just don't blog & drive. 

You know what drink I'll be serving?  Oh yeah, if you've ever attended one of my Blog Christmas Parties, you know what's comin' up...

BLOG NOG!

Even non-noggers like my Blog Nog!

I think we'll do a little outdoor tour, because of course, the weather is perfect!

Bring your favourite songs to belt out in the comments section.  

Bring some of your own imaginary treats. 

Bring a friend!

Wait, let me emphasize that:

BRING A FRIEND!

Spread the news, people. I feel like having a giant virtual bash and I don't think I can do it on my own.  Let's make this thing rock!  Tell all your blog-buddies to come over and share the pretend-festivities!

Yayyyyy!

Because this is so much less pressure than a real party, folks.

You don't even have to dress up.  

Unless you want to.

If you like blogging while wearing sequins and cowboy boots, you just go right ahead with my sincere blessing.  

Just make sure you're here next Wednesday!!

It's not that I don't care. It's that I don't remember.

I'm in hermit mode.  I don't really feel like talking to anybody, I sure as hell don't want to go out shopping, and I kind of don't want to think much at all, about anything.  I just want sink into my own imaginary world and then write about it until my wrists and hands scream at me, begging to be freed from the keyboard.

I'm forgetful and scatterbrained at the best of times.  Add some stress - and we all know there's plenty of that to go around - and maybe some emotional turmoil - heck that's just normal for me - and I won't remember where I put my feet let alone my glasses.  I find myself yanking the twine off a hay bale, cussing that I forgot where I put the damn scissors, and then find the scissors ten minutes later while bending over to push the wheelbarrow through the gate, when those scissors jab me in the ribs because I put them in my coveralls pocket.  I'm in the kitchen yelling frantically that I can't find my keys when somebody calmly informs me that they are in my hand.  I walk into a room and stand there frozen in mid-step because I can't remember why in the hell I'm in this room, what I wanted to get or do, or even if I actually live in this house.  I lose track of money and time.  I feel like a constant mess.

I know everybody feels like that sometimes.

I feel like that pretty much all the time.

These last couple weeks I've been kind of anti-social.  Yes, I have avoided running into people I know in town.  I'm not proud of it.  But at the time it seemed a lot better than having to make small talk and pretend I've got the whole thing under control.  

And speaking of small talk, please do not ask me if I'm ready for Christmas.  Assuming you mean, have I done all the shopping, the answer is NO.  I haven't started.  Haven't spent a dollar.  If you mean, am I ready to relax and celebrate the birth of my spiritual king in a place of squalor and poverty, heck yes.  Bring it on.  But please don't ask about holiday plans because I'm not exactly sure if we even have a plan.

I have to focus very tightly right now.  It's alright.  It's just how it has to be right now.  It means I won't be sending out that great end of the year Christmas letter I used to send out (somewhere around Valentine's day) for about a decade, up until last year when it just sort of didn't happen.  Cards?  Nope.  Decorations? Sure, but first I have to dust and then I'll have to water the plants and of course I'll dribble some water on the floor and I probably should mop, but that means moving some furniture out of the way, and oh wow, here's that report card I couldn't find!  That'll lead to a trip upstairs to the filing cabinet and once I'm up there, I might as well just get my boots on and head outside because that's where I'd rather be.

So you see what I'm dealing with here, right?

I do care.  I care about my loved ones who are probably wondering how we're doing, or even where we live right now.  I guess I've been a hermit longer than just this month.  I dropped out of sight.  Not really intentionally.  I just forgot to tell everybody where we are.

I kind of feel like there's not enough brain space to allow me to remember.

I think I can still pull off my Christmas blog party.  It's a lot less work and planning and buying than an actual party with invitations and people and stuff.

Meanwhile it's a nice mild winter day, and that corral isn't going to clean itself up, and going out to the barn means blissfully forgetting all the other things I should be thinking about.

"You hide your talents well."

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN????

I'm pretty sure it's a golden example of a Backhanded Compliment.  Y'know, thinly disguising an insult with sneering flattery. But is it?  Did I take it the wrong way???

Jethro and I recently attended a Christmas party including a musical performance by a singer he'd worked with.  She's fantastic; her album of Christmas music is one that even I, the Grinch, can appreciate.  I actually really enjoy her record. It's sincere.  She's a great singer.  And the record sounds awesome.  Of course.

Well, the event was held at this swanky establishment in the big city.  I'm not even sure "swanky" is the right word for it.  Come to think of it I'm not sure what "swanky" means and by now the word has started to sound really funny. The room has wood panelling and stained glass and really fancy light fixtures.  Beautiful.  Elegant.  Classy.

TOTALLY INTIMIDATING.

Clearly, Jethro and I weren't in our natural habitat.

But it was nice. The shortbread cookies were very tasty. Everybody was perfectly nice.  Really quite lovely.  Of course it just wouldn't be a proper party unless I knocked something over on the table after about ten sips of wine, which I did, so everything was fine. I think.  Maybe.

I never know if I'm behaving appropriately at such an occasion. Truthfully, I never know how to behave... well, ever, I guess.  I sort of go through life vaguely aware that I might be making an ass of myself yet not caring enough to put in the sort of epic effort required to first know how to behave and then to actually act accordingly.

