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

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!

Is this what's meant by the term "Hot Mess?"

Because if so, I'm all for it.  I think "Hot Mess" should be part of our daily lives.  I think this is both HOT and A MESS which when put together is a good combination.

You might be asking why this is today's topic, other than the excuse to put up a picture of this handsome fella.

I'll tell you why.  It's because I've spent most of this week sweating.  It's not particularly hot here in my neck of the woods, but I've been sweating like a horse.  Trust me, that's a large amount of sweat.

The ongoing Clean-up Project here at the farm is at full-on, hardcore, ON A MISSION FROM GOD intensity.  I'm out there flinging bits of metal into the trailer, throwing bags of garbage into the truck, sweeping up ancient mouldy straw, and moving things I probably shouldn't be moving.  I'm wearing either coveralls or overalls, depending on the temperature.  I'm wearing a hat to cover my hair and keep it out of my eyes while I work.  I'm wearing a dust mask over my face; pretty much the majority of my child-sized face is covered.

The sweat drips soaks into the brim of my hat and then drips down my nose, inside that stupid mask, and trickles into my lips.  More drips go slithering down my neck.  I can feel my shirt getting wet under my coveralls.  

My ol' man swaggers along to give the go-ahead for stuff to get pitched out.  He does most of the heavy lifting.  He goes off to do a landscaping job between my trips to the dump.  And get this- he doesn't break a sweat.  I may look like him but I didn't inherit his coolness.

The mess in the barn slowly works itself out... engine blocks in the corner, bumpers and hoods up against the wall... Yeah, what else would be in the barn?  Geez, what kinda farm did you grow up on?

...and as the barn shapes up, I become the mess!  Dust of all kinds sticks to any bit of exposed skin.  I end up sticky and filthy.  

As I'm working away, those two words HOT MESS keep popping into my head.  I disgust myself though, so I'd rather think of THIS.

That's better.

Maybe I got it all wrong though. Should I be swinging a Telecaster instead of a shovel or broom?  Or backed up by a Marshall stack instead of an industrial lawn tractor?  I have gotten the plaid shirt thing right a couple times.  

I'll say this for sure: it looks a hell of a lot better out there in the barn. Neater, tidier, and dare I say, cleaner?  I'm even getting a little silly and doing a few things that make me happy, like setting a few pieces of chrome from an old car on a wall beam just because I like shiny things.  

I need to cheer myself up when I'm tired and dirty and damp under my work clothes.

Today I was driving to the dump in my pickup truck...

...with my window down, the passenger window down a crack, the dog beside me with his tongue hanging out, my new pink John Deere cap on my head and a can of no-name "Sprite" in one hand.  Under my feet were the Taz floor mats I found up in the barn (buddy who left 'em there ten years ago probably not gonna miss them I figure).  I was wearing a plaid shirt and rubber barn boots.  The sun was hot, the air was cool, and I had a truckload of garage and barn garbage and useless plastic car parts I just couldn't wait to get rid of.

I took stock of the whole thing and realized, "Holy crap, I really truly am a hick.  There is just no fighting it."


(Also not worth fighting: trying to decide if I'm going to write about our weekend in St John's Newfoundland, or musing about moving the last of our worldly possessions out of the mostly empty house that will only be ours for another four days.)

Turns out I drink a can of pop once year to remind myself I don't like it.  Scratching the top of the grinning Pug's head is more fun than steering with a can in hand anyways.

Throwing things into suitcases and getting ready to party with rockstars

alternate title: IF IT'S CLEAN, IT'S FORMAL WEAR.

(Calgary, 2008)

Normally I start packing a few days ahead of time, but I had this cold, see, and then a big bin showed up and I had to fling some metal into it -- oooh flinging metal!  Sweeeet! -- then I had an appt with DOCTACHAN which took a very long trip down the highway and blah blah blah I didn't pack a thing until this morning.  

Truth: Jethro and I stood in the bedroom at the farmhouse and did "Are we taking this" to each other for what felt like an hour.  I almost left without any socks.  But I think I have about 5 pairs of tights.  Fishnets?  Hmm, east coast, that's appropriate, right?  

I'm pretty sure we both have enough undies for the trip.  I mean for each of us.  

More than ever, since I've been living in farm country, I'm seeing the contrast between Heidi the Hick and Heidi the Wife of the Recording Engineer who Gets Nominated for Awards.  Like, I packed two pairs of boots and neither are useful barn boots.  I packed no overalls.  However I do have my pink John Deere hat.  Gotta keep it real.  

