Lazy W Marie

brand spankin new e-book by Refunk My Junk

July 24, 2014

Oh man I have something cool to share with you today.

But first, let me just say that I am lucky enough to be acquainted with some of the most fascinating people in Oklahoma. Well, I know lots of fascinating people all over this world! But our Great State happens to be home to some of the brightest and most creative people you will ever meet, and I know lots of them. For example… Allison Griffith.

Allison here at the farm, March 2012

I first met Allison here at the farm when Red Dirt Kelly gathered a bunch of us women bloggers to meet. Remember Humilspiration? At that time Allison was just preparing to take the leap from corporate banking and part-time blogging to full-time blogging and artistic furniture refinishing. Well, I was smitten. Her passion for her craft, her high energy with people, and her business savvy were together a completely stunning combination. Since then I have watched with a mix of awe and envy and she has built her business and grown her young family. (Shepherd, baby #2, is due soon, yay!) And today Refunk My Junk is a fixture in the blogging world and a happy gathering spot for regional DIY-ers. People travel to attend her workshops. I am so, so happy for her. xoxo

I am so, so happy for you too, gentle reader. Because Allison has just released her first E-book spilling all of her tips, secrets, and gems of advice for refinishing castoff furniture. It’s called The Lazy Girl’s Guide to Furniture Painting, which is pretty much a title after my own heart. *wink* I have already purchased and read it and am blown away.

Until now I thought surely I had already seen all the tips I needed for painting stuff, but I hadn’t. I certainly have never seen so much gritty information in one organized place, relayed with such an approachable, exciting vibe. Allison knows her stuff, and she shares it generously.

Do you have any itch to up-cycle flea market dressers or rehab old dining room tables, but maybe you wonder where to start or how to get those super trendy finishes? This book is the answer. Do you just want someone to encapsulate all the millions of tutorials out there, cut through the noise, and tell you what really helps? This book is for you.

This is one of my all time favorite looks for old wood, and Allison has it mastered. I cannot wait to try my hand at it using her advice.

If you have ever wanted to attend one of Allison’s workshops but just couldn’t get there yet, then start with her book. It’s a bargain at just $9.99, and it’s so smart and sweet. Download it and let the ideas and confidence start flowing.

She offers tips on everything from paint supplies and project planning to brush cleaning and when to walk away. She writes for real people, not just professionals (although professionals are giving glowing reviews of the book), people with other things to do and perhaps more enthusiasm than experience. In a word, she makes it all seem very accessible.

Allison was a vendor at Junk Hippy. Does it get any cooler than that? No. It does not.

Now for a really fun surprise. Allison has so generously offered to give away 5 copies of her e-book to my lucky readers! I am so thankful for this. If you’d like to receive a free download…

just comment here telling us about a project you’d love to tackle with some guidance.
Or tell us what you’ve already repainted.
Or spill the beans about your favorite thrift shop in Oklahoma City; now that would be good info.
Tweet this post.
Share it on Facebook.
Or copy this whole thing onto a paper airplane and send it across the ocean.

Just spread the word and let me know you did, because I am confident that The Lazy Girl’s Guide to Furniture Painting will be a fantastic help to people, not to mention fun. I’ll leave the circus tent open for one week and announce the 5 winners on Thursday, July 31st.

Congratulations for so many wonderful reasons, Allison. For your successful leap to full time creative businesswoman. For your beautiful family. For this new book release. You make Oklahoma very proud, and we wish you all the best!

If You Have Junk You Should Refunk It.
XOXOXOXO

fun with a focus group (okc memorial marathon)

July 23, 2014

Yesterday afternoon I visited the Oklahoma City National Memorial again, this time to meet with a focus group all about the annual race events. A local consulting firm, together with the Memorial folks, had extended an open invitation for runners to come share their thoughts about our experiences overall, and I was thrilled to participate. About thirty people showed up for our afternoon meeting, and I suspect as many were there for the evening session.

I am so glad I went. Not only was it fun to relive the memories from April one more time, but I also got to meet lots more happy Oklahomans and hear perspectives from other (more experienced) running vets. You might say this made me want to travel to more destination races. Chicago, Kansas City, Austin… OKC may be ranked as among the top 12 globally, and I am so proud of that; but it has whetted my appetite to see what other events are out there. Somebody warn Handsome.

