Getting Dressed. The hardest part about my job.

Good Morning. I’m writing to you from my hotel room bed, instead of my comfy chair with the cat sitting on my keyboard.

I’m on the road in the eastern part of the state for the rest of the week singing for my supper. And it just happens to be gearing up to be the coldest days we’ve had all winter.

Screen shot 2015-02-19 at 9.37.01 AMYup, that there says it “Feels Like -32”

And I can’t wear my snow suit on stage.

I swear. That’s the hardest part about the whole music thing some days. Deciding what to wear. I mean, the pressure is just too great.

And so I bring everything…and then that creates another problem that has to do with getting myself in and out of hotel rooms in an efficient manner.

I generally have a rule with my packing when I’m traveling alone that goes something like: Only pack as many bags and shit that I can carry up to my room on my own in one trip.

I’ve spent plenty of time in my life traveling from hotel room to hotel room alone so I know how annoying lugging stuff can be.

Especially when that stuff includes a giant guitar, computer, camera, purse, and bags of clothes and coats and makeup and seventeen different giant bottles of hair care products and another three or four pair of boots, which sucks because I like need all of those boots, but they take up so much damn room.

Stuff

But I can usually get it all: Three or four bags thrown over my shoulders, a purse in the crook of my arm, a pair or two of boots in my armpits, a wheelie suitcase behind me and my guitar in my left hand.

God forbid they put me on the far end of the hotel on seventh floor like they have today.

By the time I get up to my nook of the world, I’ve gone from freezing, to thawed out to sweating to panting to full blown aggravation with myself and society at the fact that we can’t just all agree on one uniform and go with it.

Would be so much easier.

stuff 4

Anyway, I’m looking around my room this morning before I make an attempt to put myself together for a four hour drive to the next town and am wondering how I got this all up here…because I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to give in and get one of those carts from the lobby and drag my world back downstairs and across the frozen parking lot and back into my frozen car.

stuff 2

Because I don’t have enough arms for this.

And then, when I get dressed tonight, I’m going to have to call my mother or my sister to reassure me that I’m not too old to wear sequins on my boots…or my skirt.

Stuff 3

Because I feel like I might be too old it, but at the same time, I also feel like if a girl has a chance in her life to wear sequins, she might as well just wear it.

Right?

These are the conversations I have with myself on the open road, between singing along to my iPod, getting depressed about the disappearance of the Dixie Chicks, eating an unhealthy amount of Gardettos, and coming up with elaborate and unrealistic plans for music videos or writing projects or neighborhood sledding parties…

Anyway. Tonight Husband is meeting up with me for the North Dakota Music Awards, and so is the band and my parents, so I’ll have some people to help me carry my shit, and drink vodka with and talk me out of all of my plans….

In the meantime, don’t you just wish you were here right now? Singing on the back of a horse drawn wagon in the middle of summer on your way to eat a homemade meal behind a tree row in a field.

Me too.

But this weekend’s gonna be fun. It’ll be cold outside, but we’ll be warming it up with some great music and celebration inside. If you’re in the Bismarck, ND area tonight or Fargo, ND this weekend I hope to see you out and about!

Thursday, February 19

North Dakota Music Awards
Belle Mehus Auditorium
7 PM
(I won’t be performing, but there are many great acts. Will be a fun night!)

   with Outlaw Sippin’
Side B
Bismarck, ND

Saturday, February 21

18th Annual Celebration of Women and Their Music
6 PM
Historic Fargo Theater
Downtown Fargo
www.debjenkins.com/celebrationofwomen.html

Saturday, February 21-Post Show

18th Annual Celebration of Women and their Music
Post Show Songwriting Round
9pm-11pm
Studio 222
Fargo, ND
With: Nita Velo, Jessie Veeder, Natalie Shaw (award winner), Reina del cid  (with Tony Lindgren) & Chastity Brown

For more music updates, visit:
www.jessieveedermusic.com
www.facebook.com/jessieveedermusic

Boot Stories: Winner Winner!

