Lazy W Marie

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

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The Neglected Chef Foibles: Part One

September 13, 2011

Easy Read Slant Sided Measuring Bowls
   If not for her chiropractor appointment today, she might be outside gardening.  The day is perfect for it.  The sun is bright but not hot.  The breeze is gentle.  Last night’s rain has already loosened the weeds and eliminated the need to irrigate.  I could get straight to grooming the tomato plants and harvesting some basil.

   But no.  She had been to a Pampered Chef party earlier in the month and unwittingly altered her immediate future.  She enjoyed the socializing of course but resisted sales pitch after sales pitch, inwardly congratulating herself for her sustained frugality.

   Among other things, she declined purchasing the easy read measuring cups.  She just had to insist that her regular glass measuring bowls, the traditional upright Pyrex kind with red measurement lines on the side, were all she needed for measuring liquids.

  Today she regrets that pridefulness.  

  Last Wednesday was her sister’s birthday, and per tradition she had determined to bake a short cake and deliver it with fresh strawberries.  Premeasured dry ingredients sat in an orderly row across her smooth, clean countertop.    A cake pan was buttered and dusted with flour, awaiting the lumpy, delicious batter.  The oven dial had been twisted to preheat to 350 degrees.  Her apron was tied neatly around her ample middle.  John Phillip Sousa was playing in the living room.

   She had positioned her very old and well used two-cup Pyrex glass measuring bowl on the kitchen counter to pour in buttermilk.  She took one step back and leaned forward to get a close up view of the fluid level (the buttermilk should be measured precisely, after all).  The red lines had faded over the years, and the glass was a bit clouded by time and heavy use, so she had to step back further still and lean in even more closely to focus on the 1 ½ cup mark.  This put her in an unnatural position with her rump more in the air than it usually is, and without warning she felt something catch in her lower back.
   A knifing sensation on either side of her spine, a shooting numbness up her back, and then sudden and extreme immobility brought the cake baking to a complete halt.  Buttermilk exploded all over the kitchen while she crumpled gracelessly and face first to the floor.

   As she surprised herself with cursing and writhed in pain on the kitchen floor now slick with buttermilk, the oven beeped its cheerful arrival at the needed baking temperature of 350 degrees.  It would sit, preheated but empty, oblivious to the drama, for the rest of the evening until her husband would exhaustedly stumble in for a midnight snack and notice the lone red light signaling readiness.  He would twist the dial back to “off.”  Mission aborted.  Oven unfulfilled.

   It had been a humiliating phone call to make, reporting that she had fallen and may have broken her back while measuring buttermilk.  But her dutiful husband had of course rushed home from work and taken her immediately to the emergency room.  There, she had to reexperience the accident nine or ten more times to different nurses and physicians with clipboards.  More than one younger, slightly more elastic woman had to restrain smiles of either pity or unfeeling laughter, it was hard to tell.

   Her back was not broken, but she was seriously injured.  Her jaw bone and right shoulder were bruised, too.

   If only she had shelled out the money at that Pampered Chef party for the slanted-sides measuring bowls!  The extra expense seemed too large at the time, wasteful even considering her arsenal of Pyrex sitting at home.  But now, seeing the hundreds of dollars being paid to the chiropractor’s office for back adjustments, to the pharmacy for muscle creams, and to fast food restaurants for take out dinner because she is in too much pain to cook for her husband, a trip back in time to buy those Pampered Chef mixing bowls would fix everything and save a small fortune.

Order Online

   But to the injury tending she returns, and her garden sits, unattended, becoming slowly reclaimed by the wild.  The tomatoes will rot on the vine, she thinks.
   Across the street her neighbor is drinking iced tea on her own front porch, enjoying a perfectly manicured lawn and a thoroughly weeded flower bed.  I bet she ordered the easy read measuring cups.

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Dive Right In

September 12, 2011

Not too awful much to say right this minute.
Just a little encouragement to enjoy your life.
Whatever your task, whatever your burden, 
whatever meal you find on your table,
even if it is just good, sweet hay,
and even you find it on your head, not the table…
Enjoy it to the best of your ability.
Life is good, and is passes by too quickly 
when we wish away the difficult days or the mundane moments.
Soak it up.  Get messy.  Be happy.  Count your blessings.
Pass it on.

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Tutu for a Desert Gypsy Princess

September 10, 2011

  Once upon a time, there was a rare little girl born to a family who had been wishing and waiting for her for a long time.

   Her parents were madly in love with each other and anxious to have a sweet, pink little baby girl on which to shower their frills and kisses.  They yearned for a daughter who would need the rivers of love and attention they had to offer.

   This little girl was born into the protection and adoration of three wonderful big brothers and many far-flung grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins who were over the moon excited to see her for the first time.

   She entered the world with eyes that would soon turn the color of Caribbean shallows, but she lived in the desert.  Already evincing miracles.  She was a delicate, whispery thread of loveliness spun from the heart of her unusually beautiful mother.  And she was destined for grand adventures.

   Clearly on a path to uniqueness, this little speck of a girl delighted her family by preferring edgy rock music to nursery rhymes.

  She made a point to wear her Gypsy Princess tiara in reverse
 to remind her loved ones to switch perspectives now and then.
Every story has more than one side.

   She started off life as a good eater, nursing and bonding and cooing throughout the day, every day.  All day long, even at parties.  Never stopping except to breathe.  Even at The Lazy W.  She was hungry because she had a lot of growing to do.  She knew deep inside her wordless but thriving mind that she would be needing the energy.

   

On certain days, when the breeze was just right, 
 this little Gypsy Princess would wear her tutu.

