The Lazy W is graced and warmed with friends again this week.  My ten-four good buddy M Half and her Hubs are visiting, helping us make a thousand happy memories to close the year. What a year it has been, by the way!

   Two days ago I enjoyed the singular pleasure of sitting in my favorite chair while each of them read things aloud to me. It was divine. I had no idea I liked this sort of thing so much, but I could really get used to it you guys.

   I mean, really.

   One of Hubs’ narrated pieces had to do with the the most overused phrases of 2011. And let me tell you: It. Was. Hilarious. Read it for yourself, and just for kicks, try keeping track of how many of those overused phrases you are guilty of over using. M Half’s fave seemed to be the keyboard spitting humor one. Nice choice, lady.

   Mine? Probably “Occupy.” I happen to see no real world value to this pseudo political movement and feel protective over Handsome who has had to endure its under-informed and disruptive appearance at his office. But that is almost a spicy little tangent. Basically I really like saying that I occupy the chicken coop and I occupy the pantry and I occupy a brilliant sense of humor, etc, etc. 

   Anyway, it occurred to me that for all its variety and surprise, life at the farm certainly has a way of repeating itself. We do lots of the same things over and over and over and over again. And we say lots of the same things over and over and over again. And again. Care to suffer through our monotony for a moment?

Pacino, that is a NO NO. Shhh… Bobby Pacino, our macaw, is vocal. He is a talker. He is a screamer and a squawker and a shusher. He is a lover and a fighter and an early morning riser. When we’re alone Pacino tends to be fairly pleasant and loving, and when we have guests he is sometimes pleasant and loving, but often he chooses these times to throw caution to the wind The indoor wind, may I remind you. He belts out Amazonian operas born of pure joy and then sudden, screeching objections to anyone who is too near to me, his Momma. Or to anyone who is generally NOT doing his random, cryptic bidding. And so our parental scolding happens a lot. Pacino, that is a NO NO is easily the number one overused Lazy W phrase of this past year. No honest person who has ever visited the farm will disagree.

Aww, look at how Chunk is running… Our sweet little buff has about a six part running menu, a delightful but admittedly limited slideshow for us to enjoy. And we do enjoy it every day. But you know those parents who like to highlight every adorable act of their offspring to friends and relatives? Well, Handsome and I may or may not have slipped into the questionable habit of bragging in sugary, cooing voices about every time Chunk runs and bounces or sits majestically, chewing his buffalo cud. The only assurance I have that we have not quite overstepped the bounds of reasonable pride is that at least three people liked yesterday’s photos of him running.

Have you shopped hay recently? Hay is expensive this year. Have you heard of the drought and heat wave of the Midwestern states? The extreme growing conditions of the past several months have given hay farmers dangerously limited harvests, driving up the prices even for out of state deliveries, making our regular hay stocking a game of chance and adventure. We have four big, hay loving creatures to feed, so the interval questions we ask each other about hay shopping have everything to do with how much we celebrate rain when it falls.

I miss the girls. Followed closely by his soft, strong words, I know, Babe. Hopefully the days are coming when we trade more happy stories than we do pain, but this past year has been a lonely, empty nest one. No doubt about it. We’ve fallen into daughter-less routines, sure, and we have had our time apart peppered with several incredibly happy days, but nothing is the same as having them with us, woven into the fabric of our daily life. Trusting God with this and resisting pure rage at Him for letting this happen for so long has been the single most difficult spiritual thing I have every attempted.

I need a vacation. My husband is the smartest, most talented, hardest working, most focused, most over accomplishing person I know. And I know some incredible people. Not only does he stay on task; he genuinely cares about every job he performs and every person with whom he shares those jobs. (To anyone at the Commish who might read this, he does care about you guys. Know that.)  This year has been an exciting, challenging, surprising, and exhausting one for him, and time off, though available, has been unrealistic because he cares so much about what he’s leaving behind. So this man needs a vacation. Like, for real.

Do you have any receipts? I have a slightly endearing aggravating habit of shopping to my heart’s content and then moving on to other worthy activities before relaying the month’s expenses to my guy. Not to buy floor length minks or illegal substances, of course, but I do enjoy treasure hunting, feed store emptying, and excessive grocery hoarding. I like to cook, you guys. And my patient, good looking provider might occasionally grow weary of the surprises. I’ll try to do better in 2012.

