Lazy W Marie

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

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sweep the leg!

May 7, 2018

I won’t even bother trying to convince you that I never had and don’t have a crush on Johnny Lawrence-slash-the actor who plays him, William Zabka. Obviously, back in the day (it was a Wednesday in the mid-eighties), everyone was publicly rooting for Daniel-Son, but before the hashtag #confessyourunpopularopinions was a thing, I was one of many adolescent girls secretly thinking the taller, better built, blonde-headed guy in the black karate gi had every right to be cocky.

Had Johnny been under the tutelage of Mr. Miyagi instead of the war-damaged Sensai John Kreese, his life would have followed a much healthier path. Who wouldn’t thrive while studying in that zen garden? And had healthy relationships been modeled to him, Johnny would have known how to be sweeter to Ali, Elisabeth Shue’s character. She would no doubt have chosen him over Daniel and everybody else. Obviously. Johnny probably even wore Drakkar Noir!! Daniel was meant to be a flirtatious but still platonic friend, you guys.

Anyway.

We, meaning my real-life husband (who I love deeply and truly) and I, spent a chunk of our Sunday watching the final episodes of the YouTube Red series Cobra Kai. Everything makes so much sense now. My instincts have been proven sound, as the show gives all kinds of cool insight into the characters’ backgrounds as well as into their fast-forward storylines. And it was just plain fun to watch.

Have you seen any episodes yet? I especially enjoyed the scene where Johnny and Daniel are test-driving a car and get caught together reluctantly singing along to REO Speedwagon’s Take it on the Run Baby. Solid gold stuff, ok? And when Johnny is at Daniel’s breakfast table, salting his scrambled eggs angrily and from a ridiculous altitude and with just way too much aggression? I died. I might never salt eggs again without giggling.

Again, anyway.

If you haven’t yet caught the show, do yourself an 80’s throwback favor and track it down online. And message me if you want to join my brand new support group for Girls Who Secretly Loved Johnny Lawrence and Still Do.

Cobra Kai!!

In related snake news (bear with me), yesterday was a designated rest day, but we did more than just watch t.v. We also explored the local flea market, had a late breakfast in Choctaw, and did some summer shopping.

chlorine rodeo coming soon to a hobby farm near you

We also took the Shepps for lots of walks outside, planted more flowers and herbs, and worked on getting the pool open for summer. In between everything, the sun shone gloriously and we played several hundred rounds of FETCH.

Back to snakes.

On one happy lap around the back field, the dogs and I stumbled on a cottonmouth snake sunning himself on the bank of our pond. Naturally, Klaus stopped running immediately where the snake was stretched out and literally stood over the creature like a tall, massive, slobbering bridge. Just stood there. And Lincoln was standing just next to Klaus, both of them looking at me expectantly. I screamed, Lincoln ran like lightning up to the house (he hates it when I scream and apparently I scream a lot more than I realized), and Klaus braced for combat, lowering his belly a few inches. He did not MOVE you guys. He stood there over the snake, ears back, legs stiff, oblivious to danger, yet not knowing quite what I wanted him to do. It’s a miracle he didn’t get bit.

I don’t remember exactly what happened next; it was all a dramatic blur of adrenaline. But somehow Klaus and I made it up to the house and Johhny Lawrence-I mean-Handsome got a gun and we walked back downhill as my heart rate returned to normal and now the snake is completely dead.

Such a close call!! My poor, loyal, skinny black-bear dog.

And my steady, cold-blooded, protective husband who did learn under men like Mr. Miyagi and who does know how to treat women and who also smells very nice, with or without Drakkar Noir.

The End.

No Mercy!!
XOXOXO

3 Comments
Filed Under: anecdotes, daily life, funny, marriage

please don’t read this

September 25, 2015

Thursday night I was strolling with Handsome through our local Wally-marks in search of a very specific action figure toy to replace one Klaus had just destroyed. We were also in search of hot glue sticks to aid a possible repair job for said toy, a new, more appropriate chew toy for Klaus, and ice cream. Because apparently yesterday was both National Daughters’ Day and National Ice Cream Cone Day. Not that we need an excuse to celebrate our girls or buy ice cream. And not that we only ate only one cone.

