Yeah, I’m gonna need you to check out Newton Faulkner…dreamcatchme

And also Adele…Chasing Pavements

And I hear the new Coldplay is fantastic (oh, Chris Martin, you are skinny but maybe you could fix me!)

Now, let’s talk about the best of all, Alanis Morissette, Flavors of Entanglement.

Oh, she is my hero!

It has been pretty well documented that these songs were penned after the break up of her engagement to Ryan Reynolds.  Seriously. Van Wilder?!  Oh well, who am I to judge?  Whatever happened, we got some fucking awesome songs out of it. 

Track One: Citizen of the Planet

Starts slow and builds to a really cool rock crescendo and crashes back, suddenly, to slow. The strings and bass guitar in this are incredible, and one thing I love about Alanis is that she is SMART. I had to google a bunch of the references in the lyrics, but it was time well spent:

I am a citizen of the planet

My president is Kwan Yin

My frontier is on an airplane

My prison: homes for rehabiliting

(Kwan Yin is the buddhist goddess of compassion…yeah…she’s good!)

Track 3: Straitjacket

I think we have all felt this way at some point or another -

Something so benign from me construed as cruelty

Such a difference between who I am and who you see

Conclusions you come to of me, routinely incorrect

I don’t know who you’re talking to

With such fucking disrespect

This shit’s making me crazy

How you nullify what’s in my head

You say one thing, do another

And swear that’s not what you did

(Just don’t let your kids listen, it’s clear and catchy and they WILL REPEAT IT WHEN YOUR MOM IS STANDING THERE!)  (I heard!)

Track 6  - In Praise of the Vulnerable Man

Her anger is abating a bit, she is realizing he wasn’t ALL bad…I mean, this is a great line:

You are the sexiest man I’ve ever been with

You, never hotter than with armor spent…

Your man arrives home from work, tie loosened, a little tousseled, world weary…and he looks at you at smiles all the way up to his eyes, and the skin around his eyes crinkles and he just looks so hot and vulnerable and oh, girl. Yes.

Track 7: Moratorium

Been here too:

I declare a moratorium on things relationship

I declare a respite from the toils of liaison

I do need a breather from the flavors of entanglement

I declare a full time out from all things committment

Track 8: Torch

This is the song for the woman really coming to terms with the end - she lists all the random things she will miss about him, things uniquely him, universally appealing.

These are the things that I miss
These are not times for the weak of heart
These are the days of raw despondence
And I never dreamed I would have to lay down my torch for you like this

Track 10, Tapes, is one of those that I am just not completely ready to hear yet - it speaks of the background noise we all hear in our heads - you aren’t good enough, you can’t do it, you don’t deserve it…I think when I have a few more weeks of killing those tapes I’ll be ready to listen and absorb.

Then there is the last track, Incomplete.

Listening to and absorbing this song has been life changing for me.

“Incomplete”

One day I’ll find relief
I’ll be arrived
And I’ll be friend to my friends who know how to be friends
One day I’ll be at peace
I’ll be enlightened and I’ll be married with children and maybe adopt
One day I will be healed
I will gather my wounds forge the end of tragic comedy

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time of being forever incomplete

One day my mind will retreat
And I’ll know God
And I’ll be constantly one with her night dusk and day
One day I’ll be secure
Like the women I see on their thirtieth anniversaries

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time of being forever incomplete

Ever unfolding
Ever expanding
Ever adventurous
And torturous
And never done

One day I will speak freely
I’ll be less afraid
And measured outside of my poems and lyrics and art
One day I will be faith-filled
I’ll be trusting and spacious authentic and grounded and home

I have been running so sweaty my whole life
Urgent for a finish line
And I have been missing the rapture this whole time of being forever incomplete

 

Why are you still reading?GO BUY THIS ALREADY!!!!

(No, there is no talk of going down on anyone anywhere BUT IT IS STILL AN AWESOME CD!)

See Part 1 here and Part 2 here

I inhale deeply, breathing in your sweet scent.  Your fragrance drives me crazy, it makes me so hot. I tentatively move forward, kissing the inside of your creamy thighs.  I work my way to the center of your legs, and slowly kiss my way up and down your slit. I feel you open up to me and dip my tongue in, slowly, hesitantly.  I slide my tongue deeper inside you, tasting your juices and feeling your hot, throbbing pussy against me.   I find your clit with my tongue and lick it - reveling in its different taste and texture. I suck it into my mouth and hear you moan, feel you tense.  I circle your clit with my tongue, round and round and round until I hear you scream and moan and whisper my name and feel the rush of new and delicious nectar from your core.  It tastes so good, like honey and sex and spicy cherries.  I kept teasing you, lapping your juices up and wanting to make you cum again.   I remember something an ex-lover did that drove me wild, time after time, and I decide to see if it had the same effect on you. I slide two fingers into your pussy, then pull one out and tease your ass with it, while rubbing your gspot with the other finger and your clit with my warm, wet tongue.

