Lazy W Marie

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

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contradictions & harmony, freedom & chaos

November 17, 2022

A couple of weeks ago while driving north on our road, I saw something that sparked my imagination. That vibe has stayed with me all this time.

A twenty-something guy, short cut hair, a well groomed, conservative beard, wearing a preppy pastel shirt with worn out probably skinny jeans and definitely shiny loafers, no socks, was riding an enormous Harley Davidson motorcycle with a small, terrier-like dog cuddled snugly against his chest. The dog seemed to be secured in a baby sling or harness. The pair smiled gluttonously, without regard for bugs in their teeth. The sun was bright and warm that day, but the November ticker tape parade of red and yellow leaves also swirled. And, though dry, the sky also growled with concrete gray walls. Nothing matched exactly.

In that brief moment that this stranger and his deliriously happy passenger threaded through the four-way stop sign, I was struck by all the contradictions. All the contrasts. None of him was predictable or sensible, not in the conventional ways of style and category, but he was bursting with that in-the-moment kind of life pleasure. The natural scene itself was also such a wild mix of color and texture, temperature and emotion, I knew the seasons were trading for good. But it was all perfectly wonderful.

Then for the rest of the day my eyes were magnetized for more of this particular kind of beauty. Contrast, contradiction, unexpected pairings that produce harmony.

At the doctor’s office I saw a woman wearing pale, bejeweled sandals with dark green corduroy pants and a thick, braidy sweater. She was playing on her phone that was encased with a seashell motif. At the grocery store I saw an older gentleman carrying only a pair of apples and something small in a box. He was thin but with a pot belly, speed walking alertly, smiling, and yielded graciously to me as I pushed my cart of Thanksgiving feast supplies. His once red t-shirt had a faded message on it. His eye glasses looked inexpensive but were well polished. With all of this, we wore suit pants.

Back home, I keyed in on more brightly colored tree leaves and more of that gray but still illuminated sky. My garden, that day, still burst with pink flowers and yellow roses but also seemed frayed at the edges, the height of summer all exhausted and mellowing.

I searched my friends group in my mind and discovered people who fit no mold at all, lovely men and women who live life on their own terms, even if not always in such visible ways as the preppy on the Harley taking his tiny pup for a joy ride. I see them balancing intense, left brained careers with equally intense creative pursuits. They paint and make music and write spreadsheets and lead board meetings. My community is overflowing with contradictions, and I love it. All that happy, chaotic harmony. Every person, dancing to the beat of his or her own drum, is contributing to music that thrums and pulses and fills the air in beautiful, unorchestrated ways.

*long live disco balls & cactus*

I love to visit homes containing seven or eight or twenty styles of art. I love to sit at a table encircled by people of varying faiths and political leanings, speaking in as many accents or (better yet!) languages. I love fashion choices that are startling at first then deeply intriguing and flat out adorable. No fear. I love to grow my own garden with soft pinks, careless reds, and spicy oranges all near each other, ignoring traditional color wheels if the result is pleasing. This also applies to the scale of plants. If I like it, even if it is bizarre like Mexican petunia next to boxwood, I get to grow it. Because every day when I see that it makes me smile. I love tiny animals who are the boldest and beasty ones who are the gentlest.

*reigning queen of kicking rambunctious puppies*
*the fiercest gander who ever lived*
*the biggest, sweetest boy*

I love holidays jam packed with traditions from myriad backgrounds, every meal and every gathering heavily seasoned with personal meaning for somebody. No robotic habits here, but emotional connections that defy logic.

I love menus planned for pleasure, not adherence. And I love to serve canned cranberry jelly, still in the shape of its can please and thank you, in my fanciest cut glass antique dish. I love Christmas trees decorated for joy more than display. I love pajamas that are both sexy and comfortable, whenever possible, and family schedules with lots and lots of white space for filling (or not filling) as whims arise. I love it all, and I love it all at once too.

*my sibs are the most fun*
*make stuff for no reason*
*can’t buy what I want because it’s free*

The feeling and flavor that overwhelmed me that morning, seeing that complicated preppy-Harley guy and his free spirited, miniscule pup, reminded me of how beautifully complex the world is and how I really, really like it that way. If anyone is paying attention to your details, to the vibrations you are emitting to the Universe, I hope they are inspired by what they see. But more importantly, I hope you are participating in a collective kind of music that is real to you and feels good. Tune into what you want, what you like. Notice it whenever you can, and enjoy it, rejoice in it. Magnify it. It doesn’t have to match anyone else. In fact, the less you match the better. The resulting life gumbo is so good. We are invited to enjoy the freedom of choice and contradiction.

