The Record Player

Time suspended, sleep escapes me. My body, muscles, heart- feel heavy and burdened, not quite right. Not unlike many who have gone before me, and will walk beside me, many who will yet have to walk this road.  My Dad died a week ago tonight, and I feel even more disconnected then I did then. The Funeral is on Saturday, and I want it to go away.  Some of the bonds that were formed with family members are further damaged, while others are miraculously healed. Who would know or believe. Today was the first day in two weeks I have had time to just be, cruise in my car and feel by myself. I am not even sure what it is I was looking for- I just kept looking, searching for something. Some sense of balance.

I am listening to Carole King, with my head phones on. Ray sits beside me  on his computer and all feels right with that. He is my North Star. "Child of Mine," by Carole King is on right now. I have been spending a lot  of time at my mom's house this past week, more time than I have in such along time. I went into my Dad's room. I sat on the chair..... he  slept in a chair the past three or four years because he had to sleep upright to be able to breathe. I looked around his room. It looked so sad. I wanted something to hold onto, a memento, a feeling, a thought. The Quiet was deafening. My heart felt so empty, yearning for something that wasn't. I roamed upstairs, where I spent my twelfth to end of sixteenth year. It wasn't a long time in this house, it is not warm and cozy and welcoming for me. Simply a dwelling I visit.

I searched for something up there.... perhaps a piece of my past that I let me know that I existed.  I rustled through the Christmas Stuff in Joe's old room- found a box with my Grandma (on my Mom's side) stuff. Found a few old pics but it kept my heart yearning. I meandered out to the garage, a true no man's land. I looked at my Dad's old Florist Stuff and felt such pain and exasperation. "Why in the hell did you keep all this crap, Dad. What memory did you leave for me to hold onto?"

I looked over to a bunch of old record albums on the side of the garage. My heart let out a sigh. Music- maybe he was leading me to comfort after all. My brothers old albums, all my favorites. Beatles, James Taylor, Beach Boys, Gordon Lightfoot, Simon and Garfunkel. Those and more were the ones that got me through as a teenager and on. I asked my bro if  I could borrow them, and my heart lifted. Raym said he would pick me up a record player  this week. It has always been the music, writing.

I have been very angry and frustrated at the father I had. I forgave him, which was like peeling an onion over the past couple of weeks at the hospital. The pain of what wasn't .... and now allowing what possibilities in from another dimension are the most difficult. Just letting it be, letting the forgiveness soak in, and let him be a true father from where he is now, without all the baggage. That is where the steel around my heart crumbles.... the little girl comes out, and I suppose the true healing really will take place. I guess honesty is all we really possess.

I look forward to my new record player, my records, and hours of my past love of music and song merging with who I am today..... and just let it all be.

The Counter

Ok, I am sitting here watching Dr Phil- and this dumb b---- is sitting on the stage making excuses why she  allowed drugs and drinking  in her teens home, then blaming the kids. The kids feel insane as she keeps saying "no," it is everyone else's fault.  The kids, cops, other parents -as she stares blankly. Okay- this isn't even what my story is about,  way too much work, don't even get me started. I will never stop! What did get me revved up was actually tongue in cheek humor from this broad. Dating back, you guessed it:


Clare's School 101... From a Sixteen Year Old- All you need to know and more. 

I was thinking about when I started waitressing, and what I learned about peoples behaviors, and how it has served me to this day- when the red lights go off. Run don't walk. Now this is the real me.....
so if you aren't into my story at this point of the game, best be closing up shop and read something else,  I feel like letting it fly. Anyone who really knows me.... knows how tame I have been writing.  I love words, usage,  tone, meaning, shock value. Yes- "shock value".
 Too much Catholic School that never leaves me.  Pleasures me to no end. So here goes and if you think I am not grinning from ear to ear, hmmm.

