Lazy W Marie

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

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heart of the home

We had another plumbing emergency last week.

Around 7:30 Wednesday evening, Handsome wandered into the pantry to get some animals crackers for Klaus and discovered standing water and dripping wet shelves. A water pipe behind the kitchen pantry wall, and actually behind the built in cabinets surrounding the refrigerator, which makes it much worse, busted and leaked water all over our well stocked dry goods, cast iron skillet collection, large countertop appliances being stored there. All over the walls, all over the floor.

It is, unfortunately, a familiar sight. We have expereinced this a handful of times now, in different parts of the house, so we knew exactly what to do and jumped right to it, with maybe some snarling and groaning and WHY WHY WHY thrown in for good measure. Are you familiar with the scientific study which found that some gentle cursing helps alleviate physical pain? I think this also applies to plumbing emergencies.

My cute guy provided all the brain power for discerning the needed repairs, then he swiftly and patiently made those repairs. Cleanup and reordering the kitchen is my responsibility, which I am always happy to shoulder. That night the kitchen was sucked dry of standing water, and all the broken sheetrock was removed. The fridge was even wheeled back into place only after the floor there got rubbed to (almost) true white. But, truly exhausted, we surrendered at that point and went to bed with the shockingly voluminous contents of our tightly packed pantry strewn all over the dining room table and limited countertop space in the kitchen. It was a wild sight. Like a small grocery store had exploded in a very small space.

The next morning when I stepped into the cold, blue-black kitchen for coffee, it was all still waiting to be reordered. Piles and stacks of kitchen contents, all shadowy and chaotic and, in some places, still damp. The pantry mostly empty, yawning and awkward and asking me if, while we’re at it, should we paint?

(No. We should not paint.)

I actually kind of love jobs like this. I love rehabbing overgrown gardens, and I love a good, vicious decluttering job. In fact my early November task list was already headlined by “audit and deep clean kitchen,” in order to be ready for Thanksgiving. This was perfect timing. (Hey please nobody tell my husband I was glad it happened. Thanks.)

Okay here is the real story:

During those first hours that next morning, when the kitchen was repaired but in utter disarray, I could not focus on much else. I did all the basic farm chores first thing, but the state of the kitchen was preoccupying me. Although neither of us needed a full meal yet, nor were we expecting any guests, it was unsettling. I can tolerate lots of things undone, but not an unmade bed and certainly not an insane kitchen.

The kitchen is the heart of the home, after all, and when your heart is our of order or in disrepair, or even when it is not clean and refreshed, all other systems are at risk. Nothing else feels quite calm and safe to me when the kitchen is wonky.

So I spent several hours getting it just right. And it was great. Better in a dozen ways than before the mess, even. Every surface got scubbed. Every ingredient got inventoried and replaced to fresh new food bins. Every applaince got a once over and a tidy new spot. I refolded the ten thousand kitchen towels we have apparently accumulated, and I made long overdue decisions about mismatched napkin sets. By the time Handsome was headed home, I could cook dinner like I was playing in a new playground. And I relished the sensation of openness it all created inside me.

Now that our small, cozy kitchen is back in order, clean and shining and restocked, I feel equally compelled to make sure my heart is in order. As much as I want to feed our family a gorgeous Thanksgiving feast in less than three weeks, and then host many fun little Christmas parties after that, I mostly want to be healthy and soft and strong, reordered in my bones and in my soul, to serve my loved ones a good emotional feast, too.

I have gotten it wrong plenty over the years. In ways I did not mean to, in ways I was not aware of at the time, because I was focused on the wrong details. The wrong themes in general. I have been in phases where I focused more on table settings than repairing relationships. I have focused more on the dessert table than on speaking sweetly, or thinking sweetly. I have sometimes focused more on making sure we cook enough for everyone to have leftovers than on making sure we have an abundance of quality time with each other.

None of these hostessing priorities are bad, but they are not the most precious things. When I get them out of order, people feel it.

((My Mom always gets it right…xoxoxo))

Something cool God is showing me is that it does not have to be one or the other.

We actually can offer each other both a beautiful table and a feast for connection. We can deepen and enrich relationships while we plan and cook and share traditional foods. We can enjoy the dessert table and pretty centerpieces and we can speak sweetly.

It is all available. It is all part of the best feast.

