I have made some amazing meals this weekend, all while trying to adhere to a lower sugar, lower salt, lower caffeine diet. I can’t even remember Friday, after I wrote last, but suffice to say, it happened. Gayle, my dear friend and art director, said she would bring me a wrist blood pressure cuff when we had our Parisian Phoenix meeting on Saturday. (Which, since that meeting I have built a rather cumbersome but functional direct buy web site if anyone wishes to buy books. Click here. I could really use some support, and some reviews, as the expenses right now are racking up quicker than the sales.)
Oh wait– I remember Friday! We were moved to inbound processing at work and I left feeling achy and crooked after tagging shirts and pants all day. Andrew at the gym led me through a tough upper body workout with more cardio than I enjoy after work,
I went for my blood work Saturday morning in the bitter, bitter cold (and found out Sunday morning that everything, even my vitamin D and my iron, are in healthy ranges. My LDL did get a cautionary note at 105, but since it was 107 last year and 109 the year before that, I think it will be under 100 soon.
When I got to Panera I ordered a large fountain drink and a cookie– I had perused the menu in the app the night before and had determined that the oatmeal berry cookies was the lowest calorie, lowest sodium item in the place. And the coffee, well I love Panera’s iced coffee and if we had one closer to my neighborhood I would be a member of the sips club.
I have limited my caffeine intake to one cup at 4:30 a.m. so since my blood work Saturday was fasting, I skipped morning coffee in favor of this iced coffee. The cookie, by the way, was amazing. It even had dried blueberries. It was a fair better option than any of their scrumptious breads since the breads are all laced with salt.
And I was good and did not refill my coffee.
After Saturday’s meeting, I did a lot of work, some reading, some dishes and laundry (including watching Minions: Rise of Gru while folding wash). My blood pressure seemed to be coming under control.
On Sunday I felt something in my lower back and hip. So I tried to take it easy but still do some chores around the house and bad web design for Parisian Phoenix.
I woke up today and I felt stiff but okay. I arrived at work, and within the first few minutes I knew I was not okay. By the end of the first hour I was down to 96% on my performance and my left side was burning. I made it through the day, but it was hard. And annoying. Because it’s probably been six months since I experienced pain like this.
But work had one extremely bright spot– Southern Candy made stuffed pepper soup. She brought in a massive batch of this stuff so a gang of us could have it for lunch. It was amazing! I had two bowls. It hit the spot after these bitter cold days.
It’s 6 p.m. now, and The Teenager made the Crabbiless Crab Cake recipe from the Imus Ranch Cookbook for dinner, an old family favorite. And I allowed myself some Coke Zero. My first Coke Zero in nearly a week.
I didn’t get as many steps in and chores done as I would have liked today, but I’m hoping to feel better tomorrow.
What I ate today:
4:30 a.m., one cup Supercoffee with half and half
6 a.m., first breakfast, Kind Breakfast bar, oatmeal peanut butter
8:30 a.m., second breakfast, Fage Greek Yogurt with honey, apple slices
So, my sparse writing lately has been in part from the overwhelm of discovering my blood pressure has been 150/90-something for a week. It’s to the point now when I’m starting to think I might always feel like I’m about to explode and the walls are closing in, with the occasional headache, ringing ears, tingling hands, and burning eyes. Not to mention I had a rather large shot of vodka that did nothing… it made me feel normal.
But the good news is that life at Stitch Fix is settling into a new routine and we had an all-hands meeting today to build moral in the face of all the recent changes. And The Teenager received her final fix, that– despite all her pleas to her stylist not to send any more sweaters– has two sweater, one very, very similar to the one she is wearing. The algorithm has failed her.
We’ve had light inventory recently and I wonder if that might have something to do with it. We started receiving new inventory this week.
Today I only folded at 90% of metrics so I’m sure I’ll hear about that tomorrow. But my fixes were damn near perfect.
I left work at 11 to visit the doctor. I had an appointment with one of the residents that my primary care physician requested from me in direct response to my blood pressure reading on Tuesday. I arrived at the office and was met by the same nurse that saw me Tuesday and she brought a student to handle my initial intake stuff.
The first order of the day was to take my blood pressure, which seems pretty basic at the doctor’s office, but apparently they tried to use the large cuff on me, and while my weight is no longer small, my blood pressure cuff size is. And the experienced nurse told the student that a slightly too loose cuff could make the reading a tad off, and since this was a blood pressure issue exact accuracy was important.
150/92.