A man passed me down the center aisle who was the spitting image of Brittany’s husband, so alike in features and expression (as far as I know him from her blog) that I could not resist trying to meet him. I said his name to see if he’d respond, “Noah!” Nothing. He walked past. I turned around and said it again, sort of toward his back.

“NOAH. Noah. Noah… (n-o-a-h...)” Again, nothing except a confused glance over his shoulder before he changed his retail trajectory with some stiff-backed abruptness. Apparently even grown men can feel creeped out.

To clarify, my second attempt to get his attention was less friendly and more hushed, like a descending, vibrating whisper, Friday-the-Thirteenth-soundtrack style. If that man was Noah, Mr. Vesuvius at Home, he clearly wanted nothing to do with being recognized by the crazy blonde wandering the toy department looking like she could really use some refined carbs at that moment.

Okay. That’s the end of that story.

klaus

Have you ever noticed that the fastest way to sand off some jagged edges from your heart is to bring them to light and invite the Universe to connect them with someone you love? If you want to have your ugliest opinions challenged, declare them staunchly. Use harsh, hurtful language, say something judgmental and condescending about another human being, and wait to see how long before you realize someone you love dearly and unconditionally falls into the category you have just slammed. It’s like counting seconds between lightning and thunder: how close is the storm? And then, can you weather it?

Okay, next:

When gardening, would you rather start with a smooth, uncultivated piece of earth, design your own garden from the ground up, having started fresh? Or would you rather dive into a wild, neglected space, re-imagining and reconstructing, nourishing what is diseased or forgotten, and breathe new life into it? Don’t make me choose. But if you make me choose, I will always go with the second option. Always.

Last thing. Have you tried this method of roasting chicken? I saw it recently on bon appetit and had to try. You brine some bone-in chicken pieces (yum) and cook them directly on the oven rack, no pan, allowing the juices to fall below to a tray of vegetables. The chicken turns out extra crispy and much less fatty. Gloriously golden and flavorful. The vegetables, on the other hand, are flavorful but turn out kinda mushy. I just don’t know. The Lazy W verdict is to continue with this chicken roasting method but leave an empty pan below, then just recycle that broth later. Let’s have stout, crispy veggies, ok?

ckn

Okay, cool.

What are your fun plans for this gorgeous weekend? Handsome and I are looking forward to some local art and street food, specifically the Ten Percent Celebration for Every Point on the Map, maybe family time and an outdoor movie at the farm, possibly an easy little car show. Should be a full, relaxing weekend with mild weather. I’m already happily exhausted.

Ok friends, go carpe some diems! Be nice to strangers. Be careful with your words. Choose your storms carefully whenever possible. And roast your chickens openly, no shame, no secrets. Thanks time a million for visiting.

ksh ksh ksh ksh ksh ksh ksh ksh
no no no no no no no no
XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

 

1 Comment
Filed Under: anecdotes, Vesuvius at Home

people and a vision

September 13, 2015

Yesterday afternoon Handsome and I spent some time working at the church. It was just the two of us, and we had a short list of tasks we wanted to accomplish. But something unexpected happened that caused me to take a long, hard look at my own heart. I walked away feeling very different. Changed. Which is what church is supposed to do for us, right? Even if it’s just a work day?

Let me briefly set the stage by explaining that for us in this season of life, “church” is an elusive concept. It probably doesn’t resemble anything you normally think of when you hear the word. Just being at the building can produce emotions ranging from joy to anger, wistful melancholy, frustration, loneliness, bitterness, and then, either out of the blue or with some effort, bubbling hope. Overwhelming excitement for the future. Going to church is far from a mechanical weekend ritual for us right now. And I suppose that’s a good thing. God is speaking to us in unprecedented ways, almost randomly, with all the tradition and habit, all the human distraction, stripped away.

Okay.

