In my DNA

My emotional DNA is getting fit.  The emotional side, the physical side, they are interactive and using energy the way they used to, back in the day, when I found the majority of my happy moments, grooving on a dance floor.  I am active, moving my body every day, sleeping fitfully most nights.  I feel in control of my energy again.  I am using it, not being used by it.

I am currently in a biochemistry class studying DNA and cellular function and energy use.  It is a curious to me that the energy that our cells use is made up of the same stuff (nucleotides) that our cells are made of.  We are the energy we use, both physically, and metaphorically.  Rediscovering this cellular truth at a spiritual level is life.  The good times are moments to celebrate this truth, the difficult times are ones to re-connect with it, and believe in it, no matter how hard that may be.

DNA Replication

You never really know how things are going to change or end, but you have one chance to live out the reality as well as you can.  The answers to good living are buried deep inside your DNA.  Look to your guanine, cytosine, thymine, and adenine.  I have found the best way to connect with my DNA is to be physical.  Yoga, walking, meditation.  Using my body to quiet my brain, so I can hear the whisper of the sacred spiral of DNA.

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Speaking of DNA...did you know dogs have 39 pairs of chromosomes, compared to humans having only 23?  The first dog to have her genome completely read was a boxer, and since 2003, we have been more dependent on science research using dogs for medical breakthroughs for humans.  This is because humans and dogs share many of the same capacity for illness.  Despite our proclivity for similar illnesses, I am convinced dogs have healing properties for humans.

Meet Lacey Jackson.  Rescued from the shelter, Nascar Pitcrew picked her out for us.  She is almost perfect, except for the fact she likes to herd cars (a characteristic of her border collie DNA) .  We are working on this behavior.  Having her canine energy is such a lift.  She really makes me smile and forces me outside, even on snowy days!

Today's Walk in the Snow

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We bought a beautiful house.  It is 107 years old.   As a young woman, I remember being told that if you dream of a house, you are dreaming about yourself.  Could this home be a part of my DNA?  I am not sure of that, but I am sure I will discover a lot about myself living in these old walls.  Here are some shots of the lovely, old building we call home now:

Taken from the park across the street this morning

The original kitchen cabinets from 1905

The chairs Gabby helped me pick out

Future plans....

To Be in SLC

NASCAR AND I LIVE IN SALT LAKE CITY, UT NOW.  FOR REALS.

This transition has left me feeling like an onion  - stripped layer by layer of all her parts.  No job, more free time than I have ever had, Nurse Bacon struggles to recognize herself at least once a day.  My one constant is Nascar Pitcrew.  He truly is my rock.  Hard to believe it has been 3 years of legal marriage, eh, Nascar?  

Happy third Anniversary, My Love

In the last 2 months, I have:

1.) Left a job I loved and all the teamwork, friendship, and financial gain that went with it.

2.) Applied for every job I have seen available and only heard back from 1.

3.)  Been told by a nurse practicioner that I am in peri-menopause and my chances for having a baby are slim to none.

4.)  Felt really distant from a lot of my friends and family.

5.)  Decided to not go to Burning Man – each year that experience is my ultimate validator and my best re-set button.

6.)  Decided to stop writing “The Integration of Nascar Pitcrew and Nurse Bacon” blog.

6 really big things that have affected my psyche in some really deep ways.  My mom says it is all right to feel a little depressed.  Life change is hard.  Why does it seem that so many others I know handle it so much better?  Why do I always end up feeling like en emotional dunce?  Why can’t I just get off my butt and do some yoga?  My mom also says, no one ever comes to the Pity Party you hold for yourself.  Damn it, I know she is right. (and Thank you Mom for coming to my Pity Party – I know that is how you show me you love me and I am damn glad you are my Mom, today and every day.)


I decided today to return to blog writing.  I just really like it.  It helps me clear my head and the validation is priceless.  I am not birthing any great ideas, but I am getting in touch with me through the action of writing.  When I first started college, I wanted to be a writer.  I was going to write riveting stories of epic proportions that would change the world.  Now I count the likes on Facebook incessantly.  This is not very healthy.  I may do some research and write a blog post on Facebook's effects on a person's psyche someday.

Some of the best things about Salt Lake City are:

1.) Nascar and I live alone.  We have room to spread out and we have sex a lot more because I am not exhausted from 13 hours of work 4 days a week.  (sorry my maternal aunts, if this comment offends you, but physical intimacy is a vital attribute in all good relationships)

2.)  Nascar loves his job, and his job loves him.

3.)  I walk 4-5 miles, three times a week, with a good friend.