So, back in the days of waitressing at sixteen, I was learning all about life - and people's behaviors.
First I will talk a moment about mine. I have something that I don't know what it is called- numbers dyslexia?  To this day I get numbers mixed up. I can't even explain it, but they get jumbled up in my head. So, back to waitressing. In the restaurant I began Hostessing first- and couldn't remember where all The Stations in the restaurant were.
It was a big place and all the girls had there favorite customers. They wanted me to put their regulars on their Station, but couldn't get the numbers straight in my head. The first four or five were fine- but past that they would get jumbled. These babes thought I was doing it on purpose. First of all, I wasn't smart, angry or cunning enough to pull off such a feat. I had not learned the female ways of the world to pull off such sabatoge. To calm my jilted nerves from these savage beasts, I would bring whole pies into the bathroom, place them up on the unit that held the paper towels for drying your hands. I  kept a large spoon there and would dig in when I got stressed. I am an interesting gal pal,  I know.

Can you imagine customers walking in, seeing this yummy pie perched up high, with a huge spoon rakishly laying in it? I would feast on that sucker until it was history.
I moved around a lot- I have always been hyper, and the sugar probably made me even more nervous and forgetful. These chicks were older and had worked this place along time, they were not having it with me, complaining constantly. Who could blame them? The managers had many "talks" with me. "I know you can do this if you just focus." Um, no, trust me, it's not gonna happen. By the time I became a waitress it was a million times better, I only had to focus on six stations. My life became  much easier, not to mention these gals got their perfect worlds back.

I had to do a lot of night shifts first, the morning shifts were the much coveted ones.
Working the Counter was the job no one wanted and that is pretty much where  I started.
Whoa- interesting crew. Now I know why one of the girls always unzipped her uniform way down in the morning and let her jugs fly a little more freely than usual, and they were some big bazookas.
She tripled her tips. I was sixteen, went to Church a lot and pretty much just stared.
Of course it was mostly men who sit at  The Counter. Now when you are very shy, come from an extremely Catholic Home and have no idea how to talk to boys let alone men- you do a lot of observing. I had just turned sixteen, starting Junior Year. This was my first real job after just coming off of a Summer of being a Camp Counselor at a Catholic Girl's Camp in Wrightwood.

I worked until 9 pm and management would try to push it later and later. The Counter People that came in as the evening grew later were very interesting. The Hells Angels Bikers, interestingly enough were the ones I feared the least- even to this day.  Again: Clare's everything you learn at 16.
They  very nice and the type that would have walked me to my car late at night. The gents that actually scared me the most:
The TV Preacher type that came in with their families on Sundays dressed nice and proper. Good family men. Then the same men would slither in some weekday evening as if I hadn't just waited on them , their lovely wife and children.... and tell me how"They liked my bedroom eyes."  First off, I had no idea what the hell they were talking about,  but it had bedroom in it, and second it was gross.
I was sixteen, they were a lot older, married and TV Preacher slithering in.That was one of my greatest lessons about trusting my intuition. Those kind always said the grossest things to us.
They looked so clean cut- but said the most repulsive things. To this day.... Ray can see it coming from seven years of waitressing. Okay, that's "One of them."  I just can't help myself sometimes. It is a look. You can just spot it. "Would you like some dessert?"  " Yes, you baby on the counter." By seventeen I wouldn't blink an eye and just say you are so original. By twenty I would say," Yum, how about you on the counter for dessert ," as I was bringing out my other orders, ringing up the register and clocking out.  I would be fired in two seconds now for what would fly out of my mouth. I  like words, very descript words. I met amazing people, and it wasn't just one type- but that was the type I am laughing about today. Believe me there were many!

For Halloween we used to dress in Costume each year. Some girls dressed as Playboy Bunnies. I would rather have shot myself. Even wearing my long hair down out of a bun was too much of a reveal for me. I dressed in twenties style one year. I don't think people got the romantic look. I did and loved it. I will post it. Believe me.... I was as wild child as they came.
I just didn't like gross, invasive and still don't. I am private- even though I am very public at times.
I learned so much from waitressing, I never realized  I would learn so much about life and keep applying it today.
I used to wait on Kenny Loggins Dad at The Counter.  I didn't really care or pay attention all that much, to be honest. I am pretty sure I was too interested in getting back to my pie in the bathroom.

