Author Angel Ackerman

Sunday check-in

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I stayed up until midnight last night and Nala, my Goffin’s cockatoo, and the kittens decided I needed to get up at seven, which was actually six with the time change.

I’m hoping in time they all learn that we sleep in on Sunday.

I had a bit of a lazy Saturday. I visited with family and neighbors, did some laundry and went to the theater.

So this morning at first I felt very overwhelmed by the household chores staring me in the face. I did some more laundry, cleaned the cat boxes and dealt with the dishes. Emptied the dishwasher, reloaded it and scrubbed the pots and pans.

I also started the tea pot and brewed myself a big old mug of tea— Tazo sweet orange, Simply Balanced Unwind, and Simply Balanced Voice Tamer (rooibos)— mixed together. Then I iced it.

Meanwhile, the roomba vacuumed my bedroom and I set my little robot free downstairs. It’s amazing how that robot can work side by side with me and help me feel like the house is getting clean.

Now, it’s noon and I made myself some light brunch. Two slices stoneground wheat toast, one with hummus and avocado, the other with honey butter cream cheese. And some grapes.

So before I go check on the roomba, I am enjoying this and watching an episode of Kitchen Nightmares.

Heddatron at Lafayette College

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Tonight I went to see Heddatron at Lafayette College.

It’s the third weekend in a row the teenager and I went to the theater and this was by far the teen’s favorite.

Last weekend we went to see a high school production of Once Upon a Mattress, discussed here: I blame the Freddies and the weekend before that we partook in Tartuffe at DeSales University, reviewed here: Tartuffe at DeSales.

Our finance manager at the office invited us to the show since her husband is technical director of the college theatre. He pitched this show to the head of the theatre program (who, when I worked at the college more than 20 years ago was the entire theatre department, my how times have changed). And my colleague’s husband also co-taught a theatre/mechanical engineering class last fall that built the robots for this show.

Yes, Robots.

First, let me say, before getting into some of the eclectic contemporary joy of this show, that Buck Hall has a charming array of theaters to work in.

I love the challenges and the flexibility of a Black Box Theater. Most of my days in college theater happened in a black box, and the difference between performing on a traditional proscenium stage and a black box is an extreme shift in perspective and intimacy.

Performers on a proscenium stage remain above, untouched and superior to the audience; whereas in a black box, the actors and the audience engage and entwine in unspoken ways that change the performance and its meaning.

So my heart always races when I enter a black box. It’s a test of strength for the entire theatre company.

Loosely summarized, this play presents us with a pregnant housewife who is kidnapped by robots, transported to the rainforest and forced to perform Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler.

The acting was solid, though in some sections in became difficult to hear the actors overhead.

The set design and use of props proved vivid and entertaining. Perhaps what impressed me most was the fluidity of scene changes and prop switches that happened right under the audience’s nose.

The robots were sci-fi rich yet silly, one made from a mannequin (and he of course talked about the size of his penile shaft), another made of a garbage can and a Rubbermaid cooler with salad tongs for arms. Three others appeared, one loosely comprised of an ironing board, another a broom.

The director’s notes refer to the multimedia and STEM nature of this piece. And indeed, the show made use of video, music and robotics. Futuristic yet in the past and present all in the same time.

And for pure comic relief, the cast performed Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart.

I know a show is good when my brain stops analyzing and just has a good time. That happened to me in this show, right around the Bonnie Tyler sing-along.

But, being me, I must keep dwelling on themes. Even though the video clips ask us to consider if we’ve sexually assaulted our toasters over the years (inserting our bread into its cavities for years for nothing but our own pleasure) and if the robots will wake up to our abuses, the actors seem to be asking us to examine the place of women and also to examine our commitments and relationships— has humanity evolved at all in the last 150 years? Or will the robots do it first?

After the show, the teenager and I took photos outside Buck Hall.

Saturday Night Silliness

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

So tonight our family is going to see Heddatron at Lafayette College. My office colleague’s husband is the technical director at the college and she invited us to come.

The teenager’s dad works at Lafayette (as I once did many, many moons ago) and I earned a second bachelors degree there, graduating with the class of 2013.

I invited him to join us for the show. He agreed. He and the teenager will be heading to the laundromat after the performance. Sounds like a good time!

