Lazy W Marie

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

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the mutual admiration society

The week before last was replete with special events. We finally gathered to celebrate Alex’s 29th birthday. I joined my friend Keri for an evening of sorority fun. We hosted the 6th annual Lazy W Talent Show, Thrift Store Prom style!! And one afternoon that week I drove to the city to attend the Public Utilities Division October team builder. I have great stories from each of these memorable events, but today I want to express some gratitude about the team builder. If my dad catches wind of this, he will chalk it up to an episode of the Mutual Admiration Society.

((with this cutie at the Jim Thorpe Building, Oct 2022))

When Handsome first told me we were both invited to this luncheon, I was excited to bear witness to what I thought would be the group’s loving sendoff to their fearless leader. In case you don’t know, back in May, BW accepted a new position at the Commish, which has gradually meant less and less time with the Public Utilities crew. It’s bittersweet. He has been there for so long, seen so much and been a part of so much history, made so many connections and started more than a few revolutions (my words, not his). He has had myriad opportunities to leave the Commish itself over the years, but it was never a real consideration. He has always felt there was more to do there, and he has been right. By taking this new job, though, he has better opportunity to do more of what he has been doing. Exactly the latitude and support to affect even more real change than before, and everyone is excited. Still, as bittersweet changes go, it means stepping away from the beloved fifth floor.

I am not exaggerating to say that the fifth floor is beloved. The people there in Public Utilities, the work everyone does, ongoing, storm after storm, crisis after crisis, almost always going unrecognized and unappreciated by the citizens and companies under their watchful protection, it all blows my mind. The Public Utilities Division is filled with some of the smartest, most motivated people in Oklahoma. A family of their own, too, in all the ways that a workplace can be a family. My husband loves them, as people and as a little community, an organism. And they love my husband.

I love them too, from a distance. I always relish hearing about the group’s accomplishments and culture shifts. I have been fascinated to see how the team builder tradition has evolved over the years. I admire how they have implemented so many strong policies that ensure the best possible work environment, transparency, cohesiveness, efficiency, you name it. They shine with both excellence and work-life balance.

It’s better than a James Clear newsletter, all respect to Atomic Habits. It’s even better than Adam Grant, and man that’s saying a lot. So I make them lots of cinnamon rolls and cookies to show my admiration.

The belated farewell to him is what I thought we were attending.

How humbling then, when as we sat down for lunch, after trading hugs and greetings with as many people as possible, that they surprised me and took so much time to pour their love out to me, personally. I was not expecting it. I was expecting a creative sendoff to BW, something akin to a retirement farewell, even though he is very much still in the building and involved in their culture. I was not expecting that personal show of Love.

They made me feel appreciated for supporting the man who has done so much for them, and they made that seem important. Valuable. They showed that the love I try to transmit to them has been felt along the way, which makes me so happy. These men and women are captivating to me, whether they know it or not. It’s also gratifying, I have to admit, to sense the far reaching effects of nourishing and supporting my husband so that he can perform well. His performance impacts so many people, and their outpouring connected us, included me in this beautiful fabric.

It all widened what can sometimes feel like a very small, isolated world here at the farm. And hearing from individual people I have been admiring and emulating in private ways just moved my heart. Lesia looked me straight in the eyes and convinced me that I belong to them, and I hope she knows how much I needed to hear that.

Thankfully the group did finally move on to honor BW, ha! I could allow the heat in my face to cool a bit. I could try to hold back tears for him instead of for myself.

What a gift to hear the full spectrum of ways he has impacted people’s lives and careers, their happiness at work, their sense of purpose and personal development. I know how much they mean to him, how invested he has been in them over the years, so it fed my heart mightily to see him honored. They all shared a beautiful euphony of how he has steered the division into a position of leadership and example for the agency at large. It’s good, very good, to have some home team pride, and this group has it. They deserve to be proud of themselves and where they are headed, collectively and individually.

When BW stood to speak to the group, the Love just continued to flow. I felt like we were at church. He mirrored every scrap of appreciation right back to them, and he pointed them straight and true to the future, to the next chapter. He reminded them that they are the ones making everything happen. I sat there beaming inwardly and having a crush on him with every word he spoke, knowing how earnestly he means what he says. Knowing how satisfied he always is by not just the hard work and brilliant results for which PUD is known, but also the culture of respect and appreciation they all foster.

