Our old barn! Musicians! Lights! Cameras! MUSIC VIDEO!!!!

Yesterday was the most amazing day -- combining some of my favourite things in the world -- our old, crooked, magnificent barn, and ROCKING YOUR FACE OFF.

Also, cameras and lights, and a bunch of very cool people that I enjoyed having on the property for a whole day. What an experience!  I've been saying for years that our barn would make a fantastic location for a music video, with all those dark spooky corners and cobwebs.  It has a special kind of scary lurking in all the cracks and bumps in the walls.  

Courage My Love are hard working and talented band from Kitchener Ontario, and through modern magical connections of social networking they ended up thrashing in the dirt and dust at the Ol Homestead.

How perfect that this band needed a location, a week after my ol man swept up corner the right size for a drum kit and two amps, but before I got around to clearing out all the dramatic and photogenic cobwebs!

My parents got to meet the band and their producer and manager when we all got home from church, and I thought it was so sweet that my mom and dad were all happy about having a drum kit set up in their barn on a Sunday afternoon.  It was so loud you could hear the playback in the house.  The dust was shaking off the beams and the horses were running around outside the corral trying to see what the big noise was all about.  IT WAS AWESOME.   I must have been like a little kid, walking around grinning all afternoon.  And there was my mother, smiling away, "Oh they're all so nice!  Such nice polite friendly people!"  Well she's absolutely right about that.  Those nice kids are going to make her barn look like the most terrifying place on earth. Awwwww!

The bass player set up a nice little display of my various precious artefacts and antiques.  We just went around picking stuff up, the rustier the better, and now I feel pretty smug about my hoarding tendencies. Like all this time I was saving up junk that would some day look creepy and threatening under the right lighting.  Of course.  

On top of that, my daughter was home for the day with two of her fellow photography students.  What a rich experience to be there while a music video was being made. For me it was pure fun, but for my kids, growing up around the recording process, and now going into the media business, it was an extension of their lifelong education.  I was grateful that my kids got observe.

Days like this remind me that things are a little different here at the Ol Homestead.  Our place is crazy.  It's magnetic.  We've got everything.  The neighbours must be accustomed by now to teenagers with cameras running around in wedding dresses and skeleton tights, or gas masks or whatever got into their heads.  Well it got ratcheted up for real, with a villain slinking up the lane beside the barn in the dark, dragging something through the gravel.  (You'll see!!!)

I can hardly wait to see this video.  It'll probably scare the snot outta me.  In that special kind of scary!

Sweet ride eh?

My ol' man is nuts.  

It's friggen awesome.  

Good thing I moved some junk out of the way before the photo session in the hay mow...

Somebody had to do a photography assignment when she came home from college this weekend.

The Girl With Camera is making good use of the barn on the Ol Homestead.



Now tell me how much you love that coat.

Making the Most of an Old Barn, Part 2: Tack Room

Ok, honestly, you don't really NEED a tack room.  If you've got a saddle rack, a good bridle hook, and maybe a shelf to put your grooming stuff, you're fine.  Y'know, maybe a trunk to store some things in like a set of saddle bags, or your first aid kit, would be handy.

Unless you're anything like ME in which case you're a hardcore tack junkie and have a few decades (since childhood) of collecting up any piece of gear that is horse related!

Buckets and trunks and bottles!

I have such a practical justification for it now though -- I am in the horse business.  I teach people how to ride horses.  Of course, this means I need to have a variety of saddles to fit both horse and rider, as well as different bridles for different jobs, and... all kinds of things that are just really important.  This means I have to have a decent place to keep all this stuff and it has to be neat and organized.  I can no longer get away with sharing my saddle rack with a Honda ATV and a 1972 Buick Skylark.

We had to pull her out of the barn with a tractor.  This is what you'd call "Barn Fresh" if you're into Parts Chasing.  The first car I owned came to me in similar condition but that's a whole other book.  

