Not showing up for work: Johnny Depp is not hanging around my place, honest, I'm not hiding him.

I haven't worked in… six months.  There are times I seriously question whether I ever did really have a job type thing or if I made that all up and believe it because it sounds like fun.  I can't imagine going back to work.  I can get the chores done, but the thought of being upright for two hours, long enough to get the horses and barn ready, and get through a lesson, is exhausting.  I'm working on convincing myself to just sit on a horse.  Not go anywhere, just sit. I might need different drugs.  I'm broke, I'm tired, and I'm indecisive.  But despite all that, I'm actually doing much better than I was half a year ago.

Meanwhile, Johnny Depp bags off work for a week, and it's plastered all over the news.  Yesterday it broke, and there was talk of him holed up somewhere with no electricity that can only be accessed by donkey, or something, hiding from his wife.  Oh the speculation!

Well settle down, world, because he has conveniently arrived where he's supposed to be: back in Australia to resume shooting the 5th Pirates movie.

You know I fall for this stuff.  I get my news off internet entertainment sites.  Right now that's  the only news I care about or can emotionally handle.  There are people in this world who make a career out of making headlines about The Famous.  If Johnny disappears, it's news.  If he shows up the next day, as if all it took was a little disruption in the news ripples, that's even better.

"EVERYTHING'S FINE."

I'd link to something but I seem to have busted my computer, or maybe I broke the internet, I don't know how this crap works.  Feel free to assume that I got my information wrong and don't know what I'm talking about, okay?

So awhile back, on the set of THE FIFTH PIRATES OR THE CARIBBEAN MOVIE, Johnny had some kind of mishap that resulted in a broken hand.

Here's what I took from that: another Pirates movie!  Heck yes!  I don't care if it sucks.  Gimme my Captain Jack.  You know how I am like that.

Accidents happen, and I'm sure there's a whole crew of people tasked with keeping everybody undamaged, but occasionally something happens.  I don't know what it was here.  Maybe it didn't even happen on the actual set.

Here he is getting on a plane to go fly to some hand fixing hospital somewhere.  

I can get behind the duct tape arrangement.  I was raised on a farm; this isn't the first time I've seen someone literally tape their hand back together and head off to the hand fixing doctor.  

And of course that's usually accompanied by the "Awright catchyalater, I'm aright seeyasoon."

About two years ago, he was still his crazy looking normal.  He looked like he got a bag of hand me downs from somebody's uncle, and the day of the Grammys he was like, aw crap, I gotta present a thing at that thing today, what's in the bag here… everything.  I'm just gonna wear it all.  And then snickers to himself as he imagines how all the tabloids are going to rip a strip off him for it, and how many worst dressed lists he'll end up on.  

But then...

He showed up to another thing, looking pale and waxy.  I'm not entirely convinced that's not a wax figure up there.  

And it got worse.  Last fall he was staggering and stuttering and it may not have been cute or funny.  

It would worry me greatly if he were an actual friend of mine. I'd be wanting to check on him and see if he's okay.  He's not looking okay.  

 The thing is, I see movie stars and celebrities as playing this very strange role in my life where I get to live vicariously through them.  I'm hiding from the world in my room, with my snoring pug, writing my little stories and listening to the vicious spring wind, while my horses roll in the mud and eat hay.  I like to look at pictures of interesting Famouses doing things in their interesting lives.  The problem is that I know just enough about how this whole thing works to totally suck the fun out of it.  Nobody on this planet has nothing but good days, first of all, and also, the career of Being Famous is a full time job.

I could be easily manipulated by those whose job it is to manipulate my feelings.  I like Johnny Depp as an actor, and I'd like to believe that I'd like him as a person.  I want to like his wife.  Depending on what I read, she's either really cool and different and interesting, or she's an opportunistic blank slate.  I can't even rely on photos because it's so easy to manipulate those too, just by inclusion.  Those pics of Johnny above?  I carefully chose one from two years ago where he looked pretty good, then chose ones where he looks slack jawed and pale.  See?  I'm not even making a living on this.

But I'm always making up stories in my head.  You know how your teacher in grade 3 showed the class a picture and we all had to make up a story to go with it?  That's my life.  That is constantly going on in my brain.  I can't shut if off.

 For example: Because I like Johnny, as much as I can like a person I've never met, I want to believe that his new marriage is a happy one and that they are well suited to each other and they're good for each other.  So this is how I see the following picture:

AMBER: You okay, darling?

JOHNNY: Sure, love, just walking down the airplane steps.

AMBER: Let me reach out my hand lovingly so that the wind doesn't grab you by the hair and whip you away from me.

JOHNNY: Thank you, darling, take the uninjured hand which bears your huge honking ring of enduring affection, which I offer to you as I gently brush my fingertips along your delicate beautiful skin.

