Lazy W Marie

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

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marathon monday: what’s your worst outfit?

One day last week I finished up a hectic afternoon of running errands by stopping at that one-mile loop track that’s sort of near the farm. I sprinted for three sweaty, desperate miles, making eye contact with nobody, then hurried back to my Jeep and made a beeline for home. Once there I kissed my husband, who was working on his Camaro and thankfully didn’t need a lot of eye contact, then made a second beeline to the shower and then my closet for fresh clothes. I’m not always in such a hurry to shed my running layers, but on this day my running layers were embarrassing.

I was wearing third-day, baggy yoga pants, full length ones with wide bottom legs that went swish-swash with every stride. Also the kind with a wide elastic flap at your hips that when flipped over reveals a super classy word, etched in sequins. Totally appropriate for a woman my age. Oh, but I tend to wear these pants wrong side out because I hate the way those sequins feel against the small of my back if that flap flips up. Which it often does. So, third-day, baggy, wrong-side-out yoga pants with bell bottoms that could start a campfire.

I was also wearing a lavender-colored stretch cotton pajama top, some ill-fitting Winnie the Pooh number from I cannot fathom what chapter of life (it looks like a maternity top but isn’t), and my husband’s athletic socks. Picture, if you will, the heel contour landing somewhere north of my ankle and near my calf muscle. Not that you could see that. On account of my super classy yoga pants.

I looked less like a runner and more like a person who had just awoken from a coma that had started long ago, while nursing a baby during a Britney Spears video.

My only semblance of normalcy was that pair of new blue and turquoise Brooks that still looked pretty fresh. Those shoes alone carried all the heavy burden of making me look like a legit runner at the track that day. Apparently I care about this now.

shoes

Why such shoddy attire? Because I hadn’t done laundry in several days. So all my workout gear was used up. Nor had I showered very recently.

These were facts of life because our septic tank was near capacity.

This was because Oklahoma has been enjoying a deluge of steady rainfall for weeks now.

Our water table is full. Our well is full. Our pond is full. And so, as things go, is our septic tank. Or at least it was last week, and I was exercising an abundance of caution. Trust me: not showering and not doing laundry is not my thing.

Anyway, the next time you see a badly dressed person at the running track, resist judgement and assume that he or she has a good reason for it. Things happen.

After all, color-coordinated spandex and witty racer back tees are for the drought.

The End.
XOXO

 

 

 

 

how not to fight with your loving husband if you are tapering during PMS

Or, this could be titled, “how not to fight with your loving husband if you are experiencing PMS during your taper week.” However you look at it. Is a zebra back with white stripes, or white with black stripes?

Either way, for the second year in a row, I am tapering for the marathon during the exact days my body is, shall we say, waning toward its new moon? Yes, let’s say it like that. I am about to be depleted in every conceivable way (no pun intended) (not that we’re conceiving), and if I’m not careful things could get dicey on the home front. Normally during these few days I’m not a total nightmare, but I do cry easily at Geico commercials, and here is the general sum of my personality: I am highly suspect of all politeness, assuming it must be a fearful if silent comment on what a bad mood I’m in.

Seriously, if Handsome and I ever engage in marital battle, it is almost exclusively during those few days of PMS, and it is almost always because I was so fed up with him being so careful with my feelings.

side-eye-chloe-meme-generator-could-you-freaking-not-be-so-nice-712d5f

LOL. His wife is such a peach.

So, throw some bouncy legs and an anxious mind into the mix, and we have ourselves an interesting situation. Here’s my 5-step plan to keep the peace:

  1. Eat Healthfully. No last minute extreme dieting, but also no emotional binge eating to soothe my nerves. I’m gonna eat right, stay hydrated, and continue taking iron, vitamins, and if necessary, Midol. (“Do you mean the bitchy pills, Ray?”)
  2. Gentle Exercise. Since my running (the obvious stress buster) has to be slashed down to a bare minimum, I’ll spend the next ten days walking plenty, and I’ll do it outdoors for the best mood lifting results. I’ll also spend time with my favorite yoga videos.
  3. So much reading. I am up to my splintless (thank-you-baby-jesus) shins in really good books right now, and with all this spare time on my hands (what with the not running) I plan to zen out with great food for thought. One is Sydney Portier’s spiritual memoir. Another is a new release piece of fiction by Dean Koontz (haven’t read him since probably my twenties, got a sudden craving for his language). And then there’s our book club’s current selection, which is another memoir: this one is by a female photojournalist who spent most of her career in war-torn countries. Hhmm. Okay, so maybe I’ll save that last one for after the race. Book club is exactly one week following, anyway. Plenty of time later.
  4. Reality Check. I will remind myself as often as needed that this whole situation is completely voluntary and that it was me, not him, who volunteered for it. Moreover, that along the way he has been incredibly supportive of me and brags about me constantly for no reason, so I really have no right to make him pay an even higher price for my pent up adrenaline by fighting with him. No matter how many weird little moments of rub we may experience, I am resolved to not over-thinking a single word or facial expression.

