HICK CHIC

SPIN THE BLACK CIRCLE

2012-01-24T07:45:00.000-08:00

Oh yeah. Vinyl. Good ol' grooves.

What you are seeing on that turntable is... JOHNNY CASH AT SAN QUENTIN.

On the back of the album sleeve is my Auntie's maiden name, and the date: January 1970.

That makes this record older than me by about 11 months. I wasn't even an idea yet.

It's been years since we've had this record player working. On the weekend, Jethro and Bucky finally tracked down a store, luckily not too far from home, that sells this obscure item known as a stylus. They had to buy the entire cartridge, the whole black thing at the end of the arm. Jethro didn't mind, even though it was kind of pricey (we'd already turned down an opportunity to go see RDJ at the movies because we didn't think we could shell out over $60...) because it's a good piece of gear. Might even be worth more than the whole record player. haha.

We've got this nice record collection, made up of a combination of the following:

My record buying years:

-Duran Duran

-Tears For Fears

-The Clash

-Led Zeppelin

Jethro's record buying years:

-Ozzy Osbourne

-Black Sabbath

-Led Zeppelin

-Yngwie Malmsteen (I'm not even kidding)

My parent's record buying years:

-Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass

-Baja Marimba Band (that is a seriously great record)

-Marty Robbins

-a few obscure gospel bands/ cousins and other relatives who sang hymns and got some vinyl pressed

My sister's record buying years:

-Bryan Adams

-Blondie

My mom's sister's record buying years:

-Johnny Cash

-Gordon Lightfoot

-Joni Mitchell

What an amazing collection!

We've got a Bill Cosby comedy album next to Cyndi Lauper's She's So Unusual.

Bon Jovi, Slippery When Wet and Simon & Garfunkel, The Sounds Of Silence.

(I am going to name a critter Garfunkel some day.)

Van Halen, 1984 beside XTC, English Settlement (another great record, obscure in my neck of the woods)

Forgotten Rebels and The Cure.

INXS, Listen Like Thieves and ABBA...pick one, I had a serious ABBA phase between ages 9 and 11!

We've got a Molly Hatchett record.

We've got the Iron Butterfly sleeve but Jethro turned Innagaddadavida into a frisbee about 30 years ago.

We've got two copies of Zenyatta Mondatta by the Police.

People, we've got a Sigue Sigue Sputnik record. I'm not kidding.

ISN'T THIS FUN!???!

It's been so long since we could play records. We've been in this house for over two years and only recently got our stereo system set up. This is a temporary home... we weren't even planning on being here this long. But we missed our music. Now we can watch TV, watch a movie on DVD, I don't think we can play our Wallace & Gromit VHS ("everybody knows the moon's made of cheese...") and I don't think we can play cassettes (yes we still have those too, how do you think we listen to all the Van Halen?) but I do think we can play CDs... there are four remotes and I'm still not sure how to turn the TV on --seriously, four remotes and I'm still getting off my butt to hit the channel button? We've got an iPod dock hooked up so we can drop an iGadget in there and listen to a playlist.

And now, WE CAN PLAY RECORDS!

Last night Bucky discovered Blizzard Of Ozz.

We'd given him the disc last year and were shocked to hear how different it sounded. Apparently somebody thought it would be a good idea to re-record the bass and drums. We thought it was a terrible idea and decided to ostracize that CD, promising Bucky we'd get the ol' record player fired up.

So I gave Bucky the tutorial on Dropping The Needle.

There's the hissing and crackling, and there's Randy Rhoads, and we grinned. The record skipped. I giggled. "It's the real thing, kids! There's nothing else like it!"

Jethro later said, "I played the crap outta that record. I bought it used, and then I played the crap out of it."

Well kids, it's not perfect. The turntable has a nasty ground hum that can be heard between tracks. There will be noises coming out of those vinyl grooves that aren't music.

But the music is there.

It isn't compressed, it isn't crushed down into MP3 files. It doesn't have any of that ProTooled sandpaper-on-the-ears bullcrap. It wasn't mastered so loud it hurts. Music shouldn't hurt. You should be able to turn it up and enjoy it without suffering hearing damage. Jethro has been devoting his career to making good-sounding music and making a stand against music that just sounds like a wall of fuzz. A lot of teenagers have grown up on recordings that have been processed to death. And they listen to slammed files with no dynamics and way too much noise. They listen to it loud, in earbuds. They don't really know how recorded music is meant to sound. Half the time they've only got one earbud in, which makes Jethro tear his hair out, because he spends 16 hours a day mixing in stereo -- as in, each side has something different going on -- and these guys are only listening to one side. They're missing half of it.

Let's face it: the entire music industry is a broken rusted shadow of its former self. We know this first hand. We live it.

And Bucky and Annyong go to school, stand on their little soapboxes and proclaim all of this to their misguided peers.... and are met with uncomprehending stares.

Ours aren't allowed to have a million small files of music on their iPods. They are allowed to have like, a couple hundred, that are in big files and sound good.

So we listened to Ozzy last night. Wine is fine, but liquor is quicker. Tonight we'll listen to the story of Mr Crowley. Tomorrow night we'll listen to side 2 of Johnny Cash cussing his way through a set of songs to the appreciative howls of a bunch of prisoners.

GOOD TIMES.

It is far from perfect, vinyl, but I don't think we've reached a perfect method of recording music yet in the first hundred years of the art and science. Records are better than wax cylinders. Besides, wax cylinder players are even harder to find than record player needles.

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine... I keep my eyes wide open all the time...

On Mind-reading and Horses and All of Us Talking About Horses!

2012-01-20T20:36:00.000-08:00

I recently read something very interesting over on The Mugwump Chronicles. Janet has been thinking about the responsiveness, the lightness, that we ideally want our horses to have - almost to the point that we think it and the horse does it. She wrote about the discovery that her horses always stood still for her to mount up, because she expected them to. If any of you horse people out there haven't read this yet, go read it now. Just go read it. Even if you aren't a horse person read it anyways. I'll wait.

Okay. I hope you read all the comments too because it really is an interesting discussion!

This is the comment I made:

People meet my horses and always compliment me on how nice and quiet and well behaved they are. And I thank them for the compliment but the whole time I'm thinking, "yeah...because they should be able to be like that and I expect them to."

And now I'm thinking, duh. What am I expecting during a ride? Confession: they're not all well trained. (one is but she thinks she wants to forget). Don't get me wrong- they're broke. Adequately. They are just right for brand new riders: quiet and polite and agreeable. But I'm still working on lateral movement and lope departures. Collection and lightness. Stuff they should know.

But I Don't entirely trust my training abilities.

So. Hmmm. Maybe I don't truly believe it when I think I want them to do something.

Because last week the one who pretends she forgot all that fancy stuff did a perfect 180 haunch turn. After months of one step at a time. Did she finally figure out what I'm asking or remember it, or did I at last make it clear, or did I expect her to get it right? All of the above?

I've been running this through my brain for a few days now.

I think about it when I open the barn doors and let the horses out for the day. I don't lead them out one at a time. I open the door, then let them out of their stalls, and one after the other they neatly walk down the aisle and outside. In the evening we do the same: I open the door and holler at them, they come in like good little students and head into their own stalls where they wait for me to shut the stall gates. The only times I halter them to lead them in and out is for practice, or if they know I'm putting them in their stalls to deworm them and they don't wanna. (And yes, somehow they know. They just do.)

Now let me tell you about The Loping Problem.

For years, my half-Arab gelding and I struggled with a nice lope departure. I'd ask, and he'd slam us into a bone jarring fast trot instead. He did this to me a few times at shows, which was comical, as he could trot faster than most of those nice little Quarter Horses were loping. I worked on it, mostly out in the pasture field, because in the corral he seemed to run out of room. It didn't make sense. He was 14.3h of short bones and muscle. He could take off from a standstill out in the field on his own. What was going on? I tried sidepassing him into it, trotting him in a tight circle in the direction of the lead I wanted, and I tried kicking him senseless.

I concluded that it was me. My friend DW had him doing dressage moves, for crying out loud. The horse was not the problem. Okay, he was typically stubborn but that wasn't it. It was me. I wasn't firm enough, I was a kinda wimpy, and for sure I had this crooked spine problem that I already felt was a problem. My posture was pathetic and I had great difficulty staying in position without slumping forward.

Eventually we got it together but it was always a weakness. Out in the field or on the road, we could lope. In the corral, we struggled.

Now, big sweet Phoenix who is a darling gentleman on the ground, is totally pluggy under saddle and we're getting some downright ugly lope departures going on.

So we have two situations here.

-they walk single file into the barn and into their stalls because I insist on it. I had to correct them a few times but now they do it right. I expect them to do this right.

-I had problems with lope departures with the horse I had for 17 years... and I'm having problems with the gelding I have now... and I'm realizing that I expect to have those difficulties.

(I've eliminated physical problems. I've got a good fitting saddle and a bit he deals with better than mere toleration. I lunge him before a ride.)

When I put a student on his back, he plods along like an old pro. He is rock solid and doesn't spook. He goes where his rider puts him. When I lead him he walks beside me on a nice slack lead rope, he stands tied like a good boy, and lowers his head every time I say "down."

When I ride him, he's lazy and sullen and feels heavy in my hands.

So... I'm going to let him get away with that? I'm going to let these guys train me into letting them be sluggish and reluctant?

It's so brutally simple, and geez, even slap-your-forehead obvious!

But I get all hung up on mistakes I made in the past, and pressuring myself to be all perfeshnul, that I forget to...

just ride and expect my broke horses to just do what I ask them to do!!!

(Isn't it great that we have this place to share our horse philosophies?)

My job involves moving horse manure. Their job involves dressing up and giving each other awards. Almost the same thing. Golden Globes 2012

2012-01-17T10:12:00.000-08:00

This is a strange awards show. It's like the practice-Oscars, but all the TV people get to join the party, and they sit at round tables like at a wedding, and there's booze. I have two complaints about the show this year.

1) Nobody wore a golden dress with ridiculous cleavage, enabling me to make a totally immature boob joke.

2) Nobody spilled anything on themselves... Are these people superhuman???? How do they not get something on them????

But they gotta do the show- up. It's promotion, and without promotion, people don't go see stuff. It's part of their job, even if all they wanted to do was to get paid to pretend to be somebody else.

Johnny Depp reluctantly puts on something clean and jitters his way through a presentation, clearly feeling like he's burning alive up there on the stage. He then promptly disappears for the rest of the show.

The Jolie-Pitts spend a couple hours dressing up - well maybe not Brad so much, at least not his hair, because I suspect he's decided to just ignore it for awhile and see what happens - and stand still for the cameras Part of the gig. Just do it.

Have some small talk prepared for reporters. Don't forget to gaze at each other lovingly/ lustfully. Wonder what the kids are up to... they better go to bed on time... whoops, that might have been blank facial expression there, pick up a smile.

Angie has perfected her "I AM A FRIGGEN MOVIE STAR" stance.

RDJ showed up in a tux and tails outfit like he owned the place. He really appears to loooove his job. Which he should. He's extremely good at it.

Clooney looks like he doesn't even try, it's just there. Is it possible he's that cool and funny all the time???

Madonna pretended to be speechless.

It wasn't funny.

Peter Dinklage appeared to have forgotten he was at work - he was just really cool, happening and likeable.

Tilda Swinton looked like she was from a different planet, and I swear I am going to write an entire novel around her.

Ricky wasn't quite as nasty-funny as last year, but I think the bar was just raised too high last year.

And I'm going to go against almost everybody else's opinion and say that I like his suit. It's different. Ever noticed he has fang teeth? The guy is a wolf!

I think it's probably a lot of fun getting dressed up and doing the thing. I enjoy it immensely! But I've never been nominated for anything. Jethro says it's excruciating and embarrassing. But yet also flattering. And you know what else it is, this business of getting nominated?

It's part of some people's jobs.

So at the end of the evening, they probably all breathe as sigh of relief, get the vicious shoes off the feet, go home and take a shower and hit the sack. It was a long, tough day at work.

Something to keep in mind when pushing a wheelbarrow full of manure and soiled pine shavings across the corral to the pile on a windy day

2012-01-13T18:59:00.000-08:00

KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT.

And, in mostly unrelated news, the Golden Globes happen this weekend, so I'll be watching raptly to see if any of The Famous knock over a drink or something. I mean, I know in my world it ain't a party until I spill something. Also I'm hoping an actress wears something metallic and low cut so I can make my annual immature Golden Globes joke. If ya know what I mean.

No seriously, take my word for it: keep your mouth shut.

(Unless you're Ricky Gervais.)

Best And Worst of 2011 - The Annual Hick Chic Awards!

2012-01-09T09:09:00.000-08:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, and assorted Bumpkins, Hosers, Chicks, Yokels and Dudes, I present this year's Host of The Hick Chic Awards, Mr James Franco!

I had a very hard time getting this together, because I'm kind of scatterbrained, and busy, and he's, well... he's an actor/ writer/ novelist/ philosopher/ film-maker. He's very in demand for his hosting services this year. And, he plays a murderous performance artist (heck, aren't they all?) on TV. I know this because I share a house with my mother, and she has this show she has to watch every day at 3 pm, and when Franco's on when I'm in the house she calls my attention to the show which I then stop not-watching. He's very cute.

And as far as hosting big awards shows, I mean, just so laid back and calm. The man is a tranquillized cucumber. Coooooool.

So now that I've finally got him awake and upright, let's go.

The first Hick Chic Award goes to Johnny Depp. What, you were expecting anything else?

BEST JOHNNY DEPP MOVIE I SAW THIS YEAR

PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN: ON STRANGER TIDES

I honestly loved it. Let's face it, the second and third instalments were a little... perplexing.

Plus this one has a few seconds more Keef involved.