For a few years I've made do with a corner of the barn which I partitioned off with a couple sheets of pegboard.  It did the job okay, but the lack of proper walls meant less wall space for storage.  What with the south wall actually being a set of barn doors (nice gaps between the planks for ventilation right?) it gets pretty cold in there in the winter.

Here you can see in through the open barn doors.

A little closer up,  you can see through the doorway of the tack room into the open shed.  I tie the horses there to saddle  them up before a ride.  

Also, it was crowded once I got myself and a student and a parent all trying to get out of each other's way so we can hang a cinch or saddle pad.

I solved that floor problem by shoving the big saddle rack over it.  But then it made a tight fit in the room.

Larry doesn't care where I put the saddle racks as long as he has a nice place to snooze.

A few weeks ago we decided to build a new room.  We don't know how long we'll be staying here, but in the short term it'll be a nicer place to work over winter, since I'll likely be doing more indoor unmounted lessons when the weather isn't pleasant.  Also in the long term, any improvement done to the barn benefits my dad, so it's all good.

An old barn is wonderful because of those huge beams and the stone foundation.  It has a vibe best described with words I often cringe at, words like, rustic and quaint.  I like to use the word honest.  It's an honest barn. It has no pretensions.

Without going too far into details of the actual construction (because that would be a whole other book and I'm not the one to write that one) we've been bracing up some of the beams with new jack-posts, and a couple new 6x6 beams to help out the old ones.  Apparently we are putting up "load bearing" walls. This is a good opportunity to make sure the old building is solid and safe, and do our best to help it keep standing for maybe another century.

But this isn't going to be beautifully finished construction.  Part of that is our low-budget (um, NO-budget) plan, but also, I just don't see the point in building a room that looks newer and more expensive than the rest of the barn?  I mean, who are we trying to fool?  It will have walls made of re-used plywood and the whitewashed ancient wooden ceiling will be visible.

We're putting in a window - natural light!!!  

I do have fantasies of a tack room with tongue and groove panelling, in-floor heating, a hot water heater, a sink with a tap!  But that's not within my means.  There are some barns with such nice tack rooms, you could darn near live in it, but this gets into Equestrian Centre Training Facility Stable territory and that's not me.

For the next month or so, I'll be putting my brain to work on how I will set it all up, and is that ever fun.  I get to stand there in the barn, running my eyes over all my lead ropes and cinches and bridles, grooming boxes and saddle soap, feed bins and trunks full of kid-sized cowboy boots, visualizing the result: a nice tidy no-nonsense room to store all my horse equipment and teach a few unmounted lessons on days when it's too nasty outside to get on a horse and ride.

I'm glad I kept all the boots my kids grew out of.  They've come in handy since then, when a new rider doesn't have safe boots to wear.  

This is how it looks as of this writing.  That beam at the top of the pic will probably be the exterior wall; we might expand the open shed into the space I was standing to take the picture.  

(I won't be moving a couch in there, even though I'm sure the cats would loooove it!)

Them shiny new Ford trucks sure are pretty.

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.

A whole bunch of stuff that has nothing to do with anything. Or might.

It's like this: Horses Rock Stars Awards Shows Pug Novel-writing and Stuff.  Where do I start? Well, the water in the barn is frozen again.  I HATE when that happens but at least the trough is full.  Let's cheer up by looking at some barnyard winter pictures:

We're not working these days - which I think the horses might actually miss! - but they're getting lots of hay and pats and smooches.  

A reader sent me an email a few days back (Hi Lynn!) asking about good footing for an outdoor riding area.  The short answer is... I'm not sure.  I've been thinking about this for a couple years.  Next week I'll write a post about what I've come up with so far.  

Who watched the SAG AWARDS last weekend?  

No?

Heck that's okay.  I DID!  

I watch the awards, so you don't have to.  

It's just what I do, no need to thank.