Then notice that this same invitation extends to the brackish water of your emotional, spiritual life. We are all, almost constantly, swimming in a terrifying mix of joy and grief and safety and suspense. All of it at once, together, rarely cordoned off. Noticing the cold water or the salty tears is necessary; but never despair and do not fear drowning. Notice, too, the warm water and the fresh water, and just swim and float. Trust that relief always comes.

How plain and unstimulating would a predictable scene be, and how flat would a life be without challenges and surprises.

May freedom and a touch of chaos reign.

XOXOXOXO

1 Comment
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: carpediem, choose joy, faith, thinky stuff. spirituality

the mutual admiration society

October 13, 2022

The week before last was replete with special events. We finally gathered to celebrate Alex’s 29th birthday. I joined my friend Keri for an evening of sorority fun. We hosted the 6th annual Lazy W Talent Show, Thrift Store Prom style!! And one afternoon that week I drove to the city to attend the Public Utilities Division October team builder. I have great stories from each of these memorable events, but today I want to express some gratitude about the team builder. If my dad catches wind of this, he will chalk it up to an episode of the Mutual Admiration Society.

((with this cutie at the Jim Thorpe Building, Oct 2022))

When Handsome first told me we were both invited to this luncheon, I was excited to bear witness to what I thought would be the group’s loving sendoff to their fearless leader. In case you don’t know, back in May, BW accepted a new position at the Commish, which has gradually meant less and less time with the Public Utilities crew. It’s bittersweet. He has been there for so long, seen so much and been a part of so much history, made so many connections and started more than a few revolutions (my words, not his). He has had myriad opportunities to leave the Commish itself over the years, but it was never a real consideration. He has always felt there was more to do there, and he has been right. By taking this new job, though, he has better opportunity to do more of what he has been doing. Exactly the latitude and support to affect even more real change than before, and everyone is excited. Still, as bittersweet changes go, it means stepping away from the beloved fifth floor.

I am not exaggerating to say that the fifth floor is beloved. The people there in Public Utilities, the work everyone does, ongoing, storm after storm, crisis after crisis, almost always going unrecognized and unappreciated by the citizens and companies under their watchful protection, it all blows my mind. The Public Utilities Division is filled with some of the smartest, most motivated people in Oklahoma. A family of their own, too, in all the ways that a workplace can be a family. My husband loves them, as people and as a little community, an organism. And they love my husband.

I love them too, from a distance. I always relish hearing about the group’s accomplishments and culture shifts. I have been fascinated to see how the team builder tradition has evolved over the years. I admire how they have implemented so many strong policies that ensure the best possible work environment, transparency, cohesiveness, efficiency, you name it. They shine with both excellence and work-life balance.

It’s better than a James Clear newsletter, all respect to Atomic Habits. It’s even better than Adam Grant, and man that’s saying a lot. So I make them lots of cinnamon rolls and cookies to show my admiration.

The belated farewell to him is what I thought we were attending.

How humbling then, when as we sat down for lunch, after trading hugs and greetings with as many people as possible, that they surprised me and took so much time to pour their love out to me, personally. I was not expecting it. I was expecting a creative sendoff to BW, something akin to a retirement farewell, even though he is very much still in the building and involved in their culture. I was not expecting that personal show of Love.

They made me feel appreciated for supporting the man who has done so much for them, and they made that seem important. Valuable. They showed that the love I try to transmit to them has been felt along the way, which makes me so happy. These men and women are captivating to me, whether they know it or not. It’s also gratifying, I have to admit, to sense the far reaching effects of nourishing and supporting my husband so that he can perform well. His performance impacts so many people, and their outpouring connected us, included me in this beautiful fabric.

It all widened what can sometimes feel like a very small, isolated world here at the farm. And hearing from individual people I have been admiring and emulating in private ways just moved my heart. Lesia looked me straight in the eyes and convinced me that I belong to them, and I hope she knows how much I needed to hear that.

