Our annual AIRPLANE TAXI HOTEL DRESS UP PARTY WITH ROCK STARS thing.

Suitcases, mostly full and hanging out on an empty bed.

Fancy clothes hanging on a hook behind the door, garment bag sprawled over the arm of the couch in the spare room.

Bathroom stuff all over the counter top, medications all over the kitchen counter top.

Boots all shined up.

Tomorrow's clothes set on the chair in the bedroom, ready to slip into at dark o'clock in the morning.

Dog resting his chin on my leg as I type this, looking veeeeeery concerned and slightly annoyed.





I have been either not able to decide what to write about lately, or else just plain not feeling like writing anything.  So I haven't been very active here in blog world.  But as of tomorrow morning Jethro and I are heading off to Calgary.  Our lovely young adult daughter will be holding down the fort for us -- well, Dobby is the official guard dog around here, but he'll show her what to do.  They'll be fine.

My official attitude this spring is, I HAVE NO CRAPS LEFT TO GIVE.  Therefore I do not give a crap.  So my horses are crusty and dirty and shedding hair constantly?  I don't care.  Barnyard is a soggy manure bog?  There's enough s**t there that I do not have to give any.  Packing for five days in a different province?  I don't give a ****  I mean, I care.  But not enough to get all twisted up over it.  I didn't buy any new clothes.  I borrowed a thrift store dress and the rest of the time it'll be leggings, cowboy boots and a baggy top.  I have gained some weight in the last few months (I blame the drugs, of course) and although it's tempting to fuss and fret over that, what-friggen-ever.  So what if my nice clothes don't fit. I have a poncho.  I'll be fine.  Anxiety over travelling and flying?  Well as much as I blame the drugs, sometimes it's nice to have a little orange bottle of pills that your doctor told you to take if you need them.

Calgary, people.  If there's one place in this whole country where you can wear beat up cowboy boots all weekend, it's this one.  I'm bringing my pretty shoes for the Saturday night dinner but otherwise, boots it is.  Jethro is not nominated this year, so the pressure is off and all we have to do is cheer for the artists we worked with in our recording studio last year!

(If you're interested to know, look out for Emilie Claire Barlow's album "Clear Day" in Vocal Jazz; Robi Botos for "Movin' Forward" in Solo Jazz; Mark Kelso and the Jazz Exiles, "Stealing From My Youth" in Group Jazz; and "Refined" by Don Amero in both Aboriginal Album and Adult Contemporary.  Yep, we did a lot of Jazz records last year.)

I'm grateful that I do feel better than I did a year ago, even if I'm not totally well yet.  I can walk a straight line and I'm not shaking and trembling. So I'm a little puffier and fluffier.  What's a little padding compared to that awful feeling.  And I'm pretty sure I'm not gonna puke up anything I eat, even if I feel like it, so hey, it's all good.

 Most of all I get to hang around with my favourite guy.  We have fun together, and I am always proud of him!  This is a celebration of this industry's accomplishments… or basically, "Hey everybody, we're all survived the music business for another year!!!"

 It's a work trip, but yeah, once a year work involves free drinks.


Hey -- want to see?  Go to Instagram and look up "hickchic" of course!