Lazy W Marie

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

Marriage Rules We Break

   Some people say that you have to know what the rules are so you can break them.  I have over the years spent a fair amount of time reading about how other people do things and trying to absorb the wisdom of the ages, especially when it comes to either running a home or maintaining relationships.  So I know there are certain things the best advice sources will always tell married couples to do, but my boy and I don’t always agree. 
    
Just for fun, as part of our Tenth Anniversary Week,
here are three long accepted rules
that Handsome and I tend to, well, shatter:
   
“Never eat dinner in front of the Television.”  We do a lot better job obeying this rule when the kids are home, circling the four of us around the dining room table in a more traditional way,  practicing good manners and such, but especially when it’s just the two of us Handsome and I have a great time watching funny stuff while we fill our bellies.  And frankly I am done feeling guilty about it. 
   By the time dinner is ready we’ve already shared the day’s headlines with each other, and decompression from the stressful things which we cannot remedy is vital to our mental and physical health.  So who cares if we watch a couple of commercial-free comedies while enjoying good food?  Laughter is incredibly binding AND good for digestion.  And we’ll always have nights out at fabulous restaurants to prove to each other we still can mind our table manners and be good dates. 
   One final note, DVR is the best thing since sliced bread.  Agreed?
“Do Not Go to Bed Angry.”  Umm, yeah right.  Sometimes people who love each other fight.  Sometimes they fight late in the evening when it is already almost bedtime; in fact, for us I tend to think it is often exhaustion that contributes to the fray in the first place.  And even if the arguments have all been finished and the right words have all been uttered, sometimes the hot, brittle air is not yet cleared. 
   Call me crazy, but I think that going to bed angry (or at least super annoyed because he sure didn’t sound sorry or she didn’t look relaxed no matter what they said…) is a better choice than not going to bed at all.  That might mean less cuddling in the dark and a cooler reception when the roosters crow, but you know what they say about absence…  If you are in love then you will miss each other after a lonely night sans-passion.
   The fresh light of morning can sometimes burn off the residue of tension better than can one more round of late night deliberation. I am not suggesting you ignore the scripture that advises against letting the sun set on  straight-up wrath; just that once in a while, when it serves you both, sleep on it.  But if you do, please determine to walk softly in the morning, looking for the first opportunity to hug and smooch, not reignite hurt feelings.  xoxoxo
“You Have to Work at Your Relationship.”  Balderdash.  Actually, we work enough in life already.  Maybe it’s just plain good luck, but Handsome and I don’t feel like this is necessary.  It seems like genuinely enjoying your relationship is a whole heckuva lot better than working on it.  In fact, working on it tends to be when we get into trouble (see #2). 
   Sure, your union may need tending now and then, a spot of nurturing perhaps, but think of it in healthy, green, growth-based terms, not arduous, sweaty, unpleasant ones that elicit thoughts of time cards, obligations, and tool boxes.  Seriously, the next thing you know the word “talk” will cause nausea and hives. 

   So there you have it.  Three old fashioned rules that Handsome and I have gradually decided, through trial and error, do not apply to us.  We break a few more, but those are none of your beeswax. 

Happy Romancing…  xoxoxo

Double Standards

   Because Handsome and I have designed our life around some pretty distinct roles, some traditional and some not so much, we definitely encounter noticeable differences in opportunity, advantage, responsibility, credit, freedom, etc, etc.  Score-keeping folks might immediately raise those red flags and say “Whoa, sister, check yourself,” either in my defense or his, depending on your perspective.
  

RA-RA-SIS-BOOM-BAH!!!
  

    He gets to travel more and be out in the world with lots of smart, interesting people, but I get to lounge around more, should I so choose.  He has friends through work; I have, well, honestly I have more friends than I know what to do with.  PLUS I get a bunch of his friends at work too, so that is awesome. 
   My man in India, 2009.
He was on a team from our Great State
working to help that country establish
natural gas delivery systems.
I am so proud of him!
I missed him so much.
   People seem to give me credit for everything that goes right around the farm, just by default.  This is flattering but completely unfair.  If we throw a party, I get the compliments.  They are appreciated, but the truth is that I could never spend time doing this fun, extra stuff if I had to leave every morning to earn a paycheck.  And I could never keep a flower bed if I had to spend my time smoothing, mowing, and weeding acres of grazing space, a job he does really well.  The reverse is also true; he works hard constantly in order to provide all of this that we can share with loved ones, so he has little time and energy left to reach for the extras.   

