Merry Christmas to Me

I am blessed to know some amazing friends.  This time of year is a big reminder to me of how the people I care about have influenced and made my life better.  I am a lucky woman and a connoisseur of fine people.  For years I hated the holidays, but over the last few years I have grown to find it magical.  Trees bedecked with twinkling lights, silly music, but most importantly, shared moments with friends celebrating the bounty of our lives, good food, lots of spirits.

Christmas 1985 was a hard time in my life.  I was 11 years old, and on December 24, my father kidnapped me.  He and my mother had a huge fight in the front yard of my mother's house.  I remember hyperventilating salty tears, it was probably the most violent cry I have ever experienced.   After my parent's fight, my father sped off with me in the car.  We did not even stop at home to pack bags.  He drove into the night and across state lines.  We spent Christmas Day in Santa Fe, New Mexico, eating dinner with strangers I had never met.  I was not allowed to call my Mom or my brother.  It was one of the saddest evenings I have ever spent.  Ultimately, I was able to convince my Dad to return home on December 27.  He realized his idea to run away was fool hardy.  It was only 6 months later that he did run away again (bringing me with him to California), and this time we never returned home.

Christmas 1993 was another sad one.  My father had sank into a deep depression and had not left the couch for one week.  He picked a brutal fight with my brother, and Tigh and I decided to leave on Christmas Eve.  All 3 of us were living in a 1 bedroom apartment in Las Vegas.  I was 18 years old.  That Christmas Eve, Tigh and I drove to Death Valley.  We pooled our money together and bought a 12 pack of beer and stayed in a cheap motel.  We got up at dawn and drove through Death Valley.  It was chilling and stark, much like our life with our Dad was.

I write about this, because it brings me to my New Year's Resolutions.  2012 will be my year of no alcohol.  My body and my mind needs a break.  Some believe that you stop emotionally maturing when you first start abusing alcohol.  I began drinking heavily at age 12, right after the drama started about running away with my Dad and my Mom had left us.  I have always been able to keep my "poop in a group" and be successful at most things I try.  I do not have great self confidence however, and often find myself drinking a bit excessively at social functions, usually due to nerves and low self esteem.  Although I deem myself a connoisseur of fine people, I do not always consider myself to be a fine person.  This can be a real drag for the friends I am hanging out with, and the overindulgence in alcohol ends up being a real drag on my body and psyche too.  This year I want to allow that hurt child inside me to truly heal.

On December 10, 2012 I will write about how it felt to not drink for one year.  I look forward to a year without hangovers.  I look forward to pursuing relationships with people that do not involve cheap wine.  I look forward to allowing myself to accept me in all my beauty.  I look forward to moving forward, away from the stark Christmas memories and into the magical ones.  

Hitting a Nerve

My nerves are shot.  It is 3:39 in the morning and I am being plagued with insomnia.  This would not be too bad, except I have a Progressive Care training class tomorrow, er I mean, today.  Life has just been feeling heavy lately - and I have something to get off my chest.  

I am a girl who likes to flirt with depression, and who is more comfortable with sour puss moods than the love and light idealism so many I know subscribe to.  My brain believes more in the bad stuff than the good, probably because in my childhood, it was the bad stuff that has defined my life and who I was.  I still talk about my life in levels of survival.  Just the other day my Mom, one of my biggest emotional benefactors ever, said to me,"Brandi, it is amazing you are the grown up you are, given what you had to survive."  This attitude of being a Survivor, got me through the darks days of being a scared kid being raised by a bipolar dad, but it is not doing me much good as loving wife, well-adjusted grown-up.  

When you are a Survivor, the alarm bells go off at the slightest wrong move.  Husband stays home sick for two days with a bad back...my survivor mode kicks in and I just know I will end up on Intervention with him hooked on Oxys, us bankrupt, and losing everything.  Umm, those of you who know Nascar Pitcrew, know that has a snowball's chance in hell of happening.  You would think I would have my paranoia in check, but sometimes it gets away from me.  Note for any future children Nascar and I might have:  your Mom could be a little crazy sometimes.  Note for Nurse Bacon:  Everyone is a survivor of something, and not everyone defines themselves by it.  

Nascar Pitcrew is seriously injured.  His T11 and T12 vertebrae show signs of a recent compression fracture.  My husband, my strong man, has been relegated to shuffling no more than 10 steps at a time and tossing and turning in bed.  Our bedroom has the lovely scent of Icey Hot permeating it at all hours.  We are sleeping in separate beds, since he is awake most of the night in pain.  I think this is what they meant in the vows, when they said, "In sickness and in health."  Damn, I had the in health part down.  I can handle Burning Man in a tent, and I am not afraid to let you do the driving.  But now, you need me to put smelly cream on your back?  Sheesh, this marriage thing has many layers.

