putting my listening ears on

sometimes, if you're listening, the message is there for the hearing

"Too Close"

Alex Clare

You know I'm not one to break promises,
I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe.
At the end of it all, you're still my best friend,
But there's something inside that I need to release.
Which way is right, which way is wrong,
How do I say that I need to move on?
You know we're heading separate ways.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
There's nothing I can really say.
I can lie no more, I can hide no more,
Got to be true to myself.
And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

You've given me more than I can return,
Yet there's also much that you deserve.
There's nothing to say, nothing to do.
I've nothing to give,
I must live without you.
You know we're heading separate ways.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
There's nothing I can really say.
I can lie no more, I can hide no more,
Got to be true to myself.
And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

So I'll be on my way.

And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
There's nothing that I can really say.
I can lie no more, I can hide no more,
Got to be true to myself.
And it feels like I am just too close to love you,
So I'll be on my way.

So I'll be on my way.
So I'll be on my way. 

"Secret Separation"

the Fixx

We are passengers in time
Lost in motion, locked together
Day and night, by trick of light
But I must take another journey
We must meet with other names
We must meet with other names

You touched my heart so deeply
You rescued me now free me
Don't watch me cry just see me go
I'll take away the strongest feelings
You will ever know

There will be no more isolation
In our secret separation
You touched my heart so deeply, you rescued me
Now free me

We are passengers in time
Lost in motion, locked together
Day and night, by trick of light
But I must take another journey
We must meet with other names
If you hold me you will hurt me
Be brave

There will be no more isolation
In our secret separation
You touched my heart so deeply, you rescued me
Now free me

We are matching spark and flame
Caught in endless repetition
Life for life we'll be the same
I must leave before you burn me
I am the stranger who deserts you only to love you
In another life

There will be no more isolation
In our secret separation
You touched my heart so deeply, you rescued me
Now free me

I'll bear one precious scar that only you will know
Passengers in time, free me

Shucking peas

Dear Gram,

I miss you such a grist.  I saw a picture of an old woman in a plaid skirt, and it reminded me of that blackwatch plaid one that you had, pleated, and set on the diagonal.  And you used to wear it with a  sweater, and sometimes a scarf, and I remember how it felt on my face when I'd rest my head on your knee and you'd run your fingers through my hair for HOURS.  I remember how your perfectly manicured nails with their white moons felt on my scalp, and the pinch when you'd work the tangles out with your fingertips.  That's the place I want to go to when everything here feels nuts.  I wish you were here, I miss the sound of your voice, and the stories I'd heard a thousand times.  I miss being in your kitchen, and I wish you could be in mine.  And I wonder if you are proud, if I'm doing it right, and what you would say.  What advice would you have?  What more could I learn?  Mostly, I want you to know, the way I know, what a force you are in my life.  How I still strive to live to the standards I set for myself by standing in the shadow of your grace, and your love, and your strength.  How you set an example in everything you did, but not in the way that makes one feel inadequate, but in the way that one feels like their own superhero for coming close.  I hope you saw the goodness in yourself, how your kindness made a forever impression on people's lives.  How from you I learned we are all one- we share feelings, and experiences, and if we can help, we should.  I'd give just almost anything to see you and Papa pull into my drive in a black Chrysler sedan.  Missing him, well, that's a whole thing of its own.  I taught Bre to shuck peas 2 days ago.  And I felt you there, on my porch, smiling at us as we worked, and I know you were there when I was cooking, making the peas and beans and new potatoes come out just right.  And I thank you, because I really needed supper in your kitchen that day.  I know they say you shouldn't look back, but if I don't, I don't seem to know where I'm going....

Semper Fi

So many things to say, and no idea where to start.  I want to write for myself, for my broken heart, and strangely, for the people who say they would like to hear more of my voice.  I want to write for the people who DON'T understand, who are going to believe what they want to believe.  Not because I can change their minds, but because I am entitled to my VOICE.  This is an odd place to be, though, in the middle of these raw emotions, but still somehow wanting to set the record straight.  Who knew that now, I'd be paying such a price for the decisions I made way back then...