Barely a change from last time. No change after my Andrew put me through a workout that had my heart beating. No change since I doubled my water intake and cut out caffeine. No change since I’ve been avoiding sugar, salt, snacks. But it’s only been 48 hours. I just wanted to see some sign that it might go down.
When the resident arrived (a very kind and handsome fellow who reminded me of a friend’s husband, but that person already has an identical twin so how can he have a local doppelganger, too? Do twins get doppelgangers or are twins their own doppelgangers?), I explained my symptoms and that it came upon me last Tuesday. With the symptoms changing over the week, and going back and forth. So we starting talking about if anything had changed and while my life is chaotic, it’s the same old chaos. No new supplements. No new medicines. No new foods.
“That’s weird,” the resident said.
He talked to my primary care physician and they did an in office EKG. My heart rhythm is fine. On Saturday I will get all my blood work. I am to keep a blood pressure log until my next visit. I said I would maintain my healthier habits.
When I left, I treated myself to an unsweetened decaf iced coffee from Dunkin.
And came home and made a lunch of warm kale and chicken burger.
And hung out with Nan. Her life right now is as chaotic as mine.
It’s hard when facing a health scare not to feel like a victim. Not to feel like another “oh, shit, why me?” moment has hurtled itself at oneself.
I try to take every new challenge and scare as an opportunity to make positive changes or do things in a new way.
So if my blood pressure is high, maybe this is the kick in the butt I need to cut back on the caffeine and encourage the discipline to stop my emotional binge eating.
I’ve upped my water intake, cut out my processed foods, and asked my trainer for his support sticking to a healthier diet and hopefully shed some of this excess weight. I have blood work scheduled on Saturday, and the doctor’s office called and asked me to visit one of the resident’s tomorrow morning.
I am doing my best to stay calm and wait to see that tomorrow brings.
So… when last we left our quest with the absence management company, I had mentioned that I sent my PCP an already completed form to expand the intermittent leave I had requested from work. Honestly, it’s getting more stressful than it is worth.
The doctor’s office sent me a message on Thursday last week that they had faxed the paperwork and I could pick it up when I was in the neighborhood so that I had the master copy in case the management company lost the fax like they did when the neurologist faxed it.
On Friday, I stopped by my therapist’s office and picked up the paperwork for my psychiatric evaluation for my service dog. During our chat, I mentioned that I had this physical feeling of anxiety that had not lifted since Tuesday, some tightness when I breathe, and the inability to relax, and I suspected high blood pressure since I was having headaches and constantly ringing ears.
He requested I have the doctor’s office run additional blood work and check my blood pressure. I said I would mention it. And that I was stopping in for my paperwork Tuesday, had my iron and Vitamin D blood draws scheduled for the following Saturday, and my annual check-up toward the end of the month.
The psychiatric evaluation mentions my struggles with stress and my past trauma and notes how I have worked through stuff, and also mentions that I display intermittent symptoms of general anxiety disorder and mild, recurrent major depressive disorder episodes. And I noted the diagnostic codes were the generic ones that don’t really say I have the condition, but that I’m teetering on the edge of it. (Is this why my health insurance won’t pay him? Do I not ‘require’ therapy in their corporate eyes?)
Then during the weekend, my fingers starting tingling. I contacted the doctor’s office and mentioned what my therapist had suggested and the staff scheduled me for a visit with the nurse today when I stopped to pick up my leave paperwork. And the doctor included some more blood work slips for me to add to my collection.
Meanwhile, I reduced my caffeine intake to two normal cups of coffee in the morning instead of my turbo-charged Supercoffee.
And today I tossed on my “Emotional Support Animal” t-shirt and for the first time since I have reached double-digits wore pigtails. And my new red glasses.
The Teenager called this my “Punky Brewster turns 40” look.
And then I took my vitamins for the second day in a row.
I did great at work today– I did 145 fixes, that’s 111%
Meanwhile… I’m out of PTO so my request off for the rescheduled service dog canine therapeutic evaluation was denied. I am fairly certain I can work that out with my supervisor.
I leave work, arrive at the doctor’s office, and when she’s available the nurse takes my blood pressure and doesn’t tell me what it is.
“We’ll do it again in a minute.”
The second result, based on her reaction, was no better than the first.
“The first reading was 150/98,” she said.
That sounded bad.
“The second reading was 150/96.”
That was not better.
She excused herself, and returned a few moments later, having discussed with her colleagues whether they should keep me in the office until they talk to the doctor, or if I could go home and they would get in touch with me later. Luckily, I was dismissed.
I came home, scanned the medical paperwork for the absence management company, emailed it and made myself a glass of cashew/almond protein milk with cacao powder. It wasn’t bad, for unsweetened non-dairy chocolate milk.
