Lazy W Marie

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

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motivation monday, short & sweet

This morning’s post will be short and sweet, friends. Already since Handsome left for the Commish I have had the most wonderful couple of hours of refilling my tank with Love (thanks for the phone call Marci!) and knocking out a few piles of organizing stuff to get the week started. Now I am on to the last bit of morning work and then a tempo run on my new treadmill! Yay!! So excited about this!!

get to work out graphic

I am happy because I get to work out. Exercising hard just makes the day better. It sharpens my mind; it energizes my body; and as a result the remaining hours are so much more productive. As I lace up I feel super, truly, deeply grateful for the freedom and the health to do this.

Happy Monday everyone! I will check in later today with a more detailed post, but for now I hope your new week is off to a beautiful start. Take care of yourself.

XOXOXOXO

 

thursday morning magic

Somehow the morning sun is bolder, more gilded and alive, with the windows open. Or is it the time of year? This sneak peek of autumn? Wide, flat sheets of moving light slice across the wood floor and make floating bits of dust look like fairies. Magic. The early birdsong is definitely stronger. And I had forgotten how sweet the air can taste at this kinder temperature.

I passed by the upstairs hallway windows, the ones overlooking the middle field, and marveled at the thick prairie grasses and their diamond wet. Grey fog rolling upward off the pond in strong, thoughtful columns of energy. Water that normally has a reddish cast, this morning was a murky blue-grey, a werewolf shade in broad daylight.

Chanta was grazing just below these open windows. I could hear his gentle horse breath and the juicy chomp-crunch-swallow of his green breakfast. I wondered briefly what were my odds of injury if I were to pry off one of those window screens and jump down onto his broad, muscular back? I never made a sound, but I think he must heave heard my thoughts because he let out an extended snuffle and walked away, sharply to his right.

Now the Lone Ranger music is in my head and I need to go for a run. I need to taste the sweet air more deeply. Feel the brackish touch of sun and shade on my skin and let the dew splash high on my legs. As much as I love the brutally hot summertime, this cool morning is filled with magic and I love it. I won’t waste it.

pull magic

What magic are you pursuing today?

XOXOXOXO

 

friday 5: plans gone awry & a menu

Let me start by saying that nothing I had planned for today went quite according to plan. But that’s fine! Because far be it from me to only carpe the diems that go according to plan, right? Turns out, today has been awesome and as I type that sentence it’s barely halfway over. Today and I are buddies.

I spent almost two hours cutting, pressing, and pinning fabric pieces for some really cool gift projects before discovering my machine was busted. Womp-womp.
Before things turned around, I spent almost two hours cutting, pressing, and pinning fabric pieces for some sewing projects before discovering my machine was busted. Womp-womp.

After a weirdly frustrating morning of obstacles (like pent up energy from preparing for a long run that never happened then working on sewing projects before discovering a busted sewing machine) and rainy day cabin fever (although yes I most definitely appreciate the rain), my friend Marci agreed to meet me in Oklahoma City for lunch. It has been ten thousand years since just she and I were able to meet for lunch, and I loved every minute of it. We consumed the most beautiful food Panera has to offer, and we chatted efficiently in that condensed-soup girlfriend catch-up style.

490 calories of yum
490 calories of yum and nutrition (eat the rainbow!)

After lunch I stopped at a cheap but ritzy grocery store there, which I don’t frequent much because it’s basically forty five minutes away from the farm. I bought everything on my list and then some, including some freshly fire-roasted hatch chile peppers. Not a case of the beautiful things as you see below, just a 99-cent zippered baggie of them. Still, a treasure.

My new best friends. Sorry Marci!
My new best friends. Sorry Marci!

You guys.

The smell of peppers roasting in that big tumbler in the parking lot on a rainy day… The smoky, throaty fragrance in the air-conditioned store… Then the spicy cloud of mouthwatering goodness in the cab of my truck as I drove home… So intoxicating. I am such a sucker for good smells.

So anyway. Time with Marci and a leisurely trip to the grocery store helped me reset. I finished my in-the-city errands and made it home. The groceries are unpacked and all the animals are checked on and the last bit of laundry has been folded.

So now, the fun part… Writing our menu for the upcoming week.

Do you love this task as much as I do? I mean, of course you take a rough-draft menu and shopping list with you to the store, right? But while you’re browsing the aisles don’t you ever see something on sale or get inspired by a display and tweak things a little? Of course you do! Me too.

For example, these fire-roasted hatch chile peppers changed everything. The zippered baggie is marked “H” because I brought home the hot stuff.

friday groceries

So for Friday 5 at the Farm, here are some recipes I am really excited to make for us in the coming days. More than one of them includes my new treasure.