DISAPPOINTING ROCK NEWS Part 1

Robert Plant was in Toronto 2 weeks ago.  And I was not.  Oh Robert.  When, when, will our paths meet again?  I can't friggin' believe I didn't catch this.  

Dang it.  

I won't give up hope!  As long as he keeps doing His Thing, which we can clearly see, He's Still Got IT, there is still a chance I'll get to see him!  And like, remember it this time.  

DISAPPOINTING ROCK NEWS Part 2

The White Stripes have called it quits. 

They're going to end on a good note rather than crank out a few crappy boring albums worth of dreck, then give up out of frustration. Good decision guys.  But nevertheless.

WAAAAAHHHHH!

SO glad we took the kids to see the a few years back.  That was worth it.  Two freaks on a stage making a lot of noise- that is just what a couple of pre-teens get into.  

I will miss their special brand of weirdness!  

At least Jack has other things going on, and always will.  

But yet again, waaaahhhhhh!

Ok, what else happened this week?  I bought pants.  They fit.  It snowed and now my Pug has to jump through the snow drifts, which is hilarious and darn near indescribable.  Trust me, it's funny.

I got rid of some more junk.  Why the hell did I think I'd need those glass jars after I moved?  Seriously, there's not a worldwide glass shortage happening.  Buh-bye junk.  

And the cat is taming up a little but she's still psycho. I adore her.  

Also I'm rewriting.  AGAIN.  But it's okay, and I'm actually... enjoying it!!!  From now on I shall introduce myself like this:

"Hello.  I'm Heidi, I'm a horsewoman and a re-writer."

On that happy note, I've worn my computer down to 11% battery and my butt's numb from sitting so long.  Git outta here and go do something!  Git!

TRUCKSICLE. Now with 100% More Heat!

Maybe I can survive winter now...

STUFF

Why do I have all this stuff?

This week I plan to go through a few boxes taking up room at the end of the upstairs hallway.  I'm tired of walking past the stack of stuff to get to the sewing room, which is the room with the closet I keep my clothes in, and is also stuffed full of boxes.

Do I really need it all?

And when we do find a home of our own... do I really want to lug all this crap into a cube van and into the house?

It amazes me that last year when I was packing up our belongings from our old house, I gave away, sold, junked, and otherwise got rid of, literally truck loads of stuff.  And yet it continues to lurk.

Maybe I'm just getting better at setting priorities when it comes to material possessions...

Me, My Truck, and the Very Difficult Decision

Today, I called the insurance broker and told her to take the coverage off my truck.

Because

I won't be driving it anymore


Because


of THIS.

THIS

is a real drag, a total bummer, a huge disappointment, a stupid mistake, and a sadness all rolled up into one expensive problem.

THIS  is a little car accident I had at the end of June.

We weren't hurt but the other car was finished.  Being a total tank, my truck got out still going down the road as straight as it ever did, but less functional with that side smashed in, and a whole lot uglier.

I didn't blog about it because... well, come on.  You can see why, right?  Who the heck wants to admit on the internet that after 5 years of driving this brute that a stupid lane change ruined everything?  I sure didn't feel like putting that up on the internet.  I was going to fix it.  Well not me personally.  I am not good at fixing things.  I'm good at bodywork but I don't do it anymore. We figured we'd get a gently used door and panel, since parts for these trucks are easy to find, and after some hammering and welding and likely some swearing, we'd be able to get into and out of the truck from the passenger side again.

I drove it like this all summer.

Feeling even more paranoid than usual.

Telling myself we'd fix it.  Just not yet.  Soon.

Here's the thing: I LOVE THIS TRUCK.  I know it's not really anything special but I totally dig it.  I love its bigness.  I love the way it sits with the ass end higher than the front.  I love the proportion of the long box and extended cab.  I love the split bench seat, love the backseat, love the big black steering wheel.  I love the 350 cubic inch displacement, all 8 cylinders worth.  I love that it's over 20 years old.  I love that it's mine.