Only I'd hope it's all a lot more sincere and less cheesy novel style.  

But I fear it may be more like this:

JOHNNY: Where are we, Amber?

AMBER: Australia.

JOHNNY: Movie?

AMBER: Pirates.  Hold my hand, okay?

JOHNNY: I wrapped it in a scarf.

AMBER: It looks great, honey.  Let's just do this okay?

JOHNNY: Did I lock the door of Marilyn Manson's house?

AMBER: You weren't there, you were at a motel in Arizona, remember?

JOHNNY: oh yeaahhhhh.  Netflix.  

AMBER: Hey everybody, we're back, he's back, I found him, take your pictures and we'll go do the thing.

JOHNNY: Okay let's go do the thing.  That I do.  Do you think anybody will say anything about me being a week late for this?

AMBER: Not if I can help it.  We're all good, ready to work!  Happy!  See?  All good!

I mean, at first glance, it's fine, right?  He's got a scarf raggy thing tied around his busted hand, so that's normal.  He looks like he was recently rolling around on the dusty cement floor of a garage, fixing something with wheels, so that's normal.  He's got a bunch of things hanging around his neck and his shirt appears to be half ripped off at the bottom and pinned together with a big safety pin, so that's all normal.  And she… honestly, who can wear pants like that and still look good?  She's just wearing mom jeans and a white T shirt, but she's got glorious thick blonde hair and she's wearing fun shades, and to top it all off, she's carrying a giant hardcover book, which works on me.  Right away, I'm assuming she's alright because she carries big books, which I assume she also reads.  And that's a nifty belt too.  I'm a sucker for a nice leather belt.  I want to like all of this. 

HOWEVER.

Say what you want about Johnny, love him or hate him, prefer he takes a bath first, either way,  you know he's got a reputation for being all-in when he's working.  He shows up.  He works.  

Maybe it's nothing.  

Maybe people all over the Greater Ol Homestead Area (including downtown Smallburg) aren't whispering about me either.  Maybe they are.  Maybe I'm not getting a lot of calls for lessons because everybody around here knows my horses are just hay burners and emotional therapists these days.  

Maybe Johnny didn't have the advantage of asking his pastor to just say a little note during the Joys And Concerns part of the sermon a few months ago about taking some time off and starting new medication. 

But in any case, I am still mostly hiding in my cozy bedroom, and Johnny Depp has shown up for work, and you don't need to come out here looking for him.  Even if he was hiding in my barn, I'd lovingly pep talk him into giving me Amber's number so she could come and get him.  Or send him to the emergency room, if it's bad enough.  I'd take him, but I let my driver's license expire in December.  Or maybe we'd drink tea and talk about how frickin hard life is sometimes and how loud it gets inside the skull.  We'd talk it out, man, we'd talk it out. 

It's what we do for our loved ones.  

I'm getting out of bed and I'm packing the nice clothes… Juno Awards 2015!

After spending most of February in my bedroom, wearing my Pook suit, under a comforter, with the door shut and the baseboard heater on and the dog curled up on my feet, it's time to get up and clean up and go party in a large building in close proximity to Rock Stars!

Up here in Ontario, it turns out February was the coldest month in…EVER.

Today, I am packing suitcases.  It's that time of year again… sigh, gotta take a shower and brush our hair and put on our "nice clothes" oh what a pain… I'M KIDDING this will never get boring!!!!

There he is, top 5 in Canada!

This nomination means that we get some free tickets!  And also, it's happening only an hour from the Ol Homestead, so no plane tickets! This will be much less costly, which is good with the crap year we've had, but, we've learned that it's worth it to book The Good Hotel where All The Important People are staying. This is a business trip.  There is partying going on, but it's business.  You have to make opportunities to bump into people in the elevator, and honestly, there are some people we genuinely like, and we only see them once a year at the Junos!



It also means, being nominated, a walk down the red carpet.


Or, for me, this year, a wobble down the red carpet.


You might be wondering how I'm doing.  (Awww, that's so thoughtful of you!)  I'm okay.  I'm doing.  Y'know? I'm okay.  And that's good.  I'm in this weird state where my mental state seems to much better, although I still have to talk myself down and give myself speeches about how okay everything really actually is, reminding myself that I am not dying and the world is not trying to kill me and the worst is not happening.  But I still feel like this medication is dragging on me.  It's helping in the way it's supposed to, but I'm tiiiiiired.  I wear out way too easily.  I've never been a person with loads of inexhaustible energy.  I have limits, I know where they are, and I try not to push beyond them until I absolutely have to.  But normally I can work.  And I do.  Not these days.