For us, freedom ringing all boils down to teamwork.
   He knows that I’ll make sure all the housework, shopping, miscellaneous errand-running, animal feeding and watering, etc, is always done before he drives home in the afternoon.  He also knows I will cook as often as he is hungry or more and that I will entertain three and a half times as much as he asks me to.  These are not degree-earned skills, but they are things he values in a home life which I am thrilled to offer to the guy of my dreams. 

World’s Cutest Rescuer of Turtles
   Generally speaking, I take care of stuff around here so that when he is done doing amazing things at the office (I am so not exaggerating) he comes home to hours and hours of free time.  Of course, several days a month he still changes out of his suit and works his guts out around here on hard-labor type projects I have no business attempting.  Things like mending barbed wire fences, trimming the horses’ hooves, bleeding brakes on our cars, squeezing out the wet chamois for me, removing ticks from the dogs, etc. 
Oh wait, does the Modern Independent Wife remove animal ticks herself? 
Another reason I do not want to be in this club.  Because that is grody. 
   I get to wear cutoff jeans, flip flops and tank tops all day if I want to.  He gets to has to shave his face and layer up in a nice looking suit five days a week.  (Shaving my legs is technically optional for me, but I make sure to do it for him, so he will go to bed happy, so he wakes up rested for that suit the next morning, so I can afford to stay home and wear cut offs one more day.  It’s kind of a pattern.)
   Here’s a biggie:  He has complete control over our finances, and I know very little about them.    He has that mammoth burden, too.  I might not know every detail, but I also don’t have to worry about every detail.  Do you need smelling salts?  Some people really have a hard time with this one, but I have to say what a relief it is for me.  He cares and provides for us in ways I didn’t know were even possible.  This is just a strength he brings to our little unity table, and I would be foolish to not accept and then build on it.  And to calm your Independent Person’s fears a little, rest assured that I have more than enough plastic in the back pocket of my cut off jeans to keep me from being a sheltered little Missus.

   He likes lots of expensive toys like cars, electronics, etc; I am perfectly happy to scour garage sales for clothes, home decor, and furniture, but I definitely like a roomy grocery budget so we can eat well and be healthy.  It’s super groovy. 

What smacks of imbalance is exactly what gives us each whatever we want most.
   I once heard a speaker describing fulfilled marriage using the always popular sports metaphor, this time employing football:  He talked about how silly it would be to only fight for the fifty-yard line, never the end zone.  He said that rather than diluting your mutual happiness by always compromising (isn’t compromise usually celebrated as the best scenario?), which really leaves both people only halfway satisfied (implying you are both also halfway un-satisfied), why not strive to score touchdowns for each other more often?  Generously give of yourself until the other person gets everything he or she wants and needs, and chances are the time will soon roll around when your partner does exactly the same loving thing for you.
   The application of this football metaphor is crazy hilarious in this house because we are strictly a commercials-watching Super Bowl couple!
   What Handsome does frees me up and protects me, just as what I do refreshes and inspires him.  This is symbyosis, folks.  This is not a purchase of services rendered or an archaic game of dominance; this is two very (very) different human beings caring for each other in the midst of an ever changing world.
 
   Speaking of ever-changing, throw into this mix the unorthodox and unplanned condition that the two beautiful teenaged daughters who used to occupy every day of our life now live with their Dad, and you have a whole new vacuum to fill.  Guess who gets the brunt of that pain of rejection?  The man who is expected to provide and sacrifice when duty calls.  One of the most blatant double standards a person could endure.

Christmas 2006
   With regard to this, of course, we both know that every day is subject to change.  At any moment I might get that wonderful text or email or phone call that says “I want to see you!” and the life that’s been humming along comes to a happy, screeching, wonderful halt.  Handsome and I know how to throw that emergency brake on, allowing life’s marrow to flow where it is needed most.

