Lazy W Marie

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

impermanence

Yesterday afternoon, Handsome walked into the Apartment where Jess and I had parked to do some serious conversating. He announced playfully that between the dogs roughhousing and panting like monsters and the women talking nonstop, the temperature inside the house had risen five degrees. Ha! It might actually have been true. Once again, #sorrynotsorry

On Day 2 of Jess’ Farm Retreat, we swam, made frozen treats for the chickens, chased the dogs tirelessly, made Bean swim in a tiny inflatable pool donut, fed extra soft grass to the horses, discussed legiterally everything, made sprinkle sugar cookies via Joy the Baker, made homemade pizza from scratch, and watched a movie at the end of it all. Somewhere in there Jess managed a good old fashioned summertime afternoon nap, much needed and hard earned.

We had planned an art project like painting or scarecrow constructing, perhaps macrame, but got pleasantly sidetracked making the chickens’ frozen scraps treats. This is when the topic of impermanence arose. It was such a careful, loving task, walking around the farm collecting colorful flowers, herbs, and bits of fruits and vegies, then cleaning out the kitchen for more. We chopped everything and Jessica arranged it beautifully inside a bundt cake pan before filling the pan with water to freeze. All of this preparation for a treat that will freeze overnight and be toyed with, melted, and consumed tomorrow morning. A brief pleasure, an impermanent gift. But still joyful. We talked about the monks who work so hard on their intricate chalk mandalas, only to sweep them away once finished.

Have you seen Onward yet? Oh gosh. The three of us (five of us if you count the dogs which you definitely should) watched it tonight with our homemade pizzas and sprinkle cookies. It is not just cute and funny, it is also one of the most inclusive, soothing, loving Pixar films so far, with many beautiful messages. We all really loved it, and I actually felt a warm touch of grace for having seen it exactly on this night, exactly in this life chapter, exactly after a series of heavy conversations Jess and I have had this week.

I am not certain what tomorrow holds for us, both in the broader life sense as well as in the what will be doing on Friday sense, ha! But I know what our prayers are. I know what our values are. I know what binds us together and what fuels our work and our play. I know that Love is worth every bit of our trust and that magic is real.

Sweet sleep, friends! Thanks for checking in!

XOXOXOXO

my birthday advice

One of my favorite ways to emotionally assault friends and family is to, at their birthday dinner or party, ask what have they learned this past year, what advice will they give us on their birthday? Truly, most people hate to be asked this, but I can’t help myself. #sorrynotsorry

Just about a week before covid quarantine started for us, I turned 46. My husband filled up the farm with friends and family, and we had FUN. I mean, we didn’t know it that night, but it was the last time we would gather a large group like that, possibly for the rest of this year.

And there was cake! We had delicious food and multiple cakes and blew out candles. We talked outside and took selfies with the animals and played tug o war. A fun birthday party for sure. I felt so loved, and we laughed hard, late into the night.

I remember having birthday advice to share but nobody asked me for it, ha! So here we go. I think it more appropriate now than ever before:

Dream really big and sketch out your plans, pursue your goals and passions. Chip away at them regularly. But be flexible in your methods and focus on one day at a time. Practice living within the bounds of today, maximizing the moments. We truly have no guarantee, none whatsoever, of what comes next.

This is nothing new. We hear it all the time, from people in all positions and throughout history. So why do we forget so easily? How can we (I) become so arrogant in our (my) expectations and so wasteful in how we spend our todays?

Over the months leading up to my March birthday, it all developed fully in my heart. 2019 was all about “creating space,” then over the winter and in the first months of 2020, I became more and more aware of a gentle urgency about the present day, like a blind spot when I tried to look too far ahead. I sometimes used pencil in my planner, past the current week’s lists. It’s funny, isn’t it? To think of using a planner this year? Values, goals, systems, and habits make more sense right now.

Covid-19 hit our state less than one week after that fun birthday party, and everything shut down. All of our best laid plans suddenly fell subject to the strongest demands of flexibility and creative living any of us, really, had seen yet.

I welcome it. I am luckier than many people n a thousand ways, but the need for both flexibility and focus is no less real for me.

Okay, tomorrow my sweet, handsome, hard working, fun loving husband will resume his daytime Commish duties, though he is still working remote. Today we indulged in a ordering hot wings and shrimp tacos from Hooters, the first time we had food from there all these quarantine months. After eating that delicious early dinner, we watched funny You Tube videos and made shrinky dinks.

Our anniversary staycation this year was very different than any of the eighteen preceding ones we have enjoyed, but we definitely made the most of it. We romanced it day after day, rolled gracefully with the farm-maintenance punches, and stayed pretty engaged in the moments, together. I only notice interpersonal tension twice, and both times it was because we were overly concerned for the other person’s perfect comfort. Ha!

And we are excited to see Jessica tomorrow! Her hard earned week off finally starts tonight, and we are turning the farm into a wellness retreat and family R & R paradise for as long as she needs. Planning and dreaming, you know, building our pencilled calendar with habits and values and general systems, but going to bed and waking up knowing that everything can change. So we live one day at a time, gratefully. As lovingly as possible.

Do the next right thing.
XOXOXOXO

marigold has wounded me deeply

This morning at first breakfast, Little Lady Marigold displayed a startling level of steadiness and composure. A tiny little stone colored frog had been perched on the edge of her bowl, and when I filled it with molasses scented grain, the frog jumped right up to her left shoulder. It landed in the deep, stressed-out tuft of her greyish fleece, and she did not even budge. For a sheep who still won’t let me cuddle her, she allows an amphibian passenger?? Gross.

Speaking of gross, the cats are still nursing. They seem content with jeans edges and such, but wow. How much longer can we expect this behavior?