The good news is, I'm back up to twice daily barn chores and one slow walk around the yard with the Pug.  The bad news is, I have to go lie down after that.  But hey, more good news, I don't feel like puking all the time!  However, my diet has changed because I don't want any meat that wasn't swimming in its life.  Also, no sweet potatoes.  Weird.  Why that?  I don't know.  And I haven't been eating wheat either, so I'm like a picky 5 year old.  Next, I'll be refusing to eat anything red.  It's probably not a bad way to eat but it is inconvenient, especially when you live with a bunch of meat eating Mennonites -- of which I used to be.  Meat eating, that is.  I'm still Mennonite.  Wheat flour or no, I'm gonna eat that apple pie!  There's no beef in it, right?

The hardest thing to deal with is the unsteadiness.  It's getting better, but for most of the last two months, I aim to walk in a straight line but take a few steps sideways first.  I'm not dizzy.  I just can't get my feet to go where they're supposed to go.  At least now I don't have to get through the house by hanging onto furniture.  I feel solid enough to walk past the horses without wondering if I'll end up under their hooves.  I'm very fortunate to have such gentle horses, I'll say that.  Climbing up on the hay wagon to throw bales down is… rather terrifying.  But I'm doing it because my dad was doing all the chores while Selina was in town house sitting and I don't want to wear him out.

That's kind of ridiculous.  The man is 72 years old and he just keeps going and going.  Besides, he told me one evening as he was digging horse poop out of the snow, "I forgot how much I like going out to the barn."  Jethro reminded me that before we moved back here, he'd been going to the barn every day of his life - specifically, this barn.  So maybe I'm not as worried about the ol man as I am about my sad little wounded pride.

It's getting better.  Slowly, but I'm improving.  I'm learning about patience too.  I'm forced to learn.

So.  Since early February when the nominations were announced, I've been thinking, "How am I going to handle Juno weekend?"

Very early on, I made the decision to not freak the hell out over it.

Just, don't.

Let's count it out:

-I will be with people I love and trust
-who all assure me I can hang onto them if I feel wobbly.
-I don't have to go to the parties.  I can go back to the hotel and hang with my underage son.
-Selina can represent me.  Heck, everybody thinks she's me anyways.  Poor kid.
-How wonderful is it that we can bring the kids again this year?  I mean, honestly, it's been a total crappy year and we can't really afford it, but they are young adults now and we have to take as much time with them as we can!


After much internal debate, I made the decision to pack the big heels.  Mostly because my beat up cowboy boots, while comfy and cute, aren't good with my $25 "vintage" dress.  I know, I know, I'm the girl who wore cowboy boots with my wedding dress.  But this just didn't work.  Besides, I do this dressing-up thing once a year.  If I'm gonna do it, I'm gonna DO IT.

BONUS: the temperature has been above freezing for almost a week and is expected to stay that way all weekend.

I'm looking forward to it, once I get past the anxiety.  This is fun and never gets old.  We've been doing this for…TEN YEARS.  Wow.  It's been a few years since his last nomination though.  I still, after all this time, thinks it's absolutely hilarious and fascinating what happens when you roll out the celebrities and line up the screaming fans.  It's just wall to wall screaming.  Every time a car stops, scream.  Every time someone, anyone, gets out of the car, scream.  If a complete nobody on the red carpet waves, scream.  We go through before the telecast, before the photographers are interested, and in fact, actively avoid us non-famouses!  It's so funny to me!


Oh Hey, if you're still reading, here are some links for you:

JUNO AWARDS SITE


WANT TO WATCH THE SATURDAY NIGHT GALA, where most of the awards are handed out and very few people get to attend?  They're live streaming it!  Come watch the speeches made by those who do not have PR people and media training! It's awesome!  (Hint- the Engineering award is part of the Gala!)

I am super stoked for the telecast, because Jacob Hoggard is hosting, and he is so many kinds of awesome!

You know how after the Oscars I said Neil Patrick Harris should host everything?  Well giving the job to Hoggard is even better. 

Also Alanis will be there and I will laugh my head off if somebody with mild face blindness mistakes me for her.  

It's the hair, right?  I'm pretty sure it's the hair.  

If you want to see pictures, go to 

INSTAGRAM

"The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament…"

…or something like that?


So it's been more than a month since I showed up here.  I am sitting here right now, propped up on pillows with my Pug snoring on the bed beside me (and farting too, I feel I need to add) and I'm having a hard time decided how to say this.  Therefore I'm just going to say it: at the end of October I was hospitalized for depression.  I was in the mental health unit for 2 weeks.  Now I've been home for 2 1/2 weeks and for that whole time I've been dealing with the side effects of this new medication, namely, nausea and fatigue.  I'd like to think it's starting to get better but only time will tell.  Needless to say, I can't tell if the drugs are working to fix the depression when I feel like I might barf.