Andrea's Boots (via Twitter)

Andrea’s Boots (via Twitter)

Today my boots hung out on the floor of my car while I traipsed around town at my big girl job in some big girl heels.

I raced around the pavement checking things off of my “To-Do” list so I could get home and announce the winner of what has been the most fun we’ve had on this blog since Cowboy’s last Kitchen Adventure.

When I asked you to share stories and photos of your favorite boots, I had no idea I would get such a glimpse into the spirits and hearts of my readers. When I said “It’s the boots that make the woman,” I didn’t know how right I was. Who knew that our boots, in whatever shape or form they may be in, could hold such connections:

To our family history: 

Jess Boots

Jess’s Boots

Jess: These weren’t my first pair of boots nor have they been my last but every cowgirl had her first pair and I’m glad that my second pair survived. I I have a pair of dad’s boots hanging at my coffee shop, James Gang Java. Often people will ask about them. After I tell their story, I often will produce my little pair and show them how young we are when we get started wearing boots. I’d like to go back in time and spend a couple of days in those little boots and look around at my world then. A lot of stories could be told about the times we have had in our cowgirl boots!

To our love: 

Marnie's Boots

Marnie’s Boots

Marnie When we first dated, my husband and I used to kick around pawn shops and thrift stores of (old) downtown Fargo. He was the only cowboy I’d ever known, and when he dug out a pair of bent-over double, dirty dusty, scuffed up Acme boots from under a rack of polyester suits, I didn’t see their potential even though they fit. Two days later, when he delivered them polished and buffed, I saw potential. They’re my love boots.

To finding who we are: 

Toni's Boots

Toni’s Boots

shapeofthingstoniI convinced my parents to buy me my first pair of walking boots when I was about 13 years old, and had well-lived in pairs until my mid-20s when I became a much more urban girl and my boots were replaced by office-friendly mary janes, with comfy skate shoes for weekends. Then about 6 years ago I took a long, hard look at my life, packed everything up and moved from urban Brisbane to the little city of Hobart, Tasmania, right at the bottom of Australia.

Hobart has great access to amazing national parks and hiking trails, as well as cold, wet winters that turn those trails into freezing streams that quickly soak through socks and joggers. So I bought myself these boots and I started walking. In re-discovering my childhood love of the outdoors I re-discovered myself. I got out of a marriage that was destroying me, I moved to a tiny cottage, got seriously into gardening and started seriously becoming the person I’d always wanted to be.

In 2012 I set off for a travel adventure in South America, and my boots carried me from the coastal bohemia of Valparaiso to the desert dust of San Pedro de Atacama and up into the spectacular Andean mountains around Cusco, where I fell in love with Peru as well as a certain Peruvian. Eight months later my boots came back to Cusco with me to follow my heart, and spent many happy hours travelling the cobble streets of the Inca capital, and working in the veggie garden of the orphanage where I was teaching the girls basic food-growing skills.

Back home again in Hobart my boots helped me to keep sane on weekend hikes through snow, mud, dust and rain, while I figured out how to live with my heart on the other side of the world, and in September 2013 they were on my feet as I flew back to Peru yet again, to take up a year-long position working in environmental management here in Lima, my stomach full of butterflies and my heart all over the place.

The guy and I couldn’t make it work, in the end, but the boots and I are still going strong. We’ve trekked up to 4 800 mASL in the Cordillera Blanca, we’ve visited ruins from long-vanished cultures.For the princely sum of 20 Nuevo Soles (about $8 US) I got the holes worn through by my heels patched and my patched-up boots were on my feet again when my patched-up heart and I wandered through Cusco again recently and shared a moment of healing with a man I’ll always, always remember.

They’re almost 6 years old now and they’ve covered a lot of ground, but there’s life in my old boots yet. They’ve outlived three pairs of pricey hiking sneakers and I’ve learnt that no-one can bring out the shine in them like a Peruvian street boot boy. At the end of my project here in Lima I’m hoping we can adventure together through Patagonia for one more grand South American adventure before I head back to Tasmania and work out just what comes next in my life. These boots are my freedom, my adventurous spirit, the wonders I’ve seen and the paths I’ve chosen to tread. Dear old friends who’ve never left a blister, their passing will be mourned, though long may they live on as planters in a happy garden somewhere.