4.) Nature trips.

5.)  Making dinner at home a lot more.

6.)  More time to craft and do yoga.  Umm, still working on that…

So, here I am throwing my Pity Party on the interwebs.  For those of you unlucky souls who chose to read this…damn Facebook…I am sorry to disappoint.  This is not really a Pity Party, nor is it an emotional makeover.  There will be no tears, and only a few snarky comments.  There will be no promises to break, no parents to blame, no feel good sentiments to make my martyrdom feel acceptable.

#7 on the list of Best Things about Salt Lake City is this:  The weather is hot.  The sun is shining, and even I can’t be sad when I have the choice of playing outside.  (Sorry San Francisco, but Utah totally has you beat on this one.)

So this post will be sort of dull.  and normal.  and will not instigate anybody.  It just will be.

That is what SLC is teaching me.  How to be.

• To be totally ok in my aging, slightly rounded body.
• To be crafty like a 6 year old is crafty.  Because reality TV is boring you now (after 3 hours straight) and if you look at Facebook one more time, you will cry.  These are the projects you make for friends, for yourself, and not because you feel like it is a necessary project for the Hipster Girl Scout badge to wear at Burning Man.
• To be Fun.  Play the part, rock like an aging rocker, enjoy the moment because it is the best right fucking now.
• To be humble.  Gone is the extra moneys from extra hours at work.  Pride can no longer be bought with dinners out, art projects and vacations.  Trips to the grandparents, a fledgling garden in the backyard (even though the tomatoes are not growing), and the rose garden that came with the rental house – these things and a whole lot of time is what you got. Flaunt it to yourself and share it with others. Accept the love being sent your way, and you are no longer too good for any invitation.  When people ask you to hang out…..Go.
• To be in love with the one your with – and not just because he is your husband.  But because he is so fricking handy, and funny, and cute in a rock and roll kind of way.  And because he asks how you are and does not push you to get over yourself (although sometimes you wished he would).  But mostly because he is your best friend, and has proven time and time again that your feelings matter, and he has chosen to honor your feelings and insecurities over his pride in some sticky situations – and for that you owe him blow jobs for a century.

       So I am not sure how this blog will evolve.  I am doodling on a WordPress template, but do not feel like I yet know what my aim of writing will be over the next year.   I definitely want to get away from the self help innuendos that made up the last year. Those were just shade structures for self pity and blame.  The past is the past.  I am glad I spoke of it.  I am proud I took 3 months off of drinking and stopped denying that some of my coping mechanisms were not working so well.  The writing helped me heal this and posting it publicly gave me the validation I will always crave.

          I might just post pics of cool hikes we do and stuff I make.  I will most definitely still blog about being married.  This “marriage” project with Ryan is the most gratifying and difficult thing I have ever done.  This move to SLC was severely taxing on our union.  I had never given up so much of what I considered myself, in order for another person to fly (or swim, in his case).  In the aftermath of peeling the onion, I am finding the inner self I lost touch with over the last few years of hard work and going big.  She seems to be more normal and healthy than I remember.  This may mean less likes on my Facebook profile.  I may never make it on the Rumpus website.  www.therumpus.net, but writing and sharing helps me be.  And you never know, I did not think I would ever live in Utah either.

Heading Down the Road (as sung by Tom Petty)

"Love all.  Trust a few.  Do wrong to none." - William Shakespeare

12 years in San Francisco, this is the longest I have ever lived in one place.  This is the first time that I have left a place when I was not running away from something, but running to something.  Good bye San Francisco, I leave today, and want to say Thank You for the lessons.  I am definitely leaving a piece of my heart here.  I came here angry, defiant, entitled, imperfect.  I leave here proud, in love, and open - but still imperfect.  The best ingredients to make some tasty Awesome Sauce to serve up in SLC.

For 6 years I was defined primarily through my role as a county hospital nurse, secondarily as a wife to Nascar Pitcrew, and thirdly as a sister and daughter.  Prior to that, I was an obstinate adult student (angry at the expense of college, angry at the lack of opportunities afforded my financially handicapped self, yet I was obstinate enough to make it happen for herself).  I was a heavy drinker, hard, loud; I used drinking as a way to protect  my broken heart.  I never quite fit into any scene, so I made my own.  A mix of burners, wine drinking philosophers, students, nurses.  I have developed many faces, many attitudes to complement whatever role I am playing.  During these years, I have often felt like Dora Maar, severe, bold, misunderstood (unless you are looking at her from the right direction).  The common thread in all of these faces is a coarseness, an anger, that has promoted me, made me successful, kept me going.  (You may not think that Dora is angry, but I think that having my nose on the side of my face would make me really mad)

As I drive away from San Francisco, I have nothing to be angry at.  My husband, my successes, my life has been a work of art so far.  Little Girl B defied the odds and Nurse Bacon has a pretty charmed life.  In many ways, leaving San Francisco is what has to happen in order for me to let the last of the anger go and for the Awesome Sauce to set just right.