I'm really not ready to get into it very deeply here.  I'll just say that I put off getting help way too long, and that I'm officially in recovery mode.  I spend a lot of time cuddled up with Dobby in my bed. I'm reading a lot of books. I make it out to the barn every morning for chores and horse pats before the day's drugs kick in.  The pressure is off in the barn; no lessons, no demands, just have some hay and be a horse.  I know it's good for me, because I am not a person who can stay sedentary for long; I need to move and I need to get outside.  I'm worn out by the time the horses and cats are fed and the barn cleaned up, but I know I have to do it, not just for their sake but for mine.  And besides, I love them.  I need them.

This whole year has had some very difficult times.  Too much harsh weather, and a career that is impacted directly by the weather, and that alone will wear a person down.  Above all, too many people have left us.  Too many funerals. Too much heartbreak.  Put it all together with a long history of depression and it damn near broke me.  It took ten months, but I couldn't go on.

BUT.  I have help again.  The sun comes up every day, even if it's too cloudy and snowy to shine.  I have the best family in the world.  I have a condition that needs to be managed.  I have a complicated brain.


I'm alive.

Yes????

Leaves on trees.

Grass is green.

Plants are growing.

Horses are sleek and fat and muscular.

I am sleeping well.

I ride two or three times a week, usually only a half hour, but it's okay.

The thing I'm writing has been put into paper form and is mostly covered with orange marks.

The barn and the house are still a disastrous mess but Whatever, right?

So far, so good...

WARNING: this post contains awards shows, parties, horse manure, complaining about the weather, depression, bitchy computers, alcohol and ridiculous high heeled shoes.  Where else are you going to find all that, except here, eh?

Tonight, I am getting on a plane with my husband and kids, and we're flying out to sunny Winnipeg Manitoba! Some of you may be wondering why the heck Winnipeg.  IT'S JUNO WEEKEND!

From what I hear these days, it's sunny out there, but it's cold.  We were in Winnipeg nine years ago and it was like that.  It's a nice city.  Some day I'd like to go there when it's not the ass end of Canadian winter, because until then I will never see it looking like this:

We here in Ontario have kind of been getting the prairie winter.  Oh, yeah, technically it's spring now, but I call BS on that because I've still got snowbanks up to my knees out here on the ol homestead and it's still several degrees below freezing and I'm worn out.  Worn out and worn down.  

I keep thinking I shouldn't complain, except that my dad, who is 71 years old, says he can't remember a winter this consistently cold, with this much snow, that started so early and has held on this long.

Also I know people who grew up on the prairies who've said that, yes, the winters are way colder out west, but Ontario winter is much crueler.  It's windy here, and wet cold, and makes you want to cry.

Well, I don't know about the crying part.  That was just me.  I want to cry.

Spring has a history of bumming me out, which sucks, because everybody else is leaping and grinning and chirping while I'm grinding my teeth and moping.  Shouldn't spring make me feel optimistic?  It does not.  It makes me feel like all that excrement out in the yard, melting into a stinking pile.

Last year for the first time in I-don't-even-know-how-long, I felt okay.  I could handle it.

This year?  Bleccchhhhhh.

But whatever.  I AM GOING TO PARTY IN A BUILDING WITH ROCK STARS.

And I'm BRINGING THE YOUNGUNS ALONG.

They haven't gotten a whole lot of advantages from growing up in the music business, and they deserve some perks, right?

I got a $20 dress, I have crazy towering silver wedge heeled shoes -- they're so high I must be close to 5'6" in them!!!!!

I am not even going to lie... I will be graciously accepting the free drinks.

Not too much.  Just enough.

I mean.  Beer.  Right?

Anyways, my phone gadget and computer have decided they are two girls in grade 7 and are not speaking to each other.  Therefore, no blog updates.  However, I have Instagram!

I AM GOING TO INSTAGRAM MY TRIP!  CLICK HERE!

Alright folks.  I'm leaving in 20 minutes.  Right after Selina folds laundry and Bucky and Jethro load the car and and I throw some feed at the horses.  I'M TOTALLY OKAY HERE, PEOPLE.  

"But it FEELS LIKE -40 with the wind chill."

What, like -25 C wasn't cold enough????

The weather reporter is wearing a hat plus a fuzzy hood.

The son's school, which is in town and stays open when the rural buses are cancelled, is shut down.

My daughter isn't in school today because the entire college is shut down.

The highway is closed.

Our road is open but there's not much traffic - and it's slow.

The snow has drifted up to the barn windows.

Yesterday my ol man got the tractor and snowblower into the corral yesterday morning.  He cleared snow away from the manure pile.  By 5:00 the path was drifted over.

I'm not sure where I'm going to dump the manure.  For the last couple years I dug a path or get the snowblower in there.  It's too much this year.  IT HAS BROKEN MY SPIRIT WAHHHHHH.