I dare you to watch this movie and not fall in love just a little bit more with Captain Jack Sparrow. Or want to be him.

Charming rogue.

Plus, there's a whole thing with a girl dressed up as Captain Jack, and if you've been hanging around here at Hick Chic for any length of time you might already know how much fun that can be.

BEST JOHNNY DEPP MOVIE I DIDN'T SEE THIS YEAR:

I am really slipping here. I still haven't seen last year's Johnny movies. I really wanted to see this. It's the second time he's played Hunter S Thompson, the first being in Fear And Loathing In Las Vegas, which was a film I found both fascinating and horribly disturbing. Actually that was one of the movies he isn't playing up his natural sexiness. He was twitchy and tweaky, paranoid, drugged, and way outta control. Bald headed and wearing white knee socks. But, with this taking place in the earlier life, it seems as though Young Hunter was pretty damn sharp. Either that or Johnny himself is pretty damn sharp. (Duh.)

Johnny was a fan and friend of Hunter S in real life. What would it be like for an actor to portray a friend?

Well anyways I didn't see it and the video store in Smallburg is close apparently due to lack of interest, so... yeah.

MOVIE I WON'T BE SEEING BECAUSE I'LL WEEP ALL THE WAY THROUGH IT AWARD

WAR HORSE

Are you kidding me? I'm all choked up now just thinking about it. Correct me if I'm wrong but it looks like the young English boy has to give up his beloved horse to the army? And the man tells the boy he'll bring him back home again? And this horse is such a brave little soldier? And the boy ends up in the war himself and finds his horse? See? There are tears in my eyes right now.

I just wanna run outside and throw my arms around my horses' necks and tell each of them that I would find them if they got drafted into the army (but technically I guess you could say they are Mennonite horses and won't be going to war but still.) Put a horse in a movie and I will weep. So I am not going to see this one no no no you can't make me.

THE HICK CHIC FAVOURITE NEW BAND AWARD:

THE SHEEPDOGS!

Just so you are clear on how shallow I am, and how much I do love a hairy musician, I dug these guys before I heard a single note. I saw a photo of them at the MMVA in June and thought, heck yes, I'd sit on the floor in their basement while they jam. I've done it before in my past. Rock on.

I recently bought their record and it's fun. Sadly, Jethro isn't totally feeling the love. It's all a little too rough around the edges for him. Well, okay. I'll give him that. Given what he does for a living, it's almost impossible for him to listen to a DIY recording and find merit in it. It's his job to make everything sound as good as possible and he can't shut that part of him off. BUT. I love these guys.

They sound their philosophy would be... "have... a good time... all the time." That would be their philosophy.

It's like blast from the past with lyrics about Facebook invitations. Fun! I put on the CD and tap my foot and sing along. And fondly remember my 1976 Nova with the brown plaid upholstery.

THE SERIOUSLY DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME AWARD:

Me, with the DIY Detox.

Don't do this.

If you are on an antidepressant and you think it's not working, get medical help.

Clarification: I did have medical help. I knew this was going to be a bitch, and I chose to go cold knowing that it would be horrible. I knew how horrible it was just to wean off that ****. I figured it came down to choosing between four months of weaning off or a month of high intensity hell.

I chose to rip that sucker off fast.

I had medical supervision, my pastor, and my family. I couldn't have done it alone.

But I'm really glad I'm free of that drug.

...and speaking of, yeah I'm on a drug it's called CHARLIE SHEEN...

FANTASTIC USE OF WORDS AWARD:

I still don't know if he was seriously cracking up or putting on one hell of a show.

Tiger Blood.

Adonis DNA.

WINNING.

Total rock star from Mars.

Wow. Just... wow.

And speaking of words...

AMAZING BOOK AWARD:

ROOM by Emma Donoghue.

This is a very good book, but it is not a nice book. It is gripping. Scary. Horrifying. Claustrophic. Hopeful. Uplifting. Frustrating. Angering. Thoughtful. Shocking. Difficult.

I had a physical reaction to this book. I couldn't sleep for two days and felt slightly ill. I cried. I laughed with triumph. I fell in love with that little kid and cheered him on. This author has pulled off something so challenging I am in total admiration of her... months later I'm still thinking of a detail that puts another piece of the puzzle into place. Quite brilliant. But not a nice book.

WHEW! That ended up involving various amounts of weeping and drugs and rocking and wordiness, not necessarily in that order.

How we doin' here, James?

Well alright then, right back atcha. Good to see you're still awake and upright.

THE TOM FRICKEN CRUISE HE DOES ALL HIS OWN STUNTS AWARD:

TOM FRICKEN CRUISE!

Yeah, he's still got it.

We went to see Mission Impossible 4: Ghost Protocol mostly because our son is 15 and looooves when things blow up. Also because, y'know, Tom Cruise and all that. I was hesitant. I did not love MI 3. It was way violent and made me feel kinda queasy. I'm pleased to tell you that this movie has a few glimpses of comic relief here and there. And plenty of badassery.

As well as lots of gut-shaking suspense.

Don't go see this if you have a fear of heights.

Our man Tom is now 49 years old, and although he really looks great, let's not kid ourselves, he's proudly showing all of those years. His crow's feet wrinkles are right there in glorious high definition. This is not a 22 year old. Nor should he be.

But he still does his own stunts, right?

What I really enjoyed about this movie is that everything goes wrong. They constantly have to change the plan as they go and end up on Plan E or Plan F which is comforting to me because that's my life, man! Also, Tom Fricken Cruise can take a fictional beating and come back running.

Cool guys might not run from explosions, but sometimes they can get knocked off their feet by one.

THE YOU MAY TAKE OVER THE WORLD AWARD

Adele.

Gorgeous voice packed full of more feeling and emotion than most popstars have in a lifetime. She's so beautiful she knocks me out. Especially now that we've lost Amy, we need Adele!

THE "BEST REUNION" AWARD

CO-WINNER OF BEST GIG AWARD

ROCKING MY WORLD AWARD

and

HEIDI'S DREAM COME TRUE AWARD

SOUNDGARDEN

We saw them in London Ontario.

They were awesome.

I do not exaggerate - awesome in the true meaning of the word. Awe inspiring.

I'd just gotten back to the real world after spending a month in my darkened bedroom. (See: don't try this at home, above.) I really wasn't feeling quite right yet. I was a little shaky, pale, and kinda thin. But there was no way I was about to miss this. Jethro bought the tickets while I was still buzzing and shaking. I told him I would will myself to be well enough to show up.

Man, Soundgarden is one of my favourite bands of all time! When they broke up in 1997 - I actually remember driving down the street in our 1992 Dodge Spirit when I heard about the breakup on the radio - I was right bummed out, but I got it. They quit before it turned lame. I hated the breakup but I understood and was kinda thankful that they didn't ruin their own greatness. But when I heard they reformed in 2010... well I guess I didn't totally believe it. Too good to be true?

Nu-uh. They were top notch.

In 2005 we took our kids to their second rock concert. It was Audioslave.

I figured I'd never see Soundgarden live. And Rage Against the Machine had also broken up. We were loving Audioslave and of course, this was kind of the best of both worlds. And let me tell you, that Audioslave show was one of the best we've seen.

BUT NOW I HAVE SEEN SOUNDGARDEN LIVE!!!

I have to stop going on about it because I might never stop, it was that big for me.

CO-WINNER OF BEST GIG

WORTH THE EIGHT HOUR DRIVE AWARD

TEENAGE DAUGHTER'S DREAM COME TRUE AWARD

MUSE at Lollapalooza

Annyong, being a seriously giddy Muser, masterminded this road trip to go see her favourite band of all time.

And they were everything we wanted them to be, expected them to be, and more.

Jethro was extremely impressed. And he don't impress easily.

Did we rock out? Yeah!!!!

Annyong and her friend came back from their spot at the front of the stage sweaty, exhausted, and happy. On the way back to Ontario, they were already planning our next Muse concert. And yes, every day she gives me progress reports via their website as to how that new record's coming along...!

BEST EARWORM AWARD

Foster The People, "Pumped Up Kicks"

It gets in my head, it won't leave, and I don't want it to leave!

We saw them at Lollapalooza too. Or, at least, we saw them play Their Hit. From the side of the giant crowd. Thousands of hands in the air. All the other kids, with their pumped up kicks.

I was a little alarmed at first that I was bopping alone blissfully to a song with lyrics about running faster than a bullet, but I think I get it. I used to have delightful nightmares about getting onto the school bus and going on an abusive rampage. Which is weird because I had friends on that bus but anyways. Some of us have some pretty violent tendencies buried deeply but we don't act on them. Music can do it for us! And in the meantime, give parents opportunities to discuss these things with their teenagers!

I give up. I love that song.

But why'd they have to be so darn cute too?

BEST FAMOUS WEDDING

They seem to really like each other!

WORST FAMOUS WEDDING

Booty Boobsface and that Tall Guy. Ugh.

THE CRAP TIMING AWARD

Oprah, for quitting her talk show - and therefore televised book club - a few years short of the day my novel gets published.

THE STUPIDITY AWARD

That girl who tried to claim that the Jbiebs is the father of her child. Where do I start?

-that anybody would get past the kid's security team and bodyguards?

-that anybody would get past the kid's MOTHER??????

-that if it's true she'd go to jail for violating a teenager

-that if it's not true she'd go to jail for lying in court

In a way I feel sorry for her.

Because there's no cure for stupid, is there?

BEST MOVIE AWARD

Wanna learn how to put a story together? Watch this.

The backstory unfolds as we need it, the characters are so endearing, and the thing we're supposed to be afraid of is scary because we don't get to see it.

THE SHOULD HAVE SEEN THIS INSTEAD OF JUST GO WITH IT AWARD

Need I say more?

BEST FARM BOY AWARD

Cameron from Modern Family!

He's the gay guy who grew up on a farm and even though he's stereotypically fem, he can fix anything, throw a ball like a champ, and likes to remind everybody about how he was driving a combine when he was like, ten years old.

He was really miffed that his father-in-law didn't think he could drive the delivery truck.

Aw, he's so cute and wears such nice shirts!

BEST HAIRCUT

THE DEMISE OF THE NICKELBOB!

Chad looks so much better with short hair. I know, you're shocked. Yeah, I like a hairy rockstar. But his hair was getting silly. The Nicklebob was not good. He looks handsome with short hair.

Know what bugs me about Nickelback?

I find myself rocking out to their music. I can't help it. I just can't stop myself.

Do we still have Franco?

Okay, he's still hanging in. Good.

BEST ROCK STAR MEMOIR

But depending on the day, I would give it to this:

APOLOGY FOR NOT FINDING OUT HOW AWESOME YOU ARE SOONER THAN THIS YEAR AWARD

THE BLACK KEYS

I'm so sorry, guys. I have no excuse. I saw you perform on TV, I heard a couple songs and thought, "Hmm, cool!" I read about your greatness on other people's blogs. I should have gotten on board much sooner than this summer.

I just want you to know that "Brothers"is not just one of the best albums of the last couple years, but also possibly one of the best, like, ever. I'm not kidding. It's so good Jethro commandeered the CD and kept it in his car for about 6 months straight. And he does not impress easily. YOU ARE THAT GOOD.

So, Black Keys, I want you to know that we love "El Camino" and promise to go back and catch up on what you've done before. You're awesome.

THE NOT ENOUGH LOVE AWARD

This pains me.

I'm not loving the new Red Hot Chili Peppers.

I tried.

Maybe it's not them, maybe it's me.

Maybe it's that if I look back, my favourite RHCP records involved John Frusciante, and he has bagged off (again) and maybe it's that I'm really a huge John Frusciante fan, and like the Peppers but love them when he's with them.

Also, Anthony. Oh dear. Still handsome. But this look.... I just don't know....

He doesn't look like my Super Hot Imaginary Geography Teacher anymore.

THE JUSTIFYING MY LOVE AWARD

THE SUPREME AWARD OF AWESOMENESS

THE THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS ALBUM AWARD

Have I ever mentioned that I love this man?

I mean, like in a fan kind of way. I don't actually know him. I assume I'd probably like him very much. He and I both think Jesus is a rock star.

"Songbook" is a gorgeous piece of work. He performed a handful of acoustic concerts in 2011. Please don't ask why I wasn't there. It got past me. I must stop living under a rock.

This record is... perfect.

He covers "Thank You" by Led Zeppelin. Okay, please take a second to let this sink into your head. Chris Cornell, whom I adore, singing a song by Robert Plant, whom I not only adore, but who rewired my brain when I was fifteen. So I listen to this, favourite singer, favourite singer, and my brain explodes.

And I had no idea an exploding brain could feel that good.

He's as gorgeous as ever. He's grown his hair out again. Sigh. That and the Zeppelin. I'd like to think he really must love me after all, in pretend world, I guess.

Beautiful man with the brilliant mind and vast talent and stunning, amazing voice.

It's a 2011 release but I got it in the first week of 2012.

I listen to it in the dark and weep tears of happiness.

Hey man, 2012 is gonna be ALRIGHT!

Thanks for joining me... I must go now and help Franco find the door so he can go home to work on his PhD in philoso-acting.

Why the Best of 2011 List is not done yet

2012-01-06T17:22:00.000-08:00

I have this teenager who needs the computer to apply for scholarships. As in, college. Photography. Yeah, college. That really is more important.

The List is going to be great though. I'm getting James Franco to host. I hear he's done a hosting gig before and therefore has experience.

WHAT?! 2012? Now I gotta make new file folders. Pfft.

2012-01-03T09:56:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year!

Yesterday I went to file a chunk of receipts I dug out of Jethro's wallet and realized that it's not December anymore. It's not 2011 anymore. Darnit, I just stopped writing 2010 about six months ago. Grumble grumble paperwork year end grumble mumble. Geez when did I become a curmudgeon????