All of this is made even more humorous by the fact that I get paid to be an empathetic caregiver.  Nurse Bacon, RN.  That is me.  One would think that caring for my loved one should be easier than assisting the lice ridden homeless guy for his premetherin shower (yep, did that this week), but embarrassingly, it is not.  

At work, I have a job to do, and in my mind, being a nurse is a little like being a teacher.  I am there to help you through your bleakest days and teach you how to come out on the other side.  There is an art form to communicating with patients, it is a lot of intelligence, mixed with the right amount of empathy.  

My marriage communication is all heart (and often my heart is cloudy and in survival mode), and not a lot of brain.  Marriage cannot survive in survivor mode.  A rhythm is needed, so when the bad stuff occurs (and it will) no one freaks out.  This week, my lack of empathy has shown me that my emotional connection to Nascar Pitcrew just needs a little more brain to structure out the heart's emotional state.  This should not be hard, because my friend Silvia says I have a big brain.

And I am a Survivor.

Nascar Pitcrew, I promise you, I will wrap my brain around this and be the best wife I can be as we get you though this painful and not fun time.  

I love you.  

Soundtrack to this morning's insomnia write: Alice Coltrane, Billie Holiday, Norah Jones, and UFO.

Beach Retreat

Family Fishing Trip

This month we spent a fantastic (truly) weekend with my Mom, now known as Nana, and my step-dad, Lloyd.  Tigh, Noah, Nascar, myself, and the parents all stayed in Guerneville for the weekend.  It was lovely to meet them "in the country," where we could fish, go for walks, and make big dinners.  I was in heaven, getting to cook for such a big group, and we had a "mock" thanksgiving" one night and a crock pot delight for dinner the next.

Anyone who knows my family knows that such a peaceful meeting has been years in the making.  I am grateful that all of us could put aside our differences to enjoy a few moments of life's little pleasures.  And, again, I am amazed by the magic of a child.  Spending two full days with Noah has made me even more in awe of those little humans and how they march through the world, learning it, tasting it, and believing in it.

Guerneville Bridge

Picking Apples with Grandaddy

Fishing

Give A Damn

A friend of a friend of a friend...I love the expression on her face, and even more so, the simplicity of her message

I watch the Occupy Wall Street movement with admiration and gratitude.  It is a strange time financially and politically.  I always thought I would grow up, buy a house, live a sweet life with 2.5 kids and a dog.  Despite earning a very good salary and working 40+ hours a week, I cannot afford a home in San Francisco, and I cannot afford to move from San Francisco until I pay off all of my debt that I have accumulated putting myself through school and taking care of myself since I was 17 years old.  In an effort to provide the biggest bang for our buck, Nascar and I have become very "consumer conscious."  We live with a roommate (this saves money and provides even more fun), we only have the use of one car, and we track all of the money we spend.  We are slowly releasing our dream of being homeowners right now, and I am trying to convince Nascar that our freedom will taste just as sweet as our roots.  I am lucky to earn the money I do, but considering it comes with a 13 hour work day (4 days per week) in a system that endured 27 million dollars worth of cuts last year, it is sometimes hard to remember to be grateful for the job I have.

But grateful I am.  As a nurse at San Francisco General Hospital, I care for folks ravaged by poverty, homelessness, and mental illness daily.  I believe most of the folks I work for are forgotten by Wall Street, or dare I say, ignored.

My mother pointed out to me that in generations past, it was the Church who financed care of the sick, provided places for poverty stricken.  Now, we depend on the government to do this.  I agree with her, we do depend on the government, mainly because the church has become profit seeking as well.  See this article from Sunday's CNN website about how the some of the Church's most powerful leaders choose to ignore GREED as part of the blame for this society debacle.  

http://religion.blogs.cnn.com/2011/10/01/preachers-confront-the-last-taboo-condemning-greed-amid-great-recession/

In my estimation, both the government and the Church are ignoring folks who need the assistance.  Add that to the fact that the number of folks needing assistance is growing from the ill or poverty stricken to the Everyday Joe or Hard Working Mama - and you have amassed a large number of beleaguered and pissed off peoples. 