I feel you pulling my hair, I hear your voice, raspy and low with desire, begging me to let you cum, begging me to lick harder, rub harder, oh god yes right there, right there…ohhhhhhhhhh….

The intensity of your orgasm is almost enough to set off my own.  I know I am wet, probably wetter than I have ever been, and I can only imagine what it’s going to feel like when you get me off.

You finally stop shuddering and I slide up so that I am lying beside you, and I wrap my arms around you and kiss the back of your neck and your shoulders, gently, slowly, intentionally.  I find all the places that I love to have a lover touch me after an intense orgasm.  I feel you calm down, I feel  you relax.  You roll over, facing me, pressing your body against me.

 You sigh deeply, relaxed and satisfied.  I love this feeling, knowng I have made you this happy. I kiss your forehead, and remembering that you once told me you get cold after you come, I pull the covers up over us.

You kick them off. “Somehow, I’m plenty warm…” you whisper.  We lay there together for a few minutes, our breathing and heartbeats almost in perfect rhythm.  I almost drift off, my previous urgent need to orgasm easing off a bit. 

Then I feel your cool, smooth hand on my breast, moving down and tracing the curve of my hip. Your touch is softer and yet more sure than I imagined it would be.  Feeling your fingertips on my skin awakens my senses again.  I move my legs apart, giving you access to my wet, hot center.

With your fingertip, you open me up, but just barely. You are determined, I think, to prove to me that sex can be sweet and gentle and still be extremely satisfying.  You find my clit and stroke it slowly, gently, barely touching you. I try to grind my hips against you. I try to get more of you touching me. I try to get more of you inside me, but you resist.

You are a very determined person - you aren’t going to give up on this, no matter how much I beg and plead.

You lower your head, taking my nipple in your mouth. Your warm, soft tongue feels so good, and you lull me into feeling complacent and suddenly you bite down, hard! I cry out and you keep biting, while keeping your very light touch on my clit. I feel my orgasm start at my toes and travel through my body.  I bite my lip to keep from screaming, and I almost black out.  You touch my face, brushing my hair out of my eyes. “Open your eyes, Heather…” so I do, and I see you licking my nectar off your fingers.

“Come here, let me hold you,” you say, and I wriggle into your arms.

I kiss you, feeling again the softness and sweetness of kissing you.

“I’m so  glad we did this…” you say, as I drift off to sleep, the taste of you in my throat, your hands caressing me, our breasts pressing against each other.

“Me too,” I sigh into your neck.

Finally asleep, I don’t dream of anything.  My deepest, most secret, most improbable fantasy has already come true.

See Part One here

I am struck with how soft everything feels - your lips, your breasts, your skin.  You kiss me and it feels inviting and delicious, like sinking into a warm bubble bath after a long, crazy day.  Your kisses, your caresses set my skin aglow - a long, slow burn that I know will soon ignite.

I rub your shoulder, letting my fingers trail down to your breasts.  As soon as I get close, your nipple gets hard and I kiss my way down your neck, down to the hollow of your cleavage, and lick my way across to your hard pink nipple. I lick around it, savoring the way your soft skin feels against my tongue, the way your fingers feel on my back, the way you smell and taste.  I feel you pushing your nipple towards me, and I gladly encircle it with my tongue, sucking lightly…but the harder you press yourself to me, the harder I suck.  Finally I nibble your nipple, a little bit, then pull it with my teeth.  You gasp in surprise, but tangle your hands in my hair and pull me closer to you.  I bite a little harder, and finally drag my tongue to your other nipple where I do the same thing.  I feel you moan, and I wonder if you are getting wet.

I slide my hands down your stomach, down to your throbbing sex.  I tease your outer lips and feel how very wet you are.  I slide one finger, then two, easily inside you.  I slide my fingers out and rub up and down your slit until I find your very hard, very obvious clit. I trace lazy circles around it and watch you squirm.  I didn’t think you could get any wetter, but your juices are all over my hand, all over the bed.  I want to taste you, I am overcome with the desire to feel and see you come for me.  I pull away from you reluctantly and reposition myself so that my face is between your legs. It feels like the most natural thing in the world, and I wonder briefly why I was so nervous.

