Lazy W Marie

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

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Just One Strand for Charlie Brown

   This year Handsome and I decided to follow a yearning we’ve both had for years, that is to find and decorate a skimpy, humble, happy little Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. 
   In years past we both I always buckled to the pressure of big and bold, doubtlessly playing silent games of comparison for the girls’ comfort and approval.  This is one of the hidden, if slightly treacherous, blessings of having accepted our circumstances for now: We are learning how to feather our nest for ourselves now and then.
Brief Side Note: Can a thing be slightly treacherous? 
Isn’t it either treacherous or not? 
Are there in fact varying degrees of treacherousness? 
I don’t think so. 
But there are varying extremes of grief. 
And there are many shades of gray in matters of
dealing with grief. 
We’re getting stronger, FYI.
xoxoxo
   Soooo… early one recent evening we found our boots and jackets and took a chilly but romantic walk through the Pine Forest next door. We found about a dozen worthy tannenbaum candidates, including some table top babies and more than a few Griswald-style giants. You know what I mean. The kind that inevitably houses rabid squirrels and such. The kind that looks like an appropriate size in the context of a FOREST but is sorta not appropriate in anybody’s living room.
   Our voluptuous momma cat Fast Woman accompanied us on the trek. She was fascinated by our path and scratched trees left and right to encourage the search. Two of the horses heard our noises and, possibly thinking we were Sasquatch, came galloping and screaming up to the forest edge. Daphne especially was steaming and panting. What the heck was actually going through her equine mind? I’d love to know.
   After about half an hour we settled on a tree close to seven feet tall, once trimmed, but certainly on the lean side of life. If our tree was bacon it wouldn’t be bacon; it would be Sizzle-Lean. It would tell other bacon trees to move over, cause now there’s something leaner.
   The trunk is skinny enough for us to wedge into an Ozarka water bottle which I found by chance in the barn. The Ozarka bottle also seems to be the perfect hydration system. And with a few household screws twisted into the base, our tree stands nice and straight. We pretty much feel like geniuses around here. Behold our egos.
   In years past, with our bigger, thicker trees, the Christmas light loading took a while. It required some serious unraveling and a dab of  yoga prowess. It was a job.
   Not so this year.
   We still chose to make the lighting a ceremonious event by making sure we were both there, turning off all the other lights in the room, and generally being in the right spirit. We even watched the Charlie Brown Christmas special. But I think it took about three minutes. No, make that two. 
   We used exactly one strand of white lights, and our tree is simply glorious. 
Glorious to us, you guys.
Glorious to us.
   I know everybody usually shares photos of their trees in fully decorated pomp and circumstance, but we’re feeling very peaceful and slow paced around the farm right now. Really soaking up the moments and trying to enjoy the truest joys of the season.
   I might decorate it tomorrow, now that our lights are up. Handsome also traced the front of our house with white lights, which pleases my soul. 
Life is good. 
Christmas is Merry.
I Love Our Tree.
xoxoxoxo

Sea Monkey Conception

   It was Wednesday afternoon. The farm was clean and quiet, and nothing on the schedule threatened interruption. The water tank had been prepared, and the time was right.

   So I lit a few candles and pressed play on my favorite love songs album, thinking Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman singing Come What May from the Moulin Rouge soundtrack would be a good beginning for such a risky venture.
   I ripped open the square paper packet of instant live eggs and tenderly peppered them into the distilled, treated water. Someone in the other room started playing a weepy violin, which is weird because nobody else was here and no one I know plays the violin. Was that an omen?
   The eggs fell like glitter through the water. I covered the little plastic tank with my favorite cotton tea towel, the one with owls on it, thinking maybe the image of a fierce predator will help ensure the Sea Monekys’ safety.
   A quiet, trepidatious beginning to be sure. But a beginning nonetheless.

Five Senses Tour, Winter’s Beginning

    What a wonderful week we’re enjoying. Not without its stressors and mysteries, of course, but there’s some love or magic or something in the air. I have learned to slow things down even more when life is like this. Wishing you a big, nourishing dose of this peace. Here is my little detour on Monica’s 5 Senses Tour.

See: The beginnings of Christmas decorations in our home and the end of the colorful leaf parade on our property. 
This is possibly my favorite inspiration photo so far.
I have resolved to not buy anything new this year, 
to just use what we have plus maybe 
a few items from the produce department.
Hear: Our parrot practicing new words, our guinea fowl debating creationism with the geese, lots of Soundgarden on the radio today, and an excellent playlist of Cajun music while I write.
Taste: Really good, strong, fresh, piping hot coffee with real sugar and cream in it. Big surprise, I know.
Touch: Perfectly fresh, clean, cool, pressed sheets on our bed and then Handsome’s face shaved just as smoothly, between those sheets.
Read: Still nibbling at the same book, which is picking up speed as the narrator’s love affairs do the same.
Think: I have been simmering a lot about the environments we create and allow for ourselves, the deliberance with which we live each day and the conscious will we apply to life and relationships.