An unexpected day at the farm with my Chickens
May 2011

   The way we have designed and discovered our life might not work for everybody, but it works like gangbusters for us.

   I really believe that double standards work just fine as long as the purposes are loving and nourishing, as long as the uniqueness of each person is fulfilled, and as long as each person is contributing to his or her fullest.  Neither person is being taken for granted or abused.  I know we are not above complaining once in a while, but overall we are more than just happy.  We have hit a stride that I think a lot of people take decades to discover.  And this is just our first one.

Happy Tenth Anniversary, Handsome.
I love you Always, Now, and Forever.

  
     

Our First Decade

   Later this week Handsome and I will be celebrating our tenth anniversary.  Ten years of marriage and all of the adventure, chaos, romance, pain, joy, doubt, fulfillment, relief, strength building, learning, and bliss that comes with it.  I can think of many more applicable nouns to cram into that sentence, but my beloved unpaid editor might have a stroke over the breathless abuse of commas.
   Next week we will be off on a seven day road trip, just the two of us, soaking up some highway miles and fresh perspective.  Escaping back to ourselves and injecting life with lots of new memories.  So this week, in between finishing projects at the farm and losing fourteen and a half pounds before my dreaded beach reveal, I would like to share some of our best memories and also some things we’ve learned in these first ten years as husband and wife. 
July 14, 2001.
“I like your sleeves, they’re real big.”
“Thanks.  I made ’em myself.”
Who knows the movie?
   If you have marital seniority over us, you may scoff at these “lessons,” just as our future selves might do if they ever look back and read this silly blog.  If you are a newlywed you might also scoff.  Some of how we see life now is a lot different than how we did ten years ago.  This is only our experience, only our truth.  And  we are constantly searching for more of it.
   Stay Tuned.  xoxoxo

All Systems GO as Early as Possible

   Multitasking is a bizarre challenge for me sometimes.  My easily distracted mind (already filled with imaginary things) cannot always afford to be spread thinly among more than two topics at once.  Handsome is way different.  He is like a high performance engine that can only run well at extremely high RPMs.  By comparison at least, I am much more like a bicycle.  Or a unicycle that can barely keep its balance.
   So all of you fantastic people who can successfully operate eight or nine projects at once are, well, I am sorry, but you are annoying.  No offense.
   That said, when it comes to housekeeping I do find that a quick five or six -point morning routine is effective.  Let’s be super cool and call it “All Systems Go.”  That makes me feel more like an astronaut, which is AWESOME.

   Pretty much, just identify the major operating systems in your home and layer them in a way that gets it all done efficiently.  Then step back as autopilot and watch it all come together.  Or fall apart, depending on your particular stream of luck that day.
   Around here the systems are:
  • watering grass and gardens
  • laundry and ironing
  • feeding and watering animals
  • tidying up and making comfy spots comfier
  • dishes, food, etc.
  • floors
   Obviously there are details not mentioned here, but these are the different systems.  These are the general types of jobs that can be layered and set in motion, not necessarily tended to minute by minute.  And when I manage to get them all on “Go” early in the morning, the day just seems to unfurl itself so nicely.  And I am more free to swim in imagination. 
   Oh shoot, I forgot “Facebook.”  Let’s include that too.

    

Metabolizing Lemon Cake

   Thanks for enduring my longwindedness on this book review.  In case you haven’t read the preceding essays and are interested in doing so, here is an overview, some talk of our lucky phone conversation with the author, and thoughts on Joseph becoming a chair.  Following is probably the last piece, and I really hope it encourages you to find this book and read it!  If you’ve already read it, please share your thoughts!
***** SPOILER *****

   It should come as no surprise that reading The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake had great impact on my eating habits during those weeks.  The bright blue volume was slipped into my purse when I went on a trip to Texas.  I read page after page while feasting on one incarnation of Gulf shrimp after another.