Or expressing that we’ve known it all along.

A story that reminded me of my own little sister…

Amanda RemynseMy favorite pair of boots aren’t even mine. I realize that sounds a bit Dorothy-ish in the Wizard of OZ, but that’s not the case. I’ve actually never even put on these boots. They belong to my sister, who is 9 years younger than I am. I should have known that she’d be more cowgirl than I ever could imagine when she started sleeping with a three-legged plastic pony versus the teddy bears that most kids sleep with. She became a cowgirl at a young age when she realized that she could put on her bright red with bling (sounding Wizard of Oz-ish again) boots all by herself. These boots didn’t require anyone to tie her stupid laces or help her ensure that they got on her feet. She put them on herself and would go out the door. I’m sure 50% of the time they were on the wrong feet but it didn’t matter to her. She had places to go and adventures to make into a reality. Twenty years later, she’s still rocking some boot of some shade. I think that this early independence shaped her entire attitude, as long as she had her boots, red blinged or not, she was invincible.

Your boots have walked you through starting over:

Kandie's boots

Kandie’s boots

karenrsandersonMy boot story is a little sad…About 15 years ago, I lived in Delaware. I had two pairs of cowboy boots, one pair brown, one pair distressed black. I wore them for years, every day. Then I moved to Albuquerque – again, every day, boots. Then I moved to Minot in the fall of 2010. That winter was brutal, and I had a stinky hot-weather car, so I didn’t get out much, I wasn’t making friends, and I had no job yet. We were warned to get ready for the flood. My son (Air Force) was on special flood duty. My daughter-in-law (Air National Guard) was on special flood duty. I was full-time babysitting my two grandsons. So when my son finally got off, it was THE DAY the sirens were to go off. I had just time to grab some clothes, all my genealogy research, and my books. I lost both pairs of boots and most everything else. 

Stumbled you right into your future husband: 

smartbsolutions boots

Smart B.’s boots

smartbsolutions– ...here I am am admiring your perfect cowboy boots – never even have seen a cowboy bending over a branding fire  and obviously never even owned a pair of such beauties. But still I wanted to share a little story about my boots that involve my husband. The boots that are my all time favorite are a pair of brown leather beauties, made in Portugal and with a most bizarre zipper clothing in the back – they are high and stylish and from the first day I bought them absolutely perfect fit. I have been wearing them for 6 years now (in winter season only). They are part of the story how I met my husband in the Brussels airport back in 2008. That day I had my brown boots on (have just bought them) and a brown leather coat, it was a perfect sunny morning in January and I was driving my friend to the airport. We ladies, have had a couple of drinks the night before to celebrate our last evening together before she is heading back home and of course we were late and totally stressed so I hardly remember the way from my apartment to the airport, but we made it and she headed off to her gate and me I headed out the sliding door of the airport in the sun looking down admiring my then still brand new leather boots I felt such a relief and so happy at the same time – also to see the sun and my beauties and how great I looked wearing them and then, boom, boom, boom, several heavy suitcases are rolling off the trolley and land right next to my boots. I didn’t even look,  just tried to pick up the closest of those heavy bags thinking “Thank God they didn’t scratch my boots!” and right then I hear a very deep voice of a man telling me: “That’s ok, I can handle this, thank you!” Well I had to look up to see who is so rudely refusing my help and there he was trying to pick up all his luggage and stuck it back up on the trolley smiling at me. Well, we started talking and the rest is history! we’ve been together since and this August will be celebrating our fifth wedding anniversary:) I just felt I needed to share this story about how just a pair of boots become part of such a romantic memory. And btw our cat Trigger also loves those boots in his own way. He has managed to “personalize” them twice to show me that he doesn’t like it when I go out and don’t take him with me:) 

They’ve walked you down the aisle and hung on as you rode across the country on the back of a motorcycle:

Andrea's Boots 2

Andrea B.’s Boots (via Twitter)

Andrea-My all time favorite pair of boots are the boots I wore on my wedding day, last September. They are black with lizard inlay (like the boots your husband got for you) except they are square toes. I think it took me longer to pick out the boots then it did to pick out my wedding dress. Not only did I wear them for the wedding, I wore them on the honeymoon! We took the motorcycle out to the Hills in South Dakota. I love that these boots are so comfortable! Every time I put those boots on it takes me back to that special day! 