We decided to go to Dubs on Fifth in West Easton for dinner. While just a sports pub, they have some vintage arcade games and good burgers. They also have an eclectic menu of grilled cheeses. They also have a sign over the bar that makes me smile:

I love Jesus but I drink a little.”

Dubs on Fifth

After dinner I mentioned that Dairy Queen has a Buy One Get One For 80 cents in honor of the eightieth anniversary.

So, of course, the teen wanted ice cream. She and her dad both got mediums. I got two minis. That way I could have TWO flavors.

And the teenager just realized her father has no neck. And thanked me for hers.

We’re enjoying a lot of silliness together. And that feels good.

Sweet sleep

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It’s 6:25 a.m. and I just poured a mug of my favorite coffee—Archer Farms Cafe Mosaica from Target. I haven’t made any in days. As part of my quest to lower my stress, fix my blood pressure and start sleeping better.

Before recent stress and life changes, I knew the routines of my body. I need at least eight hours sleep. As I get closer to my menstrual cycle, I may need more. It is typical for me to get so tired I sleep ten hours without moving in my bed. Usually only one day a month. But that hasn’t happened in a while.

For counterpoint, I usually have three days around the middle of my cycle where I’m high energy and extraordinarily confident. That hasn’t happened for a while either.

Both can probably be attributed to stress and hormone changes now that I am in my mid-forties.

There was a period for a year or so when I had insomnia once a month.

But now most of my issue is life. I think that’s how you know you’re getting older. More things disturb your sleep,

The garbage man arrives at 5:15. The cat has a hairball. The kittens decide to ricochet off my bedroom door. My personal favorite this week— the cockatoo has nightmares and calls out gently in her sleep.

So my typical sleep pattern is to collapse in bed between 9 and 10:30 pm, sleep like the dead for about 90 minutes, take about twenty minutes to fall back to sleep, get several hours good sleep before waking up briefly in the wee hours, drifting off again, and waking up when something else happens or one minute before the alarm.

(My superpower is innate time sense so I don’t often need my alarm.)

Thanks to the cockatoo’s rough night coupled with a 5:15 am visit front the garbage man, I got about six hours interrupted sleep Wednesday night. So yesterday—a long work day on top of it—I reneged on my caffeine abstention especially when I discovered my blood pressure had jumped to 153/98.

I had two cups at the office and a diet soda with dinner (that I used to wash down half a pizza) and I slept 7.5 hours last night and, according to the scale, lost a pound.

So today I am enjoying my favorite coffee and back to aiming for moderation.

March Library Excitement

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My family has been involved with Mary Meuser Memorial Library for most of my daughter’s life.

From her preschool days to 2014 I served on the library’s board of trustees, including a couple years as president.

The Pennsylvania state library board urged libraries to enforce term limits on their boards and so I left after my second term, but my husband filled my post for the next six years. He also served as president.

Now his seat is open. So I reapplied. I will be rejoining the board of trustees this month.

In addition, my daughter (with her father’s support) hosts a writing workshop and open mic at the library on the third Thursday of the month. They have asked me to lead the workshop.

To promote myself, I submitted to their weekly poetry blog. See it here: Angel Ackerman featured on Stick Figure Poetry.

I will be hosting an interactive workshop on editing for word count, specifically on how to convey the most meaning with the least words.

The workshop begins at 6 pm, March 19, at Mary Meuser Memorial Library, 1803 Northampton Street, Easton, PA. In the annex.

For more about our library visit: Mary Meuser Memorial Library

Wednesday night update

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I have a plethora of potential topics to blog about but none of them feels right for tonight. It’s Wednesday, which means quasi-deep cleans for the bird cages and garbage collection.

The top two topics on my mind are sharing my “frugal hacks”/budgeting process and my journey with my blood pressure which is also connected to my cerebral palsy.

But they are such serious topics.

The teen just suggested cats.

Oz is jealous

Both the boys—our cats who turn 9 this month—are in my room right now. I just got done with the roomba and am waiting for the “white” laundry to get done in the washing machine.

I didn’t sleep well last night but I also did not dream. My shoulders are so tense they hurt. But I had a really peaceful productive day at work.