The water tap in the barn is frozen.

So is my face.  After about five minutes outside my cheeks feel numb.  Or ten minutes.  Two minutes? I don't know.

But.

The electricity still works, so the trough heater is doing its thing, and thankfully the house has power.

I left the horses in the barn this morning, just picked the stalls a little and gave them hay.  The goats are unflustered and the chickens, well, they're chickens.

It's ridiculously beautiful out there.  The field is like a frozen ocean, and the sunlight shifts with every drift of snow.

And as much as I complain, I'm still so happy to not be working in an office right now.

Flood in Toronto: His was supposed to be the non-weather-dependent job!

Two days ago, the city of Toronto got the worst flood it's ever been hit with in recorded history.  A sudden brutal storm hit and two hours later people's basements were full of water and their cars were floating away.  Power failures, stranded GO train, rescues by canoe (good freakin thing it's Canada and there's always a canoe nearby??) and some of the most congested roads in all of North America locked up solid... except for all that pesky water up to the car windows.

A good solid two hour drive down the highway from the big city, out here in farm country, the kids and I had gone out that afternoon for Bucky's birthday.  (He's 17 now and darn near 6 ft tall, and sounds like a man, maaaaaan.)  When we left the farm it was bright sunny and hot.  On our way home a couple hours later we discussed all the things getting rained on at that moment including laundry and open windows.  Inconveniences in the grand scheme of things, it turns out.

Our studio is in North York.  I kind of held my breath as the alarming news reports came in, hoping we'd be spared as it looked like most of the really bad stuff wash happening further south, towards the lake, but then feeling awful for everybody there affected by it. Nobody deserves this.

At 9:00 pm I sent him a message.  Just on my way in from the barn.  So - state of emergency??? Flood???

Well, he and Billy Ray Joe had been out looking for a place that had electricity and something to eat, but already the storm was impacting our clients:  Won't know until I get back to the studio.  Nancy's $60K piano is ruined... Matt had 8' (and rising) of water in his basement as of 6 pm...

The power had gone out by the time he got back to the studio at about 10:00.   By the next morning, the power was back up and everything functioning, but...the entire rest of his week had been cancelled.  Every session.  All of our clients need to spend the rest of the week salvaging whatever is left after the flood damage.

I try to keep working through the weather.  If it rains, I give people the option of spending their lesson time in the tack room, learning about things we don't always take time to get into when it's a nice day and we want to get out and ride.  But my work is ultimately affected by what's going on in the sky.  I only had four lessons booked at the beginning of this week (which would be awesome if this was January!!) and I've only booked one more since, and cancelled one.  So it turns out both of us are going to have a sparse week, and this is a bad week to not make much money.

But man.  Wow.  What's my problem?  It's really humid and most of my leather tack gets moldy?  The basement of the house is really wet?  Half the corral is gross brown puddles and sticky mud?  The buildings are still standing, and none of our sentimental irreplaceable treasures are ruined.

Maybe it's a good week for him to make contacts and drum up some business, and me to clean tack and write fiction!

But it sucks.  None of us can control nature.  None of us.  That's just the way it is.

What the HECK Johnny! How much more can we take???!!!

He did it AGAIN.  He showed up at an award show gig on the stage unannounced playing guitar like a rockstar and I'm not there.

Okay I'm not mad.  And if I was I could never stay mad.


This gig wasn't with the pale strange creepy friend.  (I'm sure he's very interesting and cool in real life, right?  I mean, Johnny wouldn't hang around with boring/ nasty people, would he?)

This time he got on stage with THE BLACK KEYS for crying out loud!  The really awesome cool band that I took way too long to discover?  THEM.

Dude.  

If you live long enough to be a grown up, and you get very good at a thing that you can get paid to do, and you look for interesting people to get to know, you can do stuff like this.

Plus you could then call yourself an actor/writer/producer/musician/director.  

IF you feel it important to hang a title on yourself.

But seriously, he's been a pirate and a vampire and he's done the Native American thing, and he's a part time surprise rock star, but if he ever plays a cowboy I am finished.

This is the first time in I-don't-know-how-many years that it's spring time and I am not miserable.

I don't know why.  I don't know what's made me feel better.  And I kind of don't care.

All I know is, I'm okay.

Not 100% okay.  Of course not. Who is?  Not 100% of the time either.  But how do I know whether or not that's normal?  Maybe there are people out there who feel consistently great.  Or content, at least.  I don't, and I'm sure nobody I know does either.

But I'm generally mostly Okay.

Isn't that wonderful?