(more coming…I promise!) (pun kind of intended)

I see you at the bar and I am just slightly surprised. I wasn’t sure you would be able to make it. I wasn’t sure you really wanted to come. I am still not sure where tonight will end up.  I finger the hotel room key in my pocket, a talisman of hope, a touchstone to make me believe that tonight, we will make this fantasy of ours come true.

You are so ladylike, sitting on the barstool, so confident and beautiful. Your eyes are sparkling, and even though we haven’t known each other that long I know that your sparkly eyes mean that you are excited. Or drunk. I hope it’s both, kind of. 

Your body is lush, ripe. I want to say exotic, but is it, really? We share the same gender, the same parts.  I can’t imagine why I feel like I have never seen breasts before…or maybe it’s just that I haven’t seen yours.  In any case, I concentrate on walking, trying not to leave puddles of desire in a trail behind me as I make my way over to you.  You look up at me and smile as I stand beside you, and I lean down and kiss you on the cheek. You kiss me back, and linger a moment longer than I thought you would, than I dared hoped you might. Oh yes, tonight is the night.

I sit on the barstool next to you and order a drink. I don’t really know what to say to you. I have never met another woman for sex. I have never, ever done this. I’ve never kissed a girl. I have never touched another woman’s breasts, never sucked a woman’s nipples, never felt the heat and desire and wetness between another woman’s legs.  You smile at me. “Nervous?” you ask.

I grin. “A little.  How did you know?”

“Well, if Heather isn’t talking then something’s up.”

“Well, I just don’t know what to say, I’ve never…”

“Yes, sweetie, I know. You’ve never. And neither have I.  So, hi.  How are you? Want to get a table and have some dinner?”

I laugh, as always amused at your ability to move the situation along nicely. “I’m great, how are you? I think dinner sounds great!”

When the bartender brings my drink, I ask him to add our name to the list of people waiting for tables, and I relax a little.  It’s you, after all. What do I have to be nervous about?

We sit at the bar talking for a little while, drinking and laughing.  I notice us touching each other more than usual.  You grab my arm as you start to tell a funny story. I brush the hair away from  your face when it falls as you talk. Our legs scissor each other, legs between legs, and our hands rest on the bar, wrapped around our drinks, comfortably close.

I can feel your heat. I can smell your hair. I can see the desire in your eyes.

I can only assume that you are getting the same from me.

I wonder if other people can see these things when they look at us. I wonder if they know what we don’t yet.

The hostess calls our name and leads us to our table. You walk behind me and I feel the weight of your eyes on my ass.  We sit down in a booth, across from one another, and open our menus.  We order, we wait and talk and wait and eat and rush the check and you look into my eyes.

“Heather, I just need to tell you. You look beautiful tonight.”

I smile back at you. “You look amazing too. ”

We walk from the restaurant towards the hotel where I have a room.  I look at you, questioning.  You answer me by leaning into me and kissing me, full and soft on the mouth. I whisper my desire into you, “please, can we?”

You answer me with your tongue probing my mouth, your body pressing against me, your hands exploring my curves.  I open the door to our room and we hurry inside, not wanting to waste any of our precious time together.  We close the door behind us and suddenly I’m nervous again.

“Umm, I don’t know what to do next!”

You reach over and pull my shirt off, and cup my breasts in your hands.  I lean towards you and kiss you, and my nervousness disappears.  I pull away from you and we quickly undress one another. I throw the covers back and we fall, giggling and intertwined, onto the bed.

(I’m sure something would come next…I just don’t know what!!)

I imagined

that you would ride in

on a big, white steed

and pluck me out of danger.

I imagined

that you could, you would

swoop in

and make things better,

make me whole again,

show me a million things to smile about.

I dreamt of you

climbing a fire escape

and letting me rescue you right back.

But I see now

that you can’t save me.

I see now,

finally,

after all this

searching

and seeking

and hoping

and meditating

and deep, unceasing prayer,

that the only person who can save me

is me.

I have been living in fear of losing things my whole life.

God told me to let go.

He told me he will not take away my fear but He will give me opportunities to be brave. I have seen glimpses. It’s hard to be brave. But I’m not doing it on my own. I have a whole universe supporting my quest to live bravely, and free from fear.

He told me that what I lose, or give up, He will double and bring back to me.

