Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

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Our Chanta

   Friends. Happy Monday to you! We have a lot going on, as usual, all of it really wonderful stuff. My girls are happy and well. Our home is safe and good. We have work before us and love between us. Life is magical.

   Among the work before us is tending to an injured horse. A few days ago our big paint horse, Chanta, got into a bit of an alpha male conflict with the super protective and territorial Romulus (daddy llama). While Chanta delivered several good solid kicks himself, he did suffer a small cut on his beautiful leg from Romulus’ crazy sharp hoof. Everyone is totally fine, just enjoying some tender loving care and medical attention for a bit. In fact, the conflict seems to have cleared the air between the two, and now everyone is tucked safely and happily in their own spaces.

   In fact, Handsome and I have enjoyed the extra snuggles at least as much as Chanta, and I am happy to know that we can handle an injury.

   Just hours before the manly kerfluffle happened, oddly enough, I sat with Chanta for over an hour, brushing him, kissing him, detangling his gorgeous mane and tail, stroking his muscles and long, amazing legs. Admiring the permissible layer of blubber he has grown lately. I clearly remember sitting on the grass in front of him while his big head dropped almost on top of mine. My hands, middle fingertip to thumb, can fully encircle his bony ankle. How can those skinny ankles support this magnificent beast? I don’t get it. Chanta loves having his legs and feet touched, so I brushed that silvery little forelock above his hooves too.

   
   Chanta is so big. and so sweet. and so in love with us. He adores being brushed and loved. He likes the Beatles’ songs Penny Lane and Norwegian Wood, but not as much as his favorite, Raindrops on Roses. After just a few quiet minutes like this, he usually exhales all of the air in that big round belly, a long gentle snuffle collapsing him into relaxation.

   Chanta is just the bees knees. We love him incredibly, as do all of our friends who visit the farm. We are super thankful he is okay, and to keep it that way if you believe in praying for animals would you do so?

XOXOXOXO

Same Kind of Different as Me (book review)

   Hello again! I have another book review for you. Of course, if we are friends on Facebook or Instagram, then by now you already know I am overwhelmed and inspired by my most recent read, Same Kind of Different as Me. Upon finishing it around lunchtime this last Thursday, I fell apart in the most wonderful way. This is the current conquest by our famous little Oklahoma book club, Dinner Club With a Reading Problem, and I highly recommend that all of you read it. Every single one of you. And all the people you love. I will be buying copies of this as gifts.

http://www.samekindofdifferentasme.com/

   Same Kind of Different as Me is a true story told from the perspective of two very different but, as the title implies, ultimately very similar men. Their lives and paths cross in a beautiful and unpredictable way, and the shared journey flowers and fruits into more than either of them could have imagined. Yes I know that sounds a bit vague, but just read it! I do not want to ruin it for you.

   There is a sort of sequel available, and we understand a big motion picture in in the works too! This is a bandwagon you want to be on.

********************

   Over the past couple of years I have read a myriad of books that fall under the “spiritual” category, and this one kind of does, but it is different. It is refreshing and inspirational but not preachy or intellectualized. It’s a modern day tale of spiritual victory, true love, lasting friendship (not catch and release), and much more. Same Kind of Different as Me just tells a great story. Plainly. Beautifully. Honestly. I felt as motivated by its messages as I did when reading Bonhoeffer earlier this year and moved to tears in a way that I haven’t been by a book in a long time. Bonus? The story is absolutely delicious. Addictive. I picked it up and couldn’t put it down until the last page, a few tearful hours later.

   This Friday night our Dinner Club With a Reading Problem met at Tracy’s house to discuss this treasure. We all hugged, laughed, and enjoyed plate after plate of good food.

My friends provided lots of healthier fare, but I was starved
and ate eleven hot dogs and hamburgers.

   We traded insights the book gave us into our own hearts, admitting prejudices we barely knew still lingered. Several of the ladies shared stories about sharecroppers from their families in Oklahoma and Texas. We talked about marriage, infidelity and healing, judging each other for our “sins,” adult illiteracy, homelessness, and mortality.

   Our book club gatherings are always rich with affection and conversation, and Friday night was no different. What was different with this title is that 100% of our readers thoroughly enjoyed it. That doesn’t happen too often. We all fell in love with the characters and the message. I think it’s fair to say that we all felt changed, too. For the better.

Tracy you NAILED IT!!!

   I must mention that the timing of reading this book is also amazing. On the heels of Marianne Williamson’s tutorial book A Return to Love, the philosophical message is crystallized into something digestible. Real life stuff. The bottom line of this true story is just love, love, love. Real love. Powerful, life changing, darkness-piercing, dream fulfilling, mistake forgiving, addiction breaking LOVE.

 

   I wrapped it up feeling like every good thing is not only possible but actually likely to happen. I feel like I can be part of (a conduit for) some very important solutions in our life. And, as always, I feel even closer to my book club girls. Thank you, DeLana, for guiding us to Same Kind of Different as Me. What a gift.

“Just tell em I’m a nobody that’s tryin to tell everybody
’bout Somebody that can save anybody.
That’s all you need to tell em.”
~Denver Moore

   Several of my friends outside of book club have already gobbled this up, too. Have you?