How wonderful that time and grace have afforded us year after to year to improve. How magical that our family contiues to gather, however many people we add to this lucky roster, however busy our separate lives are, however much grief or stress we are feeling. We gather. And we need a good kitchen and lots of good hearts.

A kitchen that has been cleaned and organized, well stocked and prepared, can feed an army beautifully. A heart that has been filled with truth and good messages, that makes an effort to scrub out bitterness and ego, a heart that is full of the best gifts, can then share the best gifts while serving the best food.

While my kitchen is almost ready for Thanksgiving, my heart could used some attention, and I am so grateful for the time and appetite to do it!

“I cleansed the mirror of my heart,
now it reflects the moon.”
~Renseki

we better just keep going

There is a sensation that reads somehow as both expansive and contractive. I am sure you know it, too. It’s the breathing in and breathing out of Life Itslef, the simple, sacred rhythm of just being.

We feel the coexistence of both joy and sorrow. We grow big and strong but make terrible mistakes. We have brand new, beautiful experiences that stretch us then some that humble us. We add to, subtract from, and constantly edit and polish ourselves and our lives so that, no matter how many patterns and routines we follow, no matter how many seasons we witness, nothing is ever exactly the same, not quite.

And it feels like it is happening all at once.

And all of this is exactly as it should be.

We are given this rich, lush, fascinating world meant to be explored and loved. We are given all these many, varied people, near and far, meant to be known and loved deeply. We are given animals and gardens to care for, work worth doing, communities worth building, experiemnts worth trying, and goals worth chasing, in order to… Well, I won’t pretend to know the exact purposes, but I do know without a doubt that it’s all an extravagant gift.

I am telling you this because it hit me right when I needed it most. I have been feeling like too many things in my life have been starved of the attention and energy they need, yet I am all the way depleted. Not much extra to give, you know? When I pulled back to see what’s been happening, I was so happy to remember that I just set different goals for a while. The chaos I have been feeling is the natural result of a life densely packed wth all the best things, and it’s okay. I know that it’s within my power to reorder things when the time comes.

With this deep breath of contenment in my body, I see no other way forward except to just keep going. Continue on in the mild chaos. Continue doing the work we find important and satisfying. Nurture the friendships we treausre. Chase the goals that make our mouths water, respecting the process regardless of the outcome. Cultivate the best things we can find in community. Make sure we are doing everything we can to construct a history we are proud and happy to reflect on later.

It will feel off balance plenty. It will feel weird often. But it will also feel victorious and hilarious and awe-inspiring! I’ll take it, all of it, thankyouverymuch, and all of it at once if the Universe continues to see fit to send it that way.

Keep on going, friends! We all need the particular flavors of chaos, disruption, and beauty you are creating.

“Don’t be fooled by the calendar; you only have as many days as you make use of.”
~Charles Richards
XOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm, straddling seasons

Hey friends, hello! How goes your passage of time? The clocks here, and the calendars, still refuse to slow down. We often catch ourselves looking up with bewildered expressions, asking each other what day it is, what year, and again for good measure, are you sure it’s already Thursday? Already September?

That cannot be right.

Thankfully the days and weeks are packed with work well executed and memories well crafted. We are buoyed by extravagant laughter and nourished by even more extravagant food. So, if time seems to be accelerating, at least we can feel sure that we have redeemed it all for the best treasures. I do think we have.

((hydrangeas fading into their autumnal glory))

Here are a few headlines, in classic Friday 5 at the Farm style:

ONE: Handsome’s birthday week was rock solid and glittering and, worth remembering forever, covered with a lavish mountain of hypoallergenic foam and sprinkled with disco lights. We first celebrated with our hilarious neighbors who donned shark and mermaid costumes just to make him laugh, then at his office with the Pubic Utilities Division (forever in our hearts), at a gala downtown (we sat alone at a table for twleve but had great fun together), in Bricktown with a small group of fun seeking friends (only one bone was broken), at the farm with even more friends (barn movie and FOAM), and daily, just the three of us, in as many small, sweet ways as we could manage. We even indulged in a double date night with Jess and Alex. Handsome reported feeling very loved and celebrated, which makes my heart happy. He is the engine that keeps so much in this world running and moving forward, and he certainly tends to give more than he receives. So at least at his birthday, I love seeing him spoiled rotten!