   Every strand of her gypsy tutu represented a wish bestowed on her life.  Cheetah print for speed and agility when she might need it, red lace for romance when the time is right, gingham for wholesomeness.  Graphics for sharp thinking.  Blue seersucker for extensive daydreaming beneath the clouds, paisley for growing things, denim for hard work

   Now the whole world, and not just the desert, is waiting to see what this special little girl does with her life.  Which paths she might follow, what webs she might weave.  How the blue of her eyes might change when she falls in love, and how she uses the magic in her tutu.

   Whatever happens to her, whatever surprises she finds,
she will be wrapped in love till the end of time!
We are so pleased to know Princess Riley.
xoxoxoxo

 

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Joy Pockets Tres

September 2, 2011

   We’ve had a particularly busy, happy, productive week at the farm.  Even more so this week than most, probably.  I am so pleased to close up shop today with a few projects finally in the “done” compartment in my crowded mind, although I am stunned to realize that these whirlwind five days have suddenly brought us to almost dinner time on Friday.  My Joy Pockets are easy to count, as always.  For this I am so thankful.
  • We’ve been celebrating Handsome’s 36th birthday all week long, and we have had some serious fun doing so.  We are blessed with abundant freedom in our adulthood, incredible friends, and a good appetite for fun.  I hope he has had as much fun on his birthday this year as I have.  
  • Earlier this week I received an early morning phone call from my beautiful Momma, whose voice, affection, and laughter brighten my day like freshly squeezed lemon juice.  I realize that not all of my friends have their mothers still in their lives, and mine happens to be a very special woman, so I am doubly blessed in that respect.
  • We are thrilled to be sharing our home with friends for a few days, my blogging buddy The M Half and her Hubs, who happens to be an old school friend of Handsome’s, and their sweet and vivacious pup Rue.  (It may or may not surprise you to learn that she and I are writing in the same room at this moment, resisting the feathery advances of Pacino the Macaw.)  Last night we had the best time while our men and some other old friends played catch up on all the years lost.  We laughed until our faces hurt, we soaked up the vibes of friendship that has matured with adulthood rather than dissipated, and we got to see everyone in a slightly younger light.  Through the lens of teen years from back when we didn’t know each other, and that was cool as beans.
  • My transplanted tomatoes are thriving, and the pink roses are blooming again.  We’re still in a drought and heat wave here in Oklahoma, but early morning well water is doing the trick for now.  And our weather forecast has us anticipating a twenty-degree cool down in just a week.  That, friends, deserves to be on Joy Pockets ahead of time.
  • I am between book club assignments and also finished with previous reads, so this week and next I am indulging in a brand new author and a story about (big shocker) writing.

Look for a Review Next Week
 

  • I mixed and have been feasting on Roasted Olive Dip.
  • I got to hold an eight week old (human) baby for whom I am not even one bit responsible.  I got to sniff him and cuddle him and make him grin tiny baby grins.  I propped up his beautiful, wobbly head, sewed him a little shirt, kissed him good bye, and felt not even one scrap of longing for new motherhood.  It was a stand alone pleasure.  
  • A short list of sewing orders, which I had allowed to vex both my mind and my promises list, which affects my relationships, is now completed.  The relief of having these done and having happy customers cannot be overstated.
   This week sped by too quickly to savor properly in the moment, but looking back I see there is plenty (way more than I have shared here) to savor after the fact.  It was a week well spent and one that will fuel the coming weeks very nicely.  No complaints.
   

joy pockets

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Roasted Olive Dip

September 2, 2011

   Company is coming!!!  We’re having a little dinner party, and I want to have this cold cheese dip ready technically as an appetizer but truly so I can snack indulgently all day leading up to the fun gathering.

   About halfway through making this exceedingly simple yet exceedingly decadent appetizer, I thought maybe someone else might want to know about this and make it.  We are, after all, fast approaching Labor Day weekend, a great time to roll out a snazzy new recipe.  This qualifies as snazzy in my book.

   You only need a handful of things from the grocery store and about half an hour in the kitchen plus a day or so to let the stuff meld its flavors in the fridge.  It makes you feel a little fancy to serve this, a  little bit gypsy or something.  Now while these ingredients are a bit pricey for one finished edible item, do try to factor in how far this goes.  One recipe will feed several people for two days or one very gluttonous girl for a week.  
What You Need:
   about two cups total of at least two flavors of olives (I use pimento-stuffed green olives and pitted ripe olives)
   a few Tablespoons of Italian dressing
   3 bricks of cream cheese (8 ounces each)
   2 small buckets of feta cheese (drained)
   dash or three of your favorite hot sauce
   a few shakes of garlic salt
What You Do:

  • First, let all of the cheeses come to room temperature.  Have you ever tried to stir cold cream cheese?  Nobody should be that strong.
  • In a 400-degree oven, roast the olives in a coating of Italian dressing, for about 20 minutes.  This smells incredible.
  • Once they are all roasty and tender and shriveled, pull them out and let them cool a bit.
  • Now coarsely chop the little gems and set them aside.
  • As thoroughly as possible, mix together all the cheeses and season with hot sauce and garlic salt, to taste.
Yeah, I use cheap seasonings sometimes.  So what?
  • Now just add the chopped, roasted olives.  It looks like edible confetti.  I swear, it makes me so happy.  And Handsome doesn’t have to worry about finding this particular confetti under the seat cushions or inside the fireplace.  Or in his hair.  Or in the buffalo’s hair.  Because we eat this confetti.  At Least I do…

   That’s about it!  Now I would place a sheet of waxed paper over the top, wrap it up in plastic like your life depends on it and abandon the fruits of your labor to the cold fridge overnight.  Serve this manna with crackers or just a spoon.  It is so good.

P.S.  This is what a pimento looks like when it’s about to explode.

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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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"Edit your life freely and ruthlessly. It's your masterpiece after all." ~Nathan W. Morris

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