Oh, I know. About a week ago, when I turned forty-ONE.

So I'll be over here in the corner, stacking paper, shredding stuff from the seven-years-ago folders, rearranging the filing cabinet. Well, cabinets. There are two. Why, why, why, did we decide both of us need to be self employed?

Oh, I know. Because we are both almost incapable of following orders from other people and therefore poor candidates for traditional employment.

Wow, I just answered two of my own questions in a row. Hey, maybe I'll start getting smart this year! Yay!

Coming up: The Hick Chic Best and Worst of 2011. Also known as the Annual Hick Chic Awards.

Worth waiting for.

(Where's my friggen letter opener?)

How can turkeys stay awake....

2011-12-28T15:59:00.000-08:00

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....!

2011-12-23T14:17:00.000-08:00

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!!!

2011-12-21T06:40:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-12-20T08:43:00.000-08:00

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!!!

2011-12-16T18:54:00.000-08:00

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.

2011-12-13T07:53:00.000-08:00

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."

2011-12-07T19:36:00.000-08:00

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

2011-12-02T19:15:00.000-08:00

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.

Rainfall warning? Rainfall WARNING???

2011-11-29T10:32:00.000-08:00

Rain.

It's one of those things that we can't live without. Or live with.

In the spring it rained so much we were damn near floating away. I couldn't work; I could barely get to the barn without my boots getting sucked right off my feet in the mud. Our neighbours and friends couldn't get into the fields to plant, and those who did worried that all the seed would wash away. The cellar of the old farmhouse here had rivers going through it, and this house is on the highest part of the property. My father muttered, "I've been living here for 67 years and I don't think I've ever seen it this wet."

In June, the rain finally stopped.

It stopped for over 6 weeks.

The fields were full of stunted corn that started late in soggy soil, only to get pummelled with heat and dryness.

Nature gives and takes away. She don't care.

The crops ended up being okay... but the price of hay has gone up. If a farmer could normally get four cuttings off a hay field, he'd get three, if he was lucky, this past summer. Hay is scarce and expensive.

And today. RAINFALL WARNING. All the little cricks around here are full and still rising, there is standing water in every low field, and my corral is slop. It rained so hard on Sunday, the water actually got in under the big barn door and trickled down until I ended up with a tiny river running down the aisle in front of the stalls. And now we have a rainfall warning.

I get all catastrophic about things, so in my mind, my horses are already half dead from starvation, the house is half underwater, the old stone walls of the barn have been pried apart by torrents of water rushing against the foundation and the whole damn thing is falling down. Also, in my worst case scenario the dog will never go outside to defecate ever again because he's convinced he will melt.

In reality, the horses are in the open shed... one is wearing a rain sheet to keep her dry when the other two chase her out. I have a bright yellow rain suit and waterproof boots. I have a couple wheelbarrow loads to push across that wet corral this afternoon, and I have to just do it, because it ain't getting any drier.

Well, at least, not until the temperature drops to where it usually is this time of year... and it starts to freeze over and snow....

(And despite all of this, I still want to live in the country for the rest of my life.)

Wasn't gonna blog about the American Music Awards, but then Chad Kroeger got a haircut and J Lo showed up, and....

2011-11-22T20:23:00.000-08:00

I have to write about this. I mean, it's bedtime. I should be turning off the lights. But it's already Tuesday and if I leave it till tomorrow it's no longer relevant, and I have to write about this. CHAD KROEGER. HAIRCUT. This is the kind of news I need to spread!

SHOCKING!

Honestly I don't even know why this show exists. It's not the proper Grammys, it's not the wack-job MTV awards. Two of the big stars there are Canadian and at least one was British. I think they should go for the all out, stoooopid, ridiculous, I mean totally Gaga-esque showbiz vibe. Why not?

It's going there already. The show opened with a Nicki Minaj thing involving a robot suit, or something similarly uncomfortable looking.

I think I like this girl. She's cute and charming, entertaining, and she has great hair!!!!

At some point we were treated to a Bieber thing, and I'm sorry, I sort of tuned out. I got tired of doing that game we always play in our family, "Is It Live Or Is It Track" and then I got bored, and I have a mild loathing - okay fine, a strong hatred - of insincere Christmas music, so I folded towels.

The Band Perry have an odd name. But I liked their performance. I'm pretty sure they were actually playing it but I could be wrong. I'd like to think they were.

Check out the dude on the right there. He's debating how low he can hang that bass and still be part of a country band. I say go for it.

Somewhere after the towel-folding job, Kelly Clarkson did a ragtime/ newsboys/ swing performance while wearing a very snug red dress. I think she's a monster talent, and I'm so happy that she's not trying to be skinny. That's why I yelled to Jethro in the other room, "Get out here and watch, Kelly Clarkson is wearing a red booty dress!" We're big fans of a good backside in this family. Big bottoms drive us outta our minds. Kelly looks fantastic.

It's bordering on Jessica Rabbit territory, which actually isn't so bad, mostly because this lady can actually sing. (If she wasn't singing for real I don't want to know.)

I was getting tired. I considered packing it in for the night. Did I really care about the rest of the show? Nah.

But THEN.

Nickelback came out to present an award. Just present, not perform. And holy smokes, I could not believe my eyes. CHAD CUT HIS HAIR - HE NO LONGER HAS THE NICKELBOB!

(That's him on the far left. In case you didn't recognize him.)

I love this picture. They're all making funny faces. That's great stuff.

Now here's the thing: I've been brewing up a weird love/hate for this band over the years. I think to myself that I don't really like them, but I should cuz a) they're a rock band, and b) they are small town boys, much like every guy I went to school with, and I can relate. But then, I hear a song, and find myself rocking' out, and by the time I realize I'm enjoying Nickelback, then I'm like, wait, I'm a rock snob and I can have intelligent conversations about the musical stylings of Rage Against The Machine... I can't like Nickelback! They only write songs about driving and bad breakups! I've declared that I don't like them! But.... I think maybe I kinda do.

THERE. I said it, okay???

Anyways, I've been disliking the Nickelbob for some time now and I am sooo happy that it's been shorn. I'm sure this comes as a surprise to you, faithful blog readers, because we all know I love a scruffy-pretty man with long hair. I'm weird that way. But I just did not love the Nickelbob.

I think he looks good! (But does he look like Chad? Who the hell does he remind me of??? Is this how he reminds me????)

However, and this is important: I am very concerned about the lack of belt buckle here.

This is alarming! No belt buckles?? Noooo! This is Nickelback - they're supposed to have buckles almost the size of their guitars! You KNOW I love belt buckles. What's not to love? They look awesome and hold your pants up! (If you're built like me, with lots of caboose and not much of anything else, you need that belt to keep the waistband of your jeans from turning into a backwards kangaroo pouch. Not good. Belt it up.)

It just... they just... this doesn't look right. Maybe busting out the new hair the same day as the belt buckle disappearance is a bit of a shock. I like the hair. Lookin' good. Please wear the belt buckles again. For me. I need the inspiration.

Seriously, who does he look like now with that short hair? Help me out here, willya?

I was beat. That squealing over the demise of the Nickelbob wore me out. I announced that I was going to bed. Then the TV told me that Jennifer Lopez was coming up and damn, how can I sleep when I know J Lo is going to do... anything??

Wow, she did not disappoint.

Did anybody else fall for it at the beginning when she was all serious and then, the downcast eyes, the pressing her hand to her face like she's holding back the tears... No! Do not tell me she's gonna weep!

Ha! With a grin and a wink her transparent dress flew apart and she was slightly more naked than when she came out on stage.

J Lo will not be reduced to whimpering!

She will wear an outfit made out of gold tinsel and she will RULE THE WORLD.

Nobody can catch her in her getaway car! Which she sings in. If you turn the A/C fan on high enough, it becomes a wind machine, handy for looking fantastic while driving. And singing. "Singing."

(Heck I do that all the time. I call it "60 mph air conditioning" which is a standard feature on 23-yr old pickup trucks.)

But. She wasn't naked enough yet.

She's all like, oh yeah? 42 years old, grew two babies at the same time, wearing nothing but a skin-coloured suit and sparkles! I RULE THE UNIVERSE! She should develop a slightly evil cackle.

What really cracked me up was that Jethro and Bucky were both on the couch with their iGadgets and almost missed this. Of course Jethro had to grumble about the lack of a battery pack on her costume, and how that mic on her face is not the kind of thing you sing into, or something, honestly I sometimes try not to listen to these things because every now and then I actually want to buy into the illusion. I want to believe that J Lo can do all of these acrobatic fantastic feats while singing exactly like she sounds on the record. But really, singing? Who cares. Who even noticed she was singing?

This is not singing.

This is... well, I'm not sure, really... is this legal in public???? Although Jethro had no objection. You know, talk about mud flaps, my girl's got 'em. That kind of thing.

But awkward! Cuz that dude would later do a performance with the ex-Mr-J Lo and whoa, I sure hope it doesn't go this way, I mean, wouldn't that make for some serious jealousy issues?

Well in the meantime, she got swung around by dancers wearing giant fuzzy stilts. Look, I know it doesn't make any sense. Words fail me. Stilt leg warmers? Pole legs fringes? Ridiculous-awesome?

AWDICULOUS!

I just don't know what to say about this.

Except, it knocked me out.

I crept upstairs and fell into my bed. I no longer cared that there would be more J Lo, some Katy, and a Hasselhoff. I was worn right out.

I'm lucky I didn't have nightmares about J Lo fronting Nickelback for a song about drinking in the front seat of a Fiat while wearing a sparkly nekkid suit with a giant belt buckle.

Although that would be interesting...

Demi dumped his Ass-ton.

2011-11-18T10:00:00.000-08:00

So it's official. Kutcher messed up big time.

If I actually knew him, I think I'd likely get in his face and say, "What the hell did you THINK would happen? You don't get to cheat on your wife and get away with it! Moron!"

But I don't know them. It makes no sense that their break-up bums me out. Other than, it's awesome that a lady in her 40s married a handsome young fella and it really seemed to work. From what we could see. But, they're actors. You never really know what's real?

It's not fair for me to judge, but... COME ON. Is it really that hard to stay married? Is it harder for the Famous People? Is it different if they have to pretend they're in love with other people for a living? Is it more difficult because all kinds of people get all infatuated with them and want to throw themselves at them? Is it easier to wreck everything?

Celebrity divorces are often a bit of a joke. For us, if not for them.

Okay, celebrity weddings are often a joke too.

(Although I do think it's hilarious/awesome that she barely comes up to his shoulder. Makes me and Jethro look a little less size-incompatable in comparison.)

But I digress.

As I often do.

Dashmi looked happy together. And for what it's worth, they looked awesome together.

In most of pictures he's looking adoringly at her. (Or at her body.) And who wouldn't? She's gorgeous.

But gorgeous isn't enough to hold a marriage together. It helps. Attraction is the magnet. But commitment is the glue.

They looked pretty happy in pictures.

Now it's more like this.

Oh, buddy. You screwed up. Baaaaad.

I mean, really badly. He used to be on Bruce's good side. Used to be.

Clearly he did not think this through.

You wouldn't want to be on Bruce's bad side.

There are usually public statements made after a Famous People Breakup. You know, dumb things like, "I really hoped this would last forever but sometimes things don't work out." That is the dumbest thing ever. Really, you hoped your marriage would last forever? Hoped??? You shouldn't make a big decision like that out of hope. And gee, golly heck, oh shuckums, sometimes things don't work out.

Or this one: ""I will forever cherish the time I spent with Demi. Marriage is one of the most difficult things in the world and unfortunately sometimes they fail"

It is true. Marriages fail. It happens, and for reasons that are not anybody else's business. Yes, marriage is difficult. I've been married for 20 years. We've had our hard times. People see us getting along really well and it's obvious that we like each other, but don't think for a second we haven't had our huge fights. To be fair it's usually me fighting at him.

But here's the thing: I LIKE HIM. He's my favourite person. I love him unconditionally. Just because he is who he is. That love doesn't go away because we have a fight. I can be angry at him and still love him. You know what? If he's angry at me, he still loves me. The bad times happen, but they don't last. We are a team. We get through troubles together.

Maybe I'm not the one to weigh in on this, because marriage, for me, has been the one steady constant thing in my life. No matter what, I know I've got a man who loves me and it's been like that since I was a teenager. Has it been EASY? pffft. Hell no. If anybody tells you marriage is easy, they haven't been married. But most good things in life are not easy, right? Marriage is worth it. Worth the squabbles, the conflicts involved with living with the same person for the rest of your life. It's worth having your heart broken regularly by that same person. I love the man. It's that simple. I love him more than I did twenty four years ago. Amazingly. We stuck together and that's our reward: it gets even better!

Marriage isn't a shackup. It's a death pact.

You think I'm kidding? I'm not. Till death do us part? Yeah. The only way this marriage ends is if one of us dies.

Oh, and also, we get it that one of the basic concepts of being married is that we don't have sex with anybody else.

So that's me going off on my judgmental rant, standing on my little soap box among the smoking burnt ruins of somebody else's heartbreak.

Me and my goofy geldings...

2011-11-16T19:01:00.000-08:00

Phoenix has the kind of horse-face that makes you think he's about to speak. In words. I don't know what it is, he just looks clever. He's abnormally expressive, I guess.

He's a GOOF.

During a lesson, I know exactly what's going on with him. I know when he gets bored - which happens easily. He does the 11-year-old girl lessons. It's pretty basic stuff. Ten minutes in, he's all eye-rolling and stumble-hooved. That's when I have to change it up, make it more challenging, do something different, anything. That is, without making it to hard for the rider. So it's mostly a challenge for...me.

He has one particularly funny/ annoying habit.

