Lazy W Marie

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

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Sea Monkeys

   Over the weekend, as part of a short family trip to Woodward, Oklahoma,  Handsome and I spent about an hour in Atwoods with his brother and sister-in-law and one of their sons. Do you have an Atwoods in your corner of the world? It’s a retail store found almost exclusively in rural areas, and though they are expanding their product base they mostly sell great stuff for, well, country people. You know, large quantities of deer corn and gun safes and stuff. And John Deere tractor accessories and sparkly belts and baby chicks in the springtime. And pearl-snap button up shirts and live animals traps and ammo.
    And candy and toys and home decor.
    We cruised the candy aisles and collected all the oldest, funnest sugary teats that we could justify with childhood memories. They sell the paper-bagged treats like clove gum, cherry sours, and horehound candy sticks. 
    Yep. That’s for our parents’ generation.
   They also sell plain cellophane bags of those spongy pale orange circus peanuts. And Boston baked beans. And maple thingies. We loaded up on something for everyone and had a grand ole time doing it, as much fun exploring the candy aisles as we did eating the candy itself.
   We also bought a rusty tin star for the house, something that should look good all year long but is a perfect gift to ourselves right after Thanksgiving, when the Christmas decorating is about to ensue. Then we each bought a toy. 
    For ourselves. Because we’re mature, responsible adults.
   Handsome selected a plastic miniature farm scene that includes a modern windmill, not one of the more familiar paddle/tripod windmills we all associate with black and white movies and drives through Kansas on the way to Oz. The new kind. The tall, elegant, white giants that now perforate the Oklahoma landscape sending clean energy to tens of thousands of homes. More on that soon; it’s a big topic.
    For my personal early Christmas toy gift I selected Sea Monkeys. 
   Sea Monkeys were a frequent indulgence for me in childhood, the only mass marketed item I might have purchased or received as a gift more often than Lee press-on nails. Now, the little aquatic babies never really lived that long under my care, hence the frequent purchases. But my grief over the repeated loss could apparently be assuaged by another little plastic tank of Sea Monkeys.
   Maybe I have always been destined to have a farm full of animals, or maybe this mild obsession was an early signal to my dangerous penchant for  optimism. Either way, when I saw the neatly arranged rows of Sea Monkey tanks for sale in Atwoods, all of that weird maternal-slash-Island-of-Dr. Moureau stuff came bubbling to the surface.
   My most difficult decision was no longer what toy to buy but rather what color of Sea Monkey tank to take home. I chose the purple one. Purple is the color of creativity, you know.
   Today I started my kit. If you have raised Sea Monkeys before then you know there is a process and a schedule. Please say the word schedule with me in the elegant European way, “she-shu-ill.” Many thanks.

   Tomorrow midday I will add the “Instant Live Eggs.” This Friday will be the little critters’ first official feeding! They will become the only Lazy W residents whose diet does not support and fund our local feed store owners and their beautiful family. I predict Pacino will be jealous of the attention I am likely to pour over my new babies,  but he’s a tough bird. He’ll get over it eventually.

   I’m taking the Sea Monkeys seriously this time, folks. I am a grown up now, as mentioned above. Since my last foray into this treacherous world of care taking I have successfully nurtured formula-fed baby buffalo, helped with the castration of two very spirited colts, napped on the belly of a horse, and been loved by a goose though hated by a rooster. Surely this new brine shrimp experience will come with a deeper well of skill and wisdom.
   No need to wish me good luck; I think we’ve got it covered.

   Wait, please do wish me good luck after all. This is terrifying.

Love your animals, great and small!
“The Lord God Made Them All”
xoxoxo

Pink Stuff

   Before we go any further, let’s all remind each other and agree that this spot here on the internet is not a food blog. Anytime recipes appear here it is either because they hold special, personal significance to us or I am worried I will lose the recipe and need a way to reference it in the future.
   
   Such is the case with Pink Stuff, on both counts.
   Earlier this week I had a mild meltdown because I could not put my hands on the list of ingredients for this old family recipe. So I desperately fell on my Mom’s mercies and while I waited on her reply I scoffed heartily at my little brother for suggesting I Google it. 
   Google an old family recipe that Grandma Stubbs either invented or graciously received from her own grandmother who probably invented it, are you kidding me? WOW. Some people have no appreciation for the old ways. Seriously. 
   