Have you ever met someone, and when your eyes locked, you just felt like you'd seen them before?  Like you KNEW them- not their favourite colour or food, but really knew who they were at their core?  Where conversations came easy, and emotions were strong but not really uncomfortable?  And so this is where the full disclosure comes, where I bear my soul in this place that I created for me, and maybe you will see it.  I've had that in my life, more than once, that connection with another living being.  But those bonds, they are so very, very strong.  I should mention, this doesn't belittle any other relationship- it's not better, or more real, it's just... different. 

In 1998 (I think), I was working a desk job, and someone came in for an interview.  I called him by the wrong name, our eyes met, and then we both looked away.  We became friends quickly- conversation was not only easy, but remarkably unnecessary.  There was a familiarity, something neither of us could really explain.  Did you see Avatar?  It was like that kind of awareness, cliche, perhaps, but so much in that movie spoke to me, and it applied here.  But here is the problem- most people don't understand.  They don't want to.  It doesn't "make sense".  Apparently, that kind of kinship and connection just doesn't exist.  Except it does.  It's easy to mistake it for some sort of fanatical romantic love- it's intense, and real, and does resemble in some ways those amazing euphoric early days- but in truth it's much more like a reunion- a finding of something dear and thought lost.  I'll be honest, at the time, I wondered briefly if it was a romantic pull, but in a matter of a short time, it was clear this was something else entirely.

People questioned, over the years.  Hell, we questioned, more than once, but I felt a steadfast knowledge that our destiny this time around wasn't a partnership- not in the traditional sense, anyway.  The timing was always wrong, there was always a wife or a husband, a girlfriend or a fiance, a reminder that we were right when we were supposed to be for each other in this life, and it certainly wasn't in each others' bed.  The mistake I made here was allowing myself to be a secret- it gave fuel to the rumours- the ones I never cared about anyway, because I thought they could never hurt me.  They were someone else's misunderstanding, after all.  I was so very wrong...

16 years went by- a pot of coffee, a full tank of gas, a new pack of Swisher Sweets, dark 'til dawn in a truck on the back roads- 80s ballads or country on the radio and no words needed.  Five spouses, six children, heartache and heartbreak, joy and success.  And then one day, too soon, he was gone from here.  No one last ride, no goodbye, in a blink.  And it hurt to my core.  It felt like someone took my heart in their hands and squeezed, and then it felt like a gasp of air when they let go.  It was waves of hurt, and sadness, and anger, and disbelief, of wanted answers that would never come.  And then I realized, that after all these years, I bore a scarlet letter.  Not for my own infidelity, nor his, but for the perception of others- for those who didn't understand, who never would.  The glares and the gazes, the questioning looks and questions themselves.  And this was the part of the grief that I wasn't prepared for at all,  The defense of this amazing gift- this friendship that transcended time, space, lifetimes, it was somehow now dirty.  It was an "affair".  There were "letters"- and I'm sure there were, and I'm sure they spoke of love, and future, and our place for one another.  But they never came to pass.  They were all just part of our journey.  I have been labelled a home wrecker- an intentionally selfish and hurtful human being- and I feel nothing could be further from the truth.  So I came here, to my safe place- to confess.  I loved him, perhaps more than people thought acceptable (I can't bring myself to say "more than I should have"), but anyone who has felt love at all knows that the depth isn't something you choose, it's something that IS.  And so I loved, with the depth, and the intensity, and the openness that I think love itself deserves.  And as much as this whole thing makes me want to shut it all down, to paper the windows to my soul, and lock the door tightly, I won't.  I will wear my hurt, and I will never apologise.

"Let Love Speak Up Itself"

The Beautiful South

Don't whisper love and dream of wedding bells
Don't do all the talking, let love speak up itself
Let love speak up itself

So when you feel a little tatty and unhappy with your face
Let it breathe into us and put you back in place
Let it breathe, let it breathe
From the day it came into us till the day it wants to leave
For it will, it will go
And it will not say goodbye just like it didn't say hello
There will not be a send-off, a funeral or mass
Just a pathetic little vodka from a dirty little glass
'To the world's greatest mum
From the oldest swinger in town'

Let love speak up itself
Let love speak up itself
Let it rise up in the morning and take us for that walk
Let it do the talking when we're too tired to talk
When we're too tired to talk

And when you feel unhappy that I'm not the one I was
Let love rot inside and let love palm you off
Let it rot, let it rot
Let it take your feelings and tie them in a knot
In a knot, in a knot
Let it take your feelings and tie them in a knot
Hang them from a cleaver and say 'Look what we've got
A man and a woman and guess what they forgot'
'To the world's greatest mum
From the oldest swinger in town'

Let love speak up itself

The double entendre

This story makes me smile every time I think of it.