The day was mild. Warmish-cool with abundant sunshine, wide open blue skies, and a ticklish breeze. As we unloaded borrowed wedding tables and began mowing and weed eating the lawns, I was in one of the bitter moments. I had to consciously push negative thoughts out of my mind, and then I remembered the lessons about not resisting so much as replacing, so I fished for images that would inspire me. Images like a north-facing flower bed overflowing with fall blooms, a freshly painted church kitchen fragrant with the meals we hope to provide soon, and music streaming through open doors. I tried really hard to conjure up an idea of how things could be for us here. I gave thanks for all the miracles that have been poured out after prayers were said here. Because this mental tactic always works, my attitude gradually improved, and my energy increased. Then we got a visitor.

The elderly, retired pastor from the church directly across the street walked over and struck up a conversation with Handsome. He was there on a Saturday with the statewide conference for his denomination. They are long time acquaintances, these two families, and it’s good for them to reconnect. But the gentleman doesn’t really know what has been happening in our family since we lost Judy, only that we obviously are not having Sunday morning services right now. This begs lots of obvious questions.

My husband navigated the conversation with grace, I could sense this every time I passed the pair of men, but I knew he was being economical with his words. Careful not to plumb too deep into painful waters. Instead of stopping to join the chat like I normally would do, I continued working. Sort of rebelliously, to make a point. As the friendly moment turned into five minutes, then ten, then thirty, I grew increasingly frustrated. Handsome was being held up which meant that our stay would be longer and longer, no matter how much I accomplished on my own. My reverie about a healthy, fruitful church community was being eroded by all the things I wanted to be doing at the farm, all the fun ways I craved to spend our weekend. I felt more and more resentful about this interruption to our Saturday, about the fact that no one else is here to help us, about how alone we feel most of the time. It was a pretty gross downward spiral. I am good at those.

And of course, this perfectly wonderful elderly gentleman did what lots of men this age do, he repeated himself extensively. Most of the conversation was just him saying the same things over and over again, not really listening to his audience at all. Handsome nodded affectionately a lot, offered bits of answers when the man asked the same question over and over. You know. But I was impatient. I cannot stand for people to waste my time.

Friends, if that sounds really ugly to you just reading it, know that as soon as I registered this thought in my own mind I felt sick to my stomach. I am really ashamed to have even allowed the thought, but I’m sharing it now because it’s a big part of the story. I guess it’s also my confession.

So as the time passed and I forced myself to reign in frustration and bitterness, control my emotions better, God allowed me to hear a very important slice of their conversation. I abandoned most of my bad attitude and walked up to the men at just the perfect moment.

The elderly retired pastor and my husband had been sharing ideas of the two communities’ hopes and dreams for the future. How might we serve the neighborhood? Are we moving into the future according to God’s will? Beautiful stuff. Stuff totally worth some time on Saturday afternoon, despite the younger man’s selfish, hurried wife. Then I heard it, the quotable thing.

The elderly pastor was joking about how a church needs people, willing workers who can sacrifice time as well as money. Very much to myself I had a series of snarky thoughts on this subject. All I said aloud was, “Yes, time is the hardest thing to sacrifice sometimes.” Handsome and I made eye contact. He gave me a half smile and weary eyes. He knew exactly what I meant and is normally even more greedy with his time than I was in this moment. But at church, this is his rodeo, his traumatic healing more than mine. I backed down.

Then we pan back to the elderly retired pastor:

“The Bible says without a vision the people are lost. And then I say with the people a vision is lost!”

He have a long round of generous, warm hearted laughter then we joined him. He cannot have known how much I needed the exact combination of his bold speech and loving tone. Humor delivers hard things so well, right?

It sank into me rapidly. Musically, almost. Is it that instant for you? Without the people a vision is lost. It’s not scripture; it’s just one man’s inspired moment or bit of humor or something. But it does point back to scripture. Back to the New Testament lessons about the church being the hands and the feet of Christ. Willing workers giving of ourselves to act out His love on earth. And if our current situation “at church,” air quotes because it’s such an elusive concept right now, isn’t an example of how much we need this, I just don’t know what is. We have so many hopes and dreams for how things could be, how much help we could provide, but how will we do it?

The end of yesterday’s story is happy. We traded so many loving words with the man, this old friend of Handsome’s family, and reaffirmed our intention to both stay in touch and help each other along the way. Handsome finished his jobs and I finished mine, then we loaded up to leave right on time. Despite the very inconvenient interruption to my very selfish Saturday, it’s as if no extra time had passed. That’s how God works sometimes. He can literally stretch the moments and fill them with exactly what you need.