Have been sacrificed on your way out of near death experiences:

Kathie-I can’t send you a picture of my favorite boots because they’ve been lost. I was very young, maybe 5 or 6, and my parents had bought me my first pair of boots; they were red with green trimmed tops. After a few days of owning them our neighbors came over and of course we children were sent outside to play. A game of follow-the-leader soon developed and I was blindly following my friend when she ran over the pit the milk cows’ urine drained into (fondly known as the piss pit). It was fine for her but when I ran over it one of the planks in the cover broke and I plunged into it. She quickly thought to sit on my hands and yell for help. My older sister came running, tried to lift me out and failed so ran to the house to get my dad. He and the neighbor guy came running and pulled me out to safety but my boots were, sadly, left in the piss pit for eternity. To top things off, Mom wouldn’t let me into the house to bathe so I ended up in the water tank and THEN we had to clean the water tank so the cows didn’t get ill. I still remember those boots fondly and have never seen a pair like them.
Some have been abused by your best friend:
spottedfeatherfarms boots

Lisa’s Boots

Lisa Tucker (spottedfeatherfarm.com) So, there I was sleeping soundly (well I guess not that soundly) when I hear munching coming from the kitchen. I go in, flip on the light and what do my eyes see? My Cocker Spaniel “Gunner” having a 3 am snack of my new 2 week old Justin boots!!!! I gasp! I’m in shock! Am I having a nightmare!? Gunner looks up at me (mid chew, mind you) with an expression of “can I help you with something”? All I can say is OMG Noooo! I grab the boots and just want to cry. Now Gunner is only giving me side glances. Damage is done so what could I do but regain some composure and try to find the humor…

I know own a pair of customized Justin Boots that I still love and wear daily, but occasionaly still have flashbacks.http://spottedfeatherfarm.com/2013/03/16/finding-the-humor/
He even signed them. I feel so privileged…

And some of your most precious boots haven’t even been purchased yet.

Little Man’s first pair…

megansredbarn –As you know… I too share a love for boots… I’m pretty sure that’s what makes us such good friends!

I would like to say that my favorite boots are my wedding boots that are so scuffed, my husband bought my me new “should be” favorite snip toed, wing tipped boots. But they aren’t. They aren’t even my fabulous Corral boots, that a sales lady at the only “western” store we could find in the Minneaplis area, thought were “vintage”… I’ll take that as a compliment! I can’t even say my favorites are my most fabulous Muck Boots anyone has seen because I “girlified” them with some awesome fuzzy boot covers that my mother in law gave me for Christmas one year.
I have to say that my favorite pair of boots are a pair that I havn’t purchased yet.
I believe my favortie boots are going to be the 1st pair of boots that my Little Blessing, Ellie, wears. For some reason, out of all the cute clothes and gifts that she’s recieved, we havn’t recieved a pair of boots yet. I’m thinking it’s because that’s something that her and I are going to get to share together. Maybe our Bestie-Jessie will even be able to join us in the fun… and to Jake’s dismay, pass on our love for a good pair of boots… For every occasion!

Mandy's Boots

Mandy’s Australian Boots (via Facebook)

Yes, there’s a lot of soul in those soles….

I wish I could have you all over for that hike, now more than ever. But more than that I wish I could give you all a free pair of boots!

But alas, the winner of the drawing has to be announced. And if there was anyone else in this house with me I would make them do a drumroll, but there isn’t. And I don’t have drums.

So everyone tap the toes of your favorite boots while I announce the winner of the Rocky Boot Stories Giveaway!