Spring has usually been awful for me.  I hate March and April.  Spring stinks.  Literally and metaphorically.  I hate the mud, I hate the erratic weather, and I hate the fact that I don't understand my own misery.  To top it all off, I'm irritated that I seem to be alone in this. Everybody else is all ooooh spring has sprung flowers birds chirping sunshine fabric softener and I'm all screw you all you happy morons dammit whatever crap arrrgh melting dog poop rotten hay manure shut up I'm tired don't ask me why I'm crying cuz I don't know go away I hate everything.


You know how that's been going for the last three months? More like this:

Hey... You know what, it's like, halfway through March and I'm... not horribly depressed.  


Hmmm.  I wonder.  Better drugs?  Got to ride more often this winter?  The past seven years of therapy have started kicking in?  That new Big Wreck album is awesome?  


Oh well.  Doesn't matter.


I think I like Ritalin.


I don't feel like getting off my ass and going out to the barn. But I'm going to anyways.


And now that I'm in the barn I don't want to leave the horses and go back in the house.


The Pug bounds through the new grass and I smile at him as we do our daily walk around the Old Homestead. 


I sit at the dining room table with my daughter and son and we laugh together.


I'm in love.  I've got my head on his chest, his heartbeat under my ear, his big arm around my back. I've been in love with him for 25 years.   


I'm.... happy.


Oh, dear God.  


I'm actually... tentatively... cautiously... happy.


Not like it changes a whole lot, because I still don't know why I'm crying.  I suspect these days, the tears well up because I just FEEL so much.  It's so different.  I've had so many long stretches of time --since I was what, twelve? -- when I didn't feel much of anything.  At its worst, I couldn't even feel any worry over my lack of feeling.  It was blankness.  It never felt right because I'm a person who sees and smells and hears and freakin' feels every damn thing around me.  The emptiness of depression is so deep and dark.

I never want to go into that hole again but who knows, it might happen.  What I've been telling myself for the last few years is this:

IF I DO FALL INTO ANOTHER DEPRESSION, I KNOW THIS TIME AROUND THAT IT WILL NOT BE PERMANENT.


But this year?

This year, Spring 2012?

I am not miserable.  I can get out of bed and stay out of bed and get on with my day.  I can fall asleep without lying awake for hours, worrying.  I can think.  I can breathe.  There are so many things wrong with my life right now (mostly involving real estate and the location of my husband's job) but hey man, I have a life.  I have not woken up dead.  Sometimes, believe it or not, I even open my eyes and think, "Huh, look at that.  I'm alive.  Cool."

Let's not ask why or wonder how long this will last.

I just want to let it happen.

I move approximately 120 lbs of horse manure every day. I do not have time for anybody else's crap.

It's okay, I don't have anything particular to rant about. I just find myself becoming very intolerant in my old age.

Oddly enough, I'm actually feeling pretty okay about that.

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

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

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

I know everybody feels like that sometimes.

I feel like that pretty much all the time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

...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.

Tired hick in big city....

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

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

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!

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

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.

BREAK MY RUSTY CAGE. AND RUN!

SOUNDGARDEN London ON July 3.  Dream come true.  Thought I'd never see them live. I'm still not totally well, but I'll get up the guts for these guys... their music got me though my own black days this past month.  They rock and it was truly epic.  Love, love, love.  And goodnight.  

Need some distraction from the DIY detox recovery. Have some MMVA. (lots of pix & linx and things)

It's taken me four days to write this.  It's almost Friday and you know we like some Johnny on a Friday.

Ahhh.  Okay.

So folks, although I'm still spending my time sweating it all out and sleeping it off, I'm slowly getting better.  I'm feeling better enough to start getting impatient.  I'm starting to look forward to living again.  Hey.  Did you know I used to actually go outside?  As soon as everything's less loud and shocky I intend to be out there again.

But hey! I can now look at a computer or read for a while before my eyeballs get all prickly.  Can't watch TV yet.  Tried to watch So Ya Think Ya Dance Good Do Ya and wow.  Flashy!  Shocky!  Ow!! SO happy I can read and type without getting all shocky and shooty, because while I was lying here in a dark room clenching my jaw in agony I occupied my mind by inventing stories and now, I gotta write 'em all down!!!!

I didn't watch the MMVAs on Sunday night.  I stopped caring.  It was my second time  I'd left the house in almost three weeks and I was worn out.  I didn't want to look at anything by evening.  That's what INTERMITTENT NET is for.  Why don't I just do a little commentary on a show I didn't watch, I mean, why not, chances are good you didn't watch it either?!

PICTURES: They came from the MuchMusic website, a couple of Canadian national newspaper sites, and my favourite - GO FUG YOURSELF.  In fact for a complete and funny commentary just go read Heather's take on it.  I snickered.  She totally did the Carpet-and-drapes joke I was gonna make.