Thankfully the group did finally move on to honor BW, ha! I could allow the heat in my face to cool a bit. I could try to hold back tears for him instead of for myself.

What a gift to hear the full spectrum of ways he has impacted people’s lives and careers, their happiness at work, their sense of purpose and personal development. I know how much they mean to him, how invested he has been in them over the years, so it fed my heart mightily to see him honored. They all shared a beautiful euphony of how he has steered the division into a position of leadership and example for the agency at large. It’s good, very good, to have some home team pride, and this group has it. They deserve to be proud of themselves and where they are headed, collectively and individually.

When BW stood to speak to the group, the Love just continued to flow. I felt like we were at church. He mirrored every scrap of appreciation right back to them, and he pointed them straight and true to the future, to the next chapter. He reminded them that they are the ones making everything happen. I sat there beaming inwardly and having a crush on him with every word he spoke, knowing how earnestly he means what he says. Knowing how satisfied he always is by not just the hard work and brilliant results for which PUD is known, but also the culture of respect and appreciation they all foster.

It is a workplace, sure, and a government office at that; but Love reigns there. I felt it that day in overwhelming ways. Love streams through those complex relationships, the projects, the unprecedented challenges, the thrilling solutions. Love buoys them all and delivers them to shores beyond reasonable expectations. This is why I do not worry about the current storms or the unseen ones. Storms always pass, even the scariest ones. Love abides.

After the luncheon and several more hugs and precious conversations which I tucked away in my heart, BW took me around the building to see friends I had not seen in many years and to meet lots of new (to me) faces. The Commission is teeming with talent and passion, and those marble floors and art deco rooms have seen some amazing events. I felt deeply inspired by the end of our tour, and I appreciate my husband sharing so much with me that day.

I am sure looking forward to getting better acquainted with more people from all over the building. I am excited to bake for their meetings and hear their stories, to bear witness to their revolutions and wild, overcoming successes. A lot of glory is on the horizon for Oklahoma and the agencies that support her. How exciting to witness it all.

But Public Utilities will always have my heart. I hope they know that.

((a banner from our summertime PUD event at the farm, I keep it in the Apartment))

Signed,
With much gratitude and very real affection,
Former PUD Homeroom Mom
XOXO

3 Comments
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: commish, community, excellence, gratitude, love, memories, public utilities, work life

early october moments (tgif)

October 7, 2022

Does anyone remember Brene Brown’s old school TGIF posts? Her break down (Trusting, Grateful, Inspiration, Faith) is a lovely way to punctuate the work week and step mindfully into a recharging weekend. I am sharing my version today, and if you have a moment, I hope you’ll share a bit of yours, too.

What are you Trusting? This week I am trusting that God is working behind the scenes on our biggest prayer requests, all the important things we cannot change on our own. I am trusting Him to provide for and protect Jocelyn above and beyond what she can do for herself, to remove destructive forces from the Commission, to heal a few precious loved ones who are sick and hurting, and to replenish our water supply after such a long, hot drought.

For what are you Grateful? I am immensely grateful for our beautiful home, for my ever ripening marriage, for our close knit extended family and mosaic masterpiece of friends. I am so thankful for this recent garden season and for the chance to guide Jessica through her own first big garden season. I am thankful for the shift in weather, the promise of time to read and nest and write more soon. I am grateful for the flowers still blooming like crazy.

((an easy walk around the farm yielded me this surprise bouquet, and I love it))

What is Inspiring You? Recently I have been soaking up stories about gardening on a shoestring and all the many things we can do to beautify our outdoor spaces with just work and creativity, rather than always spending lots of money. Moving and dividing plants, massaging compost, and generally caring for the garden inspires me. I am inspired by the sumac branches that boast green, red, orange, and yellow, all at once. How they are in no hurry to finish the transformation. They can hold an audience with ease. I am inspired by a combination of music by Leon Bridges and Taylor Swift then the scents of rain and pumpkin bread. I am wildly inspired by my husband and the way he works and by Jessica and the way she squeezes every available minute of her day to be outdoors. I am also inspired and awakened by a podcast I heard this week about time management. It asks, what are the things for which you feel you do not have enough time? My singular and immediate response was writing. So I have decided to get back to writing daily.