My life is full of the love of a good man, who brings stability, creativity, and a willingness to learn to the table.  He has been waiting patiently for me to be at his side again.  We are not without problems, but that is the way of life.  Problems are chances for growth and learning.  Cooperation comes from open communication and a willingness to accept criticism, as well as offer it, in a kind way.  This can be a messy process, and often I look in the mirror disappointed with how I have chosen to behave.   The love we share should be full of respect, empathy, pride, humor, comfort, and a little bit of naughtiness for some fun.  I am always amazed at how the niceties get thrown away when the comfort sets in.  We are biting, we bully with our emotions, and we forget to treat the VIP in our life with the same respect we offer to strangers.  I am looking forward to practicing kindness with Nascar Pitcrew.  Unencumbered by work schedules, family obligations, or the like (at least for 2 months), I hope to cultivate some habits of kindness and respect that last us a lifetime and propel us forward into the world even more successfully.  How can I be angry (or even sad) about this chance?

I arrived in San Francisco, full of survivor's anger.  I was extremely pissed off that those two individuals I called parents had left me and my brother to swim in the pools of their own severe dysfunction at a very young age.  Upon arrival at the Golden Gate, I felt without opportunity, abandoned by my mommy, and abused by my daddy.  Slowly, understanding set in.  With every personal success, a feeling of forgiveness became palpable.  Personal accountability was attained.  The anger that brought me here has dried up.  Sometime, during my life here in San Francisco, the raging waters of anger became a deep lakebed of penetrating sadness.  The kind of sadness that takes therapy, the kind that tests friendships, the kind that is crippling.  But then, time wears it down, the ashes disintegrate, and all you are left with is a void to fill.  I filled that void with developing my career in nursing, and building lasting relationships with solid, yet scarred, human beings - we are all that, right?  My heart leaps with joy when I hear my brother say he loves me and I know he means it.  I will sing like a lovesick fool to Captain and Tenille with Gabby - anytime, anywhere.  I will wax philosophical with Lex through pregnancy and old age, of this I am sure.  I look forward to lady trips with a number of lovelies who inspire, as my life becomes less about work and more about living.  The anger turned to sadness, and in the last 2 weeks, I think I cried out all my tears.  The sadness has become a deep seeded gratitude for all that this adventure has given me.  Love, friendship, self-esteem, and the recognition that life does not happen to you, but you are what happens to the empty canvas that is life.  

When I drive away today, I will be singing along to a fabulous mixtape, made by a favorite DJ.  A mix of Billie Holiday, Sublime, Tom Petty, and Beastie Boys.  Gabby and I will practice the lyrics to Captain and Tenille at least 4 times an hour as we watch the mountains turn to high desert.   I am not running away this time.  In fact I am not running at all.  I am taking off, on an adventure.  

I am happening to life.

Auf Wiedersehen San Francisco!

As Good Luck Would Have It

“Sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.” -Marilyn Monroe

I am constantly reminded to pull up my big girl britches at work.  It is easy to complain about the lack of help, the long hours, the intense labor that goes into one of my days.  And then I look at who I am caring for, and remember that my chaos looks blissful to them.

Over the last few weeks, I have dealt with some really sad cases.  The sort of cases that remind you that your hurt feelings, stresses about moving, or other quality problems really are just good luck.  It is by the grace of god that I have a job I love, have a plethora of friends to hold me, hug me and support me during my dark hours, and the right to choose a partner who is crafty, savvy, and who wants to share a lifetime of love and adventures with me.

A few weeks ago, I held space for a 60 year old man who was actively dying of lung cancer.  I had forgotten how violent and destructive death can look.  As I watched his family tearfully try to make decisions about his end of life care, I realized that there were not enough statistics or intelligent arguments to make such heavy decisions any less painful.  This man was drowning and his family's world was falling apart; they had no other words other than "Save Him."   I felt honored to watch the compassionate discussion held by a thoughtful and caring physician.  I was, and still am, in awe of how this doctor compassionately offered insight, while always allowing the patient and his family to be in control of their destiny.  I will miss working with this doctor.  She has truly inspired me.

