Lazy W Marie

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

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Jangly Nerves & Positive Thinking

   The Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon is this weekend. As I type this, in about 58 hours thousands of people from all over the world will convene in our beautiful city and run different distances at varying speeds in remembrance of  April 19, 1995.

   And I will find out if I have prepared well enough for the half.

   Honestly, you guys, I am terrified. I am worried that I won’t make it past mile 9 (the longest I have run so far) or that my yoga pants or the elastic of whatever stupid, not matching outfit I end up wearing that day will fail when everyone is looking. I am worried that 6:30 a.m. is too early for my body to do much of anything besides drink coffee, enjoy the sunrise, and watch chickens and llamas do their thing. Will Handsome be willing to have a 4 am Hot Tub Summit with me that day?
   I am worried that while running with strangers a big gust of Oklahoma wind will kick up on an unfamiliar urban hill and steal my favorite turquoise beekeeper’s ball cap, Velcro fastener mangling my ponytail in the process, and that I will be so devastated that I exit the race to reclaim it. I will then trample someone’s perfectly designed tulip-and-pansies flower bed and never show my face on the north side of town again. I am worried about embarrassing my little brother and our nephew, who are also running that day, and I’m desperately worried that my beautiful daughters will be there on the sidelines and feel embarrassed of me.

   For the past nine months or so I have been “training,” sometimes strictly but often not. There has certainly been slow, steady progress; my abilities today are without a doubt beyond what they were last summer when this all started. But at this moment on Thursday evening before the race, a sort of panic is overtaking my confidence like an ugly oil spill.

   Side note #1: Isn’t it interesting to note the nine months detail? 
Amazing things can happen with a woman’s body in that slice of time.

   Enough negativity.

   No doubt about it, if I can get my thoughts and feelings under control then everything will be fine. The race will be a success. I will come home with my favorite hat and a medal to give my parents-in-law (I’m running for them), and no one will pretend like they don’t know me. At least, not any more than they already do.

   Running is absolutely a mental game, and I recently enjoyed some proof of this fact. Would you like to hear a little story?

   This past Monday afternoon I went for exactly my second public run since junior high P.E. class. Running in public is a ginormous phobia for me, adding to my building sense of dread and doom for this weekend.

   I drove to a municipal park about twenty minutes from our farm, believing the paved track around it to be one mile. At home I am accustomed to running two miles before stopping for water, so at this park I planned to do the same. Two miles, which would be two laps. Right? I listened to the same music, kept my normal pace, and just kind of got lost in the zone.


   Side note #2: I used to regard sports metaphors with a special disdain, 
believing them to be contrived and super dorky and not sincere. 
Now I know they are anything but that. There really is such place as a zone, 
and it it’s absolutely magical there.

   Back to Monday.

   I ran steadily, following this lovely paved path which alternated between sun and shade, semi-private and very public. I celebrated inwardly how friendly people are to runners. Then at the end of two laps I felt thirstier and much looser and more warmed up than I usually do after two miles. I checked my phone and saw that rather than twenty minutes, I had been running for almost an hour! It was shocking. I later confirmed the path I took was three point-something miles.

Side note #3: I have the best running music in the universe.

  The point this proves is that my body could fulfill the expectations placed on it by my mind. I thought I was running two miles, which is easy, so I just kept going. Easily. And it turned out to be six. Then grabbing one final three-mile lap was a breeze, and I finished nine miles giggling out loud.

   Once my mind was distracted and in the zone, my body naturally followed suit. I have no doubt that if I had been focused on difficulty, that would have been my experience.

   The whole thing is flat out exhilarating. The physical, the mental, the emotional… All of it.