TWO: The middle seasons have begun their long, slow ceremony of changing guard. Summer is folding up her threadbare and wrinkled flag solemnly, advancing one measured step at a time toward Autumn, who yawns and rolls her shoulders, blinking without an agenda. She is ready but in no hurry. Autumn will steal no glory from Summer, because she knows that once we settle into her embrace we will not look back. We’re all a little tired. Still, the landscape still boasts more saturated color than muted. Flowers are still blooming. Tomatoes, basil, and eggplants are still offering us their final promises. And our air conditioner is still keeping the house cool and fresh, for a few more days at least. This is the in-between, the bridge, the weeks in Oklahoma when anything could happen and often does. I intend to absorb and enjoy the details as they come.

THREE: I remain deeply thankful for a farm full of healthy animals. Chanta and Dusty are thriving in their fatness and rippling muscles, good teeth and less troublesome hooves. The cows are enjoying their preordained romance, to the extreme most days, and have you heard that Scarlett has been sleeping in the wild coreopsis? Most mornings, if I do not hear her mooing early for breakfast, she is still asleep in that especially tall, thick patch of yellow flowers on the west side of the big barn. I will admit that we have not collected a fresh egg in over a month, but that might be due to the flock being free range and definitely prone to laying in strange places, like open vehicles and soft hay bales. I recently discovered a clutch of fifteen eggs in a deep hollow below some Mexican sunflowers. Tricky girls. Mike Meyers remains the reigning champ of happy splashes.

FOUR: Speaking of gardens, whew! For someone who talks about this a lot, I sure do not seem to have any idea what I am doing, ha! That extra long stretch of 100-plus weeks with no rain was challenging, but still so much survived. Our water pressure troubles have been resolved, and I am back to watering on a cautious rotation. We have more cooling on the forecast, too, which will bring tangible relief. Now the name of the game is taking stock of what is still full of good energy and then babying those plants with every trick in the book. Any blank space that comes from removing weeds and spent plants will be given the chance to host broccoli, spinach, lettuces, carrots, kale, pansies, and a few more fall treasures. For the next several weeks I will be busy with the school gardens too, so available time to play outside might be limited this season. We shall see. Really, everything is fine. Not the lush and productive garden she was in July, but still beautiful.

FIVE: I have been a glutton for great reading and listening lately. Recently, I finished off another Abraham Verghese novel, this time Cutting for Stone. His writing is one of the most mesmerizing and thirst quenching reading experiences you can give yourself. Please choose a title, any title, and let me know how much you love it. I also finished The Stand finally, after many decades of wondering if it was for me It is!! Oh man it is. Stephen King is a crowd favorite character writer for good reason. I had forgotten. Also loving some good marathoning podcasts lately, but maybe I’ll save that for an upcoming running update.

Okay, friends, listen. As if to underscore how quickly time passes, let me admit that I wrote this “Friday 5” post exactly 8 days ago, intending to share it with you last Friday. Since then, we have enjoyed refreshing cool weather and more hot weather. I found the energy to run sixteen miles, most of it with my dear friend Sheila, the longest run I have tackled in a while. Jess and I had an incredible garden clean up day at her house then another spontaneous day of baking something extraordinary, here at the farm. We are all working and playing and loving each other left and right, even with an unexpected handful of sick days for my husband. Life is good. Life is beautiful in every way. I really that the days are so full we have to consciously stop and look aroudn to see what we are doing.

Happiest Friday ever to you.
XOXOXO

late summer beauty and reminders

By mid August I often feel confused about what my job is, about what is priority in the gardens and with the animals, about how it all relates to the outside world, and, crucially, what to do with my hair. I suspect this slightly unmoored feeling is generally owed to a stack of conflicting energies: Most of the world is hot with Back to School Fever, while the pool is still blue and I could eat at least four more watermelons. Also, our family is in a dense Happy Birthday season, with parties and special days left and right, while many members are enduring some damaging and deeply worrisome crises. We try to prop each other up and stay engaged with reality; and we work to celebrate and keep things moving, too, like always. Joy and grief and work and play, all at once. The delicious, brackish water we know so well.