The next day I witnessed a young man of 47 be told his cancer had re-emerged.  It was unclear if their was any chemotherapy that could be used to eradicate it.  I held his hand, we talked about the loveliness of San Francisco, our mutual beliefs in aliens, and together we got him up to the side of the bed, just so his feet could ground for one moment.  It was inspiring and made my temper tantrums about feeling left out of social functions, and my irritation at Nascar about broken cars and workshop clutter seem rather immature.

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The move to SLC has brought a rainbow spectrum of emotions for me.  I am much less bipolar now, and have surrendered to the excitement of something new.  My last day of work is a week from tomorrow.  I feel like a chapter in my life is being concluded, and with a happy ending.  I think I feel a similar happiness as Noah does as he masters riding his bike without training wheels.  Just like him, my training wheels are off and it is time to ride.

I have been overwhelmed by the outpouring of love sent my way over the last few weeks.  I am truly beginning to embody the Integration that I have so desperately sought after in the last few years.  I feel accepted by my peers at work, and so many folks have gone way out of their way to tell me and show me how much I will be missed as a part of the 4B team.  Even though Gabby is out of the country, she calls every few days to check on the process of the move, and I feel so blessed to have her in my corner.  Nascar is holding down the new fort in Salt Lake, and even though it has been over a month since we have seen each other, our team work is high functioning right now.

There were some dark days, early this month.  The extended version of this move has been exhausting.  My bedroom is a mess of boxes and packing paper.   Gabby subletted her room while she was out of the country, so I have a new roommate.  Bless his heart, he had no idea of my manic tendencies.  Lucky for both of us he is an easy-going, gypsy kind of guy.  Needless to say, the crazy amount of change in my life has been slightly chaotic, but manageable.  I am exercising a lot more often, and have maintained my commitment to not abuse alcohol in the name of stress reduction.  I have had to make some hard decisions and I have had to slow my roll, but it feels good.  The two to three times a week weight lifting and yoga sessions are really making my big girl britches fit my big girl curves better.  

Last Sunday I walked the Mission, listening to DJ Professor Stone and shooting photos of grafitti.  I was basking in my love for San Francisco.  San Francisco has inspired me to become the person I am today.  From volunteering at Larkin Street Youth Center for homeless kids and being motivated to go to Nursing School, to reading the Tales of the City books and trying to encounter a counter culture, I have developed a sense of self that was empowered by living in such an alternative and artistic city. The graffiti has always spoken to me, and I have made a habit of shooting photos of some of these masterpieces.  On so many walls, in so many artistic ways, are renderings of the woman I want to be.  I am inspired by the murals, not just artistically, but also spiritually.  Perhaps, as good luck would have it, integration is complete for a while.

Water Sign

role models

Roses

Pan in Pan's Perch

Maturity

For Noah and your love of Transformers

Presence

“Don’t let the past steal your present” – Cherralea Morgen

Endings and Beginnings

Love has a hundred gentle ends.  - Leonora Speyer

I am back home from Salt Lake City, glad to be back home, surrounded by so many of the people I love.  It was more difficult than I ever imagined to leave Nascar there.  I cannot wait for him to come visit for the weekend soon.  I will say that my man's shoulders are broader and he stands a bit taller now, and I like the way the new job looks on him.  I am proud that he chose to pursue his career path, and I am excited for him to have taken on this change and these new responsibilities with not a complaint and only excitement.

The city of Salt Lake was less inviting than I thought it would be.  The people are superficially nice, but there is a strange undercurrent of religion and white male oriented culture.  It has been a long time since I have been outside of my safe little bubble diversity that is the Bay Area.  I am afraid that moving there, I may become apathetic, perhaps a little lazy, about upholding my truths.  

I have spent the last 2 days wandering the city of San Francisco, being enamored with the graffiti, with the people, and the attitude that permeates our streets.  I am soaking it in, drinking it up, and participating in it as much as possible, because it is my plan to bring that spirit with me to SLC.  I will resist the apathy, I will remain true to my quest.  I will demand that the male salesman in SLC include me in the conversation, and not only direct their questions to Ryan.  I will interact kindly with all those I meet in SLC, but I will never lose sight of my truths.  I will not cry, be bored, or feel sorry for myself, because life has taken this interesting, albeit difficult turn.  I will prune my rose bushes, hike in the mountains, and read books that inspire my creativity and my passion.  San Francisco offers so much stimulation that I think I may have become somewhat apathetic here.  I think I may relish the slower pace and a chance to look for stimulation and insight inside books and within nature.