I found this, like so many other great images, on Pinterest.
I believe this is the original source.
Feel: Overflowing optimism, faith, hope, excitement, suspense, secret joy, gratitude ahead of time… However you might label this ribs-deep emotion that everything is going to be alright, that miracles are in the air, that’s how I feel this week.

My sweet chickens are several years older now than in this photo,
but I’ve been gazing at this image for over a week.
And when I spoke to them a couple of nights ago
their voices were as young and clear and happy as they were on this day.
This is a huge, welcome blessing in our home.

Be Sensual. That’s how you were created…
xoxoxoxo

5 senses tour

Mutual Admiration Society: Liebster Blog Award

   Growing up, our home’s population was slightly but powerfully overwhelmed by women and girls. Mom made conscious efforts to encourage us and reinforce good behavior, shelling out compliments and affirmation richly and regularly. Dad, on the other hand, though a loving and positive man for sure, took great pleasure in teasing us and tempering our warm-fuzzies with jokes about the “Mutual Admiration Society.” This is how he affectionately referred to our dinner table conversations about how good and pretty and talented and awesome we all were. 
   Well, so here we are a thousand years later in blogland, a place that did not exist during those formative years. And some of us are still trading warm fuzzies, even if a voice somewhere in the background is saying how silly we are to do so.
   This morning I was delighted to read that my ten-four good buddy M Half had included me in a very sweet and encouraging list of her fave new/small scale blogs. I am the giddy recipient of something called a Liebster Blog Award!!!
   The word liebster is German for dearest. Sharing the award is a little way of recognizing, as M Half put it, “up and coming bloggers with less than 200 followers.” Umm, yep, I qualify. But juuuuuust barely…
   Isn’t that nice??  If my Dad reads this he may very well raise his eyebrows and look over his glasses then say something witty to keep me grounded, but that’s okay. I know we all try to temper our appetites for approval by being honest. And I know for myself that cross pollinating ideas with a handful of intelligent, passionate people has greatly improved my general well being since starting this blog in May. I groove the exchange. I really do. I love forcing myself to articulate things that sometimes hurt and other times are either  challenging or just plain silly. And I am so grateful for people who are bold enough to cast their own two cents here and there. The world is clearly full of people worth knowing.

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   Without further ado, my own nominees for this sweet little award:
The M Half  Despite appearances, my giving this award right back to my friend is not merely reciprocal. She is a consistent poster, which motivates me, which is ironic because she scoffs gently at motivational bloggers, which is really ironic because she is a very accepting person, which is beautiful because she accepts people who might not accept her first. She is a writer and editor by trade and has a clear, readable style which gives me a hungry goal. She also takes the time to edit my stuff, a personal favor for which I will always be eternally grateful.
   More importantly, she has a view of the world unencumbered by dogma and typicality. Is that a word? I shall invent it just for her. She resists typicality, and I love that about her, She keeps me accountable for opinions I might otherwise resign to habit, tradition, etc. But when I stick with tradition she still respects me in the morning..Thanks for everything, M Half. I am a better person for knowing you!
Cabbage Ranch   I have more in common with this lovely woman in terms of longings than actual facts, but we are both mothers (though I have sixteen years of seniority over her) and we do both have horses and live in the south central United States (though on opposite sides of our legendary Red River). Katie writes about her baby “Beep,” about home keeping, her horses, her husband, living in the country, really anything she wants.
   On top of it all, Katie also works outside the home, which sort of underscores for me her industriousness. I think I first glanced at her blog by reading comments on Pioneer Woman, a little site you probably haven’t heard of yet. PW is just getting her blog started you guys, so let’s be nice to the new girl. Okay?
In My Wild Eden  I cannot remember exactly how I first came to read this truly beautiful blog. Possibly through a writer’s workshop. But please do take some quiet time to soak her up. She offers pulsing photography that looks a lot older than it is, original poetry, and abbreviated but completely loving remarks on life. In her own words, she was “born to walk country roads and gaze into vintage skies.”
Periphery  Yes, M Half chose her too and in fact I owe my introduction to this blogger to my trusty ten-four good buddy. Periphery writes with philosophical precision and an obvious appreciation for language. I don’t know how else to say it, but the first post of hers I read had me hooked, as M had promised. It was titled “In This Economy” and spoke to so many important things that I immediately wanted to invite her and a bunch of other soulful people to either a lively debate of hot topics or a pep rally for positive thinking.
New House, New Home, New Life  I am not only a lover of words and ideas; I also drool over homemaking and domesticity, though I am unlikely to share my own ideas on that stuff here. I very recently stumbled upon a blogger who is sharing her remodeling, redecorating, and gardening adventures in Canada. She is also an avid Pinterest-er (love my eye candy) and has generously offered an experienced ear in matters of living apart from your children.
   Mothers whose children live with their Dad are either scarce or very, very quiet about it, understandably. It’s difficult to find anyone who understands both the heart shredding and the need to wait and thrive while they’re gone. I am so happy to have made Heather’s acquaintance!
Honorable Mention,
because this writer enjoys slightly more than the maximum 200 followers, 
but I have come to enjoy her so much:
Bohemian Twilight  Monica is the philosopher-artist with a heart of red and purple suede who generously hosts both the Joy Pockets and Five Senses Tour linkups. She isn’t always agreeable, but she does seem to always be genuine. I found her quite by accident while looking around for some gypsy-style interior photos. I continue to haunt her blog because she offers marrow-striking observations of the universe and poetic photos that speak volumes. I can almost smell patchouli incense when I read her posts.

