Lazy W Marie

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

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Rural Auction Etiquette

   A little like a garage sale, a little like Mexico shopping villages, and yet nothing at all like these things, an auction out in the country is an exercise in both restraint and certainty.
   Restraint  & certainty are not among my strong suits. 
   Sometimes Handsome & I find auctions of just general household stuff…  Other times animal auctions, other times auctions or estate sales of tools, equipment, & farm implements.  Recently we’ve ventured into events which are dedicated to caged poultry and nothing else.  Each is special in its own way.

   In case you should ever find yourself invited to such a soiree, please pocket the following short list of tips.  These are trade secrets I rather wish someone had shared with me ahead of time.

  • Dress the part.  This is a good time to be a follower and a blender-inner.  Your hairstyle is also important, though for a more functional reason.  Before you leave home consider securing your tangly, untamed hair, at least well enough that you do not need to constantly flip it around.  Ponytail adjustments, in some circles, are taken as bids.  A good option is a baseball cap and sunglasses.  Your hair will stay put better and your eyelessness will help to conceal your expressions.

  • While the bidding is going on, avoid carrying on conversations that are prone to be overly affirmative. 
Imagine yourself and your spouse at an auction.
You are a good, active listener
who is wrapped up in a nice, juicy talk with your beloved. 
Imagine your agree with your spouse a lot during this talk
and so bob your head up and down, maybe even
blinking dramatically here and there, for effect.
But imagine you also don’t want to miss any developments at the microphone,
where a nice looking Angus is being auctioned.
Or instead of cattle it could be a chipped
but beautiful piece of Frankoma pottery. 
You have maintained both eye contact with the auctioneer
and ear contact with hubby.
What just happened is you kept the conversation afloat 
but you also gave the appearance of a stealthy bid. 

Only very merciful auction houses will let this slide more than once.

And needless to say the misunderstanding brings
your fascinating conversation to a grinding halt. 

Fewer marital events kill the “open up to me, honey” mood
more quickly than the purchase of an unwanted steer.

  • I have learned the hard way to not bad mouth items for auction whilst circulating through the crowd, no matter how funny you think you are.  Chances are, at these intimate affairs, the sellers are nearby and they have feelings.  Trash and treasure, baby.  Trash and treasure.
  • Don’t take your camera.  Do.  Not.  It’s true that rural auctions are GREAT photo opportunities, among the world’s best really, but they are just not the place for clicking away.  Talk about sticking out like a sore thumb…  And once you’re pegged as an outsider, the sharks will circle.  They know how to run up your bids without hardly trying.  They work in a maniacal, silent network that I am just beginning to understand.  Outsider?  Bad.  Outsider with a CAMERA?  Tourist.  You’ll go home with treasures, but expensive ones.
  • Beyond just not showing your emotions, also try to resist emotions in general.  Getting attached too quickly or too strongly to any auction item is dangerous.  It can cause you to pay too much or to chase after lesser items if you lose the good stuff.  Even if you are admiring cute little baby ducks that are so dang cute oh my lord they want to come with me pleeeeaaase can we bid on them… take a deep breath and walk away without fawning.  Another auction will be here before you know it.  Chill baby, baby, chill…
  • Pay attention to the posted buyer’s premium.  This is the rate YOU pay to the auction house, on top of the price you win while bidding.  Not all auctions have this, but the larger companies probably do and this can add up quickly while you shop.
  • Oh, speaking of money adding up, a biggie:  “Four times the money!”  Exciting.  This means you pay, big shocker, four times the price you bid.  This happens when a set of something is up for bid, for example four tires, but the auctioneer often slips it in kind of casually.  I guess the sharks know when to expect this, but you might imagine the chaos it triggers for a wide eyed, bobble headed, camera wielding tourist.  This also comes in the form of two times the money, three, seven, etc.  Bidder beware.
  
   My hope is for everyone to give rural auctioning a chance.  It is a fantastic way to form and build unusual collections, and it is cheap, interesting entertainment.
   Best of luck in the restraint and certainty departments, though.  The buzz of a crackling microphone and the perfume of dust and mildew are enough to set this tourist off into unbridled purchasing.  May the force be stronger with you.