   So while I cannot predict the exact results of Sunday’s race, I can insist on a return to positive thinking and trust that it will foster a good experience. I can support my little brother and our nephew for their incredible efforts. I can thank my husband for supporting me in mine. And I can love and honor the people for who I am running, the rescue workers and morgue workers:

Harvey Wreath
Judy Wreath
Alan Prokop

   Thanks for listening to me sort this thing out. The big irony here is that running has become my stress reliever and at this eleventh hour, no matter how stressed I am, I’m not supposed to run anymore, just rest and stretch till Sunday.
   Continue to pray for the city of Boston, and when you wake up Sunday morning send me some positive vibes!

“Winning is not bout headlines and hardware (medals).
  It’s only about attitude. A winner is a person who goes out today
  and every day and attempts to be the best person he can be.
  Winning is about struggle and effort and optimism,
  and never, ever, ever giving up.”
~Amby Burfoot, Editor-at-Large, Runner’s World
xoxoxoxo

Cowbell and a Random List of Things

   Good Thursday morning, fine people! The Lazy W is awake and frosty and already bouncing with activity. Lots is happening these days, and I crave in my bones to write in detail about each and every item. But time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin… into the fuuuuutuuuuure… So as a result we have me writing once a week. How about a list today? Grab your morning’s last cup of coffee and please join me.

Oklahoma has been experiencing earthquakes more frequently, and the farm is not far from a commonly identified epicenter. They are getting stronger, too. It doesn”t bother me that much unless Handsome is out of town, but it is one more thing to consider. Side note: as with thunderstorms and other wild weather events, our yard birds seem to know when earthquakes are soon coming. They roll in the sand, cluck excitedly, and fly about alerting us to imminent danger.

This past Sunday evening, Handsome and I welcomed our friends Luis and Kevin and three of their friends to the farm for dinner and a moonlit bonfire. Two of their friends were visiting from New Zealand, and we had the nicest time laughing, eating, and singing around the fire pit. One of the guys brought his acoustic guitar and treated us to so much good music. The out of country guests were as accommodating as you can imagine answering my gazillion questions about Kiwi culture and such. Now I want even more to visit their beautiful island nation down under. In the mean time I am faking a gorgeous (but really awkward because it’s me…) Kiwi accent. To my ears it’s even prettier than French.

My garden is marching forward like a stalwart soldier of chlorophyll. Growing and blooming, reaching toward the fickle sky with her tiny broccoli heads, ruffled spinach rows, and curling sweet pea vines. Even the squash and eggplants are thriving. Ignoring the frost. Daring winter to lash out again and again  The pastures are drinking up this abundant rain and cool temperatures, blushing deeper and deeper green every week. The pond is so high right now that I still cannot run my normal lap around the back field. It’s a good problem to have, you guys. The fruit trees are straight and tall and heavy with variegated blooms. The hens are producing eggs like someone gave them magic egg-producing pills. Life is thrumming right along. I definitely celebrate the days when I get to stay home and enjoy so much activity and progress. Like today!

Here are a few veggie and herb babies that have yet to be planted outdoors. 
They have benefit of indoor shelter and TLC, but ironically 
their outdoor counterparts look much, much better.

Our mama llama has yet to drop that baby, but we feel like it could be any time. Care to place a wager? Several of this blog’s Facebook friends have already done so, and your guess is just as welcome. Winner gets choice of either a personalized tea towel or a batch of fresh homemade cookies.

I run my first half marathon this coming Sunday morning. The event benefits the memorial of the Oklahoma City Murrah Building Bombing of April 1995. I am running to honor my husband’s parents and our good friend Alan, all of whom worked tirelessly the day of and for for weeks after the bombing, both as rescue and in the morgue. They certainly deserve to be honored.

My hands are so cold as I type all of this. But I refuse to use the house heater. Not at the end of April. No matter how cold it gets. I’m not complaining, just trying to be as stalwart as my garden is. Which is very. If you need a pep talk on why this craziness is actually good news for Oklahoma, please read this article by a local meteorologist. Good stuff.