I mixed the last of my coffee from Jamaica with some decaf and, if Dunkin made my drink correctly, my afternoon latte was a decaf. Only caffeine today came from a half cup of coffee.

Meals today… 3. Content not too bad. I totally forgot the connection between high blood pressure and sodium so I’m being more cognizant of that.

Breakfast: mostly decaf coffee with half and half, 12 ounces water, one everything bagel toasted, half with roasted red pepper hummus, half with Brie.

Approximate morning water: 50 ounces.

Late morning treat: decaf black tea with Yogi ginger tea.

Lunch: iceberg lettuce salad with purple cabbage and carrots, leftover dark meat from a rotisserie chicken, some real bacon crumbles, some imitation bacon bits, some processed chicken bites (three popcorn chicken size bites) and blue cheese dressing.

Afternoon: 20 ounces tap water

Meal break: iced coconut (unsweetened flavor) latte with skim milk, light ice and one pump caramel and about 10 gummy bears.

Supper: grilled cheese on cheap stoneground wheat bread, made with light mayonnaise instead of butter, with cheese from last night’s cheese platter and tuna. Vegetable was baked sweet potato fries. Another 12 ounces water.

Vitamins: multi, zinc, calcium/magnesium/zinc combo and B-complex.

As for other pet news, Nala is peacefully cuddly today and seems to be filling in feathers nicely.

Nala, my Goffin’s cockatoo

And in exciting news, Fog, the newest member of our household almost voluntarily got into my lap. She also rolled onto her back and let me pet her belly until I got tired of it.

Six weeks ago Fog was a feral kitten who had never been indoors!

Misty (on the teen’s lap) and Fog

Dunkin’s new matcha latte

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I finally tried the new Dunkin’ Matcha Latte.

I have been waiting since the day it debuted but I’ve been waiting for the right combination of circumstances— for a true moment of desire and need for comfort and, perhaps more importantly, enough points to earn a free drink.

I prefer my matcha iced, because hot it dissolved into the milk and the flavor is too mellow.

And an iced matcha latte is a few scoops of matcha powder in milk with some ice.

And I don’t pay $5 for flavored milk.

Just like I don’t buy $5 cups of coffee.

Today I stopped for a large iced matcha latte at my neighborhood Dunkin, the one we always prefer because they are usually empty so they have a better selection of donuts, but they are empty because even with “order on the go” where you type your exact order, they get the drink wrong.

So I order on the go on the way back to the office from CVS, thinking I’ll use the drink to take my new medicine.

Large iced matcha latte, less ice, skim milk, no whipped cream.

Easy, right?

Apparently not.

When I arrived, they haven’t pulled the slip from the machine. Three employees banter over “who wants to make this.” I’m thinking: step 1, ice. Step 2, powder. Step 3, milk. Give it a swish, swish and done.

One girl obviously loses and must prepare my drink. She starts with a medium cup. I look to confirm that my name is on the cup. It is, but she’s already put the matcha in. So I ask:

Are the sizes for matcha different than coffee? Because that looks like a medium.

Me

It takes two of them to review the sticker, confirm I got a large, and the original person grabs a large cup and starts over.

As I’m thinking it, the other employee beside her points out that she could have poured the old drink into the larger cup and added more matcha and milk.

But now we have a medium iced matcha latte and a large half filled cup of ice and milk.

So the employee gets another large cup, and pours the medium drink into it and adds matcha.

The other employee reminds her to stir it well and I tell her it’s not necessary for me because I like the matcha sludge.

At which point, a supervisor chastises her for doing it wrong.

He insists that he will do it and he starts another one in the blender. I beg the girl to let me have the lumpy one.

The supervisor looks at me like I’m nuts.

Please, I plead, I appreciate your effort to make it nice and smooth but I like the lumps. I don’t like it in the blender.

I got my lumpy latte.

And do you know what—

It tasted just like the Starbucks Matcha!

My delicious lumpy matcha latte

Do I have high blood pressure?

Angel Ackerman 3 Comments

As we age, it starts to feel like we all gain a plethora of medical conditions and for most of us they are connected.

Maybe that damage you did to your knees playing football impacts you a whole lot more than you ever imagined it would when you were 20.