Taptaptaptaptaptap…..

Suzie from Quirky Culture 

Suzie’s name was drawn out of my husband’s smelly old hat (because it’s the hat the makes the man). She shared a beautiful story about how buying her first pair of cowboy boots in Nashville, Tennessee was her first step into a new life.

Suzie, email jessieveeder@gmail.com and I”ll get you on the road to buying your Rocky Boots!

Read Suzie’s story and all of the boot stories shared in the comments of the post “Boot Stories (Prize Alert)” and then head on over to my Facebook page, Twitter and Instagram  and do the same.

Thank you Rocky Boots for the giveaway and for making boots that are made for all sorts of wonderful men and women.

Rocky Logo_Primary

And thank you again for sharing a little piece of yourself with me, the special piece tucked into those fabulous boots.

Peace, Love and the Perfect Pair,

My singing boots!

Jessie

Boot Stories (PRIZE ALERT!)

I’m not sure if I remember my first pair of boots. I might have had a pair or two of hand-me-downs before I got to the red ropers with the scuffs on the toes. Of course, they didn’t come with the scuffs on the toes, but that’s the only way I remember them.

I was probably seven or eight when I opened the box and tried them on. Boots in our childhood were a purchase thought out carefully by my parents. They had to fit well. They had to last. They had to polish up for 4-H horse shows and they had to come off and let us loose if we got our foot hung up in the stirrup.

We didn’t go riding in lace-ups.

Sometimes I would wear those red boots to school, but mostly I would save them for riding. I was a particular child and I believed there was a particular dress code for things.

Apparently bright and buttoned up to the top was one of my rules for public appearances…

Anyway, as my feet grew, I would tuck my old boots away at the back of the closet for my little sister and dad and I would head to the store to pick out my next pair. I’m not sure why, but the memory of the boot-picking-out-process with my dad is one that stuck with me.

Maybe it was because shopping in farm and fleet stores was the only kind of shopping the two of us ever really did together, but there was something about the smell of the leather standing next to my father staring at a wall full of boots in every shape, size and color that was both comforting and confidence building.

I think it was justification that I was his helper, his right hand man, and he needed to make sure I had the right gear.

There isn’t much gear more important to a cowboy than his boots.

And the choice in boots was never made on looks alone. No. It was brand and quality of the leather. It was height of the heel and comfort of the fit. It was a toe not too pointy and a sole not too thick. It was flexibility and durability and practicality.

Luckily, back then, I was a Plain Jane sort of girl. Anything flashy or frilly was for Rodeo Queens, and, despite the pair of hand-me-down yellow western pants I got from the neighbor, I was no Rodeo Queen.

Clearly…

In fact, once my feet quit growing, I wore a maroon pair of Ropers until the duct tape that I used to repair them wore off and a friend who borrowed them lost them at a rodeo.

If it weren’t for her I’d probably still be wearing them. I think she probably did me a favor there.

Anyway, I don’t have to tell you how times have change me. No. You are all well aware of my affinity for boots. We’ve talked about it before.

And while my life still calls for a plain brown riding boot with a good heel, I believe it also calls for a vintage red pointed toe with a cream lace detail top, perfect for under my wedding dress.

I also must have the the tall gray snip toe with a lace butterfly detail to show off with black pants and a flowy top. And then there’s the pale brown pair with the embroidered tops that I wear with sundresses.

Oh, and the black pair with the lizard skin inlay and the killer toe that I squeeze into a few times a week because they were a gift from my husband a few Christmases ago and I was too excited to worry about things like the correct size.

And then the chocolate brown pair with the turquoise and red detail I convinced my mom to buy that have somehow found a home in my closet…

Yes. It might be the hat that makes the man, but I think it’s the boots that make the woman.

Which brings me to the reason I brought this all up in the first place. Are you ready for it?

See, I’ve got plenty of stories I could tell that involve a great pair of boots, but I want to hear yours. And so do my good friends over at Rocky Boots.

So guess what?!