Our fair city’s annual Festival of the Arts is this week, and I can’t wait to have time to go! It’s always fun. Great food, gobs and gobs of visual inspiration, breathtaking flowers… Oklahoma City has really come to life in recent years, and we are all very proud of the progress and liveliness. If you’re local and want to go with me, drop me a note! Here is a link to the schedule.

This breathtaking tree is actually in the Tulsa Zoo, where Handsome took me yesterday,
but it is a great example of how beautiful Oklahoma looks it the springtime. 
Can’t wait to see the Myriad gardens this week!

Speaking of OKC, our beloved Thunder basketball team 
is already making waves in the playoff season. Go Thunder!

Tonight is World Book Night. Global activities abound, all of which I failed to plan on joining. But we can make our own fun, right? At the moment I am polishing off our book club’s current selection, Don Quixote. It is hysterical. And later today to celebrate World Book Night I want to make a lampshade out of old book pages. And return my library books. Which are only three days late. That’s kind of a record for me.

The characters Sancho Panza and Don Quixote are great examples of how 
assigning mental images and voices to your characters 
will aid in the smooth reading of a translated text.
Laugh-out-Loud funny.

   Okay, honestly you guys, this list of random things that make me excited today could easily be three times as long, but the farm awaits. And my coffee cup is empty and cold. So I wish you all a super happy day! Allow yourself to be overwhelmed by beauty and opportunity rather than burdens. This month, this week, today… with all of her unique challenges and benefits… will only pass by you once. Grab it all!!

“I got a fevah!
 and the prescription is 
 MORE COWBELL!”
~Christopher Walken
xoxoxoxo

What?

   Hey you guys. How was your day? I spent the better part of my afternoon enjoying the effervescence of a fifth grade classroom.  I am not gonna lie. It was a lot of fun. The kids were all just so happy! Happy to finally be done with standardized testing. Happy to have outdoor recess. Happy to have storms and tornadoes to talk about. Happy to have a sub. They were just plain happy, and I soaked it up. They made me laugh. A lot.

  During a not very quiet wait in the hallway between lunch recess and gym, these pre-adolescent angels and jesters lavished me with their humor and tricks. I heard a small, beautiful little girl break into a gritty British accent. I asked if she could do Australian, and she put anotha’ shrimp on th’ barbe. Another girl showcased her dance moves. Not too shabby. A little boy with a voice four times as big as his stature announced his deep love for all things military and saluted me feverishly. Then a little boy, bearing the expression of true curiosity and wrenching thought, asked me something along the lines of…

  “Hey how do you say that word, that goes W-H-A-T?”

   My reply:

   “Oh, it’s WREATH like a Christmas wreath.” Smile.

   Blank stares.

   “Like you hang on your front door at Christmastime. Wreath.”

   The class got really, really quiet. Everyone was watching, and I no longer felt like the adult in the room. Err, hallway..

   “The W is silent you guys.”  I am partially deaf, or so my husband says. And, in my defense, often in a classroom I have to write my name on a white board or something and repeat it several times before the kids remember it. The whole Christmas wreath trick usually works wonders, except that he was’t asking about my name.

   “No.” He was shaking his head a little now, “how do you say that word that you spell W-H-A-T.” He was really enunciating now, stressing every syllable as if his life, or maybe mine, depended on it.

   “Wait, what?” I was so painfully confused. Then I got it. My gosh.

   The class exploded into appreciative laughter and I was actually relieved because I had no clue how else I could possibly explain to them the pronunciation of my last name.

   Once we were back in the safe cocoon of the classroom, perhaps out of sheer pity, but also with a hefty dash of affection, the little girl with a thousand foreign accents gave me this:

   Sh seemed to be saying that from now on, using my first name was the way to go.

   Then, at the end of the day, a cherry on the ice cream, a riddle:

   “Hey Mrs. Reed why did Tigger look in the potty?” 

   I’m gonna let you guys come up with that answer on your own. If you know the answer, or if you have a fifth grader nearby to tell it to you, please share in the comments.