Also, they had snacks. I ate two giant chocolate-chip cookies. A rumor was floating around the room that macadamia nut cookies were available, but I could never find them. This haunted me for hours afterward.

I met Mollie Coats, Memorial Marathon Coordinator, who is as warm and friendly as any one person has the right to be. She went far out of her way to thank us all for participating. I also got to hear Kari Watkins, Executive Director of the Memorial, give a quick speech. She mostly addressed the gravity issues of planning such a mammoth event in a large city, those things which are largely out of anyone’s control and require lots of working around and teeth gritting. For example, clearing and protecting the streets for so many square miles and for so many hours. And… Oklahoma weather. Everyone laughed because no one will ever forget the sketchy thunderstorm morning and two-hour race delay of 2014.

The Devon tower in downtown OKC, surrounded thickly by black, churning clouds. Friends, this is exactly how my dream looked, minus one broad band of lightning.

One issue on which Kari touched was the ongoing Oklahoma City renaissance and how it impacts the race. It’s a mixed blessing, of course. As our beautiful city continues to grow and expand, deepening in local culture everywhere you look, the traffic thickens exponentially. The challenges of finding ideal race routes and keeping them both safe and cooperative with the rest of life are very real. So my hat is off to the people in charge of this. I can barely decide whether growing seed potatoes is economically viable, or shouldn’t I just stick with the 10-pound bag of Russets from Crest?

We were seated in assigned places among several round tables. After some fun introductions, the lovely ladies in charge of the study, Sarah and Amber, asked us to designate a scribe and speaker for our smaller groups. Then they guided us through a series of thought-provoking questions about specific aspects of the Memorial event, starting with the website and online registration and continuing through the Expo and all the way up to our experiences at the finish line.

I was so happy to get to voice the specific things I loved about the experience overall. The balloons, the encouraging emails, the feelings of suspense, the rhythm of the race especially after Lake Hefner, the Voice of The Thunder sounding off announcements, all of it. My friends and family hear from me about running ALL. THE. TIME. but yesterday I got to express how much certain little things meant to me last April, and every other runner in the room got it.

Behold the power of decorations! I am not even kidding. These balloons take my breath away. They make me emotional. Please always have them, Expo folks! Thank you.

We didn’t all agree on everything (I personally have no need of free beer, for example, LOL, but why not?) but that part of the process was fun too. I was surprised that other races are apparently conducted quite differently. For example, one change I hope the Memorial Marathon folks take into serious consideration is a wave start. That would be amazing. Even with potential weather complications (Oklahoma will always be at particular risk for this) it sounds like this would be a great improvement.

Another improvement that seemed popular around the room, particularly with the women, was shopping discounts at the Expo for registered runners. And free massages, taping, and other interactive features.

I suggested that they ask the Wonderbread bakery to NOT bake bread that morning since we run right past it and it made me sad this year to smell bread and yeast, but some runners actually liked it. My guess is that Wonderbread does not care if they make me sad for five minutes once a year.

Oh, well.

The ninety scheduled minutes flew right by in a chattery, productive whirlwind. I do wish we had more time. I am so thankful for the invitation to give feedback and really thankful for the appreciation they showed us for attending. (Am I allowed to say what the parting gift was? It was pretty awesome.)

My favorite question all afternoon was actually offered to me by Sarah at the beginning. I had arrived early and for several minutes was the only participant in the room. She asked which race I ran and would I do it again next year, then why? Why do you run this particular race, and why will you do it again? Well, I choked back tears and opened my mouth to answer, then the double doors to the conference room parted with a whoosh of air conditioned freshness, and a flood of smiling people walked in. Our conversation was gently put on pause, and she asked me to please email my answer. They want to understand people’s different motivations.

I’ll email her. And I’ll tell you guys too, because I love you. I so appreciate you stopping to read and follow the adventures here.

Why This Race? Why the Full?

I run the Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon because this is my home town.
Because what happened here in 1995 needs to be remembered.
Because we have the opportunity to maintain beautiful traditions and memories
instead of closing up around wounds from an evil day.
This event is an outward expression of Oklahoma’s resilience and loving energy.

I run to honor the victims and also
to pay ongoing respect to the first responders,
especially my parents-in-law, Harvey and Judy Wreath.

I choose to run the full marathon because it presents the best challenge.
Because for 26.2 miles you see more of this beautiful city
and feel more of the outpouring of love from its citizens.