I believe. And I am not afraid anymore.

You might think I’m crazy. But I’m not.  This is the calmest I have ever been.

I look back over the journey that has brought me here and so many seemingly random things had to miraculously come together, and as I believe in the God of Miracles, I am honestly not surprised that a little boy at Wal Greens, Evan Almighty, a very good and persistent friend, and a dime on the floor in the bathroom at a sushi restaurant - could converge in my mind and in my soul yesterday and literally transform me.

I am thankful, forgiven, loved, responsible, brave, and humble.

It was a very good day. And I know my best days are yet to come.

Wow.

 Painting by Jude Macaren

This weekend has been very interesting.

Exhibit A:

True to form in the South in the summer, evening has been thunderstorm time. Now, I love a good thunderstorm.  But these have been intense and have done all sorts of fucking around with the barometric pressure. How do I know? Cause I’m old, and my hands have been arthritic and my head. Oh dear God my head has been killing me.  It’s not a regular migraine, it’s something else entirely.  It comes on suddenly and nothing helps, until the storms pass.  And then I am exhausted and wrung out (do y’all know that phrase?) from tensing against the pain.   It’s kind of a bitch. But luckily I bought myself a new ice cream maker and I have a beautiful batch of very vanilla in the freezer, and I cut up a nectarine and mixed it in and oh. It was delicious.  The rest of the family liked the chocolate pseudo-gelato I made today, but that vanilla tastes like a loving kiss from your mom when you feel bad. So - thunderstorm headache vs. home made, hand-crafted, very vanilla ice cream?  I think the ice cream has it, because the storms will eventually head out but ice cream is forever. You know, on my ass!

***

Exhibit B:

It is possible that you may have heard, if you have so much as walked past a TV in the last couple of weeks, that Tropicana has this new juice out…raspberry and asai berry and it is hella expensive and also, what is an asai berry and if there is, in fact, a berry that tastes like chocolate why haven’t I heard of it before now and are we destroying the rainforest to harvest it? And why do they waste so much of this very expensive juice in the commercial? Maybe because they show the damn commercial every single break and wow, does that look good. But I don’t drink juice so that’s five bucks I will not be giving to the man! Score me!

***

Exhibit C:

Went out for dinner and in for drinks with my friend Carol.  You know how, when you’re the fun girls, people kind of glom onto you, and you end up with a houseful of high school people and you find yourself hiding your beer and apologizing when you drop the f-bomb and wondering why you are hanging out with people that, technically, you could have given birth to and also, where your youth went?

Me neither.  But when I looked around and none of us were talking and we were all texting furiously, I realized it was probably time for me to go home and, you know,  rub some ben-gay on my aching hands and put the old lady oil of olay on my face or something.  Yeah, Heather loses this one.

***

Exhibit D:

So you know my fabulous hair?

Well. I learned something at the pool today.

Fabulous wet, fabulous dry. But in between those two?

Oh. Sweet Lord. Someone get me a clip or something. Lose on this one too.

***

Exhibit whatever:

I love me some Next Food Network Star. But dude. They have to stop calling me a home cook.  I don’t know why. But that annoys the living bejeebus out of me! I don’t know what exactly it is I WANT them to call me. But “home cook” makes me feel a little condescended to. And that just is not going to work for me! AND you people sold out to Red Lobster.  Sheesh. We all lose on this one! Bob, Suzie, Michael Symon, listen to me. FOODIES DO NOT EAT AT THE RED LOBSTER.  I don’t even freaking know what to say!

***

Oh, and Bobby Flay, if you are reading, yes I AM ready for a throwdown! In case you were, you know, planning on throwing me down.  I think we could both win on that one, Bobby boy!

***

 Hope everyone had a great weekend!

When the hair and the eyebrows are good at the same time, well….you gotta smile!

Lisa L. at the Aveda Institute made my hair FABULOUS!!

Some nail shop lady did my brows and yes, I paid her combat pay!

So I am working on something, and it is probably going to take me a few days to finish - would you rather I post the whole thing? Or post it in stages?

Oh, and it’s kinda, ya know, sexy.

In the midst of silence

I find poetry

and songs

and heartbreaking echoes

of what might have been.

Immersed in quiet

I hear the beauty of carefully

chosen, softly spoken words

of love and faith

and never before and

maybe never again.

In the whispering wind

I feel the soft touch

and the gentle laugh

and the stunning simplicity

of the needs found, unmet

and unspoken.