Here's the other thing: it's got a lot of annoying little things wrong with it.  Door handles, turn signals, things lighting up on the dash that shouldn't.  Some rust has poked through. Now the only working door won't close right.

sigh.



And... THIS.

Add it all up and the result is:  it's not worth fixing.

So I'm sad.

And slightly weirded out by how much importance I place on it... as part of my identity.

You know.  I'm the small woman with the big truck.  I'm the girl with the gnarly old beast that would make many drivers quake.  I can parallel park this sumbitch.  I can look down, literally and figuratively, on all those normal people who drive, y'know, cars.


I'm also ridiculously sentimental.  I have a hard time letting go of things.  I tend to name machines and other inanimate objects.  With me, it's not just a truck, it's a friend!


Well, so long friend.  There will be no rock-n-roll flat black paint job in the future, with bright shiny red rims to contrast, which is just as well since my ol' man scoffs at my big awkward truck and also I don't do bodywork anymore.  There will be no fixed up dash.  No new tailgate handle.

As of today, she's off the road.


even though I'll keep it around

cuz the township says we're allowed to keep a project or two

And since all the scrappers are gone now

I can just hide it under a tree

in case I need parts

like those nifty taillights

or the frame hitch

for my next truck....

The scrapper has left the property...

After four months of sweat and tanks of gas to get to the scrap yard... propane for the cutting torch... chains on the tractor... every scrapper in the yard is gone.  The yard isn't empty exactly, because the horse trailer project still waits for us and the old Pontiac waits for a new owner.  In the last week, the last two old Ford trucks went to the Great Scrapyard in the Sky.  

I won't say I hated to see them go.  My ol' Man's exact words were "Not a minute too soon."  He's been feeling the pressure to get the yard emptied.  Truth is, there is something ridiculously sad about sending a wreck off to scrap.

This had been a useful truck up until a few years ago.  When its owner got out of the snowplowing biz, he brought the two black Fords out here with the intention of doing some kind of project.  But good intentions are hard to keep up with once jobs and kids and mortgages happen to a guy.  He chose to spend his time and money on his wife and kids instead of difficult old trucks.  He made the right decision.  It's hard to let go though, and I know that.  The transmission from this one and the engine from the other truck are still here; he'll be picking them up soon.  Once a gear head, always a gear head.  

I grew up with stuff like this in the backyard.  Only back then it was stuff from the 50s and 60s.  

I knew that it was, and is, actually possible to take an old wreck and turn it into something that can be driven.  It's just that it takes huge amounts of work and money and time.  I'm not willing to sacrifice any of those things anymore.  

But I'm still fascinated by an old truck with a rotten floor.

In 1981, you could still get a truck with a plain bench seat, rubber floor mats instead of carpet, and a steel headliner.  It was practical and all about WORK.  No cupholders, nothing... fancy.

Although it still boasted some mighty spiffy fake woodgrain!!

(Notice the CB holder beside the radio.  As my kids would say, "old School.")

Yeah I'm sure in its day it was a bitchin truck, with that row of clearance lights on the roof and whip antennas, it was a mean ol' 4x4.

So anyways, it and its slightly newer brother, languishing behind the hill for years, are outta here.  

It's the end of an era.

(And the beginning of a nice, empty piece of land at the back of the property.)

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

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

THIS IS WHAT 26 TIRES IN A PICKUP TRUCK LOOK LIKE

Any questions?

I have uncovered the breeding grounds of the SCRAP TIRES!

They are extremely sneaky creatures, but my eradication mission is surging forward with great success.


Here we observe five magnificent adult tires in a resting position.  More accurately, four decent specimens and one gnarly individual which the others appear to be protecting.

On closer inspection, they are all well past their prime.  There will be no mercy shown them when I cull this herd!!  (The lone tire on the ground is actually a domesticated tire which is used as a bumper guard on the tractor.  Best if you don't ask, or second guess my counting skills.)