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   Okay, so those are my nominations for membership in the Mutual Admiration Society, Liebster Chapter. Keep writing, ladies! I for one read everything you publish, even when I don’t have time to indulge in comment trading.

The Pen is Mightier
xoxoxoxo

Sea Monkeys

   Over the weekend, as part of a short family trip to Woodward, Oklahoma,  Handsome and I spent about an hour in Atwoods with his brother and sister-in-law and one of their sons. Do you have an Atwoods in your corner of the world? It’s a retail store found almost exclusively in rural areas, and though they are expanding their product base they mostly sell great stuff for, well, country people. You know, large quantities of deer corn and gun safes and stuff. And John Deere tractor accessories and sparkly belts and baby chicks in the springtime. And pearl-snap button up shirts and live animals traps and ammo.
    And candy and toys and home decor.
    We cruised the candy aisles and collected all the oldest, funnest sugary teats that we could justify with childhood memories. They sell the paper-bagged treats like clove gum, cherry sours, and horehound candy sticks. 
    Yep. That’s for our parents’ generation.
   They also sell plain cellophane bags of those spongy pale orange circus peanuts. And Boston baked beans. And maple thingies. We loaded up on something for everyone and had a grand ole time doing it, as much fun exploring the candy aisles as we did eating the candy itself.
   We also bought a rusty tin star for the house, something that should look good all year long but is a perfect gift to ourselves right after Thanksgiving, when the Christmas decorating is about to ensue. Then we each bought a toy. 
    For ourselves. Because we’re mature, responsible adults.
   Handsome selected a plastic miniature farm scene that includes a modern windmill, not one of the more familiar paddle/tripod windmills we all associate with black and white movies and drives through Kansas on the way to Oz. The new kind. The tall, elegant, white giants that now perforate the Oklahoma landscape sending clean energy to tens of thousands of homes. More on that soon; it’s a big topic.
    For my personal early Christmas toy gift I selected Sea Monkeys. 
   Sea Monkeys were a frequent indulgence for me in childhood, the only mass marketed item I might have purchased or received as a gift more often than Lee press-on nails. Now, the little aquatic babies never really lived that long under my care, hence the frequent purchases. But my grief over the repeated loss could apparently be assuaged by another little plastic tank of Sea Monkeys.
   Maybe I have always been destined to have a farm full of animals, or maybe this mild obsession was an early signal to my dangerous penchant for  optimism. Either way, when I saw the neatly arranged rows of Sea Monkey tanks for sale in Atwoods, all of that weird maternal-slash-Island-of-Dr. Moureau stuff came bubbling to the surface.
   My most difficult decision was no longer what toy to buy but rather what color of Sea Monkey tank to take home. I chose the purple one. Purple is the color of creativity, you know.
   Today I started my kit. If you have raised Sea Monkeys before then you know there is a process and a schedule. Please say the word schedule with me in the elegant European way, “she-shu-ill.” Many thanks.

   Tomorrow midday I will add the “Instant Live Eggs.” This Friday will be the little critters’ first official feeding! They will become the only Lazy W residents whose diet does not support and fund our local feed store owners and their beautiful family. I predict Pacino will be jealous of the attention I am likely to pour over my new babies,  but he’s a tough bird. He’ll get over it eventually.

   I’m taking the Sea Monkeys seriously this time, folks. I am a grown up now, as mentioned above. Since my last foray into this treacherous world of care taking I have successfully nurtured formula-fed baby buffalo, helped with the castration of two very spirited colts, napped on the belly of a horse, and been loved by a goose though hated by a rooster. Surely this new brine shrimp experience will come with a deeper well of skill and wisdom.
   No need to wish me good luck; I think we’ve got it covered.

   Wait, please do wish me good luck after all. This is terrifying.

Love your animals, great and small!
“The Lord God Made Them All”
xoxoxo