It is a workplace, sure, and a government office at that; but Love reigns there. I felt it that day in overwhelming ways. Love streams through those complex relationships, the projects, the unprecedented challenges, the thrilling solutions. Love buoys them all and delivers them to shores beyond reasonable expectations. This is why I do not worry about the current storms or the unseen ones. Storms always pass, even the scariest ones. Love abides.

After the luncheon and several more hugs and precious conversations which I tucked away in my heart, BW took me around the building to see friends I had not seen in many years and to meet lots of new (to me) faces. The Commission is teeming with talent and passion, and those marble floors and art deco rooms have seen some amazing events. I felt deeply inspired by the end of our tour, and I appreciate my husband sharing so much with me that day.

I am sure looking forward to getting better acquainted with more people from all over the building. I am excited to bake for their meetings and hear their stories, to bear witness to their revolutions and wild, overcoming successes. A lot of glory is on the horizon for Oklahoma and the agencies that support her. How exciting to witness it all.

But Public Utilities will always have my heart. I hope they know that.

((a banner from our summertime PUD event at the farm, I keep it in the Apartment))

Signed,
With much gratitude and very real affection,
Former PUD Homeroom Mom
XOXO

miracles brewing in the late summer storms

Around sunset one evening last week, a mild storm gathered. We walked around the farm gathering the free range birds, I flaked out some bedtime hay for the horses, and Handsome obliged Klaus with his requisite post-dinner fetch throws. The skies grew bruised and moody, the clouds lowered, and a cool wind combed over us. After such a brutal heat wave and drought most of the summer, these were foreign details, sensations we had almost forgotten.

I grabbed my husband’s hand and said, “Let’s pray for the kids. For everyone.”

We stood in the front yard between the house and the yurt and faced north to watch the swirling, dimensional weather. We continued holding hands and prayed aloud for those closest to us. We prayed for some hard situations at the Commission, too. We prayed for a few dear friends. We gave thanks for innumerable miracles in our lives, both very old and very recent. We gave thanks for this little farm that has survived another extreme weather season, for all the birthdays, for all the fun and hard work and rest afforded us.

We prayed for the kids again.

And my heart lifted.

I got that giggling feeling that so often starts in my hips and rises through my belly and lungs. I let it bloom into a smile while we prayed and watched the Pine Forest and listened to the chickens quiet down. It felt wonderful and natural to be submitting needs and wants to God without begging Him. And in the shadow of the front edge of that storm, I felt revolution coming.

Today more fresh weather rolled in, an even cooler and much gentler rainstorm. I was at the local reservoir running a few easy miles, and the sky grew thick and woolly. The first few raindrops might have been my own sweat, but soon enough the moisture felt cold and consistent. I let it soak me and remembered many of the prayers we uttered a few nights ago. I thought back over the years, of how many miracles have burst forth in our life in what appeared to be an instant. One phone call, a sudden announcement at the office, an email, a visitor. A realization.

Everything can turn on a dime, and that is to be celebrated, not feared.

As we begin a brand new month and likely a new season, my heart feels stronger than it has, maybe, in years. I feel more attuned to Love and more expectant of miracles big and small, and this time in a much happier, less desperate way. Because this is how life is supposed to be. Rich with blessings and mercy. Alive with texture, change, mystery, peace, adventure, and Love.

I bid adieu to August in an Instagram post and my husband said it almost made him cry. I get it. Summer is a fun, free, celebratory time. August contains his birthday, too! And we always hate to see certain chapters close.

But this next little bit will be so good. Probably better in many ways. Maybe with fewer difficulties. Because all the late summer storms are hiding miracles we have not yet seen. Answers that we have sought earnestly and should absolutely expect at just the perfect moment.

As I finish writing this, rain has picked up pace. It is pinging and echoing in the chimney. Klaus is on the concrete floor, snoring contentedly. The farm is, otherwise, nearly silent. Ready for and open to whatever is coming our way.

Trust in the Goodness of Life
XOXOXOXO

milestones and gemstones, a special celebration

Jessica turned 25 this month. Twenty five! My beautiful little baby girl is a quarter-century year old! I have two short, happy stories for you.