When I was in high school, about 3 million years ago, there was this band called Rhythm Corps.  And they had a song called Common Ground.  And I liked it, so I wrote it down, so that the next time I went to Harmony House, I could see if they had the cassingle (kids: it was like a cd with one song on it that you could rewind with a bic crystal pen).  I left said piece of paper on my dresser.  Right out in the open.  No big deal.  Unless you're a teenager, with a piece of paper on your dresser that says Rhythm Corps, Common Ground.  And there's a form of birth control called the Rhythm Method, and the local crisis pregnancy center is called Common Ground.  And your Gram sees the piece of paper, and about has a coronary, but doesn't want to say anything, because she doesn't want you to feel as though your privacy is being invaded.  Even though the paper was right out in the open.  That is some serious restraint, on her part.  And trust.  And respect.  And, when she finally said something, we had a very long laugh over it.  For about 20 years.

This was also about the time she started telling me that the best form of birth control was holding an aspirin between my knees.  She told me that for about 20 years, too.

To see the awesomeness of late 80s hair (and a chicken?!)  click below:

Rhythm Corps - Common Ground
(Seriously, why is there a chicken in this video???)


Can we meet on common ground
Are our views so far apart
That there's no room to be found

Can we speak without a sound
Of a world gone quite insane
Can we start settling down

I'll not play the scene
Where the threats start flying
You'll not have to scream
Cause we're not that stupid

Can we meet on common ground

Can we meet on common ground
Are your walls all brick and stone
And far from tumbling down

Can we seat ourselves around
A table for awhile and talk
Like friends we have found

Well, all that's plain to see
While the brats start blighing
You'll not have to dream
Of a peaceful oneday

Can we meet on common ground
Tell me, tell me, tell me
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

Can we meet on common ground
Are our views so far apart
That there's no room to be found

Can we speak without a sound
Of a world gone quite insane
Can we start settling down, yeah

I'll not play the scene
Where the threats start flying
You'll not have to scream
Cause we're not that stupid

Whoa, can we meet on common ground
Can we meet on common ground
Can we meet on common ground
Tell me, can we meet on common ground 

The Demons Within

No one can possibly know what it's like to be inside these walls, inside this skin when the demon inside of him takes over,  When he rants, and raves, and screams, and slings hateful, hurtful words, and then falls in a  sobbing heap in my lap asking for forgiveness.

"He seems so...normal" they say, those who don't know, who don't understand that he's no less "NORMAL" than any of us, his struggles are just different than many the rest of us face, because he struggles every minute of every day to fit into these paradigms that have been set of "acceptable", so that heads won't turn, and eyes won't roll, so that people won't huff, and stare.

And so here I sit, with this broken heart as he tells me that I don't love him, and I'm the worst mother ever, that I never liked him, and I don't even want him, and I long to scream back "YOU ARE WRONG!"  and I want to allow my hurt to fall in on itself, and take me right along with it, like a roly-poly curling itself tight into a ball, showing the world nothing but it's protective shell and holding the hurt and fear it feels inside itself.  I wish nothing more than that when he finally comes to me with words of apology and regret, and I hold him tight and stroke his flaxen hair, and tell him that it all ok, that it was ok, that it didn't hurt, that it didn't break my heart just a little each and every time.

I should be grateful, I know, that he "seems normal", and more than anything, that I am the safe place where he can let it all go, I just wish it didn't come with such a toll....