I guessed that the proprietor of the waterfront, open-air cafe
where this gorgeous salad was purchased felt chronic optimism. 
She tried to see the negative in her life but was endlessly plagued
by the perfume of the ocean and the smiling energy of cash-rich tourists.
She quietly provided me unlimited refills of Diet Coke
while I sat in her clean, sunny dining room and read about four chapters.
This was a favor that only one optimist might pay to another.
The avocado grower, on the other hand, had a serious gambling addiction.
His ripe green fruit tasted of risk and bankruptcy.
   It bears mentioning that as the big date for our book club meeting approached, most of us were researching lemon cake recipes.  We always make book club night a pot luck affair, reliably providing enough food to feed three times as many women as we host.  So, on the evening in question I expected to see at least one tall, layered, chocolate-frosted lemon cake on the table, just like the one on the cover.
A typical book club spread.  We never leave hungry.
   But no!  We all considered it, and we all decided that surely someone else would jump on the opportunity.  So rather than ending up with seven lemon cakes, we had exactly zero.  Great minds think alike.  Then they second guess themselves similarly.
   In keeping with the many lively debates surrounding this reading selection, we Oklahomans (plus one Texas transplant) had a hard time with the use of chocolate frosting on a lemon cake.  Is this a California thing?  Because all any of us Land Run Ladies could imagine using was either butter cream, vanilla glaze, or maybe cream cheese frosting.  The devil is in the details.  Onward we go…
  
Our members started assembling about
two hours before Aimee was due to ring us.
It felt like Christmas Eve around here.
We tested the land line, which is rarely used these days,
about a hundred and eighty-six times before 7 pm, CST.
Then when the phone rang promptly and at its maximum volume,
I had a mild heart attack.
   Okay, metabolizing.  We posed to our gracious author guest, Aimee Bender, some very grassroots questions about how she arrived at the idea for this book.  She offered the most satisfying answer:  it had occurred to her in talking through things with her friends that people tend to use the imagery of food and consumption when referring to how they react to ideas.  “Let me digest that and see how I feel…” 
   Brilliant!  Seriously, that is true.  People love to use an edible vocabulary whenever possible.  I have been known to call all sorts of things “delicious.“  Things you would never, ever put in your mouth, like an orange and pink sunset or a single weeping violin.   Yet these things certainly evoke emotions, and relating those experiences to people using an edible vocabulary is really effective.
   Anyone who enjoys the smorgasbord variety of expression available in language can appreciate that Aimee found lots of pleasure in writing about food.  Talk about a fun and relatable vehicle for your idea!  Not everyone feels exactly the same grief, but we all know what salty is.  We can basically agree on the differences between bitter and savory, and just try to describe good chocolate without reeling in a few sexy expressions…
   The notion that a person might be able to literally detect the emotions of another person preparing food is a clever extension of what we all do already.

There must be a primal relationship between eating and reading.
Perhaps nourishing your body while you nourish your mind?
Whatever the truth behind the practice, it keeps me on the elliptical machine.

   Two or three of our members found Rose’s adult life to be told in a more flip way than was her childhood.  One commented that she felt less and less empathy for Rose the more her tasting talent evolved.  This is interesting.  It reminds me of an old joke that tries to explain why children are born as adorable babies and not frustrating teens.  I don’t really know the entire joke; you’ll have to imagine it for yourself.  Okay?

   An element of Rose’s character development I found especially delightful was that as her skills became sharper and the feelings more intense, her physical appetite changed.  She craved hand-prepared food less and less, turning more frequently to overly processed, factory-made junk.  No human source was numbed enough to insulate her from feeling their strong, messy emotions.  

      To this, Aimee replied that she was not trying to make an overly political statement, just that she was happy to call attention to a different way of looking at the issues of food origin, processing, health, animal handling, etc. 

   Here is where a tape recorder would have been a real benefit: this was a tremendous thought-provoker, but I cannot find notes on exactly what she said!  Grr…
   Anyway, the timing of such a statement, even in fiction, even in science fiction, is just great.  How many of us are taking a second glance at localvorism?  Are you growing a garden, or do you prefer to bake your own breads and cakes rather than use mixes?  I for one have on my 2011 reading list the title, “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle:  A Year of Food Life.” 
   Big, juicy kudos to Aimee Bender for making that conversation a lot more palatable!  (Sorry, I could not resist.)  I thoroughly enjoyed the adventure, and I cannot wait to see how this book is handled in twenty years.