He knocks things over. He seems to believe that he gets points for putting a barrel on the ground.

I might never be able to take this horse to a show.

He'll be going past the little orange pylon set there to mark the corner of the pattern, slow down to a stop, and ever so gently set one hoof on top of it and - toppled. The blue barrels are his favourite. He'll actually lean in until he's close enough to get a knee into it.

He's not a klutz. Those same little orange pylons will stay up if the rider doesn't quite give him enough to room to get around it, even if he ends up going right over it. He's capable of walking all four hooves over it without touching it. It's like he knows.

The little girls think it's hilarious.

Me, not so much. I mean, yeah, it's okay for a laugh, but he's not supposed to be doing that!

The good thing is, I can turn it into a fun challenge. "He thinks he's supposed to knock over the barrels, but you have to stop him from doing that!" It's actually good if he doesn't just do everything automatically, whether they cue him correctly or not. They have to do it right, or he'll just roll his eyes and flap his ears and walk straight into a barrel.

They still love him.

He reminds me a lot of another goofy gelding I loved.

Is it possible they start off as normal horses and after living with me for awhile they go silly in the head???

Y'know how I like to park beside something big and play "Who's Longer" and my truck usually wins?

2011-11-14T07:18:00.000-08:00

GAME OVER.

I think driving a school bus could be fun. Especially putting on the brakes and telling all the brats to siddown and shuddup I'm not yer babysitter.

I mean, c'mon. Big ass International diesel? Giant wheels? Fun.

Sadly, they're all automatic now. Remember the old Saginaw transmission in the 70s and 80s? I watched my bus driver double-clutching that thing through the gears, with it whining and chugging all the way up. Awesome. He used to literally throw the shifter into gear.

Good times.

However I am 40 years old and still having nightmares about running down the lane to catch my bus, with the north wind ripping at my flapping-open coat and all the snow drifts ending up inside my boots, so I don't think I'll be making a career of being Bus Driver Dude.

"I stand by my record. 14 crashes and not a single fatality!" --Otto.

Payin' some bills...

2011-11-10T12:37:00.000-08:00

You might notice some advertising on my blog.

I've decided to try and earn some income from my writing. Ultimately I'd like that to be from writing novels that people want to read, but this is a long difficult process, often verging onto frustrating and confidence-destroying, and at its worst, soul-sucking, but a process that I insist on putting myself through.

I mean, theoretically, we're supposed to get paid to do something we like and are good at, right?

I like to write.

I think I'm decent at it.

It's taken me years to figure out how this whole "making a living" thing works. I'm not good at being an employee. I'm forgetful and scatterbrained and tend to be thinking about really awesome things/ really worrying things instead of thinking about what the boss wants me to be thinking about. But blogging is great, because I get to do all the thinking! So then, that thinking turned into... hey... I hear some people get paid to blog. WAHHHHT? HOW DO THEY DO THAT? Well, other people pay them to put ads on their blogs.

Now that I've had a couple years of getting paid to teach people how to ride horses, I've discovered what a buzz it is do get paid to so something I love, and may I say, I do believe I'm pretty good at it.

The satisfaction of paying for something with money that I earned is something I gave up for a few years while I raised the younguns. It was worth it, but now? Now I'm ready to pay some bills!

Never thought I'd be the person whose life goes totally sideways without my cellphone....

2011-11-07T09:09:00.000-08:00

...but holy heck I just had a tricky couple of weeks here.

Long story short, we are now a FOUR iGADGET FAMILY and I have a brand spankin' new, not hand-me-down, all mine iGadget.

Long story long, I am officially one of those people: useless without my damn phone.

I held off on having one until two years ago, when I no longer had a land line. It's taken me this long to really get the hang of it. I have finally figured out how the "contact" section works and how to copy things in email and how not to text a message meant for the husband to the farrier instead. (Good thing it was just boring stuff like what came in the mail today...)

As of two weeks ago, the family situation was like this:

Jethro - newish iPhone 4 with a sticky home button that sometimes worked right.

Me - his previous iPhone 3GS (whatever the heck that stands for) which I really liked even though there was a little dark spot in all the pictures it took.

Bucky & Annyong - his first iPhone, 3G I believe, which I thought was totally adequate in the first place but apparently not bell- and-whistly enough.

He'd given Bucky the old Gadget to use as an iPod, since Annyong already had a nice iPod.

Then the two teenagers landed a babysitting gig which they traded days... and the family has no land line. I had awful thoughts about a kid breaking an arm or something and one of my kids out there beside a corn field needing to cross a busy highway to use a neighbour's phone to call for help. So after a long discussion about responsibility usage and blah blah blah we activated the old Gadget. No data, no email, just text messaging and calls on weekends and after 9pm. Bucky gives the Gadget to Annyong when she goes to work. And they'd have to each come up with some cash for the phone bill, what with them being employed and all.

It was working halfway decently, this system.

About two weeks ago this thing started. My phone didn't work. I missed a call from a student and wasn't here when she showed up for a lesson. OOPS. She was cool about it but I was getting worried. I wasn't getting calls, I wasn't getting messages, I was afraid I'd lose all three of my riding students!!!

Turns out it had to do with Jethro getting really sick of that wonky home button. So he went out and got a new iPhone 4GS SS R/T whatever the heck acronym that phone's hauling around.

Everybody moved down a phone.

He spent a whole afternoon talking to the phone company to get us all four set up, get a number for each kid's phone, set up the data plan, bitch about the astronomical amount they're charging us and getting a better plan and oh man it was hardcore boring.

I walked away from that with two teenagers packing cellphones, something I'd vowed wouldn't darn well happen for a long time yet, and a newish iPhone 4 with a wonky home button. I spent a couple hours setting up all the apps - which I find amusing because in my world the Apps are out in the field grazing and swishing their tails over their spotted rumps - making sure everything had moved over to the newish phone and recording a new voicemail greeting.

I also had to do some damage control with my students.

At least I had some peace of mind knowing that if one of the kids missed the bus or something, I wouldn't be driving all over the county and the town looking for a lost teenager.

Well one night Bucky decided to upgrade my iGadget to OS 10 or 10.5 or man I am not good with numbers.

THINGS LOOKED DIFFERENT. AGAIN.

Like, I'm easily confused. If it looks different it's like I've never seen the damn thing before. Every time Google changes the email page I almost cry. I'm lost.

I'm like a horse who walks into the barn one day and there's a DIFFERENT COLOUR BUCKET IN THE STALL and I cannot go in there because clearly, that is not my stall.

But Bucky 'splained it all and I was getting hip to the whole thing.

About a week into my new relationship with Newish iGadget, that sticky wonky home button just gave up. I was on email and I had to turn the damn thing off and turn it back on again to use the phone.

Know what I hate more than trying to figure out something new? I hate when things don't work. I just want things to work, dammit.

I found myself at the Apple store 40 minutes away from home, relieved that it wasn't further away than that, with a young fella in a blue T shirt telling me I'd be getting a new phone.

Which resulted in a frenzied discussion with the teenagers about whether or not Daddy backed up all the crap on my gadget with the computer.

A couple hours later, I was in my bed, calling Bucky over to my room because... EVERYTHING WAS BACK TO MY OLD KIND OF DIFFERENT AGAIN AND ALL THAT STUFF I PUT ON THE DEFECTIVE PHONE WAS GONE OR SOMETHING.

I don't remember what happened next. I think it involved recording a new voicemail greeting that might end with me giggling because Bucky tickled my foot on his way out of my room.

I'm liking my new gadget, I must say. It's NEW new. I got a bright pink bumper to put on it. The screen is perfectly clear, even to my 40 year old eyeballs. It doesn't dim enough for those eyeballs but I just look at it sideways and it's ok. I've got all my favourite head banging tunes on it. At some point I will again organize the pictures into albums like I did on one of the other iterations of this thing.

All's well, right? We can put the techno-drama to rest for a time now?

Nope.

Last night the computer got upgraded from Liger to Lion.

LOOKS DIFFERENT DIOFWEHFSOIDJ. Really slick and awesome, but different. And of course in the morning my gadget and computer are all like, "Dude, who? Man I don't even know you."

I try to scroll down the computer screen and it doesn't move. Ohhhhh.... turns out it scrolls the same way the gadget does. Backwards. Ok. Sigh. I'll get used to it.

I've got all my little pictures (icons?) on the iGadget screen in the right order again. Some time I'll reorganize the photo albums for the third time. And delete duplicate contacts out of the phone list again.

I am pretty sure all my students can reach me if they need to. But then, how would I know if they couldn't????????

When I go out to the pasture to visit Phoenix 1.0 and Oakie 1.0 and Copper 1.0 I'll be quietly pleased that all I need to do to upgrade them is go at them with a brush and a bottle of ShowSheen.

A year with Oakie

2011-11-01T08:29:00.000-07:00

Last year, Halloween was on a Sunday. That's the day we brought Oakie to the Old Homestead. When we left the Little Valley, my friend Susan was getting Spyder ready for trick-or-treat. (We don't get trick-or-treaters out here. But I had to buy candy. Just in case, right?)

So we've now had a full year with this sweet little chestnut Quarter Horse mare.

I won't claim that she's perfect. I always wrap her front pasterns when riding, to keep her sound. She tends to be very forward, as in, you don't need much "gas" to make her go! She only tolerates children, but she is awesome with my adult students. Even though I know she could ride a little better -- more impulsion from her hindquarters, slow down some, get the lateral movements tuned up -- I really enjoy being on her back. She's so responsive and eager.

She looooves to be treated kindly. I think most horses do, but she really appreciates a good spa day. Her lips twitch with happiness when you go at her with a nice soft brush.

And she's got the most beautiful large eyes.

She and Annyong have developed a lovely friendship.

So yeah. This horse stays with me for life!

What I DIDN'T do was shove my unfinished novel under the door one single-spaced page at a time.

2011-10-28T19:54:00.000-07:00

What I did do was find the address of Janet Reid's office and wave hello.

Hi!

JANETREID gave me one of my top 3 awesome rejections, which made me respect her even more, I'm not even kidding.

So I didn't technically stalk any literary agents, but I did seek out the workplace of one and No I do not think that's crazy.

I conquered NYC and when I came home I saw the stars in the black sky and knew I was home again.

2011-10-25T21:04:00.000-07:00

I couldn't see stars there. It was that weird kind of dark where there's no sun shining, but everything's lit up so bright the sky is dull orange.

I liked it a whole lot more than I expected to, and felt a lot safer than I imagined I could.

TIMES SQUARE, MEET JOHN DEERE.

(dig smiling photo-bomb guy back there eh?)

I planned on blogging this whole adventure, but man, it is impossible to blog while walking around in SoHo. Or, hurtling down 5th Avenue in a cab driven by a dude with no concept of potential death.

I couldn't blog while hearing about algorithm equalization filter loudness calibration nonlinear feedback loop transducer...amplifier...loudspeaker...

Hey those are all actual terms I picked randomly out of the schedule. I can't make that stuff up.

Jethro achieved his goal of getting all these guys wound up about his ideas (his presentation was flawless! and his Q&A went overtime) and he made all kinds of nice little friends from Denmark, Switzerland, Germany, and other places with wonderful accents.

Then we proceeded to stomp all over Manhattan, as much as possible for a guy with incredibly sore feet from standing around for three days. We tend to be hardcore about these things: I'm here, I'm going to pig out on this place and then get the heck back out again. We try to do way too much in a day.

I loved our little 200 square foot "cabin" at the Yotel. Couldn't live like that, with all the slickness and modernity, but was it ever fun to have as a home base!

So because I wanted to blog the whole thing and didn't, I think I'll just say heck with it and write a little book about it. Heck why not. I'll get at it when I'm done catching up on laundry!

Seriously, laundry piles and manure piles and the whole mess... it was great to go away, but it's really good to be back. I knew I was home when I stepped out of the car at midnight and looked up.
"Hey, stars! I missed you when I was in the big city!"

Tired hick in big city....

2011-10-23T20:47:00.000-07:00

New York has worn me out.

-Little Italy
-Empire State building
-I've got enough of Times Square to last me... well, forever, probably.
-closed down the conference real good an proper. The party's over when we say it is. Seriously, by the time we left the session on pressing vinyl records, the whole place was getting packed up. We're always the last ones out.

We both have sore feet and sore backs and I know I for sure have some mental overload/ overstimulation but ...

I think I get it now.

Believe it or not, I think I might actually get why this city is so famous.

If I ever figure out how to get the pictures off Jethro's iGadget, I will post them.

But now I am gonna hit the sack. We still have a big chunk of land with no skyscrapers on it that needs to be checked out, and an art museum to absorb before we get on the plane and head back home.

(Home...)

LITTLE HICK IN THE BIG CITY: Day 2, Friday

2011-10-21T10:40:00.000-07:00

Man, the stereotype that people in New York are in their own little worlds of aloof unfriendliness is entirely untrue! Before leaving, some American friends of mine, assuring me that I’d be okay here, told me that it’s not like in the movies. Well, I already was firmly of the belief that in general, American people are a warm, friendly bunch of individuals. This experience confirms it.

Today a fella named Pedro came to my room to fix the phone. He has such a strong accent I had to concentrate to catch what he was saying. He told me there are 9 million people living in Manhattan. Just in Manhattan… by comparison, there are 5 million in Metro Toronto, the biggest big city I know. That includes the boroughs. Canadian cities really aren’t very big. Pedro told me he takes the train in to work from Queens. I told him in Toronto most people spend two hours commuting. (One of the reasons why after a decade-plus we had to get the heck outta there.)

I can’t comprehend how big this city is. Or the scale of things. Everything is so tight. Little blocks of streets.