So to all of you marching, chanting, carrying signs, I say thank you.  I spent the last 5 days caring for the first victims of this robbery by Wall Street: the under or non-insured, the mentally ill, and the weak. We are young, strong, and smart, if anyone can change this, we can, because:  

Many of us have grown up with the smell of desperation close by.  Gone are the days of economically feasible education followed by success and happiness (I think the last of those days were the 1980's).  How many out there reading this have had homelessness strike their family or themselves?  Who is one paycheck away from catastrophe?  I know many young people think they choose poverty, but the truth is, we choose to be consumer conscious.  True poverty comes with an air of desperation and an ache for some of life's basic needs (shelter, food, or water).  Choosing to be consumer conscious is a great first step in recognizing the truths, but don't forget that we represent more than just ourselves in this fight.  Think about those with even less opportunity than us, let's make this new reality true for everybody, including the worst offs and cast offs of our society.  

Thank you all.  From the bottom of my heart.  

For actively pursuing a better future for my family and for our world.  

http://www.dangerousminds.net/comments/first_official_statement_from_the_occupy_wall_street_movement/

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/edward-murray/occupy-wall-street-protest_b_988341.html

Kid and Play

Having a pet is one of the greatest joys in life.  Pets offer companionship, mercy, and acceptance in a world that often lacks greatly in all three of these characteristics.  I have only had 3 pets in my whole life, all cats, and each of them has played an integral part in my growing process.  

The first cat was one I adopted from a friend at age of eighteen.  This cat's name was Buddha, even though he was skinny and anxiety ridden.  He used to suckle at your arm as though you were a salt lick.  I was told this behavior occurred because he was removed from his mother too soon.  Buddha was my partner when I moved out of an abusive relationship.  Buddha helped me take the heat of learning how to be whole without being defined by the crazy person you were with.  As importantly, Buddha needed me at a time when I felt very little worth.  Being needed, even by an anxiety ridden cat is worth something.

The second cat was the feline love of my life.  His name was Maximillian, and he embodied everything that a perfect partner should.  He was loyal, he was clean, he was friendly to most humans.  We had ten beautiful years together.  He learned to walk on a leash, would ride on my shoulder as kitten, and was basically one of my best friends.  The year I dated Nascar Pitcrew long distance, I found out he had diabetes.  I chose not to give him insulin therapy, mainly due to cost, but also because I spent every other weekend with Nascar in Reno.  Maxcat died July 23, 2007, and his dying process was arduous.  I  do not regret my decision to not prolong his life with daily injections, but I do miss him terribly, even today.

Today, I have a cat named Sam.  She is finicky, moody, and I am her least favorite human in our house.  My ego is bruised by her obvious distrust of me, and I feed into her negativity by grumbling at her.  She has peed on our hardwood floors (ruining them), turned my new rug into her scratching post, and peed on my bed.  Still, I consider her my animal partner.  I have learned so much about independence from this strange little creature.  She was a stray, living outside, before she was handed to me by some close friends.  I recognize that we have been brought together for a reason.  My relationship with her has been all about compromise of expectations.  The wood floors have been bleached, the rug has been sprayed with animal repellent, the bed has been disinfected.  I cannot even blame her for these acts, as none of them were vengeful.  She is a lost creature, not very skilled in trusting, and I am a rough guardian, with expectations of her that are not aligned with what she has to offer.  Over the last few weeks, we have reached a nice balance.  She does not scratch or pee anywhere inappropriate, and I greet her with kind words and gentle caresses.  Three or four times a week, she allows me to brush her long fur and we spend a few cherished minutes bonding.

SamCat

Gabby, our lovely roommate is one of Sam's favorite humans.  Nascar is the other.  I admit there is jealousy on my part that the cat I wanted, loves them more.  Another life lesson: sometimes tolerance of others choices is necessary and prudent (even your cat's).

Gabby had 2 beautiful chickens until today.  Kid and Play, the chickens, are the inspiration behind this blog post.  Gabby has been raising Kid and Play since they were chicks in our backyard.  Gabby has developed a true bond with these interesting animals.  Every morning she greeted them with their corn and refreshed their water.  Kid would let many humans, including me, pick her up, but Play only trusted Gabby.  They both would peck grapes from your fingertips and we were usually gifted a fresh egg every morning.  They were very fun to play with, even for the little tykes who would come to visit.  There is something quite peaceful about having your morning coffee and watching these two creatures frolic in their dirt baths.