Things are shifting, I can feel it. The same way things shift toward the end of winter, when we get a glimpse of change but then it all buckles down again to remind us we are not in control. An early thaw then a late freeze, that trick. At mid August we might get a glimpse of more serious color in the landscape, tighter, cloudier skies and just barely less daylight after supper, but we are still firmly gripped by summer. Our cars are still ovens for the commute home, and tomato vines refuse to produce new flowers until nighttime temperatures relax. We know that October is there waiting for us, just like April always follows closely after Februrary, but the weeks between could mean anything. So the moment matters greatly. How we spend it, how we feel about it, how we infuse it with meaning.

I feel all at once stifled and ready for change but also panicked, regretful and sad for the season soon ending.

I feel the loss of aggressive sunshine and limited clothing as well as excitement for autumn plans and traditions.

I feel the stunning passage of time as well as deep gratitude for the health of our animals and closeness of friends and family.

I feel like a failure for all the things I did not accomplish in my garden this year but this overwhelming amazement for what happens out there with very little intervention from me. I also feel childlike joy over the garden our girl has grown at her own home. There is nothing like watching that adventure take root.

I feel so happy for all the peace and stability our home has provided all summer long, for people and visiting pups and resident four leggeds alike; and simultanously I hope we travel a bit more in coming years. I hope we rediscover how to play and pause work and worry. I hope our calendar next year includes lots of time off for my husband.

I feel safe and loved and clear eyed about the future but also empty in the way that only a missing loved one can make you feel. It’s always hard to acknowledge that another season, and soon another year, has passed with out her. I have mostly learned to stop setting timelines on God, but occassionally the length of this hard season takes my breath away.

I feel like I spend so much of my waking hours on cemented daily routines, and while they serve us really well, when time feels suddenly precious I crave to break it up.

And so I find my paperback journal and write Senses Inventories, gluing the details of my moments to paper. I make lists of clear, specific blessings and prayers recently answered. I let it all build a crackling, electric awareness of and confidence in the beauty of my life. Life right now, life as the exact and unique gift that has been given. It’s a transformative exercise. It wakes me up and helps me shed the heavier feelings of this in-between season.

And I take lots of extra walks around the farm, with little expectation to be productive. Just looking and absorbing and remembering that this beautiful, imperfect, chaotic little rectangle of Oklahoma is our home. It is a childhood dream come to life, the details of which I barely have shared with anyone over the years, and it is okay for me to accept and enjoy it. In fact, I really should.

I try to see the gardens from new angles and internalize the shapes and colors for what they are according to Creation, not for how they measure against a list of jobs or design advice on some website. I try to rest in the long series of miracles that must happen just in the process of one tiny cosmos seed becoming this five foot tall, ethereal, glossy, fernlike, mysterious widlflower. Also, does anyone else get tranfixed by the word “cosmos” being used both for this pefect flower and for outer space, for all of creation?

When I feel like I have been sleepwalking through routines, I slow down and let Klaus lead the way without rushing him, instead of expecting him to keep up behind me. I pay attention to what he sees and what makes him smile, remembering his first puppy summers and how much he loves this farm, his home. His kindgom. How much all the animals trust him.

I take deep breaths and inhale the basil and manage to laugh at how I always expect the cute little bed shapes I plan in April to stay tidy and petite all the way through August.

I spend more play time with the horses and let them come to me, which they always do. I hug them and wait for them to them let go first, as the saying goes, accepting their massive necks on my shoulder and not fearing for my toes near their hooves. I give thanks for their health a thousand times per day and smell them and feed them extra apples and carrots and kiss them excessiveley when they accept fly spray. I listen to their complicated whinnying language and do my best to whinny back correctly. I look into Dusty’s eyes especially and wonder if he remembers her, if they talk to each other. I look into Chanta’s eyes and tell him thank you for being so gentle with children and small animals.

To stop time, I do my best to pause and text my frends when they cross my mind. We are all busy. Everyone. But my gosh life is rich because of our friends! I hope they feel how treasured they are.

I try to apply thought to details that connect my past to Jessica’s future, like morning glories. LIke so many plants and recipes and books and rituals. I remember her as a toddler so easily, like my mother surely remembers me. And the strands just grow and grow.

I make note of the many pleasures and comforts of living in a small town near other small towns with easy access to big cities, when the mood strikes. It’s common enough to moan about the inconveniences, but I always crave to get home as fast as I can. It’s my paradise. I know it all is such a lavish gift. I know that each animal is a once-in-a-lifetime friendship with a real soul and that their trust is no accident. So I try to hold their gaze as ling as they offer it.