Buddhist Temple in the Mission

Bryant and 23rd Streets Girl Power

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While in Salt Lake City, Nascar and I went hiking in the SNOW.  Snow is this strange frozen stuff that falls from the sky and then hangs out on the ground making it slippery and hard to walk.  We walked up these things called mountains.  It was very different from experiencing nature via the windshield.  It was so freaking loud.  The rushing of the water, the sound of animals in the underbrush, made me so jumpy and uncomfortable.  I definitely have a lot to learn about nature and how to be in it.  

As I begin to say good bye to people I love here, I am beginning to realize that I do not have to say good-bye forever, but rather just a see you later.  It is my dramatic nature to see the endings as abrupt and final, instead of a refractory moment in time, placed right before a beginning.  In fact, a lot of life is like that.  The endings, no matter how hard, lead up to something new, something fresh.  The same people I have drank cocktails with in Mission bars, worked at SFGH with, shared homes with - all the people I love here - maybe they can come to me and if I get good enough at it, I can show off some Utah nature to them.  Perhaps together, we can giggle incessantly at the backward ways of the hardcore religious folk, and maybe our friendships will stretch the miles.

Nature hike

Ice Art

Nature Graffiti

Please Forgive Me For Speaking With My Mouth Full

I am sitting at at the home of friends, Notorious and Spanks, eating the yummiest pastor burrito and taking a break from house hunting.  My mouth is full of flavorful goodness, I am sheltered, and I am loved.  Once again, members of our adopted Surly family have overwhelmed Nascar and me with love and support.  As I expressed thanks to Notorious yesterday, he looked me right in the eye and said, "You would do this for us."  I want to believe I would...I want to believe I would.


As I begin to search for a job, a nagging thought keeps surfacing.  Utah is an extremely conservative place.  What if someone reads my blog and thinks I am certifiably crazy?  This is a downfall of sharing your thoughts on an open forum - you leave yourself open for judgement and criticism.  I often ask myself why I write this.  A writer that I admire, sends out weekly e-mails to subscribers, and he often asks himself the same question about e-mail entries.  Are people like he and I narcissists?  Am I know-it-all?  Is this my version of reality TV?


I actually got excited when my blog reached it highest number of readers earlier this week :  almost 50.  In some ways this is my reality TV, and this does give positive validation to my life.  As a woman who is plagued with depression/fatalist outlooks, I really believe I am learning how to re-write my perceptions.  True, I am initially scared/sad/overwhelmed by many if not all situations related to family, friendship, love.  Every time I write about one of these triggers, I work hard to remember it in the most positive way.   This helps me re-shape the experience into something good and gives me power to lead with my best foot and most hopeful perspective.  Jeanette Winterson says in her book, Why Be Happy When You Could Be Normal?, "I need words because unhappy families are conspiracies of silence.  The one who breaks the silence is never forgiven.  He or she has to learn how to forgive herself."  I feel that this blog is helping me forgive myself for my neurosis and my insecurities.  It is also aiding me in becoming more comfortable with EXACTLY WHO I AM RIGHT NOW, in a way that talk therapy set me up for, but could not cement down for me.

Right Now - with Leonard the Cat

Right Now Again

Jeanette Winterson also says, "When we write we offer the silence as much as the story.  Words are the part of the story that can be spoken."  As I re-read my last post, I read the story of a woman desperately trying to keep her big girl mentality intact, when all her inner child was really worried about was losing her brother - again.  The vestiges of co-dependency and family life without boundaries were so apparent,  but so also were the rebirth, the re-build, and the reunion of siblings.  I am proud of  my family.  We are all choosing the positive steps most of the time.  There is no savior in this group, just a bunch of people trying their best and to say the right thing at the wrong time, instead of continuing to be silent.  Some of the right things we are trying to say are:

"Please forgive me"  

"I forgive you" 

"Thank you" 

 "I love you."

I started that blog post commenting on the politics of being a woman.  I compared my need for birth control to someone else's need for end of life care.  I have become slightly worried that a potential employer, not aware of my impassioned nature, may read these statements as a risk for hiring me.  I feel the need to clarify the statement made:

 "I should not have to pay for you to keep people alive on machines because you believe the insurance companies owe you." 

I do not believe that most Americans believe the insurance companies owe them.  I do believe that many of us have no idea how much health care costs until it is too late.  According to a CBS news story, updated in 2009: 

                                   
                                    Last year, Medicare paid $55 billion just for doctor and hospital                                     

                                    bills during the last two months of patients' lives. That's more      

                                    than the budget for the Department of Homeland Security, or

                                    the Department of Education. And it has been estimated that 

                                    20 to 30 percent of these medical expenses may have had no   
                                    meaningful impact. Most of the bills are paid for by the federal 
                                    government with few or no questions asked. 