   Sooo…
   Turns out our family recipe was all over the internet. Strangers have been making this, you guys! I felt so, so, so on display. So infringed upon. What’s next, hidden cameras behind two way mirrors? A reality show against our will?
   Anyway, this recipe is as easy as pie. It is easier than pie, actually, because there is no crust to make perfectly and there is no baking. All you need are a can opener, a big bowl, and the ability to calmly fold ingredients into a pink frothy dream while wistfully reminiscing of family holidays past. And several hours of refrigeration, ideally.
A note about pecans: 
They are crazy expensive this year, 
thanks either to the drought or Sasquatch. 
This photo represents a gallon of gas.
Five Bonus points for the first person to notice 
what’s missing from this ingredients photo!
Yep. Whipped Topping.
   One year, I was either nineteen or thirty-one, I can’t remember, I forgot the whipped topping entirely. All the rich, sweet, crunchy, colorful things were included, but not the fluffiness. I showed up to the family feast with a bowl of overly gloopy pink sludge that nobody could enjoy. That is a major disappointment, because every year only one person makes this for everybody, and everybody looks forward to it in a big way. And we only have it at Thanksgiving and Christmas. It is illegal to make it at other times of the year.
   Funny thing last night was that the whole time I was chopping pecans then snapping photos of the ingredients, I was like, “Huh. Something’s definitely missing.” WHEW! No sludge this year. Only stuff.
   Onward.
Here is what you need:
  1 can cherry pie filling
  1 can crushed pineapple
  1 can sweetened condensed milk
  1 cup coconut (I am pretty sure either kind works fine, I use sweetened flaked)
  1 cup pecans (I used more than that, just whatever)
  1 container whipped topping, thawed
   Gently fold it, baby. Pour, layer, stir, fold, blend the colors, taste it, lick your spoons, give the empty cans to lucky husbands and parrots in your house, do a little dance, make a little love, groove the easiness and luxury of it all. 
   Now wrap the bowl tightly with plastic wrap and slip it safely in the refrigerator overnight or for at least four hours. 
This sample bite looks one step away from gross 
only because it hasn’t set up yet.
Later today it will look firm and fluffy and perfect.
But I promise you it already tastes perfect.
WAIT.
Why did I buy tiny marshmallows?
And who is silently judging me for buying the store brand?
   To all of my far flung siblings and to my children who won’t be with us today to eat this and so many other great dishes, you will be missed. Missed so much I have already been getting all teary and chin-trembly about it. But don’t worry, I’ll happily eat your shares of Pink Stuff. And I’ll give thanks for having each of you in my life.
   To those of you who I am fortunate enough to see today, prepare to be attack-hugged. My heart is full and rich and pulsing with life because of the incredible people near me. I love each one of you and wish with all of my heart that Grandma Stubbs could be here to see how big and beautiful our family has grown.
As far as I’m concerned, she still invented Pink Stuff.
xoxoxo
Mama's Losin' It

I Like to Eat my Turkey from a Big Brown Shoe

   For days now, strong ideas and long strings of words have been swirling delightfully through my mind and body. I have slept soundly every night and woken up refreshed every morning, already surrounded at dawn by the warm winds and bright colors of philosophy and possibility. In every corner of my house I have been ferreting away notebooks and slips of paper scribbled up with eurekas and scriptures that have never felt so real before, with observations about the universe at large, questions posed about conflicting ideas, recipes that feel important to me and so surely I must share them, and overly edited photos that tell long, interesting stories (at least to us).

I found this on Pinterest. You. Are. Welcome.

   But I haven’t taken the time to write this week because things have really been hopping around the farm, precluding me from focusing on any one idea and polishing it into something presentable. 
   We have had a large predator here (probably a bobcat or cougar but almost definitely not Sasquatch) and sadly have lost our Tom turkey, a pair of guineas, and at least one rooster. This means that now all the birds, cranky geese included, have been penned up 24/7 for their safety. This means that they are restless and extra noisy, but in a far removed way. This means that I desperately miss them walking around the yards and gardens. Their soundtrack and fluttering presence are both features of daily life I have come to need. This means that I now spend an extra amount of time in the chicken coop every day talking to them, petting them, and generally listening to them. 
   I have also been fortunate to receive several Green Goose orders this past week, so a chunk of every day is spent sewing. This means that my sewing room looks like an F-5 tornado hit. Thank goodness I have not yet acted on the impulse to replace the solid door up there with a windowed farm house door that is partly wrapped in chicken wire, because nobody needs to walk down the hallway and see that chaos.
   Thanksgiving is tomorrow, of course, so I have been following a torrid series of cleaning chores, rearranging impulses, table settings, cooking, and extra cardio, lest we arrive at the first of December having taken two steps back instead of one more forward. Speaking of stepping forward, I kept to my goal of not buying anything at all new for autumn decorating. Except for two things. But these baby pumpkins were grown here, which pleases my soul. 

   The big animals are all busy growing their winter coats, too. This requires me to touch them a lot more than normal and inhale them deeply, up close and personal.. These are important and time consuming tasks, you guys, and they’re further reasons why I haven’t been writing.

   
   Below is a glimpse of the Thankful Tree which I will be forcing my guests to decorate soon. We will write on paper leaves the things for which we are thankful and hang those leaves on this branch. Friends and family will either love it or hate it. Okay, I will love it and they will love it a LOT. By the way, I have been getting lots of emails from PW begging me for photography advice, because clearly I have mad lens skills, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day. She’ll be fine.
   But the main reason why I’ve not been writing much is just sheer, perfect, mind numbing shock that People magazine has yet again selected the wrong man for their annual crowning of “Sexiest Man Alive.” Bradley Cooper? Not disgusting. But also not sexier than this guy…
   And he has so many incarnations…

   When will we resist the mainstream? 
   Anyway,  there’s a lot going on. I am so happy to be on the brink of Holiday Season 2011. Good things are happening. Love is stronger than ever. Hope is rising and building just like we need it to. 
Wishing you and yours all of your favorite dishes and twice as many blessings!
Happy Thanksgiving from the Lazy W
xoxoxo

Slow, Beautiful Decay

   I luxuriated with some time in the flower bed today and noticed even further advancement into dormancy. The changes happen so gradually, yet so suddenly, that it is easy not to see every colorful, textural stage of the season.