Or, as my dad—now approaching 72—says,

“If I’d known I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself.”

(my dad)

I know I’m at a stressful point of life. Almost one year ago I left my job of almost ten years, I job where I was surrounded by dozens of other people everyday and working intimately with a close team. Some of them became good friends but there’s a phenomenon when you work retail. Those relationships fade once you’re “out.” And sure, I have friends outside of my former employer but some of these colleagues spent more time with me than my family.

Some close colleagues have gone on to better things. One I was very close to died of cancer. Another moved to Florida. Some just get harder to stay in touch with.

So that’s a change.

My husband moved out eight months ago. Eight months.

I got a promotion at my new job in late August, that’s six months ago. And I have no experience in my new job. That’s daunting.

When I went for my annual physical in late January, my physician was concerned about my blood pressure at 142/85. He told me to keep an eye on it and if it doesn’t go down to call him.

I called him. I’m working with a therapist to combat the stress. I mentioned to him that stress, to me, was different from anxiety. Anxiety comes when you are worried about the things that might happen. Stress is dealing with what is happening.

“What an interesting distinction,” he replied.

I am trying to do better about the gym, my diet, my rest and my frame of mind. I go see the nurse practitioner tomorrow.

My mother has been on 5 mg of the same blood pressure medicine for about 20 years.

And I know 142/85 is not really high, but I’ve learned from my chiropractor that high blood pressure will effect my balance issues from my cerebral palsy.

The stress dreams happen every night. The worst one— yet the one I feel has more meaning that the others—was “The Jar.”

I consider it a variation of the classic “buried alive” dream. I was sitting in a giant jar of nothing but black void. An ominous voice told me that the jar was a waiting room to house those people about to die, very temporarily as they passed on.

But I didn’t belong there as I wasn’t scheduled to die for another 40 years. But no one left the jar once you entered it. I was cursed to sit there in the empty, dark jar for 40 years.

Yes, I woke to my dark room fearful that I really was in a jar. As far as nightmares go, I’ve had much worse.

But it hangs with me. As important.

Maybe I need to embrace nothingness more.

Maybe I have a lot of life left to live and I need to be sure I live it.

Maybe I will die at 85.

We shall see.

I blame the Freddies

Angel Ackerman 5 Comments

My teenager will be the first to tell you that I think too much about things no one else will challenge.

And I’m about to go on a rant. This rant might make me unpopular in some circles.

And I blame it all on the Freddies.

Now, if you are not from the Lehigh Valley, you probably don’t know what the Freddies are. Basically, a local non-profit theater and the regional television station created a competition for high school musicals. (For more info, visit State Theatre for the Arts.)

In my opinion, this created a “need” for schools to do productions outside their range in order to look good in the local media. Our public schools should not have to prove the value of their arts programs via a popularity contest aired on TV.

Today the teenager and I went to see “Once Upon a Mattress” (the princess and the pea musical) at a fairly small local high school. The first thing that shocked me was paid adult musicians in the pit. It’s a high school play. Why aren’t there high school musicians? Isn’t it cheating to use paid musicians?

The kids did an amazing job, but the show seemed like some of the kids were out of their range or needed another week of rehearsal time. Which, in their defense again, it is very hard to pace a high school show to peak at the right time.

But I can’t find any fault with the performers. They gave their hearts and souls and full effort.

I just wish schools would stop pushing big production musicals if the student body isn’t equipped to do it. And so I blame the Freddies.

Now, for my second rant. This one is attacking the show from a feminist perspective.

The director says in her letter printed in the program that she was excited to do such a classic theatre piece with a strong female lead. She also praises the script for its themes, that people will find acceptance and love despite their quirks.

Poppycock.

This play is based on the premise that a woman has to pass tests and prove herself to be loved and accepted. That even other women will test a woman’s intentions and doubt her worth. Meanwhile, the father (the mute King Sextimus) chases every female character he encounters and the audience laughs.

And the Queen is hardest of all when it comes to accepting a mate for her son. She dreams up the impossible tests and only allows the marriage when she is suddenly struck mute.

She also gives a long monologue about how it’s fine that she be miserable in marriage and that’s her duty as a true princess.