“We Woke Up.”
  ~Ron Hall
  xoxoxoxo

Zucchini Bread

   Friends. My house smells sooooooooooo good right now. Last night we had our traditional Tuesday night fish tacos for dinner (YUM) and I made a shiny little glazed chocolate sheet cake for Handsome for dessert, but the main aroma-maker from last night which is still delighting me this morning is zuchinni bread. Wowsa. I haven’t baked anything remotely like this in many moons, and I must say that it has drummed up something seasonal in me. It probably doesn’t hurt that yesterday we enjoyed rain and clouds all day and a temperature no higher than about 87 degrees. And this morning is almost crisp outside.

   Zucchini bread is the perfect bridge food between seasons. You are making excellent use of summer’s most bountiful vegetable and lacing it with autumn’s favorite spice, cinnamon.

   This is delicious, fragrant, filling, and relatively healthy, and I would love to share it with you.

   Okay. The following recipe came from Martha Stewart’s lovely mint green cookbook, “Collected Recipes for Everyday Use,” c 1995. I have owned this thick hardback copy since my early twenties, so, you know, just a few years. *wink*

Martha Stewart’s Collected Recipes for Everyday Use

   It’s falling apart now from heavy use and is crusted together in several delicious places, but the recipes are certainly still worth exploring. Tonight was the first time I finally tried the zucchini bread. Total success.

   A few notes first: While it is technically a “quick bread,” meaning, it does not contain yeast and therefore doesn’t need to rise, zucchini bread takes just a little extra time to prepare. So it may be a quick bread, but it isn’t fast. Also, it requires the biggest mixing bowl you have ever seen in your entire baking life. I actually feel like I say that a lot. Does everyone else have ginormous bowls, except me? Do I need to buy bigger bowls? Or have I been watching too much Shark Week?

See what I mean? The bowl on the left still needs to be added
to the very full bowl on the right. I was a nervous wreck.

   Okay. Other than large quantities of basic pantry staples, the only unusual ingredients are zucchini (obviously), nuts, and walnut oil. I had never purchased walnut oil before yesterday. It is a little pricey (almost five bucks for a small bottle), but I do not foresee using it too often or too quickly. Verdict: worth the almost five bucks.

Now I am actually wondering if walnut oil would be good in pesto. Thoughts?

   The first thing you should do is grate a few large green squashes. You need a finished amount of five cups of shredded zucchini. So if you grow them like I have been lately, you’ll need like half of one:

Perhaps you have heard it’s been a great year for zucchini here at the W.

  I just used my cheese grater and considered it meditation. Grate, grate, grate. Think good stuff, pray, say thanks. Grate, pray. Grate, say thanks. Grate, imagine only love. Grate, pray for your enemies too.
  Then wrap the wet, shredded stuff in several layers of paper towels to drain some of the water out. Later, if you have chickens, pour that pale green water into their treats, Free vitamins!
   While the shredded zucchini rests, you can mix up the bread batter.

Martha’s Ingredients:
  6 eggs
  3 1/2 cups sugar
  1 3/4 cup light vegetable oil
  5 cups unpeeled grated zucchini
  5 teaspoons vanilla extract
  6 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
  2 teaspoons baking soda
  1/2 teaspoon baking powder
  6 teaspoons baking powder
  6 teaspoons cinnamon
  2 cups chopped walnuts
  1/4 cup walnut oil

Marie’s Instructions:
  Using the biggest bowl you can find, even if it is your empty swimming pool…
  Beat the eggs until light.
  Add the sugar, mix well.
  Add the veggie oil, zucchini, and vanilla, and mix again.

  Now sift the (5) dry ingredients in a separate bowl. This one can be normal sized.
  Add the dry mix in small amounts to the swimming pool full of the egg-zucchini mixture.
  Continue mixing until it is all blended. This takes about four hours.
  Now add the chopped nuts. Note: I accidentally bought only 1/2 cup of walnuts, so I subbed in a big handful of     pecans. Still delish!

  Prepare loaf pans (either four large bread pans or eight small ones) by smearing with soft butter then dusting with a little flour and cinnamon. Add lots of the thick, wonderful, crunchy batter to each and bake at 350* for close to an hour. Just wait for the fragrance to overwhelm your soul then test the bread. Clean knife = done. Easy peasy!
   I used both metal and glass pans to get all the batter baked, and every single loaf came out perfectly. The finished bread all slid right out of the slightly cooled pans, still steaming, perfectly in tact, and wonderful.

   Thank you Martha Stewart for this classic recipe! It makes enough for me, the lovely ladies who run the front desk at Handsome’s office, and our neighbors. And all of Rhode Island, probably, although I have never been there. This bread is dense and heavy, too, so one slice is like a meal.

   I am not exaggerating. This morning I plated myself two skinny slices with an orange and can barely finish it. In other news, this week I’m reading Same Kind of Different as Me for Friday night’s book club meeting. It is so good you guys. Can’t wait to talk to you about it.