Reinventing The Spencers

The past couple of days have been a  nightmare and heavenly. My darling has begun his vacation,
letting down after such a large scale project has not been easy, to say the least. The feelings of  coming back into the family, integrating again after being emotionally in another space for so long- it takes Raym awhile, and probably me to let the drawbridge back down.


This time around we realized some major changes took place from this particular project.We both changed so much. This was the biggest project of his career, and the Introvert had to come out of his shell and become a different person over the past few years, lead in a way he wasn't used to. I delved into writing in a way I had not before, and even deeper into my life. Dug in - tore it apart to find out where I needed to go, who I am all, the way through. Whatever that meant, and wherever it took me. We were both in foreign lands.  Our kids are grown, but  all still live under the same roof- we are a very close family, and communication is a very big part of our lives. It is always very evident when someone is out of step, out of tune.

Ray had to trust himself, that he was making the right decisions at work. Use his gut, raw instinct which he has always lived by, this time it was very large scale.  I was using this time, letting my instinct delve into the deepest part of remaining skin that needed to be peeled away. The past few months as deeply as we respected one other, our worlds seemed so far apart. Our love always there, but sometimes when you are so "in it," getting through challenges, white knuckling it, beyond grateful you make it through.

That's what the past six months have been like for both of us. It finally materialized the past few days, when there was time to come together and feel, release emotions that had built up. Things we didn't even know existed. As with our relationship- this can go way back- to the beginning. Until it is done, cleaned up... it is never done. I will never care what any theory is said about this. Remaining residue is just that- if there is still hurt, pain, stuff hanging in the air that is still incomplete- it stands between you.

The depth of love we share-  burns so intensely. We have always stated to one another we want to die in each others arms. The thought is unbearable not to be together. It is just how we feel. I say to him, "You better stay healthy and live a really long time, since you are eight years older than me.You are the best part of me, I have fought harder to find out who I am, because you  have stood beside me. Behind me when I have fallen. I continually reinvent who I am , as you do. It is who we are. The gift of  our children, this family makes me work harder every day to be more, better."

The advantage of stripping life down to the bone-  feeling clean. It takes everything, and feels like you will never be done walking through the fire. Today I feel like I am finally beginning.


What do you think break ups and divorce are all about, by the time they get there. Over spilt milk, I don't think so- there are so many things leading to that spilt milk or socks left on the floor. It is usually raw pain of not being heard, misunderstood, not feeling loved. We  were no different. The pain coming from growing up with parents who were not present. This is not about "poor us".  It is about understanding, those of us, any of us who grew up with Intimacy Issues. Letting down and letting another in, trusting. It doesn't matter if you have been in a relationship six months or thirty years- letting down all the way, fighting fair- opening your heart in your deepest pain and knowing, believing that person standing in front of you will still love you for you. Not looking at you in disgust as the tears start, and  roll through like a steam rolling train with no end in sight. The shaking, the anger, the grief. Showing this and more, all of me, my vulnerability, will you still want me? If I don't say the words perfectly what are in my heart in the heat of the moment- am I forgiven?

This has been the past two days, reinventing The Spencers on the deepest level. Telling the truth, but wait haven't we done this one million times? Oh, but this one went deeper. Ouch- do you still love me when the truth is less than pretty about the beginning? My neediness, your unkindness? This is the price we pay of uniting with no roadmap from either side, just love and a whole lot of hope.We wished, yet had no plan- I liked you and you liked me. We married and had babies and life felt like bliss because all we need was love until.....

I didn't understand how to balance a checkbook and you had no concept of time. I figured out family and you figured out work....  never a plan we just stuck to what we were good at. Time went on, we realized what we lacked. I need more in the Work Department - I want to find my way. It is time for you to be less Workaholic and participate in Home Life.We both feel so ill equipped, and shed more tears the past few days, realizing the changes that need to occur. Our shortcomings, what we had to overcome just to get here. A life time. Now the reinvention, the love, the one thing we know for sure that always gets us through.  Forgiving ourselves for our perceived imperfections, each other for hurting one another, never on purpose, it is because we are so close. I have never been as ready for this next adventure wherever it leads. We're both more than ready to turn the page and see what is waiting for us.