Once the tires have been removed from their rims, they will be loaded into my truck and shipped off to the place where junk tires go.  TO DIE.

Where do they all come from?  This is the question I'm regularly asked.  Even the guys at the disposal, the guys who know my dog on a first name basis, have asked me where all these tires come from.  Well there is really only one explanation, one which until last week was merely a theory and has now been proven.

They find their way into the long grass and MULTIPLY!  It's the only explanation that makes sense.  To keep the tire numbers down, the males and females would have to be carefully separated.

Clearly, for the past five or twenty years or so, the males and females have not been carefully separated at the Old Homestead.

The problem, however, is that the genders are incredibly difficult to tell apart.

Mike the Vet brought over a load of hay for us on the weekend.  (It's gotta be good hay if I buy it from the vet, right?)  As it turns out, Mike the Vet has had a small problem with pickup trucks breeding behind his barn.  But that's another story, another zoomophological expedition, another blog post.

Anyways.  We asked Mike the Vet how best to tell the males from the females, in order to keep the population down.  It doesn't really matter, since I fully intend to ERADICATE THE ENTIRE HERD but I was curious.

"Oh it's simple," he said.  "The females have a big hole in the middle."








I suspect Mike the Vet could be yankin' my chain here.


Tire reproduction appears to be a mystery.  I am working on a new theory that paired tires are not even necessary to create new ones.  Maybe it takes multiples of two, as pictured, which suggests that tires are not very choosy and do not mate for life.  I generally lean towards my first theory: tires do that asexual or whatever it is thing, like worms.

I'm pretty sure I'm right about this.  One tire left under a tree can sprout into three tires in less than a year.


My ol' man made a discovery in the bottom of the yard the other day.  He was weedwhacking, because I do NOT do any weedwhacking, what with it being loud, and with my hatred for the exhaust from stupid little engines. As he was trimming the long grass, he came across a nest of small tires!

Ha!  We've got them now!  Totally unfazed by their small size and diminutive cuteness, we moved them to a location more easily accessible by pickup truck.  

They will be taken off to the disposal yard before they mature and have a chance to spawn more!!

Don't look at me like that - it's not cruel.  They are not an endangered species.  At least not around here.

But they will be soon, as I continue on with my quest to make the Old Homestead into an Tire-Free zone.  After this, any strays will have to move on to a Wild Tire Sanctuary if they know what's good for them.

Alright, Car. Give it up... SPILL YER GUTS!

Yup.  Everything's completely normal around here.  

a blog post in list form: I would really like to tell you...

... about our little orange and white barn cat, Moe.  He dragged himself home - literally dragged, since his hind end is sort of not working - with a nasty wound on one hind leg.  After a vet visit, he's been recovering in a clean empty stall, purring happily whenever we go check on him and take care of him. He's not out of danger yet but we're all cheering for him.  He's amazing.

...why I'm so blasted busy these days.  But in between dump runs and laundry (why do dirty clothes breed so fast?) I find myself with hardly any time to do anything else.

...that it's okay to be this kind of busy, because it's all for a better future.  (Yeah, I'm totally serious!)

...about our sweet little mare.  She's got troubles of her own but man, I love that horse.

...all about that fantastic trip to Newfoundland we took in April, where we did cool stuff and met awesome people and enjoyed the unique culture.  I'd go back in a heartbeat.

...that I watched American Idol all season, most of it anyways. In between dashing down to the cellar to switch the laundry, rushing in from the barn, and other end-of-the-day stuff I caught enough of the show to know that this young woman (yeah I'm gonna say it) rocks my SOX.

... and that as much as I dig Ellen, I miss crazy Paula, and Simon is breaking my heart.  Darn it you sarcastic mean ol' Englishman.  

...everything.  I'd like to tell you everything.  But I have to sleep too.  

I'll tell you about these things.  I will.