What did you think of the new recipe? Speaking of surprises, as if the rising cost of food stuffs isn’t surprising enough, Handsome has endured more than a few edible experiments this past year. I try to sneak them in without seeming completely dishonest or manipulative, but the fact remains that “he” would rather that “we” did less experimenting and more sticking to the top ten or eleven recipes. He would also prefer that “we” stop reading “PW” for cooking inspiration. Not likely.

I love you. Okay, the truth is we can never say this too much. Those three little words cannot be overused or overly proved by our actions. We do say it a lot around the farm, though, so very much and in so many ways. And I am eternally grateful that we do.

Wishing everyone abundant love, joy, and peace as Christmas night winds down. 

May your home be filled with God’s presence. 

May miracles be sparked where they are needed most. 

Much love from the Lazies.

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   Growing up, our home’s population was slightly but powerfully overwhelmed by women and girls. Mom made conscious efforts to encourage us and reinforce good behavior, shelling out compliments and affirmation richly and regularly. Dad, on the other hand, though a loving and positive man for sure, took great pleasure in teasing us and tempering our warm-fuzzies with jokes about the “Mutual Admiration Society.” This is how he affectionately referred to our dinner table conversations about how good and pretty and talented and awesome we all were. 

   Well, so here we are a thousand years later in blogland, a place that did not exist during those formative years. And some of us are still trading warm fuzzies, even if a voice somewhere in the background is saying how silly we are to do so.

   This morning I was delighted to read that my ten-four good buddy M Half had included me in a very sweet and encouraging list of her fave new/small scale blogs. I am the giddy recipient of something called a Liebster Blog Award!!!

   The word liebster is German for dearest. Sharing the award is a little way of recognizing, as M Half put it, “up and coming bloggers with less than 200 followers.” Umm, yep, I qualify. But juuuuuust barely…

   Isn’t that nice??  If my Dad reads this he may very well raise his eyebrows and look over his glasses then say something witty to keep me grounded, but that’s okay. I know we all try to temper our appetites for approval by being honest. And I know for myself that cross pollinating ideas with a handful of intelligent, passionate people has greatly improved my general well being since starting this blog in May. I groove the exchange. I really do. I love forcing myself to articulate things that sometimes hurt and other times are either  challenging or just plain silly. And I am so grateful for people who are bold enough to cast their own two cents here and there. The world is clearly full of people worth knowing.

The M Half  Despite appearances, my giving this award right back to my friend is not merely reciprocal. She is a consistent poster, which motivates me, which is ironic because she scoffs gently at motivational bloggers, which is really ironic because she is a very accepting person, which is beautiful because she accepts people who might not accept her first. She is a writer and editor by trade and has a clear, readable style which gives me a hungry goal. She also takes the time to edit my stuff, a personal favor for which I will always be eternally grateful.
   More importantly, she has a view of the world unencumbered by dogma and typicality. Is that a word? I shall invent it just for her. She resists typicality, and I love that about her, She keeps me accountable for opinions I might otherwise resign to habit, tradition, etc. But when I stick with tradition she still respects me in the morning..Thanks for everything, M Half. I am a better person for knowing you!

Cabbage Ranch   I have more in common with this lovely woman in terms of longings than actual facts, but we are both mothers (though I have sixteen years of seniority over her) and we do both have horses and live in the south central United States (though on opposite sides of our legendary Red River). Katie writes about her baby “Beep,” about home keeping, her horses, her husband, living in the country, really anything she wants.
   On top of it all, Katie also works outside the home, which sort of underscores for me her industriousness. I think I first glanced at her blog by reading comments on Pioneer Woman, a little site you probably haven’t heard of yet. PW is just getting her blog started you guys, so let’s be nice to the new girl. Okay?

In My Wild Eden  I cannot remember exactly how I first came to read this truly beautiful blog. Possibly through a writer’s workshop. But please do take some quiet time to soak her up. She offers pulsing photography that looks a lot older than it is, original poetry, and abbreviated but completely loving remarks on life. In her own words, she was “born to walk country roads and gaze into vintage skies.”