I didn't even know what the heck to wear.  I don't have much in between the jeans, T shirts, sweatshirts, yoga pants collection (in which everything is or can be barn clothes) and the super fancy once a year dress.  My shoes are ridiculously extreme.  It's like this: sneakers or flip flops.  Flat.  Then, riding boots.  Small heel.  The rest... towering high heels.  If I'm going to dress up for a special occasion, I'm going to be wearing heels.  Go big or stay home.

I ended up pretty wrong-looking.  Other women were dressed for a Christmas party, wearing sparkly things that looked like they were bought in a store rather than dug out of a box in the sewing room.  I wore a long brown skirt that I'm so sick of it's going in the thrift store bag, and my fitted striped sweater which is nice but not really fancy enough for that day.  And my black leather knee high platform boots with the big chunky 4 inch heel.  Because I stand by my declaration that they go with everything.

At least I know I can't go too far wrong if I have nice boots.

Now Jethro totally solved the dressing up thing.  He just wore his regular plaid shirt and jeans combo but with a black suit jacket and black shoes.  Ridiculous.  He throws on a suit jacket and he's instantly dressed up.  The suit jacket, it really ties a look together.  Much like a nice rug really pulls the room together.  Anyways I thought he looked very handsome, with his long dark hair with the strands of silver, and specks of grey in his beard.  I'm biased though.  I think he's gorgeous.  Man, when he was a teenager he was so pretty.  He was a big dude though, so the prettiness balanced out nicely.  Now he's growing into this sort of biker-chic look.

But like I said, I just like the looks of the guy.

The singer took the time to introduce those who worked on the album.  She had my man stand up and take a little bow and all.  It was cute.  After 20 years of happy musicians thanking him publicly for making them sound so good, he doesn't even blush anymore.  Much.

It was dark by the time we left.  The two of us scooted back to our car through the rain.  We had a couple hours to get out of the city and back to the ol' Homestead.  In the course of recapping the afternoon, he mentioned that an older lady ventured up to him for a little chit chat.  I figured out which lady he was talking about; I'd noticed the very elegant small woman with the tailored suit-dress and actual jewellery as opposed to the stuff you buy at Zellers.  Hair carefully dyed to cover the grey, but not too dark, as black hair on a lady in her 80s is just vulgar, or gauche, or whatever.

"So you're the man behind this album," she stated, that kind of thing.

"Yep that's me, I'm the recording engineer."

And then, "You hide your talents well."

Jethro replied the only way he could.

 "...thanks...?"

He figures she had him pegged at first for some embarrassing relative or a party crasher.  My gosh, who could have known that this big long-haired man is actually a man of accomplishment and skill - and not even in something criminal! He could present himself as a career man with an appearance worthy of all the awards and gushing thanks, but instead he's craftily disguised himself so as to look like some hoodlum and therefore his accolades are a pleasant surprise.  Or something.

Or maybe she just meant he seems to be humble and decent.

I don't know... classy people bewilder me...

Rush Hour

Two weeks ago, it was corn harvesting time; the fields were crawling with combines and the roads were full of tractors.  I had to slow down a couple times. I really like watching combines.  They just devour everything in front of them. Like a boss. They are frickin' HUGE.  They can't go down the road with the header attached.  A pickup truck has to pull it down the road on its own trailer.  It's all very impressive. I'm impressed and I'm not even a five year old boy!

That is actually a very small combine up there. The one we had when I was a kid was smaller.  It didn't even have a cab. Nobody uses a combine with no cab now.  Nobody has a tractor with a piddly little gas engine anymore. Nobody farms 50 acres anymore.  They're out doing a few hundred acres at a time and they're in that machine for like, 12 hours, and they want A/C and a stereo.  You would too. 

I don't even have A/C and a stereo in my truck.  

I should wipe the dust off the dash of my truck. 

 So last weekend, we got stuck following the honeywagon for a few miles. Now as much as I don't mind slowing down for farm activity, I gotta admit, being behind a manure spreader is naaaaasty.

BUT.  Look at this thing.  One side is on the gravel and it's still almost over the yellow line.  MAGNIFICENT MACHINE.  You better respect.  It's a s****y job but somebody's gotta do it. 

And if you're gonna have to do it, get it all into the biggest tank you can fit on wheels, and get it over with.

Eventually those of us in lowly cars get to pass the behemoth. That's something else you wanna just get it over with.  

I took this accidentally cool photo on the way past.  

Sense of scale: see that little silver mirror in the bottom left corner?  That's our VW.  Those tires are just about the height of the roof of our car.

This is not yer grandpa's farm equipment.

(Although maybe it is. Does your grandpa still farm?)

Farmers have a lot of pressure on them, more than ever.  Partly because people like me come along, who want to live in the country but don't have the time/ persistence/ knowledge or GUTS to actually farm, but we take up valuable quality land to put our hay-burners and other useless critters on. Not to mention, subdivisions.  So they have to produce more, with less land.  They gotta work. These guys have a job to do.  

THEY MEAN BUSINESS.

They are not screwin' around here.

So I don't bitch when I have to wait a mile or so before I can get around them.

Anyways it's not so bad. That **** is fast.