1. Chile Rellenos! Add homemade salsa from garden tomatoes and cream & cheddar cheeses, try ground Panko for crust.

2. Garlic-lemon baked salmon Serve with parmesean-roasted broccoli and a wild rice-quinoa mix.

3. Pasta night! Plain marinara for Handsome and vegetable-pesto sauce for me. Sweet Italian sausage, mozarella, and salad too.

4. Movie Night Nachos! Make with roasted peppers and shredded chicken, add salad.

5. Homemade pizza: Choose from grilled chicken, Canadian bacon/pineapple, pesto, Alfredo, olives, roasted veggies. Try whole wheat crust?

I also think these gorgeous peppers would be amazing in a frittata or as a burger sauce (look at this recipe by Katie!) or as a hot link topper… I probably need to go buy more.

These are perfectly delicious eaten plain, as is.
These are perfectly delicious eaten plain, as is.

Happy Friday, friends! Happy weekend to you. Happy life. I hope that even if things don’t go quite as you planned them, that you are surprised by something wonderful today and that you carpe this diem with great fervor. I also hope you eat well. Really well.

Thanks so much for checking in! Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow form some reading fun?

“Would you like-a-de-pepper?”
~Dana Carvey
XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

 

 

 

deep summer

For nearly a week now, every time I sit down to a clean, wordless draft page I freeze and cannot construct even one sentence. My eyes get too wide and my mouth goes dry and I am tempted to just delete this blog completely. Instead I click over to Facebook or scan Feedly to see what other people are saying. Or I shut everything down and read a book. It’s not that I have writer’s block, whatever that is; it’s that there is just so much happening in my life right now, both the internal, unseen stuff and the vibrant, flesh and blood thrumming relationships and the dirt and hooves goings on of our farm, that I scarcely know where to start. Where to dive in. How to begin unraveling the messy, twisted, knotted pile of different colored yarns that make up my life lately.

Last weekend my baby girl turned eighteen. That is a wonderful, amazing thing, truly a gift, but because of our family circumstances right now I have no idea how to write about it, except to say that my heart bursts with pride and withers in pain and bursts and withers over and over again, daily. I wrote for her and about her a hundred or so times and deleted everything. But my gosh, you know, it’s not all about me, even though mine is the only story I can tell accurately and with full permission. We’ve been through that.

So not writing about that has kept me from writing about anything else. Nothing else is as important except for her sister, anyway, and by the way her life story is taking more fascinating turns every week. If a moment arises where I feel unprepared or unworthy, I have to stop and say thank you because nothing here is abnormal. It’s all I’ve been asking for for years.

This is where I have sometimes had to read my own messages again about worry and faith. Prayer and positive focus. No doubt in my ribs and belly, these messages are sent to me first, for me. I realize that sounds goofy.

The hours between 6 and 8 each evening are the most gilded, most stilling, of the day.
The hours between 6 and 8 each evening are the most gilded, most stilling, of the day.

Everyone around us is geared up for a new school year, posting photos of newly sprouted, suntanned children in crisp new clothes, parents either bemoaning the end of summer or celebrating a quiet house that can finally be cleaned in the daytime. Meanwhile I am working to keep the small veggie garden producing and the animals happy in the heat and humidity. I am paying better attention to the flower beds in anticipation of a our niece’s outdoor wedding here in just a few weeks. And I am running hot, early morning miles and swimming every chance I get. Here at the farm, summer isn’t over until the pool closes and I have to wear a jacket to run. From the looks of things, we have several weeks remaining. This is good.

Have I told you yet that we bid adieu to two llamas? Romulus returned to his original home with Dean and Maribeth (thank you, friends!) and has already adjusted well to his guard post there. Dulcinea has a new home with the cousin of our transport and hay farming friend Billy, and that new home has a pond which I know she must love. Dulcie is a swimmer. We miss them both of course, but the purpose of this change was to bring our two horses home to graze freely in the middle and back fields. Previously, the horses and llamas could not mix at all. Lots of violence. So this has been bittersweet but ultimately wonderful. The youngest of the three llamas, Meh, still lives here at the W, and he and the horses have adapted to each other splendidly. This is all very, very good news for lots of reasons.

Meh frequently seeks kisses from the pup but never quite connects.
Meh frequently seeks kisses from the pup but never quite connects. Pardon the manure you see there. Middle field clean up is on the agenda for Thursday.

Also on the happy animal-integration front, Klaus our new German Shepherd puppy is learning more every day about appropriate animal relationships. He shows measured restraint with the buffalo, unbridled passion with the barn cats, and a dangerous sort of are-you-or-aren’t-you-a-stuffed-toy? curiosity with the smallest chickens. Our days and evenings are infinitely more fun with Klaus here. My Facebook friends have been very kind, indulging me with love on every photo of him I post. He is one hundred percent the best farm dog in the history of farm dogs anywhere on this planet. And he is already almost too big to sit in my lap, but yesterday I did manage to teach him to drive a stick shift. The Jeep is plenty roomy enough.

