Lazy W Marie

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

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our easy day off & freedom is a gift we choose to accept

Friday, July 3, 2020. Quarantine Day #111.

State offices are closed today, but our bodies don’t know that, so we woke naturally up at 5:13 a.m. Handsome, Shepp, and I spent the next two hours taking in the day slowly. We drank our coffee, watched cartoons, explored the gardens, and watered and fed the animals. Little Lady Marigold, our new sheep, made another good attempt to meet me at her breakfast bowl. She always backs off at the last second, but every day the distance shrinks. I love her slotted pupils, stick-straight legs, and puffy, matted fleece.

Temperatures were still mild in the early hours, mid seventies, and the skies were painterly blue and white. Our first harvest of the day was five eggs, 2 bright yellow squash, seven heavy tomatoes, and a few cups of ripe blackberries. There is always a second harvest in the afternoon.

Mid-morning I grabbed a 5 mile progression run on the treadmill (felt great, zero pain!) and half an hour in the gym. Meanwhile Handsome played around with the art of motorcycle maintenance. I cannot vouch for his Zen, though, because apparently my little green Honda had been sitting too long and now has a fuel line gummed up. Did I ever tell you that I got my motorcycle license? It is one of the biggest shocks of life, truly. Sometimes when I think about it I start sweating and trembling spontaneously.

We decided to break some monotony and take a short drive to Wellston, Oklahoma, just under an hour away. There is a locally famous barbecue stand there, an outdoor restaurant, really, that serves food from an old school bus.

We enjoyed the steamy drive in a topless car but declined to stop and eat because the parking lot was at capacity, swarming with people. We are distancing pretty strictly still, so that was a hard pass. Instead, we drove and drove, loving the sunshine and the undulating country roads flanked by corn fields, hay meadows neatly adorned with giant round bales, and tiny, almost delicate cemeteries. We accidentally joined up with Memorial road where it suddenly becomes heavy gravel, so we slowed way down. The careful pace allowed me to see the roadside meadows better: Vitex and Indian tobacco growing wild. Pecan and Red Bud saplings wilting in the heat. Thick ornamental grasses, tickseed, and Virginia Creeper, all tangled up and blissfully unaware of pandemic. I soaked up the rural house gardens when they appeared. Mostly orange day lilies and pink crepe myrtle bushes. I imagine they are generational perennials.

Back home again, we ate regular food from our well stocked kitchen and were perfectly happy, ha! The heat and humidity returned and our work was caught up, so we spent part of our afternoon in the pool and on the deck.

I finished reading Cold Mountain, the Civil War novel that many people remember as the movie with Nicole Kidman and Jude Law. The book is beautifully written, a weirdly motivating read if you like manual labor and general human suffering, or the perseverance through suffering. And it is so humbling. The circumstances people can survive, it just amazes and inspires me.

“That’s just pain, she said. It goes eventually. And when it’s gone, there’s no lasting memory. Not the worst of it, anyway. It fades. Our minds aren’t made to hold on to the particulars of pain the way we do bliss. It’s a gift God gives us, a sign of His care for us.” ~Charles Frazier, Cold Mountain

“Waste not thy liberty.” One of my all time favorite, short and sweet mantras. Tomorrow is Independence Day. I have been thinking a lot about freedom lately, about being free, about being set free from all kinds of earthly bondage.

As a thought experiment lately, every time I catch myself saying or thinking that I have to do something, my goal is to replace it with I get to do something. It’s a small but powerful word swap. I have been liberated and set free from so many things, so many hardships and limitations, so much silencing, so many real fears. Not only am I free in the political or social sense; but more importantly I am free spiritually, psychologically, and emotionally, so long as I continue to choose that state of living. My thoughts and habits can either cultivate or surrender this gift every day.

Liberty is not the wild absence of discipline; in fact being free invites a more authentic version of self rule. Being free from outside controls requires and encourages us to set our own controls, some that make sense and are harmonious with our values and circumstances. At least that’s how I see it.

Okay I hope you are well, thank you for reading! I also hope we have popcorn for dinner soon and watch a movie.

One more thing, what do you think would happen to a person’s body if she were to only eat watermelon and cashews? I mean, mostly those two things?

“I am full of freedom.”
~Kellie Sperry
(I owe you this story soon, friends!)
XOXOXOXO

i love you etcetera

July 2, 2020. Quarantine Day 110

Brain food! Alex and Jess recently recommended a podcast called The Anthropocene Reviewed. The episode about our temporal range was fascinating. Author John Greene explores mankind’s obsession with predicting the end of the world and does a good job of reframing it a little. Great timing, by the way, with current events. And the short podcast was a nice compliment to the research book I have been reading called Fear Itself, which delves into all kinds of societal fears and conspiracy theories. What I found refreshing was that Greene neither fully demonized nor glorified our species, as so many voices tend to do. He didn’t pass too much judgement; he just raised interesting questions and made great observations. To return the excellent recommendation favor, I told Alex about the Netflix special Thirteen, about the 13th amendment. Have you seen it yet?