   After the abundant sunshine, the first thing that is apparent is how many leaves have fallen and how much of the crunchy stuff has accumulated in the corners of the farm, mostly against the buildings and fences.
   Then there are the brilliant colors. Brick red, true gold, bronze, mustard yellow, crimson, and brown, every shade of brown. Nearly every leaf has surrendered its green now. Only a few waxy stems remain here and there, but they were probably frozen that color and will soon be kneeling to winter’s authority.

   The second chance tomatoes are stubbornly offering up their remaining fruits, but those fruits are blistered and burnt now from our cold nights. I am having a hard time pulling up these dead lovelies, after all they’ve endured this year. It seems overly brutal of me to insist they have reached their end. Maybe if I leave them all winter we’ll enjoy reseeded babies next Easter. Those are always stronger, by the way, in case you didn’t know.

   I watered everything today while the sun was warm and the soil receptive. We have a few more cold nights forecasted, and Mom & Grandpa have always said that you should water deeply right before a freeze. The idea is that the water will soak down and freeze around the root systems, forming protective insulation against the harsher freezes soon to come. Then in the springtime, of course, the buried ice melts at a snail’s pace, giving each plant that deep, slow kiss it needs right as it’s waking up…

   Cannas are as striking in dormancy as they are at the height of a tropical summer., I love the structure of their big leaves, the fuzzy seed pods, and the rusty colors. I never cut them down until new growth emerges in the late spring. Often winter does it for me, though, and the fodder makes excellent mulch.

   Speaking of pruning, I also delay cutting anything healthy off of the rose bushes until maybe February. Borrowed garden wisdom says to let the sap slip all the way out of the branches before cutting, which takes the entire winter. So unless you see something truly diseased or so badly tangled with another branch that it needs to be removed, let it stay for now. Make like McCartney and Let it Be.

   The pansies I planted earlier this autumn have all doubled in size. And they are so fragrant. Of course you have to be pretty near the earth to smell them, but what a treat! Don’t you love the fragrance of wet earth mixed with that peppery, sweet smell of petals? So nice and clean. Better than Scentsy even.

   The mums all seem ready to trade their first round of blooms for another, but I am not ready to snip anybody’s head off quite yet. I adore the colors of straw and burlap all around me.

 Delay, delay, delay…have I found reasons to delay, or am I delaying for good reasons? I think the former is truest. Any way I can keep from busying myself right now allows for more wandering, more touching, more dreaming, especially in the garden where God does His quietest work and where I find the most miracles.
Enjoy the changes around you…
xoxoxo
   

Inspired in Stillwater

   Yesterday evening I had the slightly unusual pleasure of going with Handsome to a work event. An actual work-work event, not a social-work event. Although there was a delicious barbecue meal served and we did enjoy a little socializing. But technically it was work for him, a co-op meeting about smart energy sources and asset management in our great state. 
   I always enjoy seeing him in the context of his job, and last night was no exception, He shines. I am so proud. As an added bonus, I was freshly inspired by the speaker to learn more about the energy discussions that are taking place all around us. You may or may not know that in many ways Oklahoma is something of a benchmark for this wide reaching global issue and that our citizens, our professionals, are considered the go-to experts in the oil and gas industry.
   Before I begin to stutter out my pedestrian understanding of these important topics (this might take a few days), allow me to share a few personal notes from last night:
  • I wore a bright red sweater to a semi-political citizen gathering in Stillwater, OK. Raise your hand if you grasp the seriousness of this error. Thank goodness for my favorite threadbare denim jacket which protected most of my vital organs.
  • After ten years of marriage I still get butterflies when I hear my guy introduced by first and last name, and I get double butterflies when I am introduced as his wife.
  • Life lessons can be found anywhere you look, even town hall meetings. That place was oozing with inspiration last night. 
  • I am so proud to be a native Oklahoman. And on that note, today happens to be the anniversary of our statehood!! Happy Birthday to us!
  • If you are willing to spend time identifying problems, please also be willing to spend time seeking solutions. This, of all the meaningful anecdotes shared by the speaker, spoke the thickest volumes to me. I plan to annoy you guys for the rest of the month with expansion on this idea.
   Okay, that’s it for this morning. Hopefully I have properly whetted your appetite for energy information. Hopefully you turn off the lights when you leave the room. Hopefully you say Happy Statehood Day to the nearest Oklahoman. Hopefully you have the sense to wear local colors to local events.
Have a fantastic day everyone!
xoxoxo