    Among other sweet gestures, he makes sure my shoes are the bomb.
    Among other sweet gestures, he makes sure my shoes are the bomb.
  5. Fingers Crossed and Dark Chocolate in the Pantry Just in Case. Because you can’t be too careful.

 

I hope this is useful to at least one other woman out there who has such similar good fortune as me to taper during PMS. It is so awesome and I really hope this happens every time I run a marathon!! Can you hear me gritting my teeth as I say that?

Now share with us your own wisdom. Have you ever tapered at an already difficult time? How did you cope? Are you local and will you come rescue my sweet, wonderful husband?

The struggle.
It’s real.
XOXOXO

what I learned in november

Hi friends! Welcome to Tuesday. For the first time ever I am linking up with Emily over at Chatting With the Sky. She is the sweet, smart author of A Million Little Ways which I devoured recently and have been pushing on my friends the same way I push food onto my daughter when she visits the farm. (Translation: So much and with gobs of effusiveness!)

Once a month Emily hosts a cool link up for people to share what they’ve been learning. Anything at all. Fun, right?  I know! So here’s my contribution for November:

 

what i learned in november

 

Baby llamas can flat-foot jump four-foot high fences. And it’s awesome. Meh, about five months old now, recently displayed a new talent. In order to reach Handsome on the other side of a four-foot predator fence, with no running start whatsoever, he just sprang vertically into the air and landed with aplomb on the earth not two feet away. Probably for a cookie. We were duly impressed. And now we have to keep the front gate shut at all times.

"Meh." xoxoxo
“Meh.” xoxoxo

Crocheting scarves is a great way to pass some time while watching Dexter with Handsome. I’m getting pretty good less terrible at a single-double chain stitch. Very relaxing and somewhat productive.

Hens are vain creatures. We accidentally left the front door open a few days ago and turned around to see Red Nekkid Neck hen and this gorgeous black hen exploring the living room. Just, you know, pooping on the wood floors. No biggie. The nameless black hen was perched on my favorite green chair, staring with deep and fascinated longing at herself. Do you have name suggestions for such a vain creature?

aww you sexy thang!
Aww, you sexy thang!

Mixing both sides of our family at a tenuous, change-filled season for everyone was at once genius and insane. We hosted our two nuclear groups at the farm for Thanksgiving this year, and we made a thousand memories and had a great time, truly. But I learned that spreading myself too thinly among people who have to make a great effort to blend with each other, well, it kind of leaves everyone feeling awkward. It is wonderful too, don’t get me wrong! But it was a learning experience. If someone ever asks my advice on this issue, I would say that overextending yourself in grief-stricken times, with limited hours available to spend with your loved ones, can leave everyone feeling a bit shortchanged. Sometimes it’s better to really water your families’ roots deeply. One at a time.

Listening trumps talking. And believing the best in people and in uncertain situations makes a difference. You know, faith is a force to be reckoned with. This past month I have literally fallen asleep giving thanks so many times. And my waking hours have been blissfully free of worry. It’s the most amazing transformation ever. I am learning the fruition part of the power of imagination, the potential of faithful prayers. How are you doing with this?

Adult footie pajamas are the bomb-dot-com. Have you seen them in retail land yet? Super cute. And even moreso soft and comfy. I can’t even tell you how fast you should go out and buy some for immediate cuddling, pretend flying through the air, and extended air-ninja-battles with errant poultry. We recently rearranged the living room, allowing for a long, wide path in the wood floor. Wearing my cool footie pj’s I can slide right down that slick alleyway like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Not much less awesome that a jumping llama.

supergirl footie onesie pajamas

And it’s December! I am two days deep in decorating, organizing, fitness, reading great books, and generally loving life. Now I’m off to see what the other guests at Emily’s link up have learned. Thanks so much for stopping by! What are you learning?

“I am learning all the time.
The tombstone will be my diploma.”
~Eartha Kitt
XOXOXO

 

12 lines for mama kat

Oh, Mama Kat. Brevity is not my strong suit, so thank you for the challenge to write an entire post in twelve lines. May I include photos, too? And does this into paragraph count? Hoping not.