When I made the statement in my last post, it was derived from this knowledge.  I see first hand how much health care cost, and how often the outcome is still unevitable.  Death is one of our constants as humans.  As anyone's nurse, one of my goals is to assist you in understanding and being as present as possible with the situation you are in.  My other goal is to keep you alive, if a code situation occurs.  If you are non-verbal, almost comatose, and unable to care for yourself, I bathe you, I administer medications to keep your body at is best equilibrium, and I assist your family in coping with this change in the course of your life.  If you decide that you are done with the struggle of staying alive, then my goal to keep you comfortable becomes the primary goal.  As patients draw nearer to death, keeping them comfortable becomes much more difficult the more interventions we attempt.  Let's be clear, I will continue to and have always carried out my patients wishes.  I do believe that death is a sacred passage, however, and hope that more humans will recognize this, and take back control of their own passage.

As the Affordable Healthcare Act is being judged by our Supreme Court, the passions are getting heated.  Please forgive me for leading that last post with an inflammatory statement, instead of offering deeper insight.  I value the experiences I have had as a nurse, they color all of my actions as a daughter, as a sister, as a niece, as a wife, and as a friend.  I urge each of you to learn more about the state of healthcare, and to prepare yourself and your family for all the decisions that are yours to make in sustaining life in this first world country.  Should the mandate be passed, we will all be responsible for having insurance for our selves.  This will be difficult for those under-employed or not employed.  The Affordable Healthcare Act is a great first step in streamlining a very sloppy system.  The next step is for all of us to become more active in our health care provisions and recognize the options that exist for us.

http://www.thefourthings.org/

http://www.cbsnews.com/2100-18560_162-6747002.html?tag=contentMain;contentBody

http://www.DyingWell.org/

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=112931658

soundtrack today included Bjork, Ben Harper, Jeff Buckley, and PJ Harvey

The Nature of Things

During my first year with Nascar, learning to love the nature of things

International Woman's Month is March.  I am awkwardly introspective these days as a result of my bipolar emotional state about moving and as a result of the mockery that our media and the Republican presidential primaries are making of women's issues, especially reproductive rights.

I am in awe of the woman I have become - or that true maturation ever happened.  My formative years were spent focusing on appearance.  Even late into my twenties, I made most of my decisions based on what would look cool.  Being a young, slightly clever white woman, often appearances trumped necessity in my choices in those early years.  I have never moved anywhere for a job, I spent most of my twenties choosing to drink, party, and hang out, because I could.   It has only been in the last 10 years that I have truly learned what hard work is and what the struggle is to be a woman.  Putting myself through nursing school, re-establishing family connections that were almost shattered beyond repair, committing myself to a lifetime partner, have all been acts in discovering my womanhood.  Everything before truly was just child's play.

I watch with a true disappointment the argument about birth control in this country.  Being the child of born again Christian parents, I am all too familiar with the argument, "We should not have to pay for you to freely commit sins."  I counteract this argument with, "I should not have to pay for you to keep people alive on machines because you believe the insurance companies owe you."  This argument sounds too death panel -ish, so I choose not to lead with it.  Instead, I evoke images of myself 10 years prior.  I used birth control during a time in my life that I defined being cool as being successful.  And being cool meant being at the party more than anywhere else.  I will be forever grateful that God did not bitchslap me with a pregnancy at that time, thanks to birth control.  I am not grateful for me, but rather for the child that might have made it into my immature hands.

Preparing for this move to SLC is really opening me up to God's signs.  Two weeks ago, a red fox scampered in front of my car while cruising through Twin Peaks.  The fox is a family oriented animal, and one who uses camouflage to lead.  This little guy crossed my path to remind me to sit back and listen, rather than speak.  I am struggling with this, just as I struggle with being joyous in this transition.  Yesterday, Ryan saw a lynx on the outskirts of town, in SLC.  The lynx is a reminder of secrets to be discovered.  I am certain that the next set of lessons and secrets of being human await me as I embark on this journey to SLC with my love.  I am slightly disappointed at how hard it is for me to rise above the fear into the exaltation of getting a chance for a fresh adventure.