On the full marathon course you feel more emptiness as you go,
depleting your mind and body in new ways.
Then you are washed in more joy and relief
than you ever dreamed possible.

Just like life.

I run the full marathon because it touches something primal inside me,
and I want to feel that over and over again for as long as I live.

The challenge of the course reminds me of how the first responders
had to do far more than they thought was possible.
They gave of themselves beyond what they thought they could.
They stayed. They discovered new depths within themselves.
They finished.

Four or five hours of fun for me is nothing compared to three horrific weeks.
They worked for three weeks to recover, protect, honor, rescue, identify,
and love in every possible way every person who was affected.
Running this fun, rewarding, exhilarating race is the very least
and the most selfish thing I can do to honor Harvey, Judy,
and all the hundreds of first responders.

xoxoxoxo

So thank you, Kari, Mollie, Amber, and Sarah. Thank you to all the people who organized this focus group fun and especially to everyone who makes the Memorial events so incredible. Next spring will mark the twentieth anniversary of the Murrah Building Bombing, and I know you all are intent on making the commemoration extra special. Thank you ahead of time. I wish you all the best and cannot wait to register!

when you don’t even recognize a chicken

July 20, 2014

Yesterday afternoon the hot sun returned to us. I changed into a swimsuit, took Hemingway’s A Movable Feast out to my favorite chaise lounge, and laid on my belly, propped up on my elbows to read. His simple but seductive descriptions of Paris quickly transported me to the New Orleans’ French Quarter (my closest approximation). It made me want to walk, write, explore, and express the thrumming affection for the French Quarter that has grown in my heart these past several years. Good reading always makes me want to write. It took some effort, but I quieted those impulses in order to really accept what he was offering.

The farm was quiet and calm, making it easy to slip away into another mental scene. The sun heated and seized at my skin until I could feel my pulse in my scalp and my legs were slack and relaxed. One bead of sweat formed between my shoulder blades and tracked in a zig-zag down my back. I was reading about Paris in early spring, when the cold rains threatened both bloom and joy, so the contrast was fun, interesting. It heightened the sense of transport.

Then, with no warning, I heard a scuffle to my left. A crunchy, leafy, noisy explosion from my peripheral there. A young red hen was running and kicking her legs, slashing a path through the undergrowth nearby.

The weird thing is that I was so transported, so disconnected from the farm at that moment, that I didn’t recognize her. I didn’t just not know which hen she was; I could not for several moments even think of what kind of animal she was. What the heck is that? I closed my book and stared at her until the word pulsed silently in the forefront of my mind like a digital cursor, chicken.

Oh thank goodness, that’s right. Chicken. Okay.

It was a bizarre feeling. But it is also very in keeping with life lately. We are navigating so many unthinkable changes and ongoing heartaches that anything seems possible and nothing feels familiar.

Another bead of sweat formed and raced down my back and Sonia (our fluffy grey cat) mewed and twisted her way over to me, curling up beneath the chaise lounge. A rooster crowed nearby, and I was happy to know he was a rooster. I closed my eyes and took stock of other sounds around the farm, quiet as they were, reconnecting myself to reality.

I need to do this with all of life, too. Stop and take inventory of what remains, of what is real and true and knowable. Especially the plain, simple things. I need to stitch myself slowly and neatly back to the fabric of life, making the tears stronger and calming the frays. (Thank you, Anne Lamott for this easy metaphor.)

What are you reading this weekend? Does it transport you this vividly? Have you ever felt so disconnected from life that you have to consciously stitch yourself back to what matters? Only you can do this for yourself. Be honest. Maintain clear vision and focus. Take it slow and steady.

And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow;
they toil not, neither do they spin. ~Matthew 6:28
XOXOXOXO

mid july garden update

July 18, 2014

Ah, July in the world of slow foods.

It brings me food for my table and food for my soul.

Every day lately I can walk outside and fill my arms with zucchini, tomatoes, herbs, eggs, cucumbers, eggplant, and blackberries.

The harvests are steady and plentiful, blemish free, delicious.

This summer has been a dream.

More rain I think than even the rain forest dares to dream of.

Hot, sunny afternoons that energize the plants and animals.

Cool evenings and mornings to relax them again.

Even the insects that normally make me a crazy person, well… No biggie. So many of them have drowned or just can’t keep up with the vitality.