Getting tarred with the same brush

Today, I had an epiphany, of sorts.  It's been coming on awhile, really, this slow arrival of consciousness.  When I was young, and Gram was worried about with whom I was spending my time, she would say "Carrie Anne, don't get tarred with the same brush".  Let me explain.  Back in the days of tarring and feathering, if you were standing too close to the offender, you, too, would end up with tar and feathers on you. 

Lately, I've been reflecting very much on the amazing people in my life.  I wonder how I got so lucky, to be surrounded by these giving, smart, gracious souls.  I think about the breadth of time that these friendships cover, some since I was just five, some a few weeks or months new.  Each one has a generosity of spirit, a flair for life, a respect for living things, and a sense of humour.  These are the people who I can laugh with, and cry with, the people whose fear I can feel, and whose hurt I would take away in an instant if I had the power.  They are the moments that make up this crazy wonderful life that I'm living.  And today, when I was wondering how I got so lucky, it dawned on me that they just might feel lucky to have me, too.  And so, once again, Gram was right.  This is my tribe. 

(courtesy of Google images, The Hives)

Waste not, want not

Gram was raised during the Depression.  A lot of great stuff came from this, like neat ways to reuse stuff, before it was cool and called "upcycling".  But, some of it just made sense, and laid the foundation for greater things later on.  Like soup.

When you roast a chicken for supper, eat what you will that night, strip any other meat you'll eat off the bones (perhaps a chicken salad, or tetrizzini?), and put the carcass, skin, and remaining meat into a zipper-style freezer bag or one of those ice-cream buckets from that awful sherbet with the handle, or a tupper-ware like container (you get the idea) in the freezer.  When you peel or trim carrots, onions, celery, or any other veggie, throw the trimming in the bucket with the bones.  When the vessel is full, turn it out into a stock pot, add water, salt, a few allspice, copious amounts of garlic, and the lid.  Bring to a boil, and reduce to a simmer.  Gram simmered her soup for a day or two, on low, on the stove, on the back burner.  So, that's how I do it.  When it's done, strain it through a colander, portion it out in freezer safe containers, and there you go- no more broth in a box.  Oh, and feel free to add more onions, or celery or the like to the stock if you think it needs it, but when you're done, strain all of those veggies out.  At this point, you've cooked all the nutritive value out of them, anyhow.  Provided you used only bones, and not meat, you could grind everything and put it in your compost pile if you have one... (I've been known to give the meat scraps to the dogs).

Oh!  And if you want just a little stock for thinning gravies and such, fill a muffin tin with stock, then pop it in the freezer.  When it's all frozen, run warm water over the tin, pop out the "pucks" of stock, and store them in a zipper freezer bag or plastic container.

By the way, here's the recipe for the best roast chicken ever.

Gram's Roast Chicken
an iron skillet large enough to hold the chicken
a chicken, the best quality you can afford- and keep in mind you're getting 2-3 meals at least out of this bird, so even if you're paying $15 for an organic roaster, you're still doing ok
garlic, about 4 cloves (or to taste)- preferably organic and fresh
a yellow or white onion- preferably organic
a lemon- preferably organic, if not, well washed

a coupla tablespoons of cornstarch

preheat the oven to 450F
lightly oil the pan with olive oil
Rinse the chicken and place it breast up in the skillet
cut the onion and lemon in half
peel the garlic and
squeeze the juice for half of the lemon over the chicken, and shove the lemon inside the chicken, followed by half the onion
flip the chicken over, breast side down
squeeze the other half of the lemon over the back of the chicken
shove the other half of the lemon inside the chicken, followed by the other half an onion
scatter the garlic around

shove the whole thing in the over at 450F for about 15 minutes to seal the skin
after 15 minutes, add a little water to the pan, and turn the heat down to 350
cook for about 15 minutes a pound, until the temp measures 165F on a meat thermometer
pull the chicken out, put it on a platter to rest, and put the pan on the stovetop on medium heat
add a cup of water or so and perhaps a little wine, some salt and pepper, and use a whisk or fork to deglaze the pan
mix the cornstarch in a  few ounces of cool water, and add in
just keep stirring

while the gravy is thickening, you can cut up the chicken
dump any leftover juices into the gravy
sing or hum
have a glass of wine

we always have this with smashed potatoes, and green beans