While under the care of me and Nascar, Kid and Play were attacked last night.  They did not survive the attack.  Nascar and I stayed out all night, frolicking at EarthDance, and had chosen to not close the chickens up before leaving for the festival at noon yesterday.  We knew we would be out all night, and made a conscious decision to allow Kid and Play the freedom of their yard all day.  We usually lock them up at night for safety, but every once in a while, their chicken coop remains open all night.  Never had we seen any obvious signs of predators lurking about.  Last night, our risk had a poor outcome.

My heart is heavy as I write this.  In a few minutes or hours (Gabby is away right now), Nascar and I will have to tell our sister that we let her down.  I am saddened by this accident, and feel appropriately guilty, because Gabby loved those chickens.  Kid and Play made her smile on the rough days, fed her when she was hungry, and loved her more than any other human they contacted.   Kid had a funny strut, and amazing mane of white feathers at the top of her head, and was outgoing and playful.  Play, contrary to her name, was more reserved, at times a little sickly, but always ran to meet Gabby every morning.  They really were fantastic creature, with personalities and quirks all their own.  Kid and Play, you will be missed.  Thank you for teaching me about the sanctity of the pet bond, and thank you for all those wonderful eggs.  I was lucky to be a part of your lives.  I hope Gabby will forgive Nascar and I for allowing harm to come to you.   We never meant to cause you girls or Gabby any harm.

RIP Kid and Play.  

Time is of the Essence

Whew, this has been a fantastic vacation!  I was lucky enough to save 4 weeks of vacation time over the last two years and be allowed to take it all at once.  I am so grateful to the hospital I work at, and especially my former boss, who gave me permission to take the time to re-set myself.  

Time is of the essence, and during this vacation I have learned a few things about how I use and abuse my time:

• Naps are necessary and revitalizing and are made even better when you take them with your partner.
• Cuddle-time is a must.  There is no amount of stress or fatigue that should get in the way of that special one on one time with the person you love.
• Sometimes leaving behind the toxic stuff is just what you have to do.  No matter how much it hurts and it always takes longer than you thought it would to rid your psyche of the toxic struggle.  But leaving the struggle behind is smarter than swimming in the pain.
• Art is GOOD and hard.  It is always worth the achey bones and long hours.  To me, Nascar's creative eye is like a sunrise.  It pays homage to our past, but beckons in the future.  I am proud that he invites me to share his vision.
• You have no choice but to make time to dance and move.  I feel so much better as a shaker, and my soul is really tired of watching bad TV.
• It is important to make time for those you love, and protect them and that time fiercely.  This may be the last time, or the best time, you have with them for a while.
• Love is often measured in "stolen moments."  Look for those moments, make them count, even if it is only with your smile.

Nascar and I participated in 3 weddings and a Surly Camp art car project over 7 days during this vacation.  Creativity overload feels so good.  Our first wedding was a celebration of Alexa and Patrick and their union.  Wow!  Alexa was a beautiful bride, and Patrick the most dapper groom.  I had the pleasure of running their wedding show, and must say, it was a gift to be allowed such responsibility.  Their wedding was in Lake Tahoe in a grove of alpine trees.  Nevada Backwards played, we danced, ate and drank to their goodness.  Gabby, Mimi and I helped set up and break down the festivities.  There is something to be said for DIY weddings.  The friendships must be close and trusting for them to be successful.  I do not have many photos, because I got to be in charge of the microphone this time (!).  Here a few shots of some of the people I love so much.  (CP, Deanna, Gabby, Mimi, Cindy and CJ - I lost my camera through most of the wedding - but you are all etched in heart.)

Alice, Justin and I 

The Smiths

Sorry about the fuzziness Sly...blame it on the wine

We left Tahoe on Sunday morning and ventured to the Pulverosa in Reno, NV for finishing up the Surly Bot Art Car to take to Burning Man.  Whew, I had forgotten how hard Burning Man is.  Shopping, packing, welding, grinding (I only handled the first two responsibilities).  Thank goodness for the Pulver's hospitality and their swimming pool.  My first memory of Burning Man is floating in their pool, preparing to drive to the desert.  I had not even gotten there yet and I needed a break : ).  The following photos are of Bot Setup.  Teamwork was the overwhelming theme of Surly Camp this year, and I think these photos show it.  Not shown on the creative team photos are B-rent, The Gimp, Dr. M and The Manstress as the awesomest painters ever, Evil Kitty, Mommy Cooper, CoopDaddy, and so many more, including all the Surly Minions.