How are you practicing your Faith? I have been making an effort to speak my thanks aloud as often as possible, all throughout the day. Klaus is used to it, haha, as are the horses and chickens. I have also been reading my devotional and Bible passages early in the morning, while my mind is sill warm and pliable from sleep, and writing down all the joys and answered prayers from the previous day. These small practices keep me tethered and encouraged. I am still moving those gratitude and cocreation muscles by giving thanks ahead of the miracles. This is sometimes easy and sometimes hard, which is ok. It works.

Happy Friday, friends.
Thank you for stopping here.

I hope you are inspired
to mark the goodness in your life
and really enjoy it.

XOXOXOXO

2 Comments
Filed Under: UncategorizedTagged: choose joy, daily life, faith, gratitude, TGIF

a few of my favorite average moments at the farm

September 29, 2022

Sometimes a few average things happen here at the farm that take my breath away and leave me buzzing with pleasure. If you have a moment to join me, I would love to read something from your everyday life that thrills you.

After weeks of raking thin flakes of hay from large, tightly wound bales, the moment always comes when the dense core is exposed and everything relaxes. That feeling of my strong metal rake toothing itself into the final thick layer of reluctant dry grass is so exciting. I can feel the breakthrough about to happen. Then I feel the whoosh, the great exhale and collapse of all that necessary tension. I relish the sight of hay falling in heaps and layers to the ground. The core is solid and heavy but manageable, and it tips over with a little effort. A giant cylinder of food for the horses. For a few weeks after this, the hay comes in thicker, friendlier sheets. And I always crave to make cinnamon rolls for someone.

Every sunset and every daybreak is special, and I am always thankful to catch either. I especially love dramatic skies, purple clouds with hot pink underbellies, backlit metallic banks of clouds, streaky sunrays extending further than necessary and exactly as far as they want. I love it when the western sky reflects across the farm onto the bowl of the eastern sky, and vice versa. Our house sits in a way that displays the roundness of the heavens. And I love it when the various colored lights clings to trees and buildings and, at very special moments, animals. Light blessings. Kisses everywhere.

How sensual to walk around the gardens and smell herbs recently disturbed. Someone has been scraping through mint and oregano and rosemary. Someone has made a snack of Thai basil. Lemon balm, tomato vines, parsley. All of it available to everyone. Cats or chickens emerge, peaceful. I would grow a garden just for these silent, fragrant moments.

Every morning after breakfast chores, Klaus and I walk the front paths to pray and lay groundwork for the day ahead. Lately the prairie grasses have ripened into warm colors and many have grown their feathery tassels and plumes. I scout for blood grass and sumac, and he scouts for deer. I love the ever tightening corners where pine trees flank the walkway and threaten to grow into canopies above us. I love the profusion of yellow wildflowers. I love the flattened areas in the meadow where deer have been sleeping. I especially love the joy on Klaus’ face when he meets his “babies” and they leap and sprint away from him with unbelievable grace.

When the weather is just right, hanging laundry outside is a great pleasure. I love seeing bedsheets and towels billowing on clean breezes while working in the garden. I love catching the horses nap beneath the fabric. I love the heavy scent of ozone that comes with us back to the house with that basket full of dry, crisp fabric.

Sometimes I visit the chicken coop and discover eggs so recently laid they are still hot to the touch. Sometimes I check squash and pumpkin vines and discover that yesterday’s fruits have doubled in size. Sometimes the morning glories are still blooming at lunchtime, and woody sunflower stalks that had broken from their own glorious weight are suddenly growing new shoots. These quiet details, all proof of Life that wants more and more of its own energy. Amazing and encouraging.

Happy Thursday, friends.
May you notice and swallow whole
every pleasure available to you.
XOXOXO

1 Comment
Filed Under: 1000gifts, Farm Life, joy, UncategorizedTagged: choosejoy

jocelyn marie, 27.

September 8, 2022

Today is Jocelyn’s 27th birthday. Twenty seven years, a lifetime ago. She was fresh and uninjured then, unbelievably fragile in her tiny pajamas, a doe eyed, perfect angel with olive-pink skin who nursed and slept and thrived on closeness. I was a very lost and overconfident first time mother, barely twenty one years old, lost and aimless, looking for any stronghold in my chaotic life, knowing deep down I was wrong about everything except for loving her.