1. The Lazy W Honeymakers have a couple of challenges but are overall thriving.
2. I recently found both queens and am winterizing the hives.

bees

3. The campus gardens keep me going during long lectures in Master gardener class.
4. My own gardens are also doing great but will be so pretty next year!

garden

5. My baby isn’t a baby anymore.
6. But she still has the same sparkly eyes and my heart still leaps when I see her happy.

joc

7. I’m rethinking pesticides.
8. Please tell me your thoughts, and I’ll write a post on it soon.

poisons

9. Time to gather supplies for indoor winter bulb forcing!
10. For me it includes pretty vessels, bulbs, and Moo Poo tea for excellent hydration.

bulbs

11. I love these sidewalk koi.
12. And I love New Orleans, which I where I saw them.

koi edited

Whew! That was not easy. Please feel free to email for more details. Nobody tell Mama Kat.

The End.
XOXOXO

haunted farm (part 3)

haunted farm part one

haunted farm part two

 

So each of us had slept through the night believing the other had crept into bed (or couch) with us. Each of us had different tactile experiences then feelings of peace and reconciliation (maybe even victory). Finally, we both woke up the next morning to realize we had actually slept alone and were technically still in the middle of a marital standoff. Those next several hours of radio silence between us probably ramped up our anxiety but also helped us crystallize our questions. We eventually compared notes and formed a picture, a timeline, of all the strange things that had transpired. It was by far the most spiritually unsettling thing that had ever happened to us as a couple, and it caused us to hug pretty tight that evening.

********************

This series of strange events is hard to understand, even for people like us who aren’t bothered by the occasional bump in the night or playful relocation of small objects in the house. Handsome and I tend to relish in ghost stories and have no trouble believing in all kinds of stuff. But this was different. Parts of it felt aggressive, negative, and deceptive. We both felt watched and manipulated, and it just wasn’t funny. Depending on your spiritual leanings, these encounters might make more sense in the context of what happened that spring.

In early March of that year, we were pulling up to the farm late at night and discovered a pickup truck flipped over, badly crashed, its driver having been thrown through the glass and lying still on the road in front of our farm. He did not live. It was a deeply troubling, violent sight, something I will never forget. My husband dealt with the emergency responders all night. I called my Mom and cried and cried, sobbed really. It was truly the saddest thing I’d ever seen and the sadness clung to us for a while afterward. I couldn’t get over the image of this man dying so badly, alone until the very last minute when Handsome held his head and spoke to him.

I wrote about it in detail that year, you can click on part three right here, but for the purposes of today’s story, I just want to tell you that I attended the man’s funeral. I met some of his sweet family who obviously loved him so much, and I saw a beautiful photo slideshow of his life, enjoyed a deep drink of the love he had been pouring out for decades. I saw what he looked like in life: Tall, broad shouldered, a shock of white hair. Friends, and I do not say this lightly, the vision I saw in the dining room window was very similar, frighteningly similar, to the image of the man I saw at that funeral.

***************

It took us a long time to connect these dots. Actually, it took us a long time to even talk to our friends about that night we fought and had separate bizarre encounters. But when we finally did, when we had some distance and perspective and rolled around ideas of what might be happening, it struck like lightning. I instantly understood at least part of the presence in our home.

I wasn’t the least bit afraid of the man then. And I’m not now. I don’t think he had anything to do with us fighting or with the mood of separation in our home that week. I think now that he actually played some part in making both Handsome and me feel reconnected to each other.

Something else was causing us to bicker and act childishly, or to be more precise, we both chose to succumb to that weight. There was definitely a dark, heavy cloud over us for a time. But something else, possibly a spirit? or possibly just Love manifesting in ways we’d never seen before? …was helping us each feel our spouse’s closeness despite our bad behavior.

Do you think I’m crazy yet? Or… even crazier than you already thought I was? That’s okay. I know everyone has a unique temperature on these matters, and even inside my own head I don’t have everything quite worked out. But I know how I feel, and I feel at peace with all of it.

sunset blue

 

Soon after we reconciled (in the daylight, eyes wide open!), Handsome and I took steps to sort of cleanse the entire property and dismiss negative spirits and energy. We believe in the power of Love and words and prayer, and we are very focused on having a positive environment here. Since that super bizarre night, we are happy to say that nothing remotely like that has happened again.

Unless you count Sasquatch sightings in the Pine Forest.

Until next time, thanks for reading!!

Have you ever experienced a true ghost story? Do you believe spirits can manipulate you emotionally? Are you shaking your head at me now, wondering why you ever started reading my blog in the first place?

XOXOXOXO