It’s blazing hot now, and windy, and my feet are very tired and my hair needs a miracle and I have packed the next few weeks with about 27% more than it can easily bear. But it’s all perfect. Life is beyond good. I can actively will the clock to slow down just enough to catch my breath, and I can trade the moments and days for glittering jewels, while they are still up for grabs.

To put a dent in time, do things that time can’t take away.
XOXOXOXO

the first 40 years are the hardest

ELOPE

On Friday, July 30, 1982, an incredible love story was written in stone. A 19 year old girl and a 24 year old boy skipped work and drove to Gainesville, Texas, to elope. They drove his brand new Ford F-150 pickup, his first ever new vehicle. The truck was brown with a cloth interior, the seats of which had recently- and dramatically- been peed on by the girl’s one year old daughter as soon as the baby was liberated from her diaper.

The boy wore jeans and a button up shirt, as was his custom. The girl wore a brown a-line skirt and a tan striped blouse. By midday they arrived at the Justice of the Peace, who himself was wearing jeans and boots. They finished the business of making their young love very official and drove promptly back to Oklahoma City. By 3 pm that same day, they were already back at the office supply store where they both worked and where, you might have guessed, they first met, just three months earlier. Despite their best efforts to keep this big decision a secret, the boy’s parents had easily guessed it. These two never missed work, you see, and their brief summer romance had been a whirlwind. Rex and Cathy became the Fridays. No one was surprised.

BUILD

Within their first year of marriage Rex and Cathy bought a piece of raw land in Choctaw, OK, which was then sparsely populated and largely undeveloped. They worked together with lots of help from family to clear the land and prepare the site for a house. They eventually built the house one length of lumber, one brick, and one appliance at a time, debt free. With one crucial exception, they stuck to their commitment to operate exclusively on cash, just chipping away at the plans, paycheck to paycheck, weekend to weekend. The exception was a loan early in the process from Ray Friday, Rex’s father, of two thousand dollars. It was to buy the land itself. He accepted monthly repayments of $100, and when the loan was fully satisfied he gifted the sum back to the kids. A windfall!

In this early chapter while they both worked full time jobs, raised baby Jen, and built their home, the Fridays lived in a trailer home first in a trailer park near Rex’s family and then on their own land. They had one other roommate, a kitchen mouse named Hercules.

The many family members who helped with construction were wildly skilled and experienced builders. They led the way in building in extra safety features and sound engineering. All these years since, Rex and Cathy have marveled at the house’s stubbornness against Oklahoma tornadoes and unusually efficient heating and cooling. Overbuilding was the way to go, even if it took extra time and effort.

In April of 1990, their long group project came to fruition. They had bought the land with a bit of borrowed cash but paid that off. Then they invested their paychecks slowly, spending at last count $25,000 to make their dream a reality. They furnished it with bare bones fixtures and were finally ready to move out of the trailer. Goodbye Hercules!

As they prepared to move, Rex told Cathy they could afford to buy exactly one large appliance for the kitchen, and she could choose either a dishwasher or a combination oven/stove. She wisely chose the dishwasher, noting in her brain that not only did she already own enough counter top appliances to make small meals happen but also that by November her Thanksgiving-loving husband would definitely want her to have a stove for preparing the feast. She was right. She ended that year with both appliances.

ADJUST

Married life was a big adjustment for both of these young people. Communal living among extended family in the trailer park meant more than a few surprise house guests for Cathy, though she did love them all. And Rex was accustomed to having his weekends free for hunting and fishing, which was a rub. Here, Cathy had expectations to be together as a family, especially on Sunday mornings. It took a while to strike a balance, but they did.

They encountered more specific friction, too. Like many couples, they had to navigate the choppy waters of money management, transparency, and control. And then there was the issue of hunting gear and little blonde haired babies.

Having never lived together before their elopement, Cathy was unpleasantly surprised to find their temporary home (Rex’s bachelor pad) was overflowing with not-baby-safe hunting and fishing gear. She discovered a gun rack full of guns, a compound bow already loaded with sharp arrows, a footlocker brimming with paper goods so that an overnight trip to the river was always an option, and much more. She took it upon herself to start removing the items that would be dangerous for Baby Jen. Rex was incensed. He strutted over to his Dad’s house to tell on her and gather some manly moral support along the lines of how dare she, only to learn that his Dad had a surprising perspective. He reminded his son that he had just married a woman with a baby and what did he expect then he suggested that Rex just “Suck it up.”

