Lazy W Marie

this is the true story about Klaus…

July 2, 2015

Once upon a time there was a farmer who wanted to collect all the animals in the land.

He desired a parrot, a bison, some llamas, cats, horses, iguanas, fish, and more.

He acquired them all, one by one. Sneakily.

But he had a real, grown up job that kept him away from the farm all day, every day.

So his wife stayed home to care for the animals.

And she loved the animals. So much! Really. But they kept her from doing other things.

So she perfected her George Bush impersonation, “Read my lips: No new animals!”

And for a while her husband cooperated.

In fact they planned to thin the herd a little.

Then one day, quite against her urging, he brought home a new puppy.

And despite herself, like she was under some kind of spell, his wife fell madly in love. Again.

The puppy became more than just another farm animal; he was their baby.

He attached his giant paws to her legs and helped her cook and do chores.

He slept with the hobby farmer and his reluctantly affectionate wife.

And they all lived happily ever after, the man and wife and world’s best pup.

The End.
xoxoxoxo

Hey if you’re visiting from Kat’s link up, welcome to the Lazy W! So glad you are here. Hopefully I have already seen your post but if not, please leave me a note and I will hop on over. Have a lovely day! xoxo ~marie

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:

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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Liars, rumor spreaders, and gossips. It’s rampant lately, in both private and professional circles, and all of these folks need a timeout.
The excessive alligator snapping turtles showing up on our roads and in our ponds. Nope! No thanks. Timeout.
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.
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.
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

every day magic

February 26, 2015

I am not a fan of top hat magic, the kind that disappears women or reappears bunnies and doves. I really could not care less about from whence silk scarves come or whether you can guess which card I picked. I do know one weird illusion that claims to rub a quarter into my forearm. Unfortunately I laugh so hard from nervousness that every attempt gets ruined anyway.

But real magic? The kind of magic that lights up your eyes and adds sparkle and heat to the air? I love that. I am a sucker for real, pulsing, powerful magic. And it’s all around me.

I sense magic at dawn when the sky above the bachelors’ field changes from inky black with diamond stars to fiery, ridiculous shades of orange and purple. So much color some days it seizes up my throat and tightens my chest. A pleasure-pain. The roosters crowing can be magical, heralding another day I get to live on these strange and beautiful nine acres. Feeding the buffalo with his square, wet leathery nose and his poofy Afro and horns, cuddling and scruffing him as he reaches high for that bucket of sweet grain, yep, that’s magic. Releasing the frantic chickens to go roam free and then collecting their eggs, up to eleven per day lately, with those hard shells of greens and blues, rich mahogany brown and white, this is a gift and a bit of nutritional magic for me. Kissing Meh with his sweet, fuzzy little motherless lips, trading butterfly eyelashes with him, pure magic.

Every single time a seed germinates and sprouts, and then again when it grows tall and bursts out with one pair of tiny leaves after another, each of these stages is its own magic. When that seed becomes food that we eat, and then bolts and flowers and produces new seeds all over again, magic.

We’re about to be drenched in this, you know. Winter doesn’t stand a chance. Actually winter is magical, too. It draws us close, quiets us, urges us to shun lists and busyness and just be. Winter’s magic is togetherness and affection, inner warmth despite the cold outside.

Spending time with the horses and learning to speak their language has been an unexpected dose of magic lately. Feeling such a massive animal respond to the smallest squeeze of my thighs or the gentlest tug of reins is like nothing else. And the fact that I am on this adventure with my firstborn, this doe eyed young woman who was so recently my doe eyed baby, this is a magic for which I barely have words.

Maybe you frown on using the word magic in the realm of prayer, and that’s understandable because the connotation is historically so different, but to me it’s all the same. The amazing power of an intimate communication with my Creator, the results-getting influence of just talking to Him and asking for help and inspiration, guidance and then outright miracles, this is a magic without which I would really hate to live. This is a magic that has charmed my life and cracked open my imagination.