Yesterday Halee and the nephews visited! They will soon be joining my brother in Spain for a three year stint, so these silly and free farm days with them are a treasure to us. Even if the heat and humidity are bone melting, ha! We swam, retreated to the cool house, baked chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, reapplied sunblock, swam again, went on a nature walk and took tractor rides, harvested berries and squash, swam one more time, and had pizza. (Big thanks to Handsome for picking it up!)

Connor picked a green tomato and did not believe it was real. He carefully put it back next to the vine.
I call this “happy chaos!”
Greg, my little cookie making machine!

During our very casual paper plate dinner, we all chatted about how much we love each other, specifically our moms. Greg (age 9.87 years old) remarked that he has to love Halee because she created him, etcetera. Wrist flip, eye roll, pass the pizza please. Oh man. We seized the opportunity to shame him for not loving his Mom for all of her wonderful qualities (fun, smart, kind, generous, patient, loving, awesome!!) and for all the things she has done for him his entire life (cleaning up vomit, taking him to fun places, providing him his favorite foods and toys and books, you name it). His self defense was quick and surgical: “You guys didn’t HEAR me. I said ETCETERA!!” Then an even more dramatic wrist flip-eye roll combination, flourished with some chin wagging. I mean he really stuck the landing this time. The room erupted in laughter. I doubt whether any lessons were learned, but a new family catchphrase was born.

Handsome is making such progress with the Batmobile project! All the farm improvements from March to June were important and satisfying, but this might be the one physical accomplishment for which we all remember quarantine the most. His aspirations, among other uses, are to use this vehicle for hospital outreach and charity parades. I am so proud and excited! He has really been pouring his heart into this.

After a couple of wonky months, I am enjoying a nice reset with fitness. Yesterday’s workout was 5 steamy miles at the Choctaw park followed by a quick gym session, focused on unilateral moves. I am convinced that muscles imbalances have been the root of my plantar fasciitis and Achilles pain, and all of this gradual strengthening is helping more than rest and time off ever did.

Today I had intended to run at the lake at daybreak but made the mistake of doing chores first (seems like I am physically incapable of leaving the house without certain things finished) then checking the gardens. So, two hours and a sink-ful of produce and eggs later, I decided I should probably do laundry, too, before electricity hit peak price. And maybe sweep floors and water the gardens, ha! Around noon I finally laced up, but we had hit feels-like temps of 110 degrees, so I opted for the treadmill. Eight miles easy effort, no heatstroke. The pleasures of a lake run can wait.

I am giggling here because after a rambunctious day, Greg asked for a cuddle and nearly fell asleep in my lap while I played with his gorgeous red hair. I loved it. Sweet spicy boy.

Thanks for checking in, friends.
I love you, ETCETERA!!
XOXOXOXO

and so we welcome July

Hello, and happy fresh new month! According to my journal, today is our 109th day of quarantine. It has become a flexible lifestyle, one that is evolving through the changing seasons. I feel the need to document more if it all.

Handsome and I have fallen comfortably into a work-from-the-farm summertime routine. Monday through Friday, we wake up and drink coffee together just before daybreak. The animals can be very demanding, even as early as 6 a.m. So if they catch us walking around taking in the technicolor skies, odds are good that chores start early. He eventually tackles his Commish projects and teleconferences from the relative comfort of either of his two car shops. I divide my morning hours between housework and laundry, the animals and gardens, and some form of exercise. Klaus rotates between us, preferring us all three to hang out together, of course, but he does seem finally resigned to this confusing new division of labor. Having a new sheep to gently terrorize has been a nice outlet for his restless energy, ha.

Speaking of routines, starting today I am attempting a blogging streak. My plan is to post daily updates for the entire month of July then reevaluate. My long stretches of not writing have never been for a lack of happenings; it’s really that I can barely keep up! Maybe if I write a little more as we go that will help. Better than nothing, at least. Will you read along? Will you share your thoughts and life events, too? I hope so.

Yesterday we wore our masks to vote in the Oklahoma primaries. Our polling place is a local church, and their spacious auditorium was arranged nicely for good social distancing. How many more voting cycles do you think will happen under these circumstances? Some rumors suggest two more years like this, living cautiously while covid-19 rages. It’s a moment in history for sure.