We had so much fun! And afterwards he had the hiccups.
We had so much fun! And afterwards he had the hiccups.

Things are good. I am catching my breath emotionally, having just realized I’d been holding it for a while. And working and playing and carpeing every diem to the best of my ability. Sometimes this includes an afternoon siesta on the deck.

hay

Are you happy we are midway through August? What does that even look like in your life? August used to be so hectic, so blistering hot and uncomfortable, such a month of transition. I am looking around now, happy to see that actually it is a month full of more of all my favorite stuff. Some extra challenges. But mostly? Overwhelming peace and hope. And so many beautiful sunsets.

“Deep Summer is when laziness finds respectability.”
~Sam Keen
XOXOXO

 

 

watermelon, life seasons, and making the details last

I have lost track of how many complete watermelons have made their sweet, juicy way into my belly since the beginning of summer. You’re not counting, are you? Good. Know that I appreciate that. A lot.

watermelon heart

Buying different striped behemoths, usually seedless but not always, is fun to begin with. Then hearing the treasure roll around in my Jeep during the drive back to the farm. Stashing it in the pantry where it can stay cool for a while. I love it. It’s summertime. This probably happens at least weekly, but we’re not counting, okay?

The watermelon cutting itself is the true ritual, though. I always stand to the left of my kitchen sink (everything must be scrupulously clean) with probably some French pop playing in the background. My favorite lately is Camelia Jordana. Give her a listen. I like for Klaussen to be near my feet if he doesn’t mind (he never does), and if I can be finished with all my work and possibly wearing three or four of my favorite necklaces while watermeloning, well, even better.

First I cut the gorgeous green thing in two right at the equator, leaving one half in the sink while I work on the other. With no hurrying at all, the fruit divides and divides again, over and over, tumbling back and rolling, and all the while I’m thinking about how miraculously cells divide and then time and sometimes people. And families or political parties. Friendships.

About how joy, when shared, is doubled but somehow grief is lightened.

Now slowly slicing the red meat away from the green rind in a curved, sliding motion, then slicing again lengthwise, then chopping, occasionally salting the juicy chunks and taking samples for my trouble. (Friends, it’s okay if you do not count the calories of watermelon chunks you eat while completing this lovely task. I’m pretty sure it’s a wash.)

From this location with my back to the rest of the house, I can see all the artsy treasures that surround the sink. Paintings, metal wind chimes, Mexican pottery. I can scribble things on the chalkboard to my left if a needed grocery springs to mind or I feel like remembering a poem. And I can gaze out to the herb garden. Right now this curvy little spot on the farm is jam packed with color. Buzzing and fluttering with pollinators. Just mesmerizing. Zinnias, roses, sage, basils, mints, daisies, cannas, crepe myrtles, sunflowers, strawberries, and more. One emerald green hummingbird visits a tall flower near the window screen every afternoon, when the day is baking hot.

chair w herbs

I love watermleon.

I love my little herb-and-flower garden.

I love being home and practicing thsese quiet rituals all by myself.

Sometimes, though, after rinsing a big, heavy watermelon, just when the tip of my knife first pierces the rind, a weird sadness washes over me. It’s the same feeling I sometimes get while enjoying the herb garden: A fleeting panic. Like the beauty I crave and need is temporary. The hard truth that soon watermelon season will be over and the zinnias and cannas will fade, and we will be on the sad slope toward another winter.

Nothing good lasts forever, is that what they say? All day every day I am thinking of my girls. Of how true it can be, that the days are long but the years are short.

But I cannot dwell there, emotionally. These past few years have taught me how to better control my thoughts, steer my feelings, and not only live in the moment but magnify it. Squeeze out every possible bit of joy from every gift.

Which is why watermelon slicing has become such a treasured ritual. I know it’s just food. But it’s a brief season and a glorious one, and I don’t want to rush through it. I want to enjoy every pink puddle of sticky juice. Every crunch and whistle of my blade, every empty rind that will eventually be offered to either some chickens or a horse.

If you are in love with something fleeting, whatever it is, I want to encourage you to slow down the enjoying of it. Gather your energies and shape your environment so that you can, without distraction, more fully experience that thing. That gift. The more you slow down and magnify the details, the more you have internalized it. The more it has become a part of you, so that when the season is over, you can recall it better and vibrate with the joy all over again. This way it will never be totally lost to you.

I miss my girls. I miss them hard and sad, happy and hopeful, but it’s okay. Our life seasons are constantly changing, and I know by now to appreciate exactly where we are, right this minute, in every detail.

So I cut the watermelon and grow the flowers and pray for them. Keep the Apartment ready. Smile at every diem I am given to carpe.

XOXOXOXO