Let's have a look (because I'm either a huge narcissist, or have no embarrassment capabilities) at the two sides of me:

(with my farm dog, winter 2009)

(Calgary, 08 in the most awesome dress evar)

(prettying up the big fella instead of myself)

(Vancouver '09: the dress I wore to my prom is so tight 20 years later it's making my forehead vein pop)

(I shouldn't even post pix like this - what the heck is wrong with me?)

(Like high school, only older and heavier!!)

How many times have we done this and I still can't believe it.  Me, the little dork covered in pony dirt, and him, the kid from the big house behind the feed mill, walking past all the famous people and being unrecognized on the red carpet!!!!

Aw, he's more than paid his dues.  He deserves a fun weekend. "Give me a weekend there, I'll pick up that east coast accent."  

Geez, my bestest friend Biddie was there for less than two years in her teens and I can still hear the accent on her!  

OH and I haven't even told you what I'm wearing.  It's a surprise.  Even to me.  My blog buddy Cara is going to surprise me!  

Okay I'm officially excited now.  The plane takes off at dark o'clock....

Face it: At some point you will have to get dressed. Y'know, in like, actual clothes.

Ever have that dream where you get to school/ work/ church/ the bank/ Motley Crue concert and suddenly realize you're still wearing your jammies?

I used to walk my kids to school in my jammies.  I'd put a snowsuit on over top, drop them off at the front, trudge back home and then fall back into bed.  Then it wasn't snowsuit weather anymore and I felt compelled to put on clothes. I wonder why I bothered.  Would the othermothers' opinion of me changed?

You know what?  I've even gone out to the barn in the morning with my jammies on under my coveralls.  That's pretty bad.  I'd get back into bed and fall into a very disturbed sleep, the thought of microscopic particles of barn dirt clinging to the collar of my flannel PJ shirt and crawling all over my pillow.

Bed can be irresistible.  But I'm not good at sleeping.  I seem to need to be in there for eight hours just to get five or six hours sleep.

Pretty much every morning for the last two months I've wanted to either stay in bed or get back in.

One of the interesting changes brought on by my new farm life is the morning routine.  I get up and change into my clothes right away.  I know I have to get in the truck and drive the kids across the highway to the bus stop. I guess I could stay in my jammies.  But then I'd be right back to lying in bed wondering if there's anything worse than dog hair stuck to my flannel pants from the truck seat.

Reluctantly I drag myself into the world of the living and get on with it. By the time I've let the horses out and given them hay, then taken the Pug for his morning scamper around the yard, I'm pretty much awake.  There's really no point in going to all the bother of getting back into the flannel PJs and snoozing in my room.  So, I deal with it.

Something strange and wonderful can happen.  I can wake up.  I mean, really wake up.

Today I spent the morning with the dog and a 5 gallon pail, picking up bits of litter the snow had been hiding for a few months.  I dug up a few more useless items lurking in the yard; broken weed whackers, a bent desk chair banished from the garage for being tilted, a couple of rad shrouds that will never again shroud a rad.  I threw 'em all in the truck box along with the garage and barn garbage.  After lunch, I headed off to the dump.  Buh-bye useless crap.

I felt so invigorated and lightened up that I stopped by the car wash on the way home.  I spent a couple of toonies on a vacuum, then a few more on a good scrub.

After school the kids and I did some cleanup in the barnyard.

I cooked supper.  Okay I heated up some stuff - let's say it counts.

I washed every dish.

The barn clothes were swishing around in the machine in the cellar.

I folded the clean stuff.

I saved a plate for my mom when she got home from work.

At chore time I picked out the horses' hooves and gave them each a nice forehead scratch before tucking them into the open shed for the night.

When I got back into my red flannel jammies with the dog bones and paw prints, I had my hot chocolate, a kid at each side and a Pug at my feet.

Delicious.  Satisfactory.  Earned.

I'd like every day to start and end this way.

Ride 'em

Everybody should have a plaid flannel jacket. EVERYBODY.
Yeeeeee Haw!
Not sure what's going on here...is the saddle crooked? Is one of my legs longer than the other? I know one hip is higher. Is it because she's walking? Well at least after 6 months of exercise therapy my elbows are almost at the same level.

I do know one thing: this little mare has a gorgeous butt.