Our tomatoes, blackberries, herbs, peppers, and various squashes are growing and ripening like crazy. I am seeing tiny watermelons popping up on the green vines, too. Our hens are laying between 7 and 12 eggs per day, despite the heat. We have killed two large snakes in the east coop though, so perhaps they are laying far more than I am collecting, and the snakes are just well fed.

The day lilies, hydrangeas, and hollyhocks are so thrilling this summer. I have in the past been pretty content with just massive sprays of zinnias here and there. But since those are moving slowly this year, I am more than comforted by these lush perennial displays. I am also loving the wildflowers growing with abandon out front, along The Enchanted Path. My friend Lynn suggested this photo below looks like a wildflower bridal bouquet, and I agree.

How are you faring? How is whatever stage of quarantine you are at, affecting you? Are you able to sink into summertime pleasures, or are you feeling the squeeze of confinement too much?

Thank you for all of the loving messages after yesterday’s blog post, about our difficult family news. As it feels right, I will share them with my girls. Many of you already understand what a complicated and difficult situation this already was. Prayers and Love and grace will soothe everything in time.

Please take care of yourself! Be well, physically and emotionally. Know that you are loved and needed in this world. And thank you for checking in here. See you tomorrow!!

XOXOXOXO

the cult dream

Are you dreaming extra weird dreams during this pandemic? Bonus points if this is even weirder for you because of Shark Week hormones.

Last night I had a whopper, a real story line worth sharing.

THE CULT DREAM:

On a whim I attended some multi-cultural creativity retreats that turned out to be a cult. We were promised dream catchers and meditation and book studies, among other treats. And instead of a locked down compound, it was the kind of cult where you can leave, go home, and come back at your leisure, as long as you wear your name tag and sign up for enough community service.

Weirdly, most of the members didn’t seem to like anyone else in the group very much, but they acted happy. Everyone had glossy, curly hair, except me. They kept coming back for more and just stayed in tight little two or three -person cliques. The overall lighting was wanting.

As far as I could tell, the biggest “initiation” ceremony had to do with being submerged in a giant tank of choppy water and keeping just the tip of your nose exposed for breathing. It was scary, because you had to tread with your legs only, not use your arms to stay above water, and if just a few splashes of the water entered your nose, your chances were ruined. I don’t know what the prize was, besides membership, but tension was high. Drowning was the least of our worries.

We never got around to crafts or studying. Not even yoga. As far as I could tell, the only special power held by cult members was the ability to hear animals’ thoughts as clearly as a person speaking English. Voices, accents, inflection, everything. This might be the bees knees and quite fun, except that the cult meeting room was filled with puppies who were terrified and in pain, and nobody cared. It was excruciating.

At some point, the whole cult took a field trip to the zoo, and the leaders were soon cornered in such a way that a secret lever was activated, and a giant fake hollow rock cave was lowered over them, trapping them. Like a real Scooby Doo moment. My husband was suddenly there with me, and he said, chuckling, “How’s it feel to be caught?” Hehe.

The confusion reigned for a while longer, and I eavesdropped on several conversations about who was there and why and who they hated most and why. The leaders’ entrapment did little to soften the mood, apparently. And nobody took the opportunity to leave.

Then a meeting was called to order, and without warning I was dismissed for all of eternity, rejected and barred by the whole cult. My offense? Writing too many inspirational messages on the walls. The walls were plain, exposed lath and plaster, horizontal relics of twentieth century home construction, perfect for sentences.

I left the cult, hurt by the rejection but also relieved to have my freedom.

The End.

You‘re in a cult, call your dad!!

monday, jack handey style

Today was as Mondayish as Mondays get around here. I procrastinated and then wrecked my treadmill workout and barely got four miles to register on my Garmin. My good intentions for a shampoo and manicure never came to fruition. Also, a possum was in the chicken feed bin and we terrified each other and screamed right at each others’ haggard faces. I did get almost all of my work list accomplished, though, including every speck of sweeping, laundry and ironing, and so far am keeping healthy despite some mean germs floating around. Tonight I am going to indulge in a brain-purge and call it good. Onward to Tuesday!

stop

Song lyrics by Dido: “No love without freedom, no freedom without love.”

On a recent episode of The Daring Romantics podcast, Lindsey Eryn offers encouragement to finish the calendar year strong, to keep up your good momentum. She suggested, among other actionable things, that we spend three hours per week on “future” projects, on goals that propel us forward. This feels so familiar and good. Back in my mutual funds selling days, we had marketing that used actual galvanized buckets as visual aids to illustrate short term, middle term, and long term financial planning: “Cash-Income-Growth. ” Time is as valuable as money. How we spend it could be divided into “work for this day,” or cash, “work for tomorrow and short term progress” or income, and “work for the future,” or long term growth goals. Love it.