The trifecta of Surly Bot 3.0

RV is at the top standing.  His calm energy and purposeful movements made even more powerful by his tall stature

Pitstop

Yin and Yang or two halves of a greater whole:  Nascar and Archie

The Bot in all her Glory

Seamstresses Extraordinaire:  Annie and Pino.  

The Artist formerly known as Coach

DJ Paul

The Pulver's 

There is something so magical about being on the Playa early.  (Although we still had to wait 3 hours to get in...thank you Pino for letting me sleep!) Watching the community grow, the buildings go up, and the art take place in real time is so powerful.  Some of our teammates were in the Thursday before, and their photos are awesome.  I have included a few photos of my most special places on the playa this year.  I am sad to have not gotten a picture of the Shame Project, a hidden swing placed in a spiral wood structure.  Everyone left their moments of shame on the walls and got a chance to swing on the bench swing.  It was a very powerful place for me this year, almost as powerful as the Temple.  I felt so lucky to share a moment with Nascar within its walls and release some of my inner critic to that area.

Need I say anything more?

The monsters are only as real as you make them

Stanwood transitioned to a new home this year. 

For Pitstop

Old skool Surly - and I love Pattycake's smile

Surly Camp and the Monkeys from Wyoming taking on the Charon

Charon...one of the only pieces truly dealing with death.  Why is everybody so afraid of the final Rite of Passage?

What I take from this is that death is a lot of work.  

Comfort Care?

Crossing Over can be easy or hard...it all depends on how much you pull

My favorite small piece from Saskatchewan Canada

The best art there is on the playa:  the Nevada desert bathed in the first rays of sun

Our second wedding was the uniting of the two houses of Jub Jub, held on Fat Tuesday of the Burn.  My dear friend for many years, Ms. Faith wed her baby's daddy, Josh.  No better of a match could the Goddess have made.  These two anti-raver, punk rock souls compliment and inspire each other in a way that could only be destiny.  Their beautiful son, K, is the mish and mash of the two of them in the most magical way.  

K and his grandpa; Learning to climb

The Mother of the Bride and I 

Last Week's Newlyweds

Shiny Blingy thing over there...and Gramma over here...

The two are waiting for their third to become as one

The lovely bride and her Papa

The Band!!!

Blessings from Mom

Mallory - you are loved

By Tuesday I was inspired - and worn out!  Nascar and I spent the next few days dancing, napping, eating little smokies, and conspiring to take over the world with the rest of the Surly Crew.  In an odd, yet strangely fitting integration moment, I spent time talking with Barry Waits, a former high school classmate, who now dates a vivacious Surly campmate.  Barry attended his first Burning Man this year with the sublime Zippy Tie Tie.  Barry was the quintessential high school classmate.  Star of the basketball team, all AP (college prep classes), beautiful girlfriend.  However, he was also very kind and quite aware that life is not always an easy ride.  We were never close friends (I hung with the stoners, he hung with the athletes), but to spend time with him on the playa and re-enter some of those feelings of awkwardness and heart break was awesome.  I felt really proud to recognize that we both have survived, and are still searching for even more abundance.  Other bright points were the sunrises with the team and a fantastic night in with Meadowface (the 9 year old girl wonder).   The mommy drive is getting stronger in me....thanks to Meadow for letting me be Aunt Bacon for a while.

Dawn Patrol

Jobs Well Done

Family - and congrats to the newly engaged couple!

My Husband woke up early - Just for ME!

Representing PDX and Hyphytown

Good Morning!

Our final wedding was Friday night, before the Man burned on Saturday.  The Kitschy Wedding of Coach and Kitty happened in true Surly style.  Sunset,
open playa, a puppet show, line dancing, and a Jameson toast, with mini bottles of Jamie decorated by duct tape roses.  It was an amazing circus ride (to steal Mrs. O's phrase) led by the insanely happy bride and groom and a bevy of super awesome djs.  You remember in these moments how good it feels to help someone else celebrate what they find divine about their life.  Divinity, happiness, peace, comes in different packages for different people, celebrate divinity as much as you can!

Here comes the Bride

Meadowface is so grown up now

Full of Love

In front of Reverend Pattycakes, Coach has retired

Todays Soundtrack included:  TrainWreck - Nevada Backwards, Liberation Process - Heavyweight Dub Champions, Trying to Get to Heaven - Bob Dylan, Blue Bayou - Linda Rondstadt, Request+Line - Black Eyed Peas, and Garbage Grove - Sublime...also included some Charlatans, Tom Waits, Moby, and, of course, Dolly Parton.  (Hi God!)