Funny Reasons to Break Up With Someone

   Just for kicks, a list.  Because in fun conversations lately I have made an accidental collection of stories about why people end romantic relationships.  I use the word romantic pretty generically here, most notably because at least three of the reasons below were offered by junior high students.  I kid you not.  Stop preaching to me about how I too had junior high romances; that was different.  These kids are babies!  I was practically an adult back then.  Right, Mom?  Mom?
  • He smelled too much like soap.
  • She was selfish.  (This one was funny to me because of the ages of the kids involved.  Aren’t all kids selfish?)
  • I woke up bored, and I’m pretty sure he has nothing to talk about either.  So I proactively called and broke up so I could get on with my day.
  • I was tired of getting in trouble with my parents over him.  Not worth it.  (Wow, how often does THAT actually happen?)
  • He came to see me at work and it really hurt my feelings.  (Really?)
  • She expected me to let her cows graze on my pasture, no questions asked.
  • She was, like, soooo immature.  And Facebook is nooo place for immaturity.
  • She was a liberal.
  • She was pretty and a Pom girl but I couldn’t stand her personality.
  • He couldn’t give up meat.
  • I finally got to ride in her Dad’s exotic sports car, which is the only reason I liked her in the first place.    (Obviously this poor girl gave the milk away for free.)

   People are funny.  My gorgeous and charming cousin (Hi Jen!) summed it up perfectly:  “If it’s not there, it’s not there.”  Yes, at some point the reason doesn’t really matter. 
   Conversely, if it is there, the reasons may still be elusive to the point of making the people in love seem a bit wacky.  There is no accounting for either taste or love.

   What are some reasons you’ve ended a relationship? 
What crazy Seinfeld-esque stories are you willing to share?

T.G.I.F.!!!!

What are you doing this weekend?
   If you live in Oklahoma, you are probably making your plans around the weather.  We’re expecting more heat, sunshine, and wind.  And heat.
   By my count, we’re about a third of the way through Summer 2011 and so far have been having a BLAST…  but there is so much more to come!  I am still researching ways to make the season slow down.  To make life slow down. 
   More farm visitors, more swimming, more fun with friends.  More movie nights and book club dinners, more travels (including our tenth anniversary trip), more time with nieces and nephews. 
   More steak.
   A couple of weeks ago this guy drives up to our gate in a white freezer truck peddling steak.  At first I shooed him away because I was home alone and way too tired from my long day to handle a shotgun.  But I told him to come back when my husband is around. 
   DUH.  In case you’re unsure, this is NEVER what you say.  Never in a million years.  But I did and I am still alive to tell you not to do it, so whew.
   Since he was a legitimate business person who just wanted to sell some meat, he did not murder me and in fact politely returned a bit later when Handsome could field the offer. 
   Steaks are kind of Handsome’s department.  He’s just good at it.  If the guy was peddling vegetables, coffee, herbs, or toile fabric, that’s all me baby.
   Anyway, since that afternoon our freezer has been pridefully full of rib eyes, filets, sirloin, and incredibly buttery chopped steak patties that are way too delicious to be called burgers.  They do not even need buns. 
   I wonder why we’ve been having so many guests.  Huh.
   This weekend, in addition to soaking up some Oklahoma heat and laughing hard with some of my very favorite people, I hope we indulge in a steak or two.  I’ll cover the veggies.
  

The Value and Surprise of a Good Daily Routine

   Being W-2 deficient, my work days can vary greatly.  I am my own boss and my own employee, sort of, and this is a situation filled with landmines. 
   Some days are magically inspired, free from foggy thoughts and energized beyond the norm.  These are the days when new projects get started, old projects get finished, a few hundred extra calories are incinerated on the elliptical machine, and we spontaneously invite loads of company for dinner.  Oh, and these are also the days when I start a blog.
   Not all days can be this good.
   On those days that lack in this mental sharpness and physical power, I believe a good solid routine is exactly the ticket for carrying our home from chaotic and depressive to quietly functioning with very little conscious effort or creative thinking on my part.

   Here’s my Monday through Friday run down, stripped down.  Prepare to be underwhelmed:

  • Release the chickens & turkey.  Count guineas.  
  • Feed and water cats and kittens.  Curse yourself for not getting cats fixed sooner.
  • Cook breakfast & pack lunches then rotate clean/dirty dishes in the kitchen and tidy up in there.
  • Air out the beds and doll them up all smooth and pretty, making mental notes to nap later if possible.
  • Empty Pacino’s messy tray and replenish his food and water.
  • Start a laundry rodeo.
  • Grain horses and buffalo. 
  • Distribute hay to everyone and rotate grazing. 
  • Turn on pool pump, making note of “peak time” electricity rates.
  • Feed and water pups.  Scruff  and smooch their wrinkly faces.
  • Quick-clean bathrooms and take out trash then walk to gate to check mail.  Avoid making eye contact with weeds growing there.  Avoid mentally landscaping this barren part of the farm for the nine-hundred fifty-seventh time.
  • Decide whether today is a sparkling clean floors day or a tiptoeing through seeds day and act accordingly.
  • How’s that laundry rodeo going?  Any ironing to do?
  • Check on veggie gardens, weeding and watering just a little bit.  Curse yourself for not planting more stuff by now.
  • Make sure we have a plan for dinner and are supplied.  Shop and start food prep if necessary.
  • Slather on some SPF and take a cheap paperback to the pool for siesta.
  • Shower before Handsome gets home.
  • Cook, eat, clean up.
  • Cuddle, cuddle, romance, talk…
  • Prep coffee for tomorrow morning.
  • Take Nabisco treats to animals and lock up chicken coop.  
  • Yawn… 
   So, when I am not inspired enough to strategize my abundant free time (which is not really free but is negotiable), when I am not able to make full use of every half hour, layering and maximizing my tasks like some kind of a Time-and-Energy-Management Mutant Genius, like Handsome, this three or four-hour routine is enough to get things more or less done and keep things running more or less smoothly around here.  More or less.
   Most days might allow me or you to fly under the radar, but we all know that is a terrible way to live long term.  I want greater than seventeen pieces of flair, thank you very much.

   The surprise benefit of pushing through the occasional fog is that along the way I gain energy while I expend it and one completed task after another lends me inspiration.  I think most people would agree that if you buckle down long enough, just doing one simple, productive thing after another, you will soon be cruising at a better pace and altitude.

   A note, just don’t over think anything until you reach that cruising altitude.  Try not to worsen your mental cloudiness with added questions and pressure; let common, necessary productivity clear things up a bit first.
   Then you may discover not just a decent “baseline” physical environment but also a renewed outlook and brilliant ideas for the rest of your day!
  Whatever you do, don’t wallow in exhaustion, boredom, or confusion.  Resist hiding in the shadow of the Big Picture and instead just do the next good thing in front of you and be content.  Then take a deep, happy, cleansing breath and be excellent.
“Shun idleness.
It is a rust that attaches itself
to the most brilliant metals.”
~Voltaire

Easy Like Saturday Morning

   Last week was tough.  It was happy and insanely productive but truly laborious from early Monday till late Friday.  I am not complaining or trying to get pity here; My husband has a talent for riding the tsunamis of life as though he actually thrives on it, like work and challenges are paradoxically the fuel he needs to meet those challenges.  But this comes at the expense of total depletion by the end of the swell.  So this past weekend was much needed.  We enjoyed Friday night together then agreed to sleep late the one day of the week we can both do that.
   Despite our hope to sleep late and quite irregardless* of the fact that we crashed long past midnight in the darkest, quietest room in the house (not our bedroom), our Saturday morning started as early as any work day. 
   That is just how things go sometimes.
   We both laid there and tried to keep our eyes weighted down and our bodies still, as if trying to fool ourselves back to sleep, but dawn had already found us out and the day was beginning. 
   Birdsong was still fresh and soft, not yet important sounding; coffee was brewing faithfully in the kitchen; and pulsing orange sunlight had silently elbowed its way between the living room curtains.  It was an earlier wake up call than we had craved for our Saturday, but it was a gentle and beautiful one. 
  
   After a few minutes of kissing and stretching and laughing about our mutual inability to sleep very late, Handsome and I rolled out of our cozy Green Room nest.  Pacino (our macaw) greeted us with sweet nothings and feathery cuddles.  Soon I was armed with two mugs of perfect hot coffee and a bag of stale hot dog buns.  The latter was for the chickens, not my husband.  He eats slightly better than that most days.
   I found Handsome on the east sidewalk untethering our comfiest patio chairs.  (We keep them bungee-corded to a metal garden table because of the ridiculous wind here.)  He welcomed me to sit with him, and I gave him his coffee. 
   Our twenty one chickens, six guineas, and one Tom turkey (named Clark-Grievous) discovered our appearance and had us surrounded in a flash.  We are catnip to our poultry children, just to let you know.  And this Saturday morning the Catnip Poultry Parents had stale hot dog buns to share. 
   So we luxuriated in the special Oklahoma morning, breezy but not windy and warm but not hot.  It felt brimming with possibility and pleasure.  We sipped coffee, feeding the skittish and hilarious birds, watching and listening to the farm wake up. 
   By the time the sun was fully visible through the trees in the east field, we had emptied both our hot dog bun baggie and the coffee pot.  The horses were whinnying about why in the world THEY didn’t get a pre-breakfast treat.   
   And I was grateful to have not slept late, happy not to have missed this.
*hi Margi!