Bob Goff reminds us:

“God never promised we’d have all the answers. What He offers to us is a box of crayons and the opportunity to let love draw bigger circles around the people we meet than they thought were possible.”

Joy is a super power. It truly is. Joy overcomes, transcends, illuminates, and emulsifies so many other efforts. It is the whole point, as someone else once said.

A local blogging friend of mine shared with me that she has been blogging less because she and her husband have been happily burdened with other projects. They are discovering fulfillment in other efforts, in family and a brand new ministry projects, and they love it. She described it as being “pulled by things eternal,” and being at peace with retreating from some of the more public activities. I love this.

One day last month I noticed an online blurb about it being “Fibonacci Spiral Day.” Of all the frivolous special days on the imaginary world calendar, this one made me happy. Jocelyn was the first person in my life to get really excited about it. She used to love talking about it on our hikes in Colorado, just the two of us, memories I will forever treasure. Since then I have noticed it in so many areas of life. So much synchronicity, you wouldn’t believe. And I have heard a few friends mention it here and there,  most recently Julia. Life cycles, patterns, descending and expanding ratios. Beautiful, pulsing repetition. It is mesmerizing on every level, how the Universe offers me this cellular rhythm. Julia lost her Dad this week, and I felt her pain like a hammer on my chest all the way from California. Send some comforting wishes in Julia’s direction. And please pray for Jocelyn, friends.

I have been reading and listening to podcasts a lot on the physical and spiritual benefits of fasting, far removed from fat loss. Amazing. Exciting! So many health benefits and so much long standing tradition. Handsome and I touched briefly on the topic of Biblical references to different sorts of fasts, different lengths and purposes, the meanings behind number of days, etc. Really interesting. Our bodies and spirits are so beautifully aligned. More synchronicity, more patterns.

Psalm 118:24 and so many other love notes from God, reminding me to stay present. Stay in this day and re-joy myself. We are designed to handle this much at once. This moment is where we can affect change. Today is gorgeous and perfect and is a gift.

Cannot stop thinking about the nature or character of God, gender or no, remote or internal (both?), timeless no doubt. I just have these creeping tendrils of curiosity about heaven and hell, too, because (feel free to call me crazy) I just don’t think these are future geographies or eventual destinations. I don’t believe we are on our way to either place, exactly. I believe more and more that we choose our heavenly or hellish state day to day, moment by moment. Our thoughts, our choices, the lives we design for ourselves, both the physical structures and habits and the interior landscapes, our relationships, all of it. All of it combined becomes our realities of personal paradise or personal torture. Okay. Feel free to ignore that thought. It is not quite complete anyway.

Also, just one more weird twisty thought please: I am gleaning so much from so many different sources that gets me feeling like our moral instruction is not about how we should be living, but rather, it all is just informing us about how the universe operates, how we can best thrive within the normal operating systems already in place. So it’s less about good and evil and more about alignment and friction. Typing those words make it seem suddenly and eye-rollingly elementary. But for me it replaces shame and false authority with calm and boldness. It’s a subtle but powerful shift in perspective. Leaves lots more room for co-creativity and for JOY! Okay, I’m done.

Seneca, paraphrased: “As each day arises, welcome it as the very best day of all and make it your own possession. We must seize what flees.” This is exactly what Carpe Diem means to me. Identifying what is unique and brief about the next slice of time before us, and making the most of those details., Also, seeing the best in a day, squeezing from it all the molten-lava-JOY you can! 

Quite out of the blue this past week, while doing some much needed, very average housework, I remembered lyrics from an ancient Christmas hymn: “That hope can flower from our grieving, that man can catch his breath and turn transfixed by faith.”

And here is a gem from Ann Voskamp, whose Advent book The Greatest Gift is sustaining me again:

“Sometimes the heart of waiting for the gift is the art of the gift.”

The waiting for the gift can be my art. My Advent. A way of staying awake and engaged with life, not just coasting, not numbing myself with running or cooking or doing rote chores in a passionless way. How we live and how we thrive in the midst of waiting for miracles matters very much. It can be a form of worship, the thankful and trusting spirit we harness and exude during dark times.

Have you ever thought about what it must have been like for Mary and Joseph while they searched for Jesus for THREE DAYS and he was just casually in the temple?? AHHH They suffered. Besides the foreshadowing of three days in the grave and the suffering they would do then, this briefly mentioned story in the gospel of Luke really gut-punched me this week. What a thing, to be asked to trust God with your child with no promise of how the story will end. And yet, who better to trust?

Ok. One last thing. What are the meaningful differences between yoga and stretching? How much does breath-work matter? And meditation? Can you stretch “cold” and still get the benefits, physically?

Also, can you get rabies if a possum screams his breath directly at your open mouth?

‘Bye!