As for the question of how will we do it? The answer is: One work day at a time, with consistent obedience and more humility. If the vision is sound, the right people will cross our path. Or we will do it alone.

Maybe instead of focusing on who is no longer here, I need to acknowledge that we are being called here still. We count. We can do hard things, worthwhile things, and maybe without us a vision will be lost. Maybe that? Or maybe, keep the vision and the people will come. Maybe that?

2 chairs

Now I sound like The Field of Dreams. Sorry friends. haha But thank you for listening. I have a lot of thoughts and feelings to sort out. Thanks for joining us here and sending goodness and love! I am amazed at how God walks us through these seasons of life.

“She will hold his hand and tell him 
God is proud of him for being a good boy on his birthday,
and that will make the world feel right side up again.”
~Mitch Albom,
The Five People You Meet in Heaven
XOXOXOXO

 

 

6 Comments
Filed Under: anecdotes, church, daily life, faith, memories, thinky stuff

walk on the wild side

July 21, 2015

So my work week at home started with something new and exciting and momentarily terrifying.

Klaus (our new German Shepherd pup) ventured into the buffalo field and walked like No big deal Mom, don’t worry! along the fence line, with Chunk-Hi immediately in front of him. I was dragging our trash bin down the gravel driveway for Tuesday morning pickup, and I guess Klaus thought a walk on the wild side was in order. I mean, who wouldn’t rather walk with a buffalo than a gritty-faced lady dragging trash? I know. He’s no dummy.

Eventually our hulking bachelor bison, now tired of his small, hyperactive field mate, turned back toward where Klaus was following, gave him a baritone chuff and a gentle little hoof-stomp, just a warning. He squared off his big horns and just stared so hard, and Klaus stopped and stared back for like one second. Maybe less.

Okay, bye then! Klaus barked cheerfully, and he spun around. My sweet pup wanted to be back on the safe side all of a sudden, and I was glad. He started trotting that long, low slung body away from the buff and only looked over his shoulder once. I watched warily, abandoning my trash chore.

Although Klaus is plenty small enough to fit through most of the open grids in the bison fencing, for some reason he was devoted to the idea of exiting far away, through a large, curled gap in the fence uphill, where he had entered. Right near the cattle gate which I affectionately refer to as our False Sense of Security. I called to him a million times and air-kissed enthusiastically, hoping to lure him out the side of the pasture sooner, but he just kept on trucking in the sand, side-eyeing me with that big, toothy grin and long tongue dripping out of the side of his perfect, leathery alligator mouth. He looked so proud to be in the buff’s field, like a big boy. Like, he didn’t even need me! Chunk gained on him a little more, slowly but surely. Just walking.

Klaus! Come ON! I am BEGGING you! I climbed the fence, never mind for a moment my unmatched swim suit and completely un-cowgirl-like cotton wrap, and hoped my flip flops would not betray me during the rescue mission. Chunk was way more interested in me joining the party than in Klaus leaving, and so was Klaus. It confused everyone’s priorities. The boys were both aiming for and gaining on me and all I could think about was cutting open the watermelon waiting patiently for me in the kitchen sink.

In a stroke of pure Universal Magic and Delight, Klaus bolted for me just as I swung my second leg over the wooden brace and hopped down and also just as Chunk brought his swagger up to a bounce. Klaus did his normal celebratory pouncing and licking, which I had to cut short for obvious reasons. In a moment, the pup and I exited ungracefully and I gave the buff so many head scruffs in appreciation of him not smashing anyone to smithereens today. He accepted said scruffs, bellowed once, and turned away to go see what this trash bin business was all about.

chunk b&w eyes

So the event ended peacefully. We all lived to go for multiple thunderstorm swims, feed the four-leggeds more hay, and collect a ton of fresh eggs. (Finally!) The trash eventually made its way to the road, and so far Klaus has not reentered the front field.

klaus smiling

Signing of now to finally go cut open that watermelon.