First, I'd like to start with something I should just make a regular feature here at Hick Chic called DANGIT AVRIL!  Gah.  I tried to be all disdainful of the gum-chewing wise-cracking punk princess pink hair thing.  (Yeah the pink hair thing was totally my idea first.) I'm kind of neutral about her music but I give her credit for writing it herself, being able to play guitar and for **singing live** so basically what I'm saying is,

DANGIT AVRIL you won me over again, again.

SHE'S JUST SO DARN CUTE!

How can I stay irritated with that smile?  

I am irritated with one of the intermittent net news sites which claimed that Avril arrived in a lime green Camaro SS.  FOREHEAD SLAP.  First of all, I don't know where this is called lime.  This is classic Generous Motors Early 70s Slime green.  Duh!

Second, THAT IS NOT A CAMARO.  Duh much?  Clearly by the shape of the door and quarter window it is a Chevelle or Malibu.   Isn't it obvious by the double headlights that this is a Chevelle?  Did the Camaro have double headlights in the early 70s?  No it did not.  Just duh.  Non-car people should CHECK THEIR FACTS.  So frustrating!

See now my eyeballs really hurt.  Break time.

Okay I'm back.

Sadly, Avril's outfit is also visually uncomfortable.

Dangit, Avril!

So the host of this little shindig was a totally adorable young lady who I have only heard of because she's got this boyfriend who grew up around my neck of the woods meaning that even more than the rest of the planet there is no escaping the Biebs out here in farm country I'm not even kidding.

 I'm not up on what her thing is or if she's good at the thing she does.  I just know she's really cute...

...and because I am the mother of a 17 year old girl, I want ask this 18 year old girl, "Have you been eating well sweetie?  Are you getting enough sleep?"  Especially since it was all over the news that she'd been hospitalized the week before.  Well no wonder, the way she's been zigzagging all over North America.  The noise in Stratford alone a couple weeks ago would be enough to bust her head.

Anyways, Famous Boyfriend was supposedly not going to be there.  Yeah right.

This picture cracks me up.  He's all, Dude! Check out the hot chick with the high-waisted jeans on my T shirt!  It's VINTAGE! She's gotta be like, THIRTY-FIVE or something now!!!  Yeah baby!

Is that Tiffani Theissen?  I always wondered if she was of the Manitoba Mennonite Thiessens.  

But whatevs, Biebs.  I was onto that like, thirty years ago.  When your mom was a baby.  Cuz Dude, I had A SHAUN CASSIDY T SHIRT.  

It was just like that but in royal blue and I think my auntie gave it to me.  I know she gave me the Hooked On Horses T shirt.  Anyways, my Shaun Cassidy shirt totally erases his shirt.  Just does.  

This picture of The Gombiebs makes me snicker.  Look at the little horndog's face.  Oh yeah, just lean over juuuuust like that, in your dangerous little halter top, uh huh.  Teenage boys are so sneaky that way.   Yeah it's normal and all, but watch where ya put that hand there, hotshot.

Well I do think they're a nice little couple.  In their line of work they can understand each other. 

And I'd keep going if I could turn this computer screen down a little but it won't go any dimmer so it's time for another eyeball break.  

Aaaand I'm back.  At least I can type now without electric shocks going up and down my arms!!!

Enough sugar coating.  TIME TO ROCK.

BILLY TALENT.

 I love these guys.  

Tell me, worldwide friends, are you aware of this band?  If not, go check them out !  We've seen them live a couple times and man, what a show!  They are a scream and a half live!!!   

Love the tunes, love the playing, love the lyrics.  

And by the way, Billy Talent is the BAND.  The frantically hot little front man is not Billy.  Billy Talent is a band not a guy. Very good band with four very good guys.

I got distracted looking up their videos ("Surrender" is a particularly good one). And now I need another eyeball break.

Okay it's tomorrow morning now.  I'm back in bed to sleep it off and sweat it out and YAY my nice dim screen isn't as hurty as it was yesterday!

More rock star.  City and Colour.  Dallas Green is like a hero to me.  In our family we have a habit of listening to his music, whether it's this band or Alexisonfire, and sighing, "That man has got the voice of an angel."  And a great songwriter too. Honestly I think he's a national treasure. 

I really wish I would have said HI (or something less dumb or anything) to him when we were in the same elevator in 2007.  But I was talking with a friend so I just settled for a weird eye thing that kind of went like, "Um I totally know who you are and I think you're awesome but I'm talking to my friend right now so instead I'm shooting admiration vibes at you" and "I'm not sure if I should know you but I might have seen you before? and the skulls on your dress are kinda neat."

I'd heard that Johnny Galecki would be there.  The Big Bang Theory is the #1 show in Canada so it makes sense that he'd show up. But it was he himself, not Dr Leonard Hofstadter.  But y'know, I kind of think he looks a little bit like Keanu in this picture.  Kinda cute.  And I love Leonard.  