Last night, we had a late bite to eat. We walked north on 10th Avenue. There were so many people out taking their dogs for a last walk of the day. We sat in a tiny restaurant and I said to Jethro, “I wasn’t expecting this… it’s like a little neighborhood here. People live here. I always thought of it like this big fabulous place where people go to… be fabulous. But this is somebody’s home.”

Well obviously I knew people live in this city. But it seemed so big and distant and maybe even cold. There are just so many people here! How can anybody live like this and not become so jaded that they can’t be bothered to look up at anybody else? Wouldn’t your skin have to be so thick that you’d lose any connection to anybody else?

I’m somebody who tries to keep in mind that stereotypes are in place for a reason but are often exaggerated and probably a little inaccurate. Like, I have this blog called Hick Chic, implying that I’m a country girl and I’m proud of it and I am totally working it and pulling it off. I know why city people think of us hicks as naive and unsophisticated. I myself am naive and unsophisticated. But I’m not dumb. (Okay I might come off that way in person, but really, I’m not!) I seriously have a hard time crossing a street on foot. I’m not even kidding. But I can drive down a gravel road at 100 kph with one hand on the steering wheel. So we each have a different set of skills.

It doesn’t do any of us any good to deal with each other with contempt, as tempting as it is when I get attitude from more urban folks who automatically assume that being from the country means I don’t matter.

As I’m finding out, those who treat me that way are the exception.

( maybe I really only get that attitude off people in Toronto? Hmmmm….)

I’m writing this in the lobby of the incredibly chic stylin’ lobby of the Yotel. A woman a big honkin’ camera and a Manfrotto tripod is taking pictures of the room. The decor is amazing. Everything is purple and white and grey with pale wood. It’s so slick I’m just about sliding out of my crazy mid-century-modern chair. I am totally digging this place - it’s fun to be here! BUT. I could not live like this. It’s too fabulous.

I’m not fabulous.

Fun, but not fab in a New York kind of way.

Today’s Hick-in-New York outfit:

Jeans (yep, Mavi from the Juno swag bag, good thing they fit)

running shoes

pink plaid flannel shirt

And because I’m totally doing the Big City Writer thing, I’m wearing my glasses.

I am totally working this.

I think I’ll head up to my room again. Jethro’s at the conference down the road, talking with other engineers about soundwave displacement in an audiological resonance digital high fidelity aural 7.1 surround… thing…. while I do my thing here and somebody is up on the twelfth floor is cleaning my room and putting nice clean white towels in the glass walled-bathroom, and making the bed! THAT right there, alone, is worth checking in here for!

Of course we’ll be paying for this trip for the next six months.

Okay, going back up in the purple elevator. Catch ya later.

ps- I totally crossed a street by myself! Well, me and ten other people. But otherwise by myself.

I'm getting overwhelmed by the sirens, and it sounds like the predominant form of communication in this town is honking. Other than that, I'm dealing quite well!

Little Hick, Big City: day one

2011-10-20T19:55:00.001-07:00

LITTLE HICK IN THE BIG CITY

Thursday October 20,

It’s a darn good thing Jethro brought me with him. I’m doing such a good job of keeping him calm. He’d be a nervous wreck without me here beside him.

Pffft. I am useless in the city. Useless! I don’t even think I could cross a street without clinging to his hand. I damn near left hand-shaped craters in his arm after that flight. For the first time in six years of one flight per year whether I like it or not, I got on a plane without Lorazepam. Yep. I flew straight. Might have been a bad idea. It was so much easier when I had them little white pills. But. I’m feeling much better now.

As for the Big Bad City, I have to say, so far, this isn’t so bad. Our hotel is on 10th Avenue. The street below is wide and busy, but really not shockingly busy. Just normal city busy. I hate to say it, but to me, most cities are similar and kind of blend into each other in my memory. Things like side streets and franchises all look the same.

As soon as we got out of the cab, the wind gave us a nasty sandblasting with Manhattan dirt. Man that is repulsive. I’ve had a mouthful of grit before, plenty of times, but it was Punkeydoodles dirt and I knew pretty much where it’d been before it ended up blowing into my face. This morning I was standing there in the lobby of this ultra-cool hotel being horrified by the grit between my molars and really wishing I could spit.

It’s not wall to wall people here though, at least not on this street. Traffic is constant though. Jethro saw a sign on this intersection that there is a $350 fine for honking the horn. Then he told me I probably shouldn’t spit because that’s likely illegal too. Argh. How do New Yorkers get the grit out of their mouths???

Most of that traffic is yellow cabs. I’ve never seen that much yellow. That, so far, is what I expected, from watching movies. You always see cabs in movies. The rest of the vehicles are delivery trucks and big black SUVs. Who are these people? A Suburban is hard enough to park in Kitchener let alone NYC and then these guys get out wearing suits and I wonder what the heck they do for a living, then decide I might not want to know and probably don’t care.

I’ve learned very quickly to pick out the audio engineers. They’re often a combination of slightly nerdy, slightly pale, and just a little bit overweight. Also they’re wearing badges around their necks and carrying little AES booklets. So pretty easy to spot. Last week it was Comicon in the convention centre. Those guys must have been real easy to pick out of a crowd!

My Hick-in-NYC outfit for today is:

running shoes

Mavi jeans

Soundgarden T shirt

Kermit THE frog green sweatshirt

pink John Deere hat.

I’ve decided to walk around with my hood up. It helps keep the wind out of my ears but also helps keep the filth out of my hair.

It’s kinda funny that out in the country the wind knocks me over because there’s nothing to stop it and here in the big city the wind knocks me over because it picks up speed between the buildings.

Anyways, didn’t get to see Tony Bennett at the conference. His producer, Phil Ramone, was there, and also his son Dae Bennett. They did a little chit chat about making the album, live off the floor, no click track, the old fashioned way like Tony likes it, and of course, how he is Tony Bennett and is awesome. He chose to stay home today because he’s a busy man, touring and performing, and he’s 85, and if he wants a rest he’s entitled.

They showed a little video about The Making Of Duets II. Of course it was all very slick and fawning. John Mayer was adorably awkward and nervous and kid-like. They ended the video with Amy Winehouse which was killer. In every way. Other than Amy, the real firecracker was Lady Gaga, or as I like to call her, (clench teeth first) Ssssstefanie!!! She’s a hoot and really should sing with Tony more often. She can do so much better than she sings on her big hits, which to me sound like she’s just doing as much as it takes and no more. Also, she cannot ever get a nose job because otherwise I’ll never recognize her. But that’s just my opinion, which nobody asked for cuz I don’t really know what I’m talking about.

Back home on the farm, it’s still raining. The kids are taking care of critters and life goes on.

I think until Jethro comes back from the conference, I’ll pretend to be a famous author who’s holed herself up in a funky slick little hotel room in order to be away from everything which distracts her from finishing that much anticipated novel. There’s a purple light on the wall. It’s really cool.

LITTLE HICK, BIG CITY: things I've been told to do and see in NYC

2011-10-19T17:04:00.000-07:00

I don't know how big this place is, how long it takes to get anywhere, or even where we're staying.

Y'know, let's not get caught up in that. I'm not ready to think about that yet; I'm still working on my suitcase. Seriously, I'm not good at this. For 18 years I lived in town and packed up about once a month to head out to the farm. All those years of suitcase packing and I still run around fretting and spazzing out trying to figure out which socks to pack.

But I digress. As usual. So here are some NYC Things:

THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM OF ART

I think I could spend a whole day there. Which could come in handy... once my eyes glaze over listening to all those recording engineers talking about spdif files and wav files and kilohertz and megahertz and mabrainhertz.

THE OFFICE OF JANET REID, THE QUERY SHARK.

Can't think of anybody more "New York"than this literary agent... she's cool and tough and funny and sensitive and says what she means. She isn't my agent. I don't have an agent. But I'd settle for just seeing the front door of the building she works in. It's not creepy, right?

JOHN LENNON MEMORIAL

Annyong visited when she went to NYC with her school symphonic band. So she said I have to go too.

CENTRAL PARK
Absolutely everybody tells me I need to do some hanging around in here.

I heard there are horses somewhere in the park. Is that true? Could it be?

EVERGREEN DINER

My friend-neighbour Leslie says we should have breakfast here.

OUR HOTEL ROOM

I will pretend to be a Struggling Author Trying to Finish My Much Anticipated Novel in my NYC hotel room. Also. Four days with husband. Not saying anything else.

Okay, that's all I got. Anybody else? I'm kind of at a loss here. I want to blog the whole thing, as it happens! Except for the plane ride. I intend to be oblivious in the plane. It's the only way to fly.

I'm outta here. We've got a few hours of nasty rainy cold weather to drive through to get to the airport. Wish me luck.

HOLY CRAP I'M GOING TO FREAKIN' NYC.

LITTLE HICK IN BIG CITY: My New York City packing list

2011-10-17T19:42:00.000-07:00

Pink John Deere hoodie
This is so important because the hoodie is one of the most versatile and necessary article of clothing. Also it's pink. And has a big green and yellow logo on it. It's my favourite.

John Deere hat
I'll have to pick between the pink one with "I heart JD" or the green one with the logo.

I'd bring this whole totally bitchin' outfit but I don't think it'll be warm enough in Manhattan in October.

I'll just bring the hat.

At Lollapalooza this summer, a guy in the hamburger line up started yelping, "John Deere!" so I turned around like I was answering to my name. Of course. Obviously.

He looked all happy that there was one other sweaty unwashed rock festival attendee who knew what a tractor is. Wouldn't it be cool if I find a tractor person in New York City!

Hey it could happen. I mean it's not impossible.

Check out Bucky and me. We go to a massive rock concert in our hats: him with his National Wild Turkey Federation and me with my John Deere. We dress up well for special occasions.

Yoga pants

Yoga pants, yes. Yoga, NO.

The Mavi jeans I got for free in a Juno event swag bag

You think I'd actually buy Mavi jeans? No thanks. I'd like to send my kids to college some day.

Peach Berskerk "I love Johnny Depp" hoodie

The one I ordered when we went to the Juno awards a couple years back.

long sleeve T shirt

Probably the one I got at the Juno awards a couple years back.

What? I get my clothes in four places: the feed mill, the thrift store, the Juno swag bag, and the merch booth at rock concerts.

T shirts

Ozzy? Soundgarden? White Stripes? Muse? Ohhhh decisions!

something nice

In case we have enough cash to go somewhere nice. I have no idea here.

ridiculous high heeled platform slingback black and white gingham shoes

The gingham qualifies them as country-girl-approved.

bandanna

Sometimes my ears get cold and need to be covered. Or I have a bad hair thing. Either way.

favourite plaid flannel shirt

Dude, it's plaid, it's flannel, and it's got pink in it.

I promise I won't walk around with a stick in my teeth. Promise.

belt

gotta have one. My pants dun' stay up without one.

(You can go ahead and read that line with a hillbilly accent.)

Posh spice shades

So I can pretend I'm somebody important in the lobby of whatever big building we're in.

arm warmers

Like leg warmers only smaller and with thumb holes. A must have for a writer with cold hands.

Cute rubber boots with horses on them that I got at Canadian Tire

It's just wise to always be sure you can walk through anything. I'm just saying.

Running shoes

We'll be doing a lot of walking. I might run the other way if there's a crowd. Ready for anything.

flannel jammies

Hey hey, nice little getaway with the husband! Flannel! Whoo hoo!

Wellbutrin

I ain't leaving home without that stuff. Let's keep the good mood going!

bag, toothbrush, comb

Got thirteen channels of shhhhh.... oh wait, that's a song. Never mind.

workbook

In case a poem falls out of me. I need to get it written down.

my specs

So I can see what I'm writing down.

Mac White

In case a novel falls out of me. Also so Jethro can actually prepare his presentation on the plane on the way to the conference. (It's how he operates.)

books to read

This could really be great. While he is having long conversations with other recording engineers, I get READING TIME! Yay!

cotton socks

as in, "rock my cotton socks" because I've had some time to think about it and decided I'm going to make the best of this trip.

Know what else I'm bringing? The Funny.

Yep, you'll be hearing all about it! Right here!

Jethro plans to drag me KICKING AND SCREAMING to New York City!!!

2011-10-12T20:26:00.000-07:00

He's really gonna do it. He's gonna talk me into it.

When I tell people he's taking me to NYC with him in a couple weeks, I get reactions like "Oh wow you are so lucky!" and "Woo hoo glamorous jet set life" and the sarcastic kind of "Yeah poor you, being forced to go to the most fabulous/ glamorous/ famous city in the world."

Are you friggen kidding me? Hello, that city is full of people. Like, wall-to-wall people. And I bet 89% of them are bigger than me! It's all loud there and like, polluted probably, and loud, and you can't see the sky unless you look straight up, right? And if you believe what you see on TV everybody gets mugged at least once a day. I've never been mugged in my life. I'm not even sure exactly what it involves but I'm pretty sure I don't want it happening to me!

But, I'm going to NYC because he wants to take me with him.

Sigh. I know, I know. I'm lucky. Being this guy's wife has meant going places I never expected to see. I come from a long line of farm families for whom an overnight stay is next to impossible. I can't say I didn't want to see different parts of the world. It's just that as a kid, I never expected it.

Most of all, I'm just not a city person.

Jethro is going to the Audio Engineering Society Convention. He's never been to one, ever, in over 20 years, because he's always been... you know, working. Doing that audio engineering thing that he does. He's going this year because he's presenting a speech. If he's gonna go he's gonna go big. That's just how he operates.

He'll be doing a talk on How He Plans To Revolutionize The Way Music Is Recorded.

Don't ask me, man, all I know is I had to go to Montreal with him so he could listen to two versions of a song on a machine that doesn't dither the sample rate conversion...digital file...non-pro-tools... um, thingie.