The End.
XOXOXO

 

 

 

2 Comments
Filed Under: anecdotes, animals, daily life

timeout warrants issued

May 21, 2015

What’s up, Kat? You totally made me cry into my perfect coffee with your post about a memorable lesson and a burnt headlight. Biggest hugs to you, sweet lady. That was beautiful. xoxo Friends, you must go read You Can Fix It. It’s short and so very sweet.

This week Kat wants to know what 10 things
(people, places, whatevv) need a timeout?
Here are my nominations:

  1. The rain. The rain has been a wonderful blessing and has busted all our historic droughts and given us such glorious spring gardens! It’s been magical. But we’re good now, thanks. Still flooded everywhere you look, Oklahoma now sees a nine-day forecast of nothing but more rain. Heavy rain. Storms like what you’d see in the tropics, not the southern Midwest. We are soaked to the bone. The rain needs a timeout.

    Verdant and colorful, yes! I just love it. But we crave more sunny days like in this photo. The plants crave the sun, too.
    Verdant and colorful, yes! I just love it. But we crave more sunny days like in this photo. The plants crave the sun, too.
  2. People who commit body shaming against others, including themselves. This includes people who call others “too fat” as well as people who call others “too skinny” or anything at all. This barely used to bother me, but for some reason lately all the careless adjectives and tones of voice flying around just create a really confusing, hurtful atmosphere. I don’t groove it. Body shamers need a timeout.
  3. Natasha the black barn cat. She has been bullying Fast Woman, who you may remember recently became an indoor cat (on a trial basis at least). Natasha spends lots of time lurking outside the doors and windows, howling and spiking her shoulder fur in Fast Woman’s general direction. It’s aggressive and it needs to stop. Natasha needs a timeout.

    They will stare at each other like this for a solid hour, hissing and thinking terrible things.
    They will stare at each other like this for a solid hour, hissing and thinking terrible things.
  4. People who freely post on social media graphic images of death and violence. Animal abuse, abortion, actual funeral caskets and headstones, and more. I don’t need shock value to help me calibrate my moral compass. Nor do intense visuals like this provide any kind of healing for very real grief. Some people seem to care more about making a splash or getting attention than about how they affect others when they propagate this gut wrenching stuff. They don’t realize that such images can trigger deep trauma and sadness, so they need a timeout.
  5. Chunk-Hi the buffalo for bullying the horses and sleeping on their hay. I mean, come on man. I see you. I know you know what you’re doing. Timeout for the buff.
  6. Liars, rumor spreaders, and gossips. It’s rampant lately, in both private and professional circles, and all of these folks need a timeout.
  7. The excessive alligator snapping turtles showing up on our roads and in our ponds. Nope! No thanks. Timeout.
  8. Spammers. Not necessarily the fine people who manufacture and distribute Spam, the canned meat product; that foodstuff has its place and I am sure those Spammers are great people! In fact I have kind of a heartwarming story about that kind of Spam if you want to hear it someday. But the trolls who work so tirelessly to poison our internet experience? Those spammers. They need a timeout.
  9. People who insist on putting frogs at or near my person, on or around my neck, chest, face, and head. Most of all my sweet, ornery husband. But also practically all the kids we know. And our friend Jeff. And my Dad. All people who think it’s funny to throw frogs at me or even fake like you are doing it, you need a timeout.

    Cute in a photo. Terrifying in 3-D.
    Cute in a photo. Terrifying in 3-D.
  10. The rain. I have to say it twice for emphasis. Take five, rain. Let’s meet up again in late July.

 

Whew! If these ten timeout warrants are actually satisfied, then so shall I be. Life would be ever so much lovelier.

Who or what do you think needs a timeout? Spill it.

XOXOXOXO

10 Comments
Filed Under: anecdotes, Mama Kat

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Hi! I'm Marie. Welcome to the Lazy W. xoxo

Hi! I’m Marie. This is the Lazy W.

A hobby farming, book reading, coffee drinking, romance having, miles running girl in Oklahoma. Soaking up the particular beauty of every day. Blogging on the side. Welcome to the Lazy W!

I Believe Strongly in the Power of Gratitude & Joy Seeking

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