A few days before she and Alex were due at the farm for a family birthday dinner, I was at the grocery store gathering supplies, and something simple and wonderful happened. A grocery store clerk asked whether I had any fun plans for the upcoming weekend, and the answer rolled up from my belly and into my mouth. I almost started giggle-crying from happiness. For so many years, being separated from my children made their birthdays bittersweet, at best. Many years it was excruciatingly sad for all of us. But as that clerk asked me about my weekend plans, the truth all bloomed in my mouth. That is the past. I am no longer expected to relive that pain. Today, right now, at that moment when the clerk asked me about my weekend, I was free to enjoy party planning and family celebrations. She was home for real. I didn’t spill all of this to the innocent clerk, of course, but I did gush about Jess to a stranger, and I did talk about our plans. She said, “That’s really nice.” Ha.

That weekend we ate a garlicky shrimp boil and played outside with bubbles and dogs and horses. We let the dogs swim and chase, and we all talked and laughed so much. Since we see each other pretty often and talk virtually every day, we feel pretty caught up in each other’s lives. Celebrating really gets to be celebrating, and I love that!

Besides sharing this maternal joy with you, I want to tell you the story of Jessica’s birthday gift this year. I enlisted the artistry and generosity of our friend Trisha, and we all were blown away by the results!

Trisha is a self taught jewelry maker. She singlehandedly runs a lovely Etsy shop called “WhiskeyBangle,” and she has expanded her style lots over the past few years. I asked Trisha if she could help me repair then redesign one of my pearl necklaces for Jessica’s milestone birthday, and man did she deliver.

This was one of four pearl necklaces Handsome gifted me around the time we got engaged, so it is precious. Each necklace is a different color of pearls, and I chose for the redesign the color has always made me think of Jess, even when she was a little girl. It’s almost but not quite rose gold, definitely a glowy, blushing hue. The pearls are irregularly shaped because they were collected naturally in Japan, not cultured. I treasure every one of them.

I brought the necklace to Trisha and told her Jessica’s birthstone is peridot. My only request was that she shorten my necklace to collarbone length for Jess and save the extra pearls for a future project for me to continue wearing. I loved the idea of both of us wearing pearls from the same piece, a reinforcement of the heirloom nature of the gift.

Trish brainstormed a while and mined through her abundant gemstones and beads; then she texted me the most beautiful idea.

With a rounded rectangular centerpiece flanked by peridot seed beads then pearls all the way around to the elegant metal clasp, she created a “Past-Present-Future” heirloom necklace, meant to be worn a bit asymmetrically. I loved it. She attended to every detail. The clasp has a little glittering bling in it and is suited for Jessica being right handed. The tones are all unusual and complimentary. The scale of everything is just perfect.

Most importantly, I know that Trisha, a mother herself, crafted it lovingly. She understood the gravity of the milestone and the opportunity to create and pass along a true heirloom. If Jessica and Alex have children, this necklace could become “Mom’s 25th birthday necklace that was made from Grandma’s engagement pearls.” (I hope everyone will forgive me for dreaming that up.)

When we gave it to Jessica at her birthday dinner, I felt so happy. She looked beautiful wearing it, of course, and it glowed on her skin. She absolutely understood the importance of us sharing my pearls with her, and it was really fun to see her enjoy all the stones and details.

I think she wore it to work every day that next week, and as hoped, it looked stunning with a variety of outfits. Most importantly, I knew she felt loved and connected to us. Jessica has endured untold difficulty in twenty five years. She has made mistakes and grown from them like everyone. She has become a gorgeous, smart, driven young woman who still gives us glimpses of the little girl we always loved, even in those years apart.

I cannot sufficiently thank our friend for working so hard and so lovingly on this very special gift. I also cannot say how much I love our girl, how amazing it feels to celebrate her twenty fifth birthday. And how wonderful to get to tell that grocery store clerk, veiling such a long sad saga, that yes, I was shopping for a shrimp boil dinner and planned to make a layered lemon cake for my daughter’s birthday.

It was really nice, indeed.

some garden & parenting advice

Jessica started her fall garden a couple of weeks ago, and my gardener-mama heart has been so full. Daily, we have been chatting all things soil, seeds, sun exposure, needed growing weeks, frost expectations, compost methods, you name it. This is a wonderful exchange for many reasons, as you can imagine. But something stands out.