Bottom line, for me, is the chance to spend four days with my man. I am, after all, the president of his fan club. I gotta be there.

It means leaving the farm though. And by that I mean, I have to leave the teenagers and grandparents here - man I hope the kids are going to be okay, taking care of the grandparents, haha. The kids will be responsible for a dog, a house cat, two barn cats and three horses. There will have to be some arranging to get everybody to the bus stop, and to an early morning band practice. I'm lucky to have teenagers who actually have a clue about how to do stuff.

Can you imagine if this was an actual working farm? Like with 100 dairy cows? Yikes. It's hard enough to leave here. I know it'll be okay because we've gone away before. But it always worries me a little.

So. Little Hick in NYC.

Can I get excited about this? I hear there are some pretty big art museums in NYC. I'd like to see that.

Jethro thinks I should set up some lunch dates with literary agents. I clamped down a bitter laugh. It don't work that way, folks. I mean, it would be nice. What would I do to meet JANETREID the Shark Herself? That would be awesome!! But that's not how it works. Instead I think I'll just get my picture taken with the front door of the building her office is in. Close enough?

My American writer friends tell me I won't get mugged. Probably.

And in case you wondered... Yes I will most likely be wearing at least one article of clothing with a John Deere logo on it. What else would I wear?

So if you live in NYC, and for some odd reason you are reading this, if you happen to see a smallish woman wearing clothes with pictures of green tractors, clinging to the arm of a large man, staring up at buildings in slack jawed amazement, yep, that'll be me.

The Guy Who Made Me Like Computers.

2011-10-08T19:54:00.000-07:00

Apple.com

When I was a teenager in the 80s I figured this whole computer thing would blow over in a few years and I'd be riding my horses and writing my stories and everything would be cool. No reason to worry myself with things involving keyboards and screens. No reason to get over my wariness of all things technological.

Yep, I hated computers. Hated the way they beeped at me when I pushed the wrong button, hated the whirring fan noises they made, hated the look of the things. Ugly plastic boxes.

I got over it when Jethro presented me with my Mac Black. That computer changed everything. I'm not kidding. I started blogging. I started writing fiction again! And... had to admit I didn't hate computers anymore. I did not want to throw the damn thing across the room out of frustration. I felt a serious loss when that computer was decommissioned!

Although I still have it. And if we rigged up a power supply for it, it would actually still run.

Thank you, Steve.

These machines have such a huge impact on my own life. The music industry runs on Mac; my husband uses nothing but at work. Our family is Mac only. There are three iGadgets among the four of us. Up until two years ago I'd never had a cellphone. When the iPhone came out, I thought, y'know, I might actually be able to deal with one of those. It didn't scare the snot outta me to just look at it. It made sense to me. And people, very few things in this world make sense to me.

My sister, who is even more of a technophobe than me, has a MacBook. She has managed to run a business without a computer for like, ten years. When she bought her computer, it was me who set the thing up for her. ME!

And here's the real proof that Steve Jobs developed and realized a truly great machine: Both sets of our parents have Macs. They can even turn it on by themselves. It works. Now when we visit them we can visit instead of fix the computer. Okay my ol' man doesn't use the Mac but heck he doesn't know how to use the portable phone either and can't turn on the TV in the living room cuz the remote is different than the little TV but hey, he at least knows how to scroll the screen down on the iGadget! That's saying something!

Little scatterbrained Heidi who figured she'd never have to use one of these things... I use Mac White pretty much every day. I'll gush lovingly about it to whoever will listen. I feel weird that I have so much enthusiasm for a hunk of plastic.

It's not just the physical machine itself. Yes I think it's beautiful, all elegant and clean. I appreciate good design. But really it's the spirit behind it. The ideas, the innovation. This came out of a mind that didn't just think out of the box but didn't even bother looking for the box and just went ahead and thought up a better box.

Imagination, creativity, the constant challenge to the accepted ways of doing things... I think these are the kinds of values this man had.

There are beautiful tributes out there in the world and I can't even begin to measure up to those. I just had to say it:

Steve Jobs made me like computers, and it changed the way I do things.

(I'm going to go think up a better way to build a box now, metaphorically speaking.)

Maybe I was in the right time at the right place twenty years ago: Me and the Music Explosion of 1991

2011-10-04T19:50:00.000-07:00

My daughter lamented recently that she wishes she was a teenager in an earlier decade. Anything other than this one. This is boring. Everything happened in the 60s and 80s and 70s. Cool stuff was going on in the 50s. People looked fabulous in the 30s and 40s.

She told me I was lucky to be a young adult in the 90s. My first reaction was that I actually missed much of the 90s because of all the gestating and lactating. haha. ha.

But maybe she's right. Maybe I am lucky to have been there. Yes, I spent the latter half of the decade completely immersed in my children, and I wouldn't trade that for anything, but I had a few good years in the early 90s there.

September 1991: I was newly married and starting my first year of college. I was a little country bumpkin with no idea how to read a bus schedule (but that deserves its own story) and was scared silly about the whole school thing. I was The Married Chick; it was funny seeing the young dudes' faces change when they heard the word married.

But even chicks with wedding rings can go to the school pub. And I did. The pub had a couple of big screens up on the walls with videos playing. Coming from a home with no cable TV, I was way behind on my video watching. So I sat there being fascinated and creeped out by Ozzy Osbourne's No More Tears. I was an Ozzy fan. Still am. Despite his regular fascinating creepiness.

But something new was about to whack us all upside the head. That month, that first month of my first (and only) college year, THIS HAPPENED.

from amazon.com

A scumbaggy looking trio of slackers put out this little album that sounded like somebody took the history of punk music, a good portion of the Beatles, and metal's buzzy distortion and stuck it in a dirty blender, then set the thing on HIGH.

Now the thing is, I used to be enough of a rebel that I was wary of liking any music just because everybody else did or just because it's on the radio all the time or the guy in Rolling Stone says it's good. I did the same thing a couple years earlier with Guns N Roses. But the problem was that despite Appetite For Destruction being one of the most offensive records I'd ever heard it was also one of the best. I couldn't deny the energy and the melodies and the intensity. It didn't take long before I just completely gave up and gave in.

Funny thing is, all this time, I've never owned a copy of this record. Never had to. First all my friends had it (on cassette!) and to this day any rock radio station won't go more than a few hours without playing a song off of Nevermind.

Hey, wanna feel old? That cute baby has facial hair now.

(the whole article is here)

Also he's taken up wearing pants. How things change, eh?

So, I was around for that piece of history.

That same month, another huge album hit the air.

from http://sleevage.com

This had me going givvidawaynah nonstop. I had heard of this band; I remember waking up to the radio one morning convinced that Ozzy Osbourne and Stevie Wonder had done a collaboration for the song "Higher Ground." For about two hours after that I was thinking, "How in the hell did that happen?" But it didn't. It was these guys. And that's all I knew about them.

For me, this album kind of is the soundtrack of Art School. I threw a lot of pottery to this record. And by throw I mean, y'kno, stuck a lump of clay on the wheel and squeezed it. I squeezed mud to Red Hot Chili Peppers.

You know what also happened at that time? This piece of brilliance. We howled with delight when we saw the cover!

from sleevage.com

Metallica was unavoidable in high school. I think even the preppies listened to Metallica. And yes, we spent our hard earned art student/ assistant recording engineer cash on this disc. I did all my drawing assignment homework to it and wrote lyrics all over the cover of my sketch book, like a high school student. It actually dropped in August but I was busy driving across Canada with my new husband, through landscapes where the radio scrolled all the way through and found nothing. Back in Ontario I got all dosed up on Metallica. They're not even my favourite band but I loved this record.

Then one day, sitting in the student building pub, I heard this magnificent noise. Huge guitars and frantic drumbeats, and bags and bags of bass. Whaaaaat? Interesting! I tried to look over the top of the crowd to see what was going on up there on the screen.

Oh look, this video has some of my favourite stuff in it.

Well, shirtless long haired rock stars? Flames? Musical instruments? ...car parts??? What is all that? Tell me more!

"So... THIS is the Soundgarden I have read about but had not heard, because my local radio station doesn't play anything other than big-label music, scientifically created in a lab for maximal hit potential? Tell me more!"

This record ended up being one of my favourites OF ALL TIME.

lyrics.wikia.com

Their videos got played a lot in the pub. Funny that I remember that so clearly when I think of my college experience. You'd think I was in there every day. This video totally blew my mind. All strobe lights and desert and apparently this dude doesn't own any shirts. Being an impoverished college student I really had sympathy.

image from interscope.com

Also I was concerned that maybe he wasn't eating enough, being all ribsy and all, and maybe he should drop by the student pub on Thursday evenings for cheap chicken wings.

I can't shut up about Badmotorfinger. It was all Drop D tuning and messed up time signatures, making it so much more complex and interesting than a lot of the rock music that came before it. Jethro eventually started calling Soundgarden "the Black Sabbath of the 90s" which was, coming from him, a compliment.

It didn't even occur to me at the time that there was some really cool stuff happening in rock music. I was just digging what was going on. You rarely know history is being made at the time.

Meanwhile, I woke up every morning to hear "November Rain" on the radio, which I thought was a total bummer to be a Guns N Roses song. I only liked the ending. I never had a copy of either one of the Use Your Illusions either. Even though part of it had been recorded at the studio my Jethro was working at at that time. But that's a whole other story. In any case Guns N Roses started to really bum me out in 1991.

Then U2 dropped Achtung Baby which my friends and I had to listen to nonstop at every house party ever. Brilliant album. Again, never owned a copy... never needed to because it's gloriously ubiquitous!

The other big house party hit was Lenny Kravitz. I used to have the lyrics for Mama Said memorized.

amazon.com

Man, Lenny was so freakin' cool. I wanted to dress like that guy every day. But I wasn't that kind of cool.

It wasn't all good though. Freddie Mercury died. That was a sobering loss that put a damper on the party.

The next year I finally heard Pearl Jam. Their first album, Ten, is the kind of record that puts me in a mood instantly. It's a record best listened to on a quiet day, holding still and listening.

amazon.com

And yeah, there was a time when I had the lyrics for Evenflow memorized. It's all gone now.

And also Alice In Chains happened. Guess where they were from? Seattle. Just like the other ground-breaking bands who released albums in that three month span at the end of 1991. It was a thing.

rateyourmusic.com

It's kind of interesting to think about the convergence of ideas and collaborations that feed into something huge.

Somewhere in there I remember being in the kitchen of our sketchy apartment above the Chinese takeaway/ Portuguese hair salon and listening to the radio.... commentary on the fall of the Berlin Wall. I was very withdrawn into my own world, and the world of art school, but this was a piece of news that sunk in.

Because music was such a huge part of my world, and still is, these are the things that stick in my mind.

So this evening as we were doing our barn chores, my daughter and I talked about things she'll remember from her teenage years.

America's first black president.

Prince William's wedding.

Muse at Lollapalooza.

The Black Keys.

Myles Kennedy.

And she probably won't even know at the time what could end up being monumental in her life.

Them shiny new Ford trucks sure are pretty.

2011-09-27T19:30:00.000-07:00

BUT I LOVE MY NASTY OL GMC!

I turn left, away from the Ford dealership with its line up of gorgeous new machines, onto the highway and blast up the hill with my arm out the window, dressed in my Receptionist Clothes, which I really had to dig for, and I think to myself what a bitchin' ride I got here.

One hubcab missing, paint flaking off the front fender, rodeo bumper stickers and all.

Step my purty high heeled shoe into the pedal.

She goes just as well, if not better, with a boot holding that pedal down.

I seriously never want to get rid of this truck. Even when I finally do get a shiny new one or more likely a shiny "new" one, I want to keep the old Mothertrucker. It's my farm truck. I can easily get 35 hay bales in the box. It used to be shiny. Twice. It was shiny 22 years ago when it was new, and it was seven years ago when it got a paint job. It's just gnarly looking now. It's been weathered. I love it.

This is the longest I've kept a vehicle of my own.

So it's lasted this far.

I loooooooove my bitchin' nasty, paid-for, basically functional, 8 cylinder, X cab, long box, gnarly ol' truck.

IT'S HUNKY BASS PLAYER DAY!

2011-09-23T20:09:00.000-07:00

I've been working, like 3 or 7 different gigs this week and I don't want to think about phones, paint rollers, or horse chiropractors. What better way to cleanse the mind than...MUSICIANS! Yay!

To celebrate HUNKY BASS PLAYER DAY I've asked my daughter Annyong The Muser to provide me with some pix of our Hunky Bass Player of the Day.

Chris Wolstenholme of Muse

This man is so BEAST.

Yes, that's right. Wolstenbeast.

The above picture made me actually forget what I was saying mid-sentence when the kid showed it to me on the iGadget.

(Bonus: Bass Face. Much more serious than Guitar Face.)

Not only is he a slammin' bass player...

...he's also got those teardrop shaped eyes that knock me over every time.

And also, well, this.

He's quite capable of rocking the handlebar mustache. That takes some pretty manly style.

He's also got a wife and FIVE KIDS plus another one on the way.

Any questions?

And on top of all that, you can always trust a man in a plaid shirt. Even if it's a slightly hideous plaid shirt. It still counts.

Happy "Hunky Bass Player Day" to you!!!

ps go check out the WATCH SOME MUSIC page (top of the blog here) and watch the Knights Of Cydonia video. It's awesome. And Chris has a big cowboy mustache and is wearing a black T shirt and a cowboy hat. I'm just saying.

Here's a weird thing about having an office job.

2011-09-22T08:57:00.000-07:00

This week I get clean BEFORE going to work instead of needing a shower AFTER working.

Here's another weird thing: I'm getting paid to pick up the phone. It took me until two hours into the first shift before I realized that I actually... kind of...hate picking up the phone.