Since Baby Jen, cloth truck seats peed on and everything, had already won Rex’s heart fair and square, that adjustment quickly became family legend and not an obstacle at all.

Building a house wasn’t the only big project the Fridays tackled early in their marriage. Cathy had an ambition since childhood to be an accountant. Employing their already well proven sense of teamwork, she and Rex made it happen. They continued to work full time, shared the household and parental duties, and, again, paid cash for Cathy’s entire college experience. She completed the program at UCO one class at a time and had their families’ support and encouragement along the way. In fact Ray took some classes of his own during this time and walked the processional with Cathy when she received her diploma.

LEARN

It bears mentioning that Rex and Cathy credit all of their elders for a great many blessings in their marriage. “We had a lot of input!” Rex quips. Their parents and grandparents showed up over and over again. They provided practical, tangible help, certainly. They banded together and literally showed their boy and their girl how to build a house from the ground up. They modeled how to grow an expansive vegetable garden and graft fruit trees, how to sew and make repairs and maintain vehicles and preserve food, how to hunt and fish and cook excellent meals. You name it. The joke goes that Cathy’s Dad left his DNA on the bones of their house from so many small injuries inflicted during the build, ha! And to this day Cathy references her Grandma, as if she had just recently visited and shared some homemaking tips.

But perhaps more importantly than all of this, their elders taught their boy and their girl how to build a thriving union. Longevity in marriage runs in both families, as do strong Christian values. When Rex and Cathy reminisce, their eyes shine with love and appreciation for their mentors and guides. They clearly still feel the love of their extended family, even those already gone, and they know they are the beneficiaries of all their immense wisdom.

PRAY

A shared faith was important criteria for both of them before they married. They started off equally yoked in this way but young in God and had to give each other lots of space and time to grow. Along the way, life afforded them plenty opportunities to try their faith, strengthen it, and discover their gifts.

Forty two years later, Cathy describes her husband as the steady one, a man quick to respond to a moment of crisis by saying, “OK, here’s what we’re gonna do. Give me your hands. We’re gonna pray about it.” She adds, with shimmering eyes and a light shrug of her petite shoulders, “He’s the husband I need.”

When asked how he stays so calm and confident, Rex also shrugs but looks a little embarrassed. “It’s just there. God said the Holy Spirit is in you.”

Prayerful living helped them face numerous health challenges, extreme weather, job loss, and myriad financial problems. They recall a trip to Colorado when they had to replace tires unexpectedly. The $400 price tag was more than they could afford, but they had no choice. As soon as they got home, they discovered a surprise bonus from Rex’s job for exactly $400. They both say this kind of thing happened all the time.

No matter the obstacle or how scary the problem, Rex and Cathy said, “We just hit our knees and prayed about it.” In this agreement, they look into each other’s eyes, visibly wistful to scan their memories and feel, together, their safety. They had lean times, for sure, and even felt poor here and there. But they laugh about that and speak affectionately of summer sausages and clementines for their fancy hiking meal. “We never missed a meal or a payment.”

They are both servants at heart. They still attend Wilmont Baptist Church, the same place Rex has called home since he was a baby. They are active and emotionally invested in the community there, which this year celebrates its centennial anniversary! Over these four decades, Rex and Cathy have taught Sunday school, participated in Bible studies, helped with property maintenance, and played church-bench surrogate grandparents to countless kids. The children there flock to “Mr. Rex and Miss Cathy.” This summer, for the first time, the pair anted up to work as kitchen crew for a group of campers at Falls Creek. They made a thousand happy memories, collected many glowing reviews for their delicious food, and said they would definitely volunteer again. They came home absolutely exploding with stories about how much fun they had just watching the kids enjoy their playful summer and feel surrounded by God’s love.

ADVENTURE

With this strong foundation built, The Fridays were able to stack up years and years worth of adventure. Rex’s natural leaning toward the rugged outdoors and Cathy’s natural leaning toward her ruggedly handsome guy joined them at the hip for all kinds of fun.