I Love Kids. The End.
What?
xoxoxoxo

Safety From Storms, Prayers for Boston

   In the immediate wake of Monday’s horrific events in Boston, I have wanted to reach out and say something poignant, or at least something soothing, or just anything useful at all. But nothing I can summon from the nauseated pit in my stomach has seemed adequate. The news of the violence at the Boston marathon affected me physically, as I know it did many others. We are all intrinsically connected in a million wonderful ways; how can we not feel the this pain?

   Where I have failed to write productively, my dear friend Margi has crafted a beautiful piece that I hope you take a few minutes to read. I am so happy to know that she is okay.

   Anyway, as I said, for the last two days forming sentences that might help has been a futile venture. All I can do is channel my energy back into life. Block out darkness as much as I can and water deeply the roots of nourishing things. Romance. Friendship. Gardens. Love. Literature. Health. Art. Prayer. These things matter, and feeding them makes such a difference. They cushion us against destruction and devastation.

  Storm clouds are gathering here at the farm as I type this. We are told to expect giant hail, thunderstorms, and tornadoes again today. Already the air is a brackish mix of warm and cool, moist and windy. Not unlike the world, our weather threatens to crush us over and over again.

   But we will be okay. Light drives out darkness. And storms pass.

   Here in Oklahoma we all still have fresh memories of the Murrah Building Bombing, which unbelievably happened eighteen years ago this Friday. (I was pregnant with my firstborn that spring, which also does not feel like eighteen years ago…) The commemorative Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon is right around the corner. So along with thousands of other people I am preparing for that. And every mile I grab this month is dedicated to Boston. If ever a run could be meditative and prayerful, it’s right now. To the city of Boston, I am praying for your comfort, provision, safety, calmness, healing, and future happiness.

   If you cannot eliminate grief, then increase your joy. That’s all I can do. And it does help.

xoxoxo
 

   

Saturday With Cervantes

   Every passionate reader has his or her own favorite way to get lost with a good book. Most of us are happy to do so under almost any circumstances, really, but we all have that certain place to sit, those special conditions and that exact mood, that make reading a true escape. Sensory transportation into the papery world offered.

   Knowing this personality detail about my friends is cool. I like to find out how they read best. Some of them prefer reading on dark, story days with the fireplace blazing. Others like to read curled up on the couch, blanketed by adoring felines. Some people read en route to work, by necessity, like on a train or even using audio books (something I have yet to try). Some people read in the bathtub with a deep glass of wine.

   Well, today, quite by surprise, I enjoyed the year’s first taste of my own favorite way to read. 
   The sun was not just golden but toasty. Hot, even. The clouds were lightweight and shed a few drops of easy moisture now and then. True sun-showers. I was free to lounge outside and luxuriate with sweet iced tea, apples and cheese, and a soft green yard full of clucking, puttering geese and chickens. 
   Weren’t we huddled against a final winter blow just three days ago? Not today. Today we enjoyed a preview of summer.
   
   No television, no cell phone unless I wanted it, and no hurry. Chanta, our big paint horse, was roaming free and kept sneaking up on me to nibble my toes or snuffle my bare back. Mia, my ever faithful gander, kept vigil of course. He honked and whined and smacked his muddy beak at the pages of my current haunt. Jealous of the attention being lavished to Miguel de Cervantes, I’m sure.
   Reading like this always puts me on the brink of a deep sleep, but if the book is good enough then my grip on reality is traded for full immersion to the story’s setting. Today was that good, that magical.

“Tranquility, a peaceful place, the pleasant countryside, serene skies, murmuring fountains, a calm spirit, are a great motivation for the most barren muses to prove themselves fertile and produce offspring that fill the world with wonder and joy.” ~Cervantes

   Here’s wishing you a few hours of your favorite reading conditions, friends! Soak up the best of whatever is offered you, and get lost in some paper.
“So many books, 
  so little time.”
~Frank Zappa
xoxoxoxo