Mostly I was amazed by how healthy and beautiful she was, how easy she was to care for. Out of nowhere, this little person from my dreams was real.

Jocelyn has always been easy to love, easy to be in love with. Her nature has always made bonding easy and strong. She is a magnet for love and passion, and she herself is a Life Force. Despite it all, maybe because of it all, she is just so powerful.

In years past I have known what I wanted to say, how I wanted to frame my thoughts and celebrate her birthday from a distance, but this year I do not.

How I wish I could plan something fun and meaningful for her, prepare her favorite foods and wrap gifts. Take her to that Mexican restaurant on 50th and let the mariachi band sing to her. Enjoy her giggling! I would love to see her and Bridget arrive at the gate, ready to put a saddle of Chanta, ignoring his old man objections, or slide atop Dusty, no saddle at all. I would love to watch her cook daal and listen to a fresh round of new music from her phone. I would love to hike with her in Colorado and take a road trip together, talk about everything without stopping.

I have been having nightmares again. Last night I was in a string of stories about Jocelyn at different ages, and as I gradually realized it was a dream, I panicked and begged to stay in it, struggled against waking up, because at least in my dream, however sad it was, I could look into her eyes and talk to her. Beg her to understand we had good intentions, that I understand what she is going through and want to help. See that she was breathing, touch her cheeks, help her untangle her long thick hair. Lock fingers with her.

We have friends who have lost their children forever. By accident, by suicide, by illness. All these years apart from my children have been long and hard, but death is a kind of forever I can scarcely approach in my heart, so being with these friends in their pain is always scary and bizarre for me. I have no idea what to say, and yet part of me wants to cry out, I miss my babies too.

Indulging in my own sadness of missing her so profoundly, it feels weak and short sighted. Because we have hope of being with her again in this lifetime, We can hope and choose to believe that she is okay.

But then fear settles in, because I don’t know for sure. I do not know what she eats day to day, who is with her and are they safe, how is her physical health, especially her back. How is she coping with her Dad’s suicide, today? This month? How is she managing these insane food prices and gas prices, can I bring her something to make it easier? Does she want to take college classes to chase a dream, can I help her with that, with anything? Is she in love? Are her friends good to her, do they understand her story? Or do they take advantage of her good heart and lead her down destructive paths? What are her strongest memories? What are her hopes this year? Does she have nightmares, like me, like Jess? Does she know we meant to help in Colorado, meant to save her? Does she know I have cut ties with Laurie forever and understand better than ever, the abuse they endured?

None of it turns off because she is absent. There is so much unsaid, so much unhealed and unaddressed. But Love it strong. Just as in all those bullying, violent years that Richard and Laurie and the grandparents kept them away and soaked the girls in lies and hatred, Love never fades or stops flowing. I just manage the pain and find places for Love to go.

Except, she is my baby, my first baby, and sometimes I cannot bring myself to share this special love with anyone else. I hoard it for her. I hope she comes home today and accepts it all. Recognizes it. Despite the lessons learned about setting deadlines and schedules for miracles, I see this precious date on the calendar, September Eighth, and hope that this is the year she feels homesick enough to call me again, to find me again, to let me try and make everything right, once and for all.

She has broken free and found me before. She has survived chaos and trauma and abuse, all kinds of dangerous situations and mistakes, and found safety and love before. So have I. We have learned, gradually, how to alchemize some terrible circumstances and grow beautiful little lives. So I hope for more of that. I am relying on these promises, that it will happen.

Maybe today. Maye not. But I trust that at the right time, we will have an even better reunion than before, and this time no one will overshadow us. There is no one left to fear.

Baby, I hope that however you are celebrating your birthday, you feel wildly loved. You get cake and ice cream and your favorite meal. You are surprised with gifts and flowers, some good news, and lots of time in nature. Come home if you can. Call me if you can. But if you’re not ready, please still know that I love you so much, I can hardly breathe when I think of you. You are in my dreams. You are in my conversations. You are in this house and all over this farm, everywhere I look. You are in my favorite memories and my darkest fears, but also my brightest hopes for tomorrow. You will always be my perfect, terrifying, beautiful little baby girl.

Happy Birthday Joc
XOXOXOXO

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Filed Under: Uncategorized

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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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