I fly to SLC today to check out the town, before moving there at the end of May.  Ryan started work on Monday, and we are looking at 2 months of living apart. Of course, this morning I am up at 4 am again, slightly petrified and slightly excited about this trip.  Irritation and fear loom at the outside of any moment for me.  The act of being joyous in the moment is monumental.  I almost immediately fall into a dull panic and a slight ache for what I will miss.  Leaving my nephew will be one of the hardest things I have ever done at this point in my life.  That kid has brought so much healing to our family, and created a bond that I thought would never exist between my brother and I.  I worry that the family closeness forged between my brother, my nephew, and I will be lost in the miles.

All I can do is promise to not disappear.  Your dad and I have figured out how to forge a relationship through some really tough stuff.  I will model that same esteem and perseverance to you.   Uncle Nascar and I will model healthy loving to you, too.  Things I look forward to sharing with my nephew include: I can't wait to Skype with you!  I can't wait to be your Auntie B who flies you to the country every year.  I will show you Zion Park, the Grand Canyon, and the Arches.  One day, when you are old enough, I will teach you about the power of fox, lynx, and help you discover your animal medicine.  Have faith in me little man, and I will have faith in myself, and not let either of us down.

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The alcohol abstinence experiment has been slightly altered.  I am finding it very hard to say good bye to my life here without the spirit of celebration.   For me, this will always include a good spirit.  After 3 months of sobriety, with  2 episodes of drinking - both inspired by stress, I am suspending the cessation experiment.  Rather, I am modifying it.  Instead of complete cessation, my goal is for wise moderation, and use of alcohol in the moment of celebration only.  Some ground rules:  2 drink maximum,  at least a pint of water between drinks.  This should preclude any binge drinking behaviors because they: a> cause hangovers, b> lead to severe depression in my soul, c> decrease my awareness of the magic within the moments.

To everyone who offered praise and encouragement, thank you.  I am not letting go of the change, but rather moving with it.  The act of turning down wine with dinner and feeling as though I do not want to go out, lest I be tempted to drink was becoming very heavy, especially when mixed with the fact that I am trying to meet up with old friends and say good bye to a life that I have spent the last 12 years building.  I want to celebrate, wisely.  I want to test my maturity level.  I understand the nature of this issue, now I need to test my self-esteem and self-wisdom.  I will invoke the Moose medicine to assist me on this path.  I am proud of my accomplishments thus far.  I am choosing to be gentle with myself a I embark further down this path of discovery, so I find myself joyous, not fearful, in love, not irritated.

Moose -Self esteem #11

You enjoy a job well done; you enjoy sharing your joy. You believe joy should be shouted with pride. Moose people have the ability to know when to use gentleness of a deer and when to activate the stamped of buffalo. They understand the balance of giving order to get things done and a willingness to do things themselves.

http://www.medicinecards.com/home.html

Bitchslap from God

Somedays I can easily see God in my mind's eye.  My meditations take me directly to that circus tent on the beach that I have decided is heaven.  God is there, waiting for me, laughing out loud and beckoning to me to bask in the glow that is belief and wisdom and faith.  Other days I search the bottom of a bottle of wine, beat my head against the wall and cry angry tears, because God cannot be found in any of the usual or unusual places.  It seems that just as my will to continue wilts completely, God bitchslaps me right side the head, reminding me that I probably did not need to be looking so hard.

A few weeks ago I wrote about looking for my Sweet Spot, a place where I find comfort and self-acceptance, without the need for alcohol to lubricate the search.  My search for the sweet spot has taken some wild turns in the last week.  In fact, I am having to start the no-alcohol experiment over again.  In the last week, I have had wine sodden conversations about life plans with Gabby, and I celebrated my husband's new job and and his impending exit from San Francisco playing pool in a pool hall and drinking PBR.  I am a bit bipolar these days: sad about leaving my friends and family, scared about going to a new place, worried about leaving a good paying job, stressed about the act of moving.  Nascar Pitcrew leaves in 3 days to Salt Lake City.  I will remain in San Francisco at Gabby's house for 2 more months.  Seems so strange to call it Gabby's house, I am in shock that this is happening.  It is an end of an era for me, and the beginning of a new one for Nascar and me.  This is the biggest re-set button yet.

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When I think about today's version of heaven, it includes a circus tent, colorful graffiti, and a favorite lady friend, Mrs. O.  This red-headed spitfire danced into my life 16 years ago.  In June of 1996, a lady dressed in violet, brushed past me in a doorway of a Las Vegas rave club.  She smelled like lavender, and she looked me right in the eyes.  All she said was "Good Evening".  I had no idea that this woman was destined to speak at my wedding or that I would visit her every year, no matter how many miles are in between us.