Handsome was thankfully able to extend his staycation by a couple of days. It is not only needed; it is really needed. So we are relaxing a little extra today and tomorrow, expecting to resume daytime remote office duties early Wednesday morning. I skimmed an online article about how people are designing their work-from-home office spaces, and I really want him to ask me to do this for him, ha. It’s unlikely to happen, though, if only because he loves to work from either of his car shops. He takes advantage of every spare minute to either tinker with his fun cars or make progress on the Batmobile, and I totally get that. Are you following his Batmobile photos yet?

Today is Quarantine Day 128. We are enjoying some New Moon energy, and our late July weather could not be more luxurious. The first day of autumn (September 22nd) is a bright and glossy 64 days away, and our first average frost date is at least 101 days away. Probably more. These facts help me breathe deeply, like I am buffered by a wide, velvet greenbelt of summertime. I feel so lucky to live in Oklahoma, where the growing season is not only long but also multi-faceted. It gives us lots of choices and keeps us guessing. We have first spring, second spring, early summer, late summer, at least three autumns, and maybe an Indian summer too.

Jess has been working lots of overtime at the hospital and has scheduled her corresponding days off all together, rather than staggered like usual. It will look and feel like a nice vacation, but she will leave her vacation time untouched. Genius! We are excited for her to get some much needed rest, and we are really excited that she will spend part of her time off here at the farm. I have said it before with Jocelyn, and it is still true: Preparing a guest room for your adult kids before they visit is at least as much fun as preparing the nursery before going to the hospital. And that is saying a lot.

We are working on some fun projects for the upcoming school year, so stay tuned! And happy fresh new week, friends! Thanks as always for reading and for sending me your thoughts. I love hearing from you.

“Then tell me of your long journey home.”
~Cold Mountain
XOXOXOXO

in a continuum, where does the story begin?

“The good news is that the heat seems to be exhausting our five million grasshoppers. Wait, let me back up…”

I was around nine years old, barefoot and in the middle branches of Mom’s mulberry tree, right there on the west edge of the house against our neighbors’ driveway. My hands were stained black with the wonderful inky juice, my skin brown from summertime and my hair probably tangled in the back. I was worried that something deep and important was wrong with me because I could never figure out the correct beginning of any story. I was fundamentally flawed, though I didn’t know the word fundamental yet.

I marveled at how people could just dive in and tell any story fluidly, discerning with confidence how to begin the tale and what details to include. To me, to my nonstop thoughts and conveyor belt lines of questioning, every beginning was really just the middle or end of something else, everything was very literally connected. Nothing, not even in fiction books, had a believable and well formed boundary.

It’s why I still have trouble telling stories. I never know where to start. What history can be excluded, can just be trimmed away as if it didn’t happen, as if it doesn’t matter any more.

What details matter not just to me, but also to the listener or reader? What details would be missed, if I attempted some economy? What precious context supplies the understanding that makes all the difference?

Nothing happens in a vacuum, and no man is an island. We all affect each other, and we are all affected by each other. That’s not a flaw; it’s part of our wonderful design.

As for how you tell me stories, tell me everything. Leave nothing out. I want to hear it all, even if it barely seems relevant. I want to understand the background stories, the moods and flavors, the weird implications, the spider webs of complicated stories that led up this exact moment.

The grasshoppers are numerous, but they are slowing under the weight of Oklahoma summertime. And the tomatoes are thriving. Tonight we ate a pretty delicious galette made with a few of those tomatoes plus fresh garden basil and a parmesean-cornmeal crust.

And we sat with and loved on our friends whose story is changing. Not suddenly, and not in a vacuum. I do not grasp where it begins, really, and maybe they don’t either. Tonight, though, we have this part of it, of this one part of a big and complicated story that is far from over. This moment in a continuum, this chance to do the next right thing.

I very much wish that someone would have told me, at nine, barefoot in that mulberry tree, that it’s ok to not know where a story begins. No one knows. We just get to dive in right where we are and pour ourselves out lavishly.

“You never know how hard it will be.
You never know when it will end.
You can’t control it.
You can only adjust. And, he added,
No one gets through it on their own.“
~Angel, Born to Run, Christopher McDougall

six quick thoughts

ONE: May we never forget that we started our 20th year of marriage in the year 2020, in the midst of a pandemic. This is an unforgettable season, and it is just the beginning!

TWO: People without unprofitable, chaotic hobby farms, what do you do with all of your free time and extra cash?

THREE: You know you are hard baked into rural living when you decline to enter a chicken coop, or even walk down certain paths known to produce certain stickers, because you’re wearing your “nice” flip flops. Same goes for your “going out” tank top and shorts. Also, it’s all one outfit.

FOUR: Apparently one of my favorite past times in life is wooing a stand-offish animal, coaxing it to gradually trust me and come willingly to my open arms, then decide it’s very annoying to have so much attention every day. “Seriously could you let me hang this wet laundry in peace, pleeeaaase?”

FIVE: Most often the worst injuries we suffer from wasps is not being stung but rather all of the pseudo-violent, evasive acrobatics we perform trying to avoid being stung. True story: My great grandpa Neiberding (the beekeeper who, according to legend, kept an alligator in his basement) once broke his own arm doing this. It happened against an open pickup truck window.

SIX: It’s good and magical to skip pesticides and herbicides for the sake of the pollinators and for the health of the planet at large. We do it! But you’re gonna have extra weeds to pull (chickens love these) and plenty of extra pests like grasshoppers and vine borers. The healthier your local environment, your own little ecosystem, the more frogs and lizards you will have. They help with the bugs. But they also attract snakes. These are all facts.

daily harvest, eggs already in the fridge xoxo

Thanks for checking in, friends!! How was your Thursday? What random thoughts can you share with me?

XOXOXOXO