I am giving away a free pair of Rocky Boots (your choice) to one of you, my loyal, beautiful followers. 

 FREE BOOTS!!!!

If that doesn’t make your heart race like seeing a cowboy bending over a branding fire, I don’t know what will…

FREE BOOTS FROM ROCKY!!

Sorry, I don’t get to use that phrase very often. Had to do it again.

Anyway, all you have to do to get in the running for the prize is leave me a comment with a story involving your favorite pair of boots. Now ladies and gentlemen, I know you’re not all out there donning cowboy boots, so that’s not the rule.

They can be rubber boots, shit-kickers, snow boots, hunting boots, hiking boots, knee-high dancing boots or the ones that got away for all I care, just tell me why you love them or why the memory is so sweet and I will put your name in the hat for a free pair of your choice from Rocky.

Now Rocky sells outdoor, duty, work and western boots, so there’s truly something for everyone here.

Me? I’ve got my eyes on these babies.

Anyway..here’s how to enter.

  • Tell me about your favorite boots in the comments on This Blog Post Right Here
  • Or leave your story as a comment at facebook.com/veederranch
  • And since we’re having so much fun here, I’d love to see some photos! Tweet or Instagram your favorite boots shots using #rockybootstories. These entries will be counted toward the free boot drawing too!You can find me on both Instagram and Twitter as @VeederranchThen head over and show Rocky Boots some love!
  • Facebook.com/rockygear
  • Twitter: @rockygear
  • Instagram @rockyboot

    Rocky Logo_PrimaryThe drawing will be held and announced next Wednesday where I will feature some of my favorite photos and stories right here on the old bloggity blog!

    This is fun stuff folks! Can’t wait to hear (or see) where your boots have taken you!

Obsession…

I have been having some issues this past month and I decided it’s high time I let you all in on one of my little quirks.  Because I think it is one of my duties to make you all feel better about yourselves and life in general and what better way to give someone the gift of self-assurance than to flat out confess that I might be a little crazy.

I can't help it, like GaGa, I was born this way...

See, you feel a bit more normal already, don’t you?

Anyway, I may have mentioned in passing that I have a few addictions. One of them is coffee,

Like I said, it started at a young age...

Another is bagels, and, well, get me in a room with puppies and I am in danger of an overcommitment similar to that of the Megan character in Bridesmaids.

Yeah. 9 puppies in a van. That would be me.

Look at me, I'm possessed....

Obsession. We all have it in us. Sometimes it’s a great thing. Sometimes obsession pushes us to test our limits of capabilities and finds us climbing uncharted mountains, speaking foreign languages, running marathons or, you know, at the Grammys or something.

But sometimes it ain’t so pretty. Like when you snap out  of a chocolate chip cookie induced coma to find that you have been watching a marathon of “Dance Moms” on a Sunday afternoon, for like four hours straight. The realization that you may never get those brain cells back is a tough pill to swallow. And the realization that there are actually women in this world who are that awful…and they get their own t.v. show…can also be something that puts you at risk of a late night call to your therapist.

Yeah, I’ve had my fare share of obsessions. From my addiction to blending things, the semester in college where I couldn’t fall asleep without watching re-runs of the Cosby show on TV Land and the six months I spent determined to find myself a pair of the original Zubas…in my size…in pink and black…just…like…I…used…to…wear.

Needless to say I had to wean myself off of Ebay the same way I had to quit Theo.

It was painful, but necessary.

Yes, I have been known to go overboard. You witnessed it a few months back when you caught me sitting at my kitchen table in my sweatpants, crazy eyed and determined to craft something. It goes wwwaaayyy back people. Back to my days of 4-H and wildflower hunting and learning to ice skate on the frozen stock dam, practicing for hours so that one day it might be possible for me to compete in the Olympics.

I am delusional. But in those moments, the moments I am spinning on ice and getting ready to use my toe pick to launch into the triple axel I am so utterly confident I can land, I believe myself. And then I crack my tail bone on the ice and decide that perhaps I should get back to latch hooking.