But it's not calling for me and they don't want anything from me and I only have to push a few buttons to send the phone call to where it needs to go. And they're paying me. So it's okay.

Another weird thing: I'm answering phones while the salesmen are selling cars. You know what? I could do what they do. I could sell pickup trucks. I love trucks. You might already know that about me. I love all trucks. GMC, Dodge, Ford. All the trucks.

I could sell you an F-150.

One of the guys decided I'm his good luck charm because I referred to him as The F-150 Guy after he sold one, and then went and sold another one the next day.

See? I'm good with trucks.

And here's one thing that I don't think is weird at all:

I am wearing platform wedge slingback black and white gingham shoes to work.

Now you might thing it's weird, because I wear boots a lot, and I feel like me when I'm in boots. But I'm wearing high heels and I'm walking in them. I am driving my truck in them. I put 'em on and I leave 'em on. Because you know what? I COMMIT.

Also, they're GINGHAM. What good country girl doesn't love gingham eh?

And they were only twelve bucks. So I gotta wear them to justify that huge extravagant expense.

Well, that and we've only got a few nice days left before fall hits hard, so I'd like to be able to see my toes. Soon it'll be woolly socks and I won't see my toes until, like, next May.

It's kind of interesting, doing this little temporary gig. It's been about eighteen years since I had a job like this. I do believe this could all come out in a book someday. That's what happens with fiction writers. Everything in life becomes potential fiction fodder.

I don't have any Receptionist Clothes.

2011-09-16T16:26:00.000-07:00

I'll have to fake it when I go answer phones next week.

Hey I know it's weird, me in an.... office... but they're paying me so, okay!

In my other job, I haven't started primer because I have to sand the sponge painting off the walls in the bathroom, which I'm still cleaning daily. Just because. The amount of nail holes in the walls is staggering. What the heck was he doing up there in that apartment? Actually I don't wanna know.

In my other, other job, my horses haven't been doing much this week. I'm not sure if it's a good thing I had other work this week because I didn't have much for lessons, but I guess the timing's good.

And in my other, other, other job, I'm just burning away on my novel-in-progress like, one paragraph per day. Okay that's not true. It's more like one sentence at a time. But it's in progress and I'm still fired up for it!

Also I apparently still have children!

Might not be able to blog much, but then again, I might surprise you. I do that sometimes.

Hand me a friggen paint brush and STAND THE HECK BACK.

2011-09-14T19:43:00.000-07:00

It's like this: things to pay for.

I'm starting my second painting job of the last two weeks. This one is cool because I'm being given a lot more control of the project. I get to have canvas drop sheets instead of plastic! Plastic is slippery and therefore not good. Unfortunately I also have to do all the prep work. I hate prep. Gahhhhh. I hate sanding. It's messy and bad for my wrists. But it's so worth it. Putting a paint job on a crappy wall sucks.

Also I have to scrape a layer of filth off the whole place. Did the guy clean at all, even once, in the four years he lived in that apartment???? (shudder) I can hardly even talk about it.

I fork up about a hundred pounds of horse manure every day and I'm cool with it but I'm horrified by the bathroom in the apartment I'm painting. Makes sense.

OH AND ALSO I've got this new writing project, which I am totally AMPED about! I have to squeeze in time to write! Looks like somebody else is going to be sweeping the floors and vacuuming around here too. Of course, this fantastic writing project is not paying very well. At this time.

I can hardly talk about it.

In other news: all three of my horses have physical issues of some kind, but it's all being taken care of. Copper is putting weight on That Leg, and although she's really short-strided on that side, she doesn't appear to be bothered by it. Oakie needs some exercise. And Phoenix is too fat. Ha!

Alright. That was your news report. I'm not really sure why I felt compelled to share all that. Oh - I know- because when I blog again and can't put a sentence together and read much write spell tired good babble droop, then you'll know why.

When it comes to this little horse, any shred of logic I've ever had disappears.

2011-09-10T07:39:00.000-07:00

So I've been really busy this week.

My tiny mare came up lame last weekend. She walked past me Saturday evening totally normal, got a drink at the trough, and came back with her right hind sort of... dangling. She's had her hind legs wrapped up good and tight since then.

And she's walking on it. Trotting and loping too, actually.

The thing about Copper is that she's been a strange combo of fragile and resilient her whole life. And we are stupefyingly in love with her. She's so cute. Look at her up there. Everything about her is short and compact. We joke that she's got a big head compared to the rest of her, but that big head is little compared to any other horse. I buy stuff for her in the pony section which suits me fine, cuz I buy my clothes in the kid section sometimes.

The kid section? She belongs to my kids. This summer we've had to finally admit that they have both grown out of her. We knew it would happen. So what? She stays. I'm not outgrowing her. She's got a home for life. If I'm the only person who ever gets on her back from now on, that's fine.

I decided years ago I'd probably not use her in lessons, partly because she is ridiculously sensitive and responsive. I can stop her without touching the reins, just a shift of my weight and a quiet "whoa." She moves from a walk to a jog and back again the same way, just with me shifting my seat. Having an inexperienced rider would frazzle her. She kind of spoiled my kids, having learned to ride with her, because they can't get why every horse isn't like that. I'm not saying she's easy to ride; you have to be on top of every cue or she gets confused. She's so eager to please she almost turns herself inside out to get it right for you. But it's not work to ride her.

I'd also not use her for lessons because she's had problems with That Leg before.

I mentioned fragile and resilient.

She's had all kinds of crap to deal with. As a weanling, the other two foals in the herd only let her up to the feeder for leftovers. Last year I figured out that her new bitchy snappy behaviour was due to a stomach ulcer. She got a nail in her hoof a couple years ago and before that had to have stitches in her forehead. (See why I'm paranoid about sharp things???) And before that, when she was a yearling, soon after she arrived at the Ol Homestead here, she had a broken leg.

Yep. Right hind.

We fixed her up the best we could. Our vet couldn't promise anything. We knew that... and decided to keep her anyways. She healed up quite well, and I went ahead and saddle broke her when she was three, always keeping an eye on That Leg. She didn't take a wrong step, although her back end has always been a little... swishy. I don't know how else to describe it. She would probably have a little swagger anyways but it seems like her stride is just a tiny bit shorter on one side. But then, I admit that I am looking for it. Always looking for it.

We have enjoyed nine years with her. She taught my kids to ride, which I would never recommend - young green horse plus little kids? Nooooo! - but under my watchful eye they all thrived together.

For nine years, it never left my mind that she could possibly end up really, terribly lame again. I was always looking for that limp. Time bomb.

All the crap this horse had dealt with, and she just goes with it. She still wants her forehead rubbed. She's always happy to see us.

When Dr Rob the Vet came to look at her on Tuesday, after I'd been wrapping her for a few days, I opted not to do the $200 Xray. What difference does it make if it's cracked or sprained? The treatment is the same: wrap her legs, keep her still as possible, mild exercise, a little bute for painkiller, some mineral ice gel to help with the swelling... and no promises.

I lived over an hour away the first time she was damaged, and had two small kids, and couldn't do much to care for her. Copper got put on stall rest and got walked twice a day, usually by my dad. Dr Glen the Vet was amazed at how this little yearling filly walked at the end of the lead rope with her head level, well behaved after being in her stall all day. I wasn't there: no bandages and no fussing. Now, at the age of ten, I don't know if she'll heal as well as she did then. I'm cautiously optimistic.

Part of our decision all those years ago to give her a chance, was that we would NEVER sell her. I mean, you could tell a buyer that she has a healed injury and should not be worked hard - no jumping, no barrel racing - and after she appeared sound, it might be, oh heck, she's fine, let's take her to the rodeo, and then a few months or weeks or years later she's ruined and suffering. It didn't matter because the kids wouldn't consider selling her in any case. But, we also had to think about... the end. I told the kids she might not live to be an old horse. If she is suffering and I can't help her, we have to make The Hard Decision.

I don't wanna talk about that right now. Like I said, cautiously optimistic.

Look at the muscles on this little fart.

If she hadn't been injured, I think she would have been one hell of a competition horse. She is blindingly fast, and can turn on a dime. Just plant one hind hoof and pivot. (Hmmm. Wonder how she hurt herself this time?)

I've been putting her in a stall overnight, with the top of the barn door open so she can get lots of fresh air and see the other two, who are in the corral overnight. During the day, they go in the pasture and she stays in the corral. They have to be in her sight or she'll go berserk. She can't function unless she knows where they are. She'd hurt herself worse if she's left to spin and fret in her stall, worrying about the other two.

This way she can see them, without them pushing her around, and also get some exercise as she walks in the corral.

I make no money with this horse. I can't afford to spend a whole lot on these horses at all but it's especially hard to justify for the little pet here. I don't care. For the cost of a few bags of shavings to bed her stall, I'll stable her at night for stall rest. It doesn't cost anything but time to wrap those legs until I see the limp go away. Maybe it's a stupid priority to keep feeding her when she's not the most useful horse in the herd, when I've got debts to pay and a truck that needs work, a husband who needs to go to the dentist and kids who need to go to college some day. I don't know... My farmer's daughter practicality tells me it's foolish. My foolish heart tells me I can't let her down. She deserves to be taken care of.

...those blinky eyes and brown ears, and that soft pink muzzle...

Oh hell, what's a few hundred bucks a year for a couple hoof trims, a few squirts of dewormer and a rabies shot?

She's priceless.

The Last Gasp of Summer

2011-09-06T20:21:00.000-07:00

That's always how the long weekend feels.

Jethro and I took the kids and the dog up to Lake Huron.

Everything cooled suddenly the last couple days, which was a bit of an adjustment after a pretty darn hot summer. On our way up Highway 8, just as we went through Seaforth, we got pelted with rain. I mean, raindrops this big (hold your thumb and forefinger together), and with great force. It turned into an epic experience... we were listening to Apocalyptica, and it was during "Helden" which is actually a cover of David Bowie's "Heroes" but trust me, waaaay heavier (seriously? The frontman from Rammstein singing in German over cello metal? YES) when the torrential downpour happened. The storm was about as long as the song, and peaked when the song was ripping through a climactic thunder clap of shrieking distorted strings. You know what it was? It was awesome. Truly. Then on our way out of town, the clouds sort of gave up and the sun came out - just as the song was ending! I know- TIMING. It was incredible.

Annyong declared that she would totally remember that for the rest of her life.

We went to Goderich.

A couple weeks ago, a tornado took out the town square.

I didn't want to be a gawker. But Jethro insisted on putting some money into the local economy... tourism will be taking a beating these days. He just wanted to show Goderich a little love.

It's so easy to love.

In the background, you can see the part of the salt mine that didn't get hit by the twister.

Geez, Bucky is getting shoulders on him like his father.

Annyong and Bucky both had to check out the playground. Why not, nobody else was.

And here in the background you can see where the twister did hit the salt mine. Looks like it's been crumbling for 30 years. Nope. Less than ten minutes. Less than five, probably.

We never know when Nature is gonna come along and kick us in the teeth.

Count your blessings every time you're spared the wrath.

She even takes arty pictures with an iPhone.

Eventually we stopped by for a nice meal at a place with an outdoor patio, where The Pug was sort of allowed but not really. He had to stay outside the fence, where he alternated between crying for Mommy (that'd be me) and greeting restaurant patrons as they came by the front entrance.

I leaned over and stuffed fries into his mouth. Look, I never do that, okay? But they were really tasty, and he'd been quiet for a few minutes, so I figured, aw heck. Last weekend of summer. Have a fry.

Seeing the damage in the town was...heartbreaking... yet hopeful. There are so many trees lying on their sides, with their roots gone vertical because of the way they were lifted out of the earth. Trees with nothing left but spikes of thick branches because the funnel cloud stripped everything else away. Piles of rubble stacked neatly at the curb.

Windows boarded over with plywood, spray painted with messages:

Thank you volunteers

We will rebuild

We'll be "The Prettiest Town in Canada" again!

All choked up.

I wouldn't have recognized the town square, which was all fenced off. It didn't look right. Totally unfamiliar. It wasn't just the boarded up windows and missing walls. I couldn't quite place the wrongness... it was the trees. They're gone. The inner square was like a park, and all of those trees are gone. What's left of them has been cut up and taken away already, probably done while the hydro crews worked. It was eery.

Tornadoes are so unfair.

But it's amazing how people can band together, help each other, and overcome. Do some grieving, and get to work. Move on.

Summer's gone.

This morning, I sent my younguns off to school.

Every year I take a picture on the first day of school. This is her last year. Oh my gosh.

I think next weekend we'll take the pool down...

Swagger and Spit: A Hick Chic Guide

2011-09-02T20:49:00.000-07:00

Cute Stuff, who lived a few houses away from us when we lived in town, brought his Mom out to the Ol' Homestead for a visit this week.

Cute Stuff knows where I keep the extra cowboy boots in the barn.

Here we are going out to catch a horse. He is wearing cowboy boots. I am wearing chicken-white legs.

He had to swagger. It's what you do when you're rocking the cowboy boots.

The kid's a natural.

Cute Stuff started talking about spurs. He asked me if I have spurs. Yeah I have spurs. His green eyes got real big. Do you USE them? Not very often. Only on Phoenix. Cute stuff had this idea that I get on my horse and jab him in the guts repeatedly. So I asked him where he's getting his info from and got reminded that I am totally unhip when he told me about a video game called Red Dead Redemption.

Yay, another source of western stereotype misinformation. But guess what - Cute Stuff can now tell the vid-kids that he has actually worn spurs. For real, dude.

I wouldn't let him ride my horses with spurs. Nobody uses spurs on them but me, and no, I don't stab them. They're just reminders, which I explained to him. But heck, spurs are good for photo- ops!

And while we're at it, let's get you a hat.