“I just like being with him. I’m happiest when I’m with Rex, and that’s where he’s happy,” Cathy says playfully of her willingness to endure tent life.

It certainly helped this thrifty pair that Rex’s parents owned a small cabin in Colorado which served perfectly as home base for countless backpacking, rock climbing, and snow skiing trips.

Another advantage was that after securing her degree and CPA’s license, Cathy’s newly lucrative profession occasionally included paid travel. One such trip was to Ft. Lauderdale for a conference. Among all the top tier destinations they found over the years, Rex counts that trip among the best. It was his first time flying and his first time staying in a luxury resort. He was simmering in pride for his pretty young wife’s accomplishments, and to reward himself for marrying so well he feasted day and night on the all-you-can-eat soft serve ice cream. As Cathy tells it, Rex was the only hotel patron who brought his own fishing gear from home and trekked it through the marble floored lobby.

Always calling Choctaw home, the Fridays expanded their horizons way beyond Oklahoma, Colorado and Florida. In 1999, together with Rex’s brother Russ and his then wife Teresa, they earned their SCUBA certificates and used them in the Bahamas, for starters. On their first trip to St. John’s they caught and grilled fresh fish, swam with sharks, and developed new appreciation for well water at home after witnessing the offsite cistern water supply there.

In recent years they have shared their love of diving with their now sixteen year old grandson Jaxon, the apple of their eyes. The trio is known to visit the deepest lakes in Oklahoma to get in his dive hours when they can’t make it to the Caribbean.

During the pandemic shut down, Rex and Cathy bought kayaks and indulged in lots of quality time together on nearby water. Their default setting really is “outside and together” whenever possible.

COOPERATE

If you know Rex and Cathy personally, then you already appreciate their energetic influence, both as individuals and as a couple. Though honestly, it’s hard to imagine them as completely separate. They have created a beautiful rhythm, a way of bringing their full selves to the union that makes it greater than the sum of its parts. When asked how long it took to reach this kind of harmony, Rex answered in his classic deadpan tone, “Oh not too long. About forty years.”

While they stress the importance of having shared interests and doing most things together, Rex and Cathy do keep a few hobbies and travel ideas just for one person or the other. Big city destinations like NYC or even Eureka Springs are more Cathy’s speed, so she enjoys those trips with Jen, now grown, or her girlfriends. And while Rex can lure Cathy outdoors for lots of wilderness time, his appetite for it all is much greater than hers, so he carves out additional time on the calendar for hunting season, short fishing trips, and the like.

They seem to have arrived at this happy medium organically. Each person truly wants to see the other happy. They tied this understanding to household duties, too, and the division of labor, acknowledging that the seasons within a year can be very different, as can the seasons of life. You just remain fluid and respond to each other’s needs and fun ideas. As for the work, they don’t have strictly assigned duties. From year to year or week to week, they simply pitch in and do what they are best at. From the beginning they have been a solid team, and they know how to get it all done.

“It’s like you finally learn the steps to the dance,” Cathy says. “Early on you want to impress each other. It’s all so intense. Now it’s an easy flow. You really do become almost like one person.” Rex nods sweetly in agreement.

LAUGH

This positive, harmonious inertia, plus a hearty sense of humor, have proven to be super powers for this couple. Being able to laugh at themselves as well as at stressful situations has helped them stay happy and make excellent memories.

On a recent extreme hiking excursion in the backwaters between Minnesota and Canada, they were caught in a cold, torrential downpour. Everything was soaked or washing away. Rather than complain, they made it fun. Rex performed a fashion show of his forest-friendly rain gear, and Cathy videoed him, providing commentary.

Spend any amount of time with this pair and you will find yourself laughing until your stomach hurts. They know how to mine the moment for humor. They know how to squeeze joy out of every situation. And their smiles and laughter are contagious.

NURTURE

When they are not working hard or adventuring harder, their favorite date nights stay pretty simple. This has served them well. They like casual meals, specifically those that Cathy doesn’t have to cook, maybe swimming if their pool is open, and cuddling at home with their dogs, watching movies. They are both avid gardeners and super creative in their own ways. Rex grills steak like nobody else, Cathy could be a pastry chef, and they both put a premium on quality time. Cathy remembers plenty fancy outings to see a musical or an art show, which have been wonderful indulgences; but mostly she wants to be, “just curled up on a couch with him.”