Just a short bit into the thrust of her efforts, I caught myself praying that her fall harvest would be abundant. I asked God in kind of a pleading way to reward my baby’s efforts with lots of perfect vegetables and flowers, just all the good, beautiful rewards of hard work well done. I nearly begged Him to give her the “things” that would encourage her to keep going. Proof, you know?

((daily harvest, eggs already in the fridge xoxo))

He corrected me immediately.

The best rewards of a garden are not necessarily included in the harvest.

Gardening in its purest form is an ongoing cultivation of Life, a physical expression of art and science, a balance of need and provision between man and Earth and insects and God, of creativity and learning. Gardening is an adventure of trust in natural cycles. And much of this can only be learned by trial and, mostly, error. Lots of valuable error.

I know this.

So why would I deny Jess pleasure of learning on her own? Why would I swerve her away from the immense value of the journey itself?

My Grandpa Rex was a lifelong gardener and a lifelong student of, well, everything he could get his eyes or hands on. He was famous for being okay with not having all the answers, and yet I trusted him to always eventually find the answer and call me back. He trialed new ideas in his various gardens right up to the end of his gardening years, and he had wickedly specific reasons for even the paint he used on his shed. I think of that daily. I love how he never seemed to grow the same garden twice, and he thrived through it all. I want that for Jessica. Grandpa’s life showed the fruits of his labor far beyond his beautiful tomatoes and larkspur. I want that for her, too.

((little girl jess & not yet married Jess, always playing in the garden))

I will be here to guide her as much as I can, and to share my growing adventures alongside her own. And I will help her find good answers to her excellent questions. But I will not pray merely for a good harvest. Now, I am praying for a good experience, too. For good lessons and soul checks. For epiphanies and understandings, connections, realizations. I am praying for her good LIFE. It all matters.

Then, if she pays attention and has a little luck, she’ll get fresh produce, too.

Whew, I am thankful for that mild correction. He always knows what I need to hear.

“When we plant a seed,
we plant a narrative of future possibility.”
~Dr. Sue Stuart Smith
The Well Gardened Mind
XOXOXOXO

anniversary telepathy

Around 7:10 a.m., morning chores long since finished and second cup of coffee cooling and almost empty, BW was laying in the mild light with his phone, exploring the non-work-related internet, also making reservations for steak dinner tonight. The dogs were alternating between gentle wrestling matches and shade naps. I had just polished off Ada Calhoun’s Also a Poet and was reading back through my notes.

Something small and bright alerted me. I looked up from my book like a meerkat and said, “Something smells delicious!” We were in the yard and on the deck between the herb garden and the cottage, and there was no evidence of anyone nearby cooking outside. It was a vivid fragrance of grilled meat and eggs and cheese with maple syrup. My mind imaged for me a partially wrapped McGriddle from about sixteen years ago. Summertime, Dallas, Texas.

“That’s funny,” BW said, “I was just thinking about McDonalds.”

I believe the two of us are closely linked enough to trade sensory impressions like this, even fleeting ones. Or maybe our trip to Frontier City yesterday and the attendant nausea from too many whirligig rides just reminded me of a Six Flags trip from early in our marriage when I made the mistake of eating a rich and greasy McGriddle right before a long day of extreme roller-coastering.

And my cute husband often does consider McDonald’s for breakfast on slow, easy mornings like this.

What I’m saying is, maybe there’s a rational explanation for our common thought.

And yet, maybe we do share a few non-physical but nonetheless strong and solid connections.

Maybe both. Maybe the latter is as rational as the former.

Whatever made us share two sides of the same idea this morning, I love it. And I am loving our slow, piecemeal morning together. And I am loving him and our lengthening marriage. Twenty one years today!

My guy wrote this in the sand for me while on a business trip early in our marriage. xoxo

I am loving this life we have both constructed and stumbled into, this happiness we constantly nourish and protect. I am loving this rollercoaster love story, even the mild nausea we sometimes get, all of it scented with memory, pleasure, and unspoken understanding.

I love you, babe,
Always Now and Forever.
Happy Anniversary.