Yeah, I’ve been known to possess the not so productive, not so calorie burning or brain-cell friendly obsessions in my lifetime.   And I will admit that not many of them have turned out the way I had intended.

But some have. Like my this one right here:

Ummm, hmmmm, that turned out alright sisters.

Yup. I am the woman who finds something she likes for breakfast and then eats it for breakfast like….every….single….morning. When I have a favorite menu item at a favorite restaurant I order it…every…single…time. Like a song? I press repeat. And then I press it again. Then I buy the album and NEVER take it out of the CD player until I find another album to torture my friends and family with for months at a time. Seriously, I have literally worn out CDs….

And so I guess that explains my five year marriage to a man I met when I was eleven, in case you were wondering.

Yup.

Which brings me to today. I’m flaring up.

And I am blaming the advancements in technology. See, it used to be out here in the wilderness you were protected. You didn’t have access to a shopping mall, so maybe you wore the same boots every day and didn’t know any different. You were happy. You fell in love with the music that you heard coming through the radio on drives in the tractor or in the feed pickup.

All seven of them.

And you were happy humming to George Strait. George Strait is the man. And Zubas were only a fond memory. A memory that had absolutely no potential of becoming a reality again because there was NO SUCH THING AS EBAY!!!

But now I’m screwed. I have high speed (well, high speed for middle of nowhere) internet and I just found out that Pinterest was invented AND I NEED FURNITURE AND LIGHT FIXTURES AND I NEED TO CRAFT THOSE LIGHT FIXTURES OUT OF RECYCLED WINE BOTTLES AND THE FURNITURE OUT OF BARNWOOD AND PILLLOWS I HAVE TO LEARN TO SEW FROM SCRATCH! IDEAS! I’VE FOUND ALL THE IDEAS!!!

And then, my little sister came home and introduced me to Spotify,  an online music sharing site that gives you access to any artist and all of their albums.  So I downloaded it and have been crying in my office at work for like three days in a row as I listen to Lori McKenna‘s new album on repeat for eight hours.

I mean, who writes lyrics like this?

 I was just a little girl
When your hand brushed by my hand
And I will be an old woman
Happy to have spent my whole life with one man

Who is this woman and why is she singing about my life?
Can we be friends? Lori? Lori? Can you text me? I’m dying. Sniff. Sniff. Sob.

I think I’ll stalk her on YouTube

Lori McKenna: How Romantic is That

But here’s the worst thing of all. Something I’ve known is out there for years. Something that has fed an already brewing obsession. Something that allows for that obsession to be delivered to my door with a click of the button. Something that is filling my already to capacity closets to the brim, inhibiting me from making wardrobe decisions, has me standing in front of the mirror in jeans on one leg, and then the other… It’s keeping me up late at night.

It’s costing me hundreds of dollars.

And the worst thing of all is that I can’t quit. They don’t make a patch, they don’t have a help line, I can’t call my momma cause she has the same problem…my sister is hooked too. It might be hereditary. It might be the devil…if the devil was fashionable and sexy….

Yes…you guessed it. It’s online boot shopping…and I need one of the following in every color.

I need fancy boots for singing, practical boots for riding, comfy boots for walking (because these boots are made for walking), boots that look like slippers, slippers that look like boots…

I need boots that go over your jeans, and ones that go under, and a pair that do both just in case. I need high heeled boots and mid heeled boots and well, normal heeled boots. And I need high heels that look like boots.

I need snow boots for trudging, and snow boots for shopping, and muck boots for slopping around in the shit in the corrals.

I need hiking boots to climb the hills and boots that go in my snow shoes. I need hunting boots. I need cowboy boots, and sexy cowboy boots, and boots that kinda look like cowboy boots, but aren’t.

I need hippy boots and professional boots that go with the suit I might wear some day. I need square toe, round toe, pointy toe and the ones that are kinda square and kinda pointy…

There out there…they are. I’ve seen them all!!!! Mwahahahahaha….. (*whisper* hhheeelpp….meee…)

I’ll just be a little longer… Can you hand me another chocolate chip cookie?

Shit.