   What are you cooking with your abundant zucchini? They continue to just tumble off the vines here, so I am happy to collect recipes.

Buy Bigger Bowls
xoxoxoxo

Linking up with Mama Kat today!

My Newest Art Obsession

   I am such a sucker for fresh, new artwork. Different stuff. Off beat. Colorful, neutral, dramatic, plain, big, small, emotional, intellectual, silly, serious. Two-dimensional, three-dimensional, just whatever. So long as it is fairly unusual and not likely to be found in, say, a builder show home. That’s just not my groove, man.

   I especially like original paintings or old photos that have been “built up” with new little painted doodles or decoupaged photos. And maybe some glitter. Or whatever. Eye catching stuff. Meaningful stuff. I really love keeping old things, not tossing them just because their original purposes seem lost. Our home and property are full of re-purposed treasure.

   Well. My husband knows this. And he is the most romantic man ever, always coming up with gestures to woo me and amaze me.

   This evening he rummaged around in my garden shed then spent some time alone in his shop with an array of paints and a small grouping of weird plastic lawn animals.

   Meanwhile, I was in the pool getting lost in a Tom Clancy novel.

   And a while later, he presented these colorful gifts to me:

      Right??? My breath stuck in my throat when I saw them. I had to turn my face away and look again.

   These are nothing but those odd little plastic decoy animals you buy at farm supply stores… painted like folk art! Well, the deer is actually a planter, obviously not a decoy. But that raccoon has tricked me in the barn more than once. Not anymore, I suspect! And the duck? I have never seen a more beautiful, fabulous duck. Silver, With so many little colorful details that didn’t photograph so well in the bright sunset.

   Babe, thank you. I absolutely, positively, unashamedly L O V E these pretty little critters! Perhaps especially their gorgeous little eyelashes.

   I have one more plastic animal craving such a zesty treatment, a white plastic swan, also a planter. Do you have anything like this that could use a face lift? Wait, it’s more than a face lift; it’s a complete and total reinvention. Well, do you?

   Just FYI, this was a simple project. He did not need to prime or sand the critters; the plastic takes paint great. He used a combination of spray paints (we keep quite a full inventory for every day colorful use) and some acrylics. The most important supply is creativity.

   Tune in later this week for some milestone celebrations in our little family, some yummy recipes, and more of Tiny Mr. T. Until then, don’t throw stuff out! Just make it yours.

“The purpose of art is washing the dust 
 of daily life off our souls.”
 ~Pablo Picasso
 xoxoxoxo  

Senses Inventory: Skunked

   Everything was going just fine. I was on a good, average run around the back field. My miles were adding up. My thoughts were sliding by easily, transforming a worried mind into a peaceful one. The harder my heart beat the less it hurt. My sweat was warm and salty and mixing with the cool rain, the oily mixture of both running in beads down my arms and legs.

   I ran downhill through the prairie grass with the forest on my right, rounded the bottom of the trail, and turned south along a little ridge of red rocks made slick from the rain. My footprints matched a string of llama hoof prints. My arm brushed past the same soft pine tree branch that always, always touches me on this lap. It’s like a touchstone, a gentle nudge, even a little kiss every quarter-mile.  I took a deep breath and navigated the rocky downhill corner, enjoying the goose bumps from that pine tree kiss.  Then it happened…

  That deep breath I took should have been refreshing and energizing. Instead, it filled every cell of my being with…

   Skunk spray.

   So obviously it warrants this Senses Inventory.

********************

See: Even through my rain-spotted sunglasses, I see the blurry haze of skunk spray. All the colors of the farm are muddled together. They are slowly dropping into shades of brown and gray. My eyes are burning now.

Hear: Pacino is uphill near the house, singing and screaming at the free range guineas and chickens. I hear Dusty give a little whinny, like he felt a disturbance in the force. Besides these animals voices, all I hear is Shakira from my iPhone, making promises to me about truthful hips. She has no comfort for me about skunk spray.

Smell: I normally kind of like the smell of skunk spray, but this is too much. It’s just so dang strong. It’s so intense. It’s like skunk spray… concentrate. It’s like all the skunks of the world have been warned they have one last chance to rid themselves of spray, and they must do so here at the Lazy W. Behind this. Exact. Tree.

Taste: That sour, peppery, putrid, slightly gaggy, warm, fuzzy air that follows a truly drenching skunk spray. I taste it in my mouth. I taste it in my throat. The awful taste is now seeping down into my empty stomach.

Touch: Now the oily mixture of sweat and rain feels dangerous, like it could in fact be, well, you know…

Think:  Is this skunk spray actually on me? Or is just about me? And where is the skunk??And are green garden tomatoes as effective at sanitizing as standard tomato juice? I know my car needs cleaning, but there is no way I am getting in there smelling like this.

Feel:  Betrayed. I feel betrayed by nature.

********************

   Have you ever been skunk sprayed? It turns out my little run in was just friendly fire; it could have been much, much worse. And I credit the damp weather for intensifying every detail of the blast.

   Still, Momma Llama Seraphine would only get **just so close** to me when I walked back uphill.

Slightly Rude.
All of it.
xoxoxoxo