Mine's already too small for him.

I handed him Jethro's. He set my teensy hat on top of my head while I buckled up my spur straps.

This led to a very important lesson: How To Wear A Stetson. As you can see in the above pic, he first put it on set back on his head. Can't do that. You'll look like a NOOB, I told him. Dead giveaway that you're new at this.

You gotta hold the crease in your hand like this and then set the sweatband, that leather strip inside the hat, right on your forehead. Then slide it down onto your head. It's gotta be right on your forehead. And don't jam it down by grabbing the brim by the sides. And it's a real Stetson so careful, cowpoke.

He got it down right quick. Like he's been wearing it for years.

Like a cow-boss.

Seriously, he wasn't even posing for that picture.

Of course, once you've got the hat, the boots, the spurs and the swagger, all that's left (besides the horse) is the spit. It's dusty out there. You gotta spit.

And of course it's best if your thumbs are hooked in your belt buckle. If you had a belt buckle.

SPURS.

And attitude.

Hadda hock up a few good loogies. (Do you call 'em loogies out west???)

He's very good at spitting. I hardly had to teach him anything.

I'm telling you, even if he only gets out here once a year, it's worth it. He needs to reach his Inner Cowboy.

And we have one more horse to cuddle now.

The spurs came off. We swapped out the Stetson for a Troxel (what, it's Ontario, we can't cowboy-up all the time. And also legally I have to slap a helmet on anybody under 18) and put Cute Stuff on a horse. He still looks cool.

Look at him, sitting there like he does this all the time.

He'll grow into the boots and the hat.

And I've got bigger boots, so he can keep visiting for years to come!

bizarre gardening accidents: they're not just for rock stars anymore.

2011-08-30T06:47:00.000-07:00

Warning: This post contains gross things like blood and barf and broken bones. Also, possible Gaga content. Readers are advised to use their own discretion and look for Spinal Tap references. Also: LINKS.

Well I survived the First Aid course this past weekend.

It was a re-certification. Mine expired in February and I have to have it in order to be a riding instructor.

When I took the course the first time, in 2008, I had a pretty serious panic attack. With that kind of precedent, I was a little nervous going in. At least I could assure myself that I do have a clue what I'm doing now. I've been teaching for two years (not much but it counts) and I've had time to build up some confidence. I'm quite sure if you were riding my horse and you fell off, which believe me, I would do everything to avoid, I could scrape you off the ground and put you back together until the professionals got there! But like I said, I am on a mission to never have to use my First Aid training.

I left home at 7:30 am and got home at 6:30 am. In between, I had 40 minutes of driving altogether, about 20 minutes of break time, and an hour for lunch. So I'm not good with numbers, but I think that means I did 9 hours of All The Awful Ways People Can Almost Die And What I Must Do To Not Have Them Die.

This could also be known by its alternate title, What To Do When A Person's About To Die A Horrible Accidental Death.

Or, the whole thing can be referred to as just, Boneheaded Injuries To Fix.

Being me, I can't stop my brain from taking off in a different direction. Rolling an unconscious victim into "recovery position" makes me think of that time on the beach when I was 13 and my buddy was kinda drunk and kept barfing, so the other buddies kept rolling him over, because this recovery position will prevent a person from choking on their own barf, which makes me think not only of drunk buddies but also the amount of rock stars who die of choking on their own barf, or even, somebody else's vomit, which is even more complicated, because you might not ever find out whose barf it was. You can't dust for vomit.

I'm not kidding, after about Hour 6 this all starts to morph away from Serious into Unbelievable and all the way into Ridiculous. By that point, I'm looking at videos of people hacking sharp things into themselves (accidentally) and I'm holding back the giggles. Or maybe that's just me being weird and nobody else in the room felt the same way.

The creepy little plastic rubber mannequin torso starts to morph too. I'm bitching at the thing for having such a stupid little mouth. How the hell am I supposed to pretend to scoop a grape out of there to stop the choking, when I can't even get the mouth open? I'm pressing on its chest, counting compressions, and thinking about how a real person's chest wouldn't squeak like that... or at least it shouldn't...

Try as I did, I could not think up a good name for the creepy torso mannequin.

(and now I find myself wondering if that term will ever come up on an internet search. THAT would be weird.)

I was one of 12 people pretending to get hurt, grievously injured I could say, and then taking turns pretending to save each other. It really reminded me of my son Bucky at 4 years old, wearing a plastic fireman's hat, dragging a wagon up and down the lane, between little orange pylons, clutching a Cabbage Patch baby under his arm. He'd set the baby on a step ladder, then with the most serious face in the world, go Rescue The Baby. He'd put the doll under the wheel of his tricycle, then go Rescue The Baby. We were talking about that a few weeks ago and giggling about, you know, GOOD TIMES in our past. Bucky's 15 now. He has a babysitting gig. He shook his head and said, "Man, that kid got into a lot of trouble."

Ahhhhh yes. People get themselves into a lot of trouble.

I remarked to one of the other girls, during the bandaging part of the course, that I've spent long hours bandaging horse legs after an injury. She asked if horses get hurt a lot. I rolled my eyes and said yes. What do they hurt themselves on, she asked with surprise. My answer? EVERYTHING. They're worse than toddlers. They see a nail sticking out of the fence on the other side of the pasture and they take a flying run to impale themselves on it. You spend a day looking for every sharp protuberance in their environment, and they kick themselves in the bone with the other hoof. They cannot be trusted.

Humans aren't much friggen better, though.

Just when you think you've seen enough video dramatizations of people having heart attacks, or brain implosions, or lawn rake fractures and garden hose strangulations, I dunno, it started to blend after two hours, you get to learn about how trying to help can make a person's problems worse. Then you start thinking, what have I gotten myself into here I am never going to teach another riding lesson because if I person trips over a dragging latigo strap on the way back into the barn carrying a saddle they'll break every bone in their spine let alone if the person actually falls off my horse which I don't want to happen screw it I'm never leaving the house ever again.

By the time we got to the part where we got to watch videos of people slicing off appendages - oh lucky us eh? - I was finished. I couldn't stop the howls. It was like watching Tim Burton's Sweeney Todd. You know it's fake. You know it's all buckets of red paint. You know it's all ACTING. But when that fake red-paint-blood comes squirting out of the fake-wax-arm, I'm the one right up at the front (better to pay attention, right?) cringing my knees right up to chest, shrieking with nervous laughter, wiggling sideways in my chair, plastering my hands over my face. How embarrassing! I might as well be the chick in Grade 10 who pokes the formaldehyde frog in biology class, exclaims how gross it is, then pokes it again.

Seriously? How can I not laugh though. All I could think of was...

Do you believe this? Just call me Mr Butterfingers! This hardly EVER happens... to me....

You have to watch this youtube video. Please. I beg you. If you haven't seen it before, you won't truly be able to understand why I was unable to control the giggles. If you have seen it and you get it, oh heck just watch it again. It'll feel like you're 14 again. Just watch it.

So yeah. That was this year's First Aid Course experience. If I'd had a panic attack instead of a laugh attack, maybe people would feel sorry for me instead of thinking I'm rude and insensitive. Ohhhh well.

Then I didn't watch the MTV awards. Dammit, I always say I'm going to but then I don't. This time it's because the Canadian Government has decided we all have to watch high definition digital broadcast, because we need to see every forehead wrinkle on every actor or newscaster over 16, or something, and they've been running commercials all year telling us that if you watch TV over cable or satellite, but if you're still getting signal off your rabbit ears antenna THAT WOULD BE YOU, HEIDI'S FAMILY then you have to either spend out for a new TV or spend out for a little plastic box that will take four weeks for a brilliant recording engineer to set up leaving me to wonder how the hell all the normal people do this and why the hell do we have six remotes in front of Grandma's couch now....

But I found out the next day that I'm not the only chick with a split personality...

Heck if people wanna speculate that she's a guy, why not mess with their heads a little? I guess? I mean, I didn't watch it, but the pictures are hilarious.

Heck who am I to criticize? I've done it. Except it was HALLOWEEN.

If you wanna get the highlights, you have to just do what I do and go read Go Fug Yourself. They get all the good pix and they're WAYYYYY FUNNIER 'N I AM.

I can't... I have to go catch three horses who need their hooves trimmed. Sigh. I know. Busy life.

I think it's funny when the dog farts and then looks at his butt like he has NO IDEA HOW THAT HAPPENED!

2011-08-26T20:22:00.000-07:00

Of course, being a pug, he looks confused most of the time anyways.

Bye, Jack.

2011-08-24T21:12:00.000-07:00

I kind of liked Jack Layton, at far as liking a politician goes. I gave him nicknames. I do that. SILVER JACK! Also sometimes SMILIN' JACK or even SMUG JACK. Or just, THE MOUSTACHE.

I said things like, "You can trust a guy who picks a style of facial hair and sticks with it for decades."

And, "A man who keeps a moustache even when it's out of fashion is a guy who is not afraid of commitment."

My in-lawrs are big NDP people. They're New Democrat Party all the way. I haven't talked to them since Jack's passing on Monday. I don't belong to any party. I often have a very hard time taking the whole thing seriously. I'm the kind of slacker who just wants to go ride my horses and wish everybody would get along. I don't like to think about the uneasy relationship between farmers and government. But I vote. Even if I'm reduced to simply voting for the person with the least amount of bullcrap, or the one who smiles the most (while appearing genuine about it) I always vote.

In my lifetime, there have been two national leaders who had a standout personality (whether or not it was likeable). They were both from Quebec and were both real flamboyant characters. Personality or not, I didn't expect Jack to become Prime Minister. Being from Quebec might not have been enough. I think he was too much of a s*** disturber and rebel. Maybe even too honest. He 'fessed up to things rather than verbally backpedal, and what kind of politician does that? He was leading the underdog NDP. Besides, how many world leaders have worn successful facial hair? That would have been pretty cool, I think.

I won't get into details. There are news websites where you can read all about it. Everybody remarks on how tragic it is that he took his party to their biggest triumph in history, after beating cancer and campaigning on a broken hip, and died 16 weeks later, from another kind of cancer, one that didn't care who wins what.

But, the one good thing about his death is that he had time to write his last words.

Well, the house didn't get blown down this weekend.

2011-08-22T09:09:00.000-07:00

Got away with it just a little longer.

Maybe I'm a pessimist, but I have this thing where I figure I'm not so special that only good things will happen to me. Why wouldn't a tornado rip through the farm? It's happened not far from here. To perfectly decent people. It could happen. Lots of awful things happen to nice people and it could all get inflicted on me too.

Yesterday a tornado hit the town of Goderich Ontario, a beautiful little town on the shore of Lake Huron. I love that whole area and have wished at times that my Mennonite ancestors had put down their incredibly strong tough roots there instead of Amish-Mennonite Central here. Not that I don't like the area I grew up in. I love it. Beautiful farm country. It's just that it's also beautiful farm country out there, plus BEACH. Also, real estate prices are waaaay lower.

So basically I have a real appreciation for that area and felt a little sick when I heard on the news that Goderich's gorgeous town square has been reduced to rubble. Giant trees, stripped, gracious Victorian buildings shattered. Over twenty injuries and one death. People left homeless or worse. I fear that shocked and frightened state.

I feel really awful for the people whose lives have just been changed by that twister.

The sky clouded over in the afternoon, and those of us who were at home on the farm here started looking out the windows anxiously when the wind picked up. When I say that, I mean, ME, I was looking out the windows, and by wind I mean so strong the willow trees were bent over. We opened windows to let the air pass through. Houses implode when they're shut up tight against that violent wind. Although I have a feeling a tornado doesn't care whose windows are open. I was looking for sickly green in the sky, things blowing through the air that shouldn't be there. My kids told me I was paranoid. It occurred to me that really I was just dreading going into the cellar for shelter, because the cellar is damp and icky and really unpleasant. Plus Jethro can't stand up straight in there, the ceilings are so low.

We got lucky (again) and didn't have to run down to the cellar to save our lives.

I figured we were safe once the rain started lashing down. Relief. The horses had been out grazing like nothing weird was going on... that alone sort of made me feel like we'd be okay. Maybe I'm all wrong about this but I figure if they are acting weird then we're in big trouble.

By evening the air was all cooled off and you'd never know a storm had just whipped through.

Another weekend without being taken out by a natural disaster. Yay.

Don't know about you but I'd like some JOHNNY TIME.

2011-08-19T10:24:00.000-07:00

I will never make enough money teaching riding lessons to justify building an indoor arena.

2011-08-16T15:43:00.000-07:00

Yeah, whatevs man. If it rains torrentially it just means we stay in the barn and learn about latigo knots and the intricacies of wrapping a horse's legs.

After an extremely dry July, we've been getting some rain. The grass is green again, and we don't have little sand twisters all over the yard from the wind blasting across the corral. Riding in there doesn't kick up so much dust you can hardly see 30 ft. The drainage pipe/ gravel/ sand combo seems to be doing its job, taking the water away to let the surface dry and firm up.

I have one student this year.

Luckily, she is my favourite student.

I got off to a slow late start. I tell myself it'll be okay. I'll advertise, I'll spread the word that I'm open for business. People will drive down the road and see us riding. It'll be okay.

But I know this little horse business of mine won't support the land necessary to run it.

My goal is to have the horses paying their own way and not have to ask my husband to pay them. My next goal is to be able to sit down at the table in September and write out cheques for all those pesky school things. You know the deal. Kid comes home after the first day with five sheets of paper telling me to fork out for photography supplies and upcoming field trips and next year's yearbook. Last year I did that. Everything was paid on the second day of school. It's not looking good for this year... so far...

I'll give myself a break though, and work towards improving what I've got.

I ride almost every day.

Outside.

I've got a killer farmer tan. Brown shoulders and lily-white legs.