Not sure what's going on here but the girls behind him don't really care cuz he's not Gombiebs.

Also in attendance: Colin Farrell.  He always looks slightly perplexed.  I think it's those terribly expressive eyebrows.  

Apparently he's in town shooting a movie.  He looks like he just woke up on a red carpet but it's a music thing not an acting thing and he's not sure if he should be okay with it or sneak out the back when nobody's looking.  One of the news sites reporting that when asked, he couldn't name a Canadian band.  If this is true, what?!  It's not so hard... Canada is basically a big Musician Farm.  Entertainment is our big import.  Second biggest city in Canada is Los Angeles.  Come on, can't name a Canadian band?  What about mono-monikered divas?  This isn't so hard!

But Colin looks good in denim and I'm shallow that way about dudes, so, okay.

Worn out.  Nap time.  

It's today afternoon now.  Here I am.  

So.  Gaga.  

It must be said... this time out she really, really shocked me.  SHE WORE STUFF THAT RESEMBLED CLOTHES AND SHE WAS COVERED.  Mostly.

Also she wore a suit of black feathers.  Cool!!!!

I might have to start a new feature called DARNIT GAGA.

For now, let's do something I call WHAT THE HECK DOES SHE ACTUALLY LOOK LIKE?!

She was up to her usual shenanigans when she showed up the day before for soundcheck looking like THIS. (for soundcheck.  The one time you'd get to show up in track pants.) (but this is an outdoor gig and y'know... there could be cameras, so...).  

We expect this kind of crap by now.  Big giant Whatevs.  Except for two things.  One, as I am a big advocate for Backside Pride, I gotta point out that her bottom appears to be rather upright.  And two, without the stupid get-up I might not have recognized her, because I think she kinda looks like Dita Von Teese.

Anybody else see it?  But I doubt either of them look like that on couch-magnet-TV night.

I've seen this pattern on splint boots at the local tack shop.  Guaranteed to look good an any horse.  

Come to think of it, that pattern might be a little too busy on a spotted Appaloosa.  Or attention-grabbing diva.

The wig trunk alone must have been huge just for this gig.  She had to have at least three.  

Just to make sure we don't forget who she is, Gaga pulled a little strip show which launched thousands of carpet and drapes jokes.  

I know - EW.  But also,  HAHAHA!  We are so freaked out by body hair!  Even fake stuff!  Hahaha! And also, Ew!

She reminds me here of a combination of Madonna and Alanis Morrisette at the Junos a few years back with the bathrobe & bodysuit stunt.

"We are living in an surreal-ial world..."

haha.

That wig is fantastic.  I want one in pink.  

Seriously.  WHAT THE HECK DOES SHE REALLY LOOK LIKE?????  

Man, I would rather not devote this much time to her - it's like rewarding a tantrum-throwing child in a store by getting all flustered and making an even bigger public spectacle then buying the kid the junkfoodtoything just to make the noise stop - but hey, she really worked for it. She puts effort into grabbing all the publicity she possibly can.

However she exhausts me on a good day.

Break time.

Okay. I didn't sleep but I closed my eyes.  It was nice.

I made the most wonderful discovery as I looked for pictures and news from the event... I saw a picture of four delightfully curly haired denim wearing bearded hoser dudes and thought, heh, I'd invite them over to play a show on my hay wagon.  (I mean as in, the hay wagon is the stage.  For those Imaginary Gigs I can throw now that I have a hay wagon.  Didn't mean it as a desperate and vague euphemism okay!)  The caption simply said, "The Sheepdogs."

Well, I says to myself, any band calling themselves the Sheepdogs has to be okay.  And nothing bad ever came out of Saskatchewan right?

Being pretty much holed up in my bedroom, I have time to do some digging around.  I searched the name thinking, "please be awesome, please be awesome! Don't lame out and disappoint me!  Please be awesome!"



HOLY CRAP I THINK I JUST FOUND MY NEW FAVOURITE BAND!  

This is what I thought  Kings Of Leon would sound like when I first saw their picture.  These guys aren't pin-up purty, but they have something better ....THREE PART HARMONY!  Southern Rock from the Great White Prairies?  Oh heck yes!!!

How did this get past me???  These guys have been doing this thing for at least four years... (we were IN SASKATOON four years ago for a big music event...) and here they're in a contest to be on the cover of Rolling Stone?!?!  What the heck - I was only knocked out on anti-depressant withdrawal for like, three weeks?!!!  I almost didn't catch this????


Once I can actually do a whole blog post without taking naps or shaking, I'll tell you all about another cool discovery I made before things went totally sideways here.  It involves Finnish trolls and Bob Dylan!

And I'm spent.  I need a drink of water and then I need to like, write a whole novel.  Nothing like an easy slow recovery eh?  Ha.