Periphery  Yes, M Half chose her too and in fact I owe my introduction to this blogger to my trusty ten-four good buddy. Periphery writes with philosophical precision and an obvious appreciation for language. I don’t know how else to say it, but the first post of hers I read had me hooked, as M had promised. It was titled “In This Economy” and spoke to so many important things that I immediately wanted to invite her and a bunch of other soulful people to either a lively debate of hot topics or a pep rally for positive thinking.

New House, New Home, New Life  I am not only a lover of words and ideas; I also drool over homemaking and domesticity, though I am unlikely to share my own ideas on that stuff here. I very recently stumbled upon a blogger who is sharing her remodeling, redecorating, and gardening adventures in Canada. She is also an avid Pinterest-er (love my eye candy) and has generously offered an experienced ear in matters of living apart from your children.
   Mothers whose children live with their Dad are either scarce or very, very quiet about it, understandably. It’s difficult to find anyone who understands both the heart shredding and the need to wait and thrive while they’re gone. I am so happy to have made Heather’s acquaintance!

Bohemian Twilight  Monica is the philosopher-artist with a heart of red and purple suede who generously hosts both the Joy Pockets and Five Senses Tour linkups. She isn’t always agreeable, but she does seem to always be genuine. I found her quite by accident while looking around for some gypsy-style interior photos. I continue to haunt her blog because she offers marrow-striking observations of the universe and poetic photos that speak volumes. I can almost smell patchouli incense when I read her posts.

   Okay, so those are my nominations for membership in the Mutual Admiration Society, Liebster Chapter. Keep writing, ladies! I for one read everything you publish, even when I don’t have time to indulge in comment trading.

The Pen is Mightier
xoxoxoxo

   So at the beginning of October when my ten-four-good-buddy splashed into her month-long writing binge on yoga, I decided to join her at least a little. I agreed to dabble in yoga alongside her succinct and inspirational blog posts, and I am so very, truly, cosmically glad I did. She let me share my first timer’s reflections then, and now at the end of the month, she has invited me to guest post about my overall experience with yoga so far. Check out my dorky remarks over there and read her blog a little, too. She’s cool.

Namaste!
xoxoxo

   This past summer’s extreme heat and drought robbed us of so much greenery and lushness that Handsome and I truly did not expect to enjoy our usual colorful Oklahoma autumn. We kind of jokingly (insert bitterness here) thought that we would wake up one day to naked trees, just bark wrapped limbs that had surrendered to the dry, cold air. We had preemptively accepted one big, overnight leap from a brutal summer to a dismal winter.

   So imagine our surprise when we started noticing the alleys of brilliant reds, oranges, and golds, hundreds of trees glowing with life and quietly touched by the Creator’s hand.

   

   Anyway, this really has my attention, because I know that the intense display of saturated color can only last so long. We should enjoy it daily, pressing it for every ounce of pleasure and awe these blessings are worth. Because the time will soon come when tree limbs cannot help but stand naked again. We will be shrouded in heavy coats and neutral landscapes, daydreaming of single blades of green grass.

   The Bible uses the seasons metaphor prolifically, reminding us there is a natural rhythm to life. Regardless of who we are or what our unique circumstances are, change is inevitable. Growth, loss, conflict, bonding, new beginnings, revitalization, pain, and even decay are all ingredients of a full human experience.  Knowing that most things are only here for a season causes me to pay attention.  Understanding that the nature of most exposure is temporary reminds me to…

   I watch these groves of maple, pear, oak, blackjack, and pecan trees pulse with life and color, undaunted by their cycles. I know that everything is bound to pass away, both the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly, the pleasant and the painful. If I were to live only in my memories of summertime or only in my dread of winter, then I would miss out on the astounding beauty of autumn, which is so brief.

   Whatever you’re going through right now, know that there is a purpose for it, probably many purposes at once. Every season brings with it the opportunity for both improvement and pleasure. Accept your mixed gifts with joy. Count your blessings. Keep your troubles in perspective and train yourself to profit from them. Be present in the moment. Open your eyes to beauty.  Breathe deeply and feel the rhythm of life.