Magic can be found in the gleam of wood floors when the afternoon sun pours through that window and also in the sparkle of disco ball reflections on that ceiling. Magic is in the carpet on our stairs that we chose after the house fire, the same stairs the parrot sings in and climbs when he misses us. Magic is in the upright piano in our dining room that, although it is rarely played now, reminds me of my grandparents and how good childhood was. The piano also reminds me of Handsome’s Mom and the ache he must constantly feel without her. This remembrance is painful but important magic. I see magic in the estate sale black and white toille curtains I nailed up clumsily to flank our kitchen door, which leads to the south yard, where so many friends have gathered with us over these seven years.

Magic is in the smell of chicken roasting in the oven together with lemon, garlic, and fresh sage. Everyone likes the magic of chocolate chip cookies, soft and steaming, crispy on the edges, begging for cold milk. Magic is pasta night once every week when each of us gets exactly the sauce he or she likes best. Magic is perfect coffee together every single morning, even if it means a special drive to the truck stop late at night after a long road trip. Magic is homemade pizza when we feel like it and Little Caesar’s when we don’t. Magic is cooking twice as much food as we need and freezing the extras so our girl always has homemade meals to take with her. Even bigger, bolder magic is cooking with her and having her sit with us to eat.

Magic is watching a scary movie, knowing full well that Handsome will be in covert attack mode for the next three days, seeking after and relishing every blood curdling scream I offer. And me loving every second of it. Then it’s nothing short of magic when he gets up and goes to work day after day, week after week, all these years, despite the opposition, despite the imbalances in government, despite the lies and deceit and people who would be so thrilled for him to throw in the towel. Magic is in how much he loves and protects me, no matter how depleted he is.

I absolutely love the hours between chores and housework and then the evening, that little slice of afternoon when I am free to play in the garden or write or, most often, go for a long run. It’s a magical time of day for me. Running itself is a dose of magic for my mind as well as my body. I had to experience this for myself to believe it, but something bizarre really does happen to you in each stage of a long run, and it’s a gift. It’s worth exploring.

Magic is in the comfort of routine and the excitement of adventure. It’s in every part of our calendar, our friends and family, my book club, the thrumming life building up for the next generation. Magic is in legacy and tradition, dreams and departures.

Magic is the feel of paper and the smell of fresh laundry. The grumble of a strong car engine and the relief of not running out of gas when you’re late. Magic is found when your husband fixes your washing machine himself and also does the taxes.

Magic is in the sunset, too, brilliant over the llama field and the valley below it but somehow glowing against the hilltop bachelors’ field where we saw the sun rise this morning. More jaw-dropping color, more pleasure-pain from the kind of beauty we could never duplicate. Magic is in every wild heron that visits our pond and in the love we have found for Duck Duck, the wild goose who is now part of our farm-ily. Magic is in the way Duck Duck insists on being touched once on the back before allowing us to usher him to bed.

But he's so grown up now! — But he’s so grown up now!

And then magic is in wrapping up the farm at the end of a long day, setting coffee to brew at 6:00 a.m. tomorrow, clicking off the lights, locking the doors, kissing the parrot, ascending those carpeted stairs. Some of my very favorite magic is sliding between our silky soft, clean sheets and collapsing on our best pillows, braiding together physically to reinforce our silent unions. Magic is how we feel stronger instead of weaker, better instead of worse, night after night.

And then the impossibly beautiful, magical sunrise again.

Now tell me something about your magic.

XOXOXOXO

Mama Kat invited us to write about magic this week. Please visit some of the other writers too! And thank you so much for stopping here.

looking back at 2014, video clip

December 31, 2014

Okay, this is fun! I am diving right in this new year to participate in some vlogging with Mama Kat. She hosts the funnest weekly link-ups and is an all around great person, so I can only assume this little adventure will be wonderful too. Try to ignore my afternoon hair and makeup, ok? I’ll try to do better next time. Maybe. But probably not.

You Tube tag: 2014 Looking Back

http://youtu.be/-IXaXl9EDEM

Now you tell me something! Please feel free to answer some of these questions here in comments. I’d love to read a glimpse of your year, looking back!

I am in desperate need of a tan.
I am purple.
XOXOXOXO

5 things times 4 for Mama Kat

November 20, 2014

This week I am accepting Mama Kat’s fun invitation to write four lists of five things, following her prompts. I like lists. Let’s do this.