Not to mention, we’re laughing at a play extolling arranged marriage. Now in the end, the castle staff fixes the test so the woman the prince loves will pass. Prince Dauntless then marries for love.

But he doesn’t marry for love.

He marries because she’s a princess. In the end, love didn’t unite them. Her princess status did. Which maybe you can argue because the Queen tries to stop it and Dauntless yells at his mother and insists he’s going to do it anyway. In my view, he waited too long to make that point valid.

Stroudsburg Saturday Night

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It’s a little before 9 a.m. and the creatures in my bedroom, which probably could more accurately be called an aviary as there are more birds sleeping there than people, let me sleep in until almost 7 o’clock.

I have a load of laundry started and I washed and cleaned some floors, with roomba’s help. The cats are fed and the dishes are going.

I had the pleasure of hanging out last night with my good friend Bill, also known as Billy Crash from Crash Palace Productions.

Bill has a horror-themed blog focused on horror movies and I don’t hesitate to say he is an expert on the genre. He was just lamenting last night that he hadn’t seen a movie worthy of inclusion on his “best of” lists since 2016.

To read more of Billy’s work—he has lots of degrees, used to be a college professor and has enough eclectic interests to either intrigue or piss off just about everybody, visit Crash Palace Productions.

I’ve written for him a few times: Search results for me on Bill’s site.

He and his partner-in-crime have a podcast, too.

So, anyway, there I go getting sidetracked again. Bill and I had dinner and drinks last night as I’ve been dying to try Banter’s Hard Cider which is in Stroudsburg, Pa. I think Bill might be their biggest fan.

First of all, being a good cockatoo mama, I got Nala a new toy to entertain her while I was gone.

After Bill and I had the preliminary getting-caught-up chatter, we headed downtown. Stroudsburg is an odd little university town that thanks to the influx of people from higher priced housing markets has struggled with a clear identity in the 40+ years of my life.

Banter’s is a very small establishment with various home-concocted ciders. The service is excellent, the atmosphere jovial and the staff knows their stuff, which in this case is cider.

The first time you visit, Banter’s suggests a tasting flight. They serve the flight from dry to sweet to dessert, and currently one peppery oddball in the middle, Green Drank.

The first selection was Bön, a dry cider with a flavor reminiscent of champagne. Of the unflavored ciders, I prefer Bön to the sweeter more typical Overcast.

The third selection was Jack Horner, so named for the plum in the mix. I enjoyed this definitely more than Overcast, as at this point sweet hard ciders have become a boring norm.

But Green Drank blew them out of the water. It starts as a semi-dry cider with kiwi, jalapeño and bell pepper. It smells peppery, but the spice was milder than it sounds. It was like a tickle in the throat versus full-out heat. Loved it, contemplated bringing home a growler.

But I didn’t. Because I’d have to drink it. And with the stress I’ve been under I didn’t think a growler in the house was a good idea.

Next came Dippins, the salted caramel cider. Delicious. Amazingly delicious. But I don’t think I could drink a whole glass unless I got one of the cocktails where they cut it with chocolate vodka. But… I’m not a fan of vodka. Or chocolate.

That left Deez Coconuts. Probably my second favorite after Green Drank. Coconut and chocolate notes. I couldn’t taste the chocolate, but I didn’t really want to. My favorite beer ever is Samuel Smith’s Organic Chocolate Stout, and I think I prefer my chocolate as stout, not in cider.

As I finished the flight, Bill asked if I had picked my favorite and if I was ready for a glass or a cocktail to which I promptly responded, “Not without dinner.”

So we went to La Morena BBQ, which is Mexican-influenced Portuguese food. And I had a tender, flavorful beef Baracoa sandwich and the French fries Bill has proclaimed the best in Stroudsburg.

Then we returned to Banter’s where I met some of Bill’s friends. It was incredibly delightful to meet Bill’s housemate, because he had told me so many wonderful things about her. The other gentleman was nice, too, but he dissed Eminem and I was too tired to start defending one of my favorite public figures.

Which that might be a great post for another day.

Happy Sunday, everyone!

**This post got interrupted and started again at 11 a.m. as my mom and I had a really lovely coffee date in my kitchen. Hey, Mom. That was really nice. Can we do it again soon?