I have spent the last 2 hours ruminating on a fantastic tale to recount here about the creative relationship Mrs. O and I share.   Our friendship is delicate, yet durable.  Magical, though seeped in the mundane stuff of life like mortgages and career ladders.  There are moments of brilliance, surrounded by years of survival.  We have become the women we spoke about.  You are a mother, I am a wife.  It sounds so common, yet I pride myself that we have both found places of truth and strength in these traditional roles.

  Happy Birthday Mrs. O and Thank you.

Thank you for being a friend through so many growth spurts and growth reversals.

Thank you for all the long distance talks.

Thank you for your patience.

Thank you for reminding me to listen when God bitchslaps me with the truth.

Thank you for encouraging me to see the truth in the details.

I love you!

The Path We Refuse Is The Path We Should Choose

I am spending this afternoon listening to Dick Bolles, the author of What Color is Your Parachute, speak via livestream at the Socap Event Gabby is coordinating in San Francisco.  Nascar and I went to the Farmer's Market this morning and he is re-inserting a motor into his lovely Mercedes, Daisy, this afternoon.

I originally tuned into the Socap Soul Event to support Gabby, who has been working so hard lately scouting content for conferences like this one.  I was pleased to find that Mr. Bolles was the Keynote speaker.   I remember using this workbook back in 2000, hoping to find out what I should grow up and be.  At the time, I made money as a secretary and bartender.  I could make it to work on time, had fairly good customer service skills, (but very poor inter-personal skills) and I liked to stay up late.  These were probably my only 3 marketable skills.  When I moved to San Francisco, in early 2000, I did not know what the internet was, yet I was given a job as a receptionist at an on-line recruiting firm (Thanks Alexa!).  So funny to remember a world without laptops, Facebook, or a blog.  What I remember most was how scared I was of life leaving me behind those first few years in San Francisco.  But not scared stiff, only scared into action.  I started school again, became a volunteer for a homeless youth shelter, reunited with my brother.  In search of a career, I read that book with a vengeance and performed all the exercises, hoping it would help me find the path to being a grown up.  (I think, in a round about way, it did help, too)  

Mr. Bolles did not disappoint today as a speaker.  He is 84 years old and still very eloquent.  He re-writes his book every year.  The best piece of advice he gave was that God gives us all many skills and talents, but he gives a few skills and talents that we love.  The secret to finding success is honing in on what we are good and what we love, and intertwine them as much as possible.  It may be difficult in today's economy (10% unemployment is dire straits), but if it is a goal, one can always strive for it.

In the last month I have watched with a wife's pride, co-mingled with waves of sadness, as Nascar Pitcrew sets aflight on his parachute ride.  Yesterday, he announced he is accepting a position as a Life Support Operator for the Hogle Zoo in Salt Lake City, Utah.  U - T - A - H.

Nascar Pitcrew never read the book by Mr. Bolles, but he certainly is a man who has co-mingled what he loves with what he is good at.   His natural affinity to animal care, coupled with his mechanical mind (did I mention he just put a transmission part in the oven - who does that?) makes him a natural Zoo mechanic.  I certainly did not see this adventure as part of our mythology when I married him.  I am so proud of his cleverness, and in awe of his ability to set his mind to something and make it happen.  4 years ago a jobless and new to San Francisco Nascar Pitcrew said to me, "All I want to do is to build aquariums."  Within one week, he became a Life Support Operator for the Aquarium of the Bay in San Francisco.  For the the last 4 years, he has built and maintained tanks for sharks, jellyfish, and octopi.  Now, he is moving past aquariums to polar bear habitats, specifically maintaining a home for Rizzo, the polar bear at the Hogle Zoo in Utah.  I wish I could say I told you so, but I admit, one of my joys in life is being constantly surprised and amazed by all that he can do.

Rizzo the Polar Bear (photo from Salt Lake City Tribune)

Freshly Baked Transmission Whatzit

So as our hearts expand to include this lovely lady bear, Rizzo, into our lives, it does mean we have to move away from San Francisco and the sweet life we have here.  I type this and the tears are welling.  I  really will leave a part of my heart here in San Francisco.  My parachute ride started here, and I will always be grateful to this city for the inspiration it has provided and the friends that I have found.  From the joy of afternoon workouts and late night chats with Gabby, to dog walks and playa planning with Silvia, to Thanksgiving celebrations with Lex, to playing in the park with Noah and Tigh and enjoying the work with all my friends at SFGH, my life has been so full of love here.  I love the parachute ride I am on, and that the Golden Gate was where I ascended from.

Today's soundtrack:  Soul Is Your Face by DJ Barisone...truly an inspirational mix of tunes about love, about change, about the human soul....