They also devote plenty of energy to others. The Friday house is a frequent gathering spot for friends and family, especially around the holidays. They always pull out all the stops to make people feel extravagantly welcomed and cared for. Over the years Rex and Cathy have cultivated an understanding for what details make people feel loved, what makes them continue to come back for more despite the long drive to Choctaw, and how to create core memories.

After a tragic loss in Cathy’s family, they even served as caretakers for her brother’s young children. When they share memories from those years it is always with lightness and joy in their voices, a sense that it was all a gift to them, not a burden. They shared their richly textured life with their nieces and nephews as much as possible and now get to love on that generation’s young kids.

“Happiness is a choice you make. This is life. You can let it wear you down or you can find something to make you laugh and be happy.” They are neither blind to grief nor impervious to stress, but they have learned the importance of choosing their mindset.

When asked what makes each of them feel like they won the marriage lottery, Rex nods his head in thought and stretches comfortably in his chair. “When she talks ya’ up. When she talks good about you and always looks at the high side.” Cathy is smiling demurely at him while he answers. He adds, laughing, “Just hearing complaints about other spouses, ha!”

Her answer is not much different. She is nourished by words of affirmation and says how much she thrives on his compliments when she looks nice or when he expresses appreciation for anything she does. Cathy then gushes, “Rex can do so many things. It astounds me! So many skill sets. And he can calm me down.”

During most of this long conversation, it is worth noting, they answer questions while gazing at each other, exploring memory lane together, nearly oblivious to anyone else in the room asking the questions.

They know each other better than anyone else does and had a few thoughts on what they wish the outside world understood about their spouse.

Cathy says of Rex, “He’s really not so harsh or grumpy. He is such a good guy. Sometimes he comes across rough. I wish people could see the soft Rex, the way he is with kids.”

Rex believes Cathy is mostly an open book and that people probably do understand her. “I think they see her.” But he adds that he would like more people to know that she put herself through school and did it on her own (though she asserts it was a team effort). “She had ambition,” he stresses, still so proud of that big accomplishment all these years later.

SHARE

The Fridays benefitted so much from the loving surround of their families, and they accepted the guidance so willingly, it is no wonder that they feel the urge to now share that wisdom.

They both feel strongly that church should continue to be a priority in a marriage and that husband and wife should pray together. Cathy shared a memory of her grandpa’s Bible, so well read and worn out that it was held together with duct tape. They hope to share their deep and hard earned faith with the next generation.

They also hope to pass down a healthy sense of humor about life. Work hard but learn to laugh. “Be kind even when people are different. It costs zero dollars to be kind,” Cathy encourages.

Rex’s life experiences have been so greatly enriched by learning artisan crafts and skilled labor that he deeply wants kids in the next generation to learn to do more with their hands, and he takes every opportunity to share his knowledge. He hopes they choose to become more self reliant.

Some specific advice they share is to seek out friendships with other married couples, the happier the better. Be wise about friendships with single people as well as anyone who complains a lot. Rex observes, “Your friends… they can influence a lot around you.”

“There are going to be rough times. Learn to step away and cool off,” Cathy urges. Rex nods.

When asked what advice they would give their newlywed selves, Rex says, “Everything is going to be ok. Keep that hair you lost.”

And Cathy answers, “Money’s not everything. Sometimes the best memories are bologna sandwiches and peeing in a bucket!” Everyone laughs.

One final bit of advice which they share almost in unison: “Don’t be in such a hurry to get everything in life. Be happy. Learn to build slowly and pay with cash.”

DREAM

What’s next for this dynamic duo that skipped work on a Friday to elope, some forty two years ago? Well, Rex is one year deep in retirement now, and Cathy is counting the milliseconds until she can join him. Just three more tax seasons! They would consider another trip together to the backwaters near Canada (affectionately known at the BWCA) and will almost certainly take more tropical resort trips. In the mean time they are perfectly happy grilling steaks and taking their beloved dogs on walks, carving out family time, and laughing their heads off.

You will not find a harder working, more family-centered and devoted couple. You will not find another couple better balanced to each other or more chemically alive when they are in the same room. That is quite a bit of magic after forty years, and we wish them the happiest of anniversaries.

Why? Because they’ve EARNED THIS.*

Much love to you, friends.
The whoel world is better because of you.
XOXOXO

*inside joke lol