5 Things You Don’t Know About Me:

I have broken my two top front teeth a total of at least nine separate times. It all started in about 3rd grade but has happened as recently as two years ago. I should totally tell you those stories sometime. Or not.
I have two beautiful, smart, talented, loving daughters, ages 17 and 19. I write about them pretty scarcely but they are on my mind every minute of every day.
I am the oldest of five kids, and my sweet parents had me when they were barely 16 years old. I have always been proud of their accomplishments, of how they raised a family so early and with such little preparation. As we all three age, I feel closer and closer to them. I have good friends who are nearer to their age than mine, and it helps me see my parents as people, not just parents.
Our house is probably haunted.
I am really, really, really afraid of frogs. It’s embarrassing. And we have a lot of frogs at the Lazy W. It’s awful.

teeny tiny green frog, the stuff of nightmares

5 Things I’m Knowledgeable About:

I can diagram any sentence, any day of the week, without compensation. I actually love doing it. Some people might correct your grammar while you are speaking; I will silently diagram your spoken sentences.
Beethoven and Mozart are not unfamiliar to me on the piano. My favorite is Moonlight Sonata for its mournfulness.
With a little encouragement I can change the oil in both a Camaro and a Jeep.
Photosynthesis makes so much sense to me it’s ridiculous. All the mysteries in a garden are beautiful, meaningful, enticing poetry and I cannot get enough. And I am one week from the end of Master Gardener classes, yay! They have taught us a metric ton of good stuff there.
Parrot behavior. I should probably write a book on it. Since little infant Pacino came to live with us almost 10 years ago (WOW) we have learned a lot through trial and error. The parrotish things we know to be true are close to what other people say, but I honestly think we know a bit extra. His vocabulary is exploding right now, by the way, which is fun. At last count he had mastery of 130+ words and phrases. Look out, world.

This was Pacino earlier tonight while I was just getting started. He helped me a lot b cuddling my arms and eating most of the tortilla chips I had out. Thanks, buddy. — This was Pacino earlier tonight while I was just getting started at the computer. He helped me a lot by cuddling and kissing my arms and then eating most of the tortilla chips I had put out. Thanks, buddy. Thanks for helping me avoid a few empty calories.

5 Things I Know Nothing About:

Calculus. Also, wait… which math discipline comes right before calculus?
Wrestling, both professional and normal wrestling, like at high school. Have no idea about it. Are they both fake, or what? But thanks to the Expendables movie I do know that it can cause something called “cauliflower ear.” I think my little brother really lucked out on that one.
How to pronounce the brand name “Aeropostale.” This word makes me loopy. So when I find myself in that rare but inescapable situation where I need to say it aloud to someone, like maybe at a cool thrift store? I try to say it as fast as possible and under my breath. It never goes undetected, sadly, and that too is embarrassing.
What the heck is the difference between megabyte, SEO, and the Cloud? Where did everyone learn this stuff? It was all just invented, right?
How to make my eyebrows pretty. Just kill me.

5 Things I Believe:

That your imagination is terrifyingly powerful. The places you allow your mind to wander and rest can (and most likely will) become the scenery of your reality. So be bold, be careful, and be positive with your thoughts.
Names and titles matter. Use them with intention and loyalty.
Running a few miles and drinking good, rich coffee every day truly makes me a friendlier, more energetic, more generous person. It’s just silly to mess with that routine.
Love is more powerful than any emotion. It is more powerful than hate, bitterness, anger, sadness, anything. But Love has to be invited in, welcomed, and nurtured. It is more than a feeling; it is a mode of action and a thought process. A true force of nature. Made full, Love really can conquer all. I believe that in my bones.
The moon has legit influence over us. I have been watching the moon phases for a few years now and believe whole heartedly that people, animals, and the garden and weather are all affected by the waxing and waning of this beautiful heavenly body.

Thanks Mama Kat, that was fun! My list of “Things You Don’t Know About Me” could have been much longer, as could have the list of “Things I Know Nothing About.” But such is life. Thanks for stopping in, everyone! Now please tell me something about yourself using these prompts!

“Know Thyself.”
~Socrates
XOXOXOXO

Kat Bouska — http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/

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