The morning glory vines have taken over several spots in my herb garden and vegetable yard, but I don’t really care.

Who could argue with this color and form? How much is too much of this?

One of the best parts of each day is walking out early enough to see them still twisted in velvety little packages, only to see them later in the morning, spread open to the sun and boasting that deep, sexy hue.

And with a bumper crop of pumpkin, squash, and zuchinni vines, I have a plethora of gorgeous star-shaped blooms like this.

So many are dotting the compost heap that I am considering a meal of flash-fried squash blossoms.

To me this seems very Julia-Child-meets-Miranda-Lambert, and I groove that.

Lest I only show you close-up photos…

Here is a view of my Three Sisters patch, compost heap, and raised veggie beds, looking uphill from the bee hives.

You can see plenty of grass growing between it all, but that’s a good thing.

To me it means fertility and moisture.

The corn stalks will get serious before long, and the green beans are so close.

Beneath all of that thick, glossy life are buried fish heads, in keeping with the Native American tradition.

Ah, the bees. The Lazy W Honeymakers.

Because this summer is such a dream the bees have multiplied like Tribbles on Star Trek.

They are possibly outgrowing their hives already, and you can smell the golden treasure from quite a distance when the lid is tilted open.

Chances are good that we will be robbing honey soon.

And adding supers.

And counting every single sweet, sticky blessing.

The gardens. The bees. The chickens…

Mid-July is a spell and a climax all at once.

It heals me from the hurts of life and nourishes me in ways nothing else can.

In all of this I plainly see the hand of God and can relax. Trusting His timing, His mystery, His power.

This constant growth and harvest is everything I need to be reminded of the cycles and goodness of life.

He who grows a garden still his Eden keeps.
XOXOXOXO

basil regrets

July 17, 2014

I am filled with regret. Not the amount of regret you might have from getting drunk and waking up with a face tattoo. Not quite that much. But still more than the amount of regret you’d have from eating Doritos at bedtime and forgetting to brush your teeth afterwards. Have you ever woken up in the morning with all-night Dorito breath? Regrettable.

Today my regret is somewhere in the middle there, and it has to do with not growing enough basil this year.

In years past basil has been my one little crop with big dreams and even bigger accomplishments. It’s never failed me. I’ve always enjoyed piles of the fragrant stuff for months and months, all between Easter and Halloween, with seemingly no end in sight and with enough to share generously without ever worrying I’d run out. I ate every variation of pasta with basil. Fruit with basil. I made basil smoothies (amateurs might call it pesto) and put basil in my coffee (not really). My friend Tracy even brought her daughter Lauren and Lauren’s friend out to the farm last summer to record a song all about basil (it was to the tune of a great Whitney Houston ballad).

Basil was my jam, you guys. Oooh… wait, basil jelly, is that a thing?

Basil. The king of all culinary herbs. All hail basil!

This year? Not so much. I anticipated it. I ordered from catalogs and saved from last year’s bounty and planted seeds. I saw sprouts. And I gave thanks, celebrating the beginnings. But somewhere along the way the basil just didn’t happen, and I have been so busy doing other gardenish things that I didn’t stop to try again.

So as I type this, another bizarre Oklahoma monsoon in July* is probably drowning the only basil I still have, which is one Genovese plant from seed and one small boxwood plant from Walmart, divided in two. Not much, folks. Not much at all.

It makes me sad, because I always thought basil and I had a special bond. An herbal connection that no rainstorm and no aggressive morning-glory vine could destroy. Where did I go wrong? I loved you, basil. I thought you loved me, too.

On the bright side, of course, the sage and parsley are thriving like nobody’s business. So that’s awesome. And since this year I have finally figured how to slim down, getting closer and closer to the jeans size I want to wear, I eat less pasta than ever. So perhaps I need less basil than I think. The sage is more versatile with my high-protein diet anyway, so I will just roll with it.

Nice knowing ya, basil. I will keep our memories. Maybe next year we’ll try again.

Oh, my friend, it’s not what they take away from you that counts.
It’s what you do with what you have left.
~Hubert Humphrey
XOXOXOXO

*For the record I am NOT complaining about the cold and the monsoon here in Oklahoma. It is all pretty wonderful. Our pond is up to the banks for the first time in years. The fields are lush. The animals are healthy and happy. But you have to admit, it is bizarre. And apparently not ideal growing conditions for basil.

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