Tag Archives: bluegrass music

An Old Friend Speaks The Truth

Harvesting by The Corn Fed Girls

Old friend of mine, It’s not the first time you’ve heard me say, what I’ve gotta say

Hey man, listen, I’m tired of you pissin’ your whole life away

Used be a wonder in your eye

Used to laugh a hundred times a night

This is a song written and sung by a band, The Corn Fed Girls, that an old college friend of mine is in.  The song isn’t about me but it feels like they know and Darcy is singing to me.

Just before the holidays, I was speaking to my boss on the phone who is located on the east coast.  He generously offered for me to work from home whenever I need to, you know, because of the kids and holidays, etc.

Sounds like a great offer, doesn’t it?

Especially to someone who has put on enough weight this month year that only one pair of her work pants now “fit”.   If I could work from home one day a week… then that would be one less day a week when I’d have to worry about how I look or what other people think!  The more I get depressed about my failures this year, the more enticing this offer is.  No one will “know”.

Wrong on two accounts.

1. People will know.  They always know.

2. I’ll still know and it won’t make me feel any better knowing the real reason I stayed home.

…staying home from work to avoid the clothes that won’t fit anymore and avoid people knowing that I’m blowing up like a whale…that prospect scares me.

No! Those aren’t the solutions I’m looking for.  I’m tired of pissin’ my life away too.  I used to have a wonder in my eye.  I used to laugh a hundred times a day.

I’m putting myself out there.  I’m facing everyone but what I’m really doing is facing myself.  I’ve never really hit rock bottom before but I have to believe that realizing that I’ve started to enter a mental state suggesting that I hide myself away from the public, from myself has to be a rock bottom.

I used to have a wonder in my eye.  I used to laugh a hundred times a day.

I want that.  I miss me.

Listen to The Corn Fed Girls.  Pearlie is one of my favorites.


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Filed under music, personality flaws, Weight loss

Wheatland Weekend

My sister is an artist. When she was in college she fell into a group of “hippies”. Like any good sister, she dragged me down with her.

“Hippies” is far from what I would call this group of friends. Yes, they were artists and musicians but, this group can’t be defined by one word. I recall a friend from high school told us that he just didn’t have anything in common with them. Horse Hockey. Most of the time the group was hanging at the bar playing darts or playing softball or football. Often, we rode mountain bikes on local trails. They were into sports as much as music and art. They were stereotyped because the guys had long hair and dressed in grunge. If they were smoking weed then they weren’t socially open enough to smoke it in front of me.

Every year, my sister and I would listen with envy to them tell stories about Wheatland. Finally, we were invited to tag along. We found Wheatland to be every bit and more of what we had expected. We went every year after that until I my first son was born. Every year, on the weekend after Labor Day, I’d fondly think about Wheatland.

Finally, 9 years later, we return with kids in tow. I am anxious to share the fun and magic of good, basic music. In particular, the activities I await with great anticipation are the Cajun Hoedown at midnight, clogging workshops, hanging with the “hippie” gang (all long hair has been cut off), and, especially, listening to Ira’s band, The Corn Fed Girls.

This afternoon, I will take the kids out of school early to make the five hour drive to the Wheat lands. All week long, I have been saying Happy Wheatland every time I passed the boys. They look at me strangely because they do not realize that they will hear and say that a million times after we arrive tonight. It’s a Wheatland tradition.

I’d invite you along but tickets are sold out. If you need some other weekend ideas check out Amanda’s blog at Serenity Now. It’s a party, didn’t ya know?

I’m off to put on my Cajun dance shoes.

Happy Wheatland!

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Filed under Michigan, music, travel