The examiner from the absence management company said she approved a leave of 1 day/8 hours a month, which is exactly what was put in one question in one segment of the paperwork. What is all the other information in the other four pages for????
And I’m loading up on water and I need to swear off the Little Caesars pizza and the savory food binges.
I just noticed I haven’t stopped by since Tuesday night… The biggest news of the week is that the I got my new glasses from the eye doctor and also my spares ordered completely online from Warby Parker. I am very happy with all my new frames and lenses so let’s hope the feeling doesn’t wear off.
Today has had its share of disappointments and excitement.
The new Little Caesar’s Slices N Stix with Bacon or Jalapeno had unexpected “results” in our household taste test. Even I, the one who normally does not eat meat, preferred the bacon.
Performance yesterday at work, 105%. Today, 103%.
Warby Parker liked my social media posts, and voted for the “Edna Mode” frames (the Winston). I ordered the red ones, only to discover that one pair is $95, but two pairs are $160. So I added the Louise Blush. They have already sent an email trying to upsell my lenses based on the strength of my prescription, which would add $50 each pair.
My PCP’s office has acknowledged the paperwork I sent in, and once the doctor signs it, the person I have been communicating with will fax it to the absence management people. And then I will pick it up, so if the absence management people lose it like they did last time, I can also upload it via the online portal.
It’s supposed to snow tomorrow.
Tomorrow was my canine therapy evaluation appointment with Susquehanna Service Dogs. They rescheduled due to the weather, so the new date in February 14.
I have worn eyeglasses for more than 30 years. I think it’s a more than ordinary experience to select your new frames at the eye doctor and hate them two weeks later. Plus, when you have bad eyes, you need your glasses to function. If you watch the video that accompanies this, you will see me struggling to function without my glasses and doing some trademarked bad vision maneuvers.
As I mentioned in my post on the Parisian Phoenix blog about visiting the eye doctor, I could use reading glasses for my right eye, so my new prescription glasses will be progressives, with all the usual bells and whistles (blue light filter, glare resistance, and that term they use for the technology that makes the lenses thinner) and will cost about $800 before insurance. Luckily, with my insurance, the bill for the exam, the glasses and these really cool photos of my eyeballs costs $305.
Now, I’ve had some glasses I’ve really enjoyed (and the dog ate them all in her puppy days) and regardless of how much I think I like them I have criticism of them fairly quickly. The pair I have now are too delicate, weirdly shaped around the eyes and the coating on the metal has eroded where the cockatoo grabs them with her beak and rips them off my face. (Yes, I know eyeglasses are not meant to withstand a saucy Goffins cockatoo.)
So, I thought, with my new prescription in hand, it might be fun to try Warby Parkermail order frame service. Now, it turns out that there is a Warby Parker brick and mortar store twenty minutes away, but who wants to go be surrounded by that many choices. I used the online try on tool to browse and select my final five choices.
I selected these five frames because they are not what I would pick to wear on my face for the next 1-2 years. And to be clear– I am planning to order the cheapest, single vision lenses they offer because I just want some glasses to break up the monotony.
Day One Thoughts:
The Big Black Pair. I was inspired by Edna Mode. And I do like them. Because they are excessive and completely unlike anything I would wear. And The Teenager looks cute it them.
The Red Pair. If I had to pick right now, I would pick these. They are too wide for my face, but they mimic the shape of my narrow-lensed favorite glasses ever. And as the Teenager pointed out, they turn a bit pink on my skin. Which makes them great for Parisian Phoenix events.
The Blush Tortoiseshell. My previous pair of glasses had large standard tortoiseshell frames. I nicknamed them “The Librarian Glasses.” I thought these would be a subtler version. The Teenager said they matched my skin and make the glasses look weird, as if the frames were broken. But seeing them on the video, I like them.
The Muted Green Pair. At first I thought I hated them, but once again, the video has me wondering if I was wrong.
The Clear Plastic Frames that Look Like They Have Wire. These are just compelling. It’s an unusual style of frame.
I’ll keep you posted what and when I order. Please send your opinions via the comments.
This video contains an excessive amount of giggling and cat butt.
I loved being a newspaper reporter and I adored working for weeklies the best. Weekly newspaper reporters typically had a geographic beat, whereas daily reporters had a topic-oriented beat. I worked in Phillipsburg (N.J.) School District (Phillipsburg, Lopatcong, Pohatcong, Greenwich, and Alpha) for several papers and Bethlehem (Pa.) Area School District for another.
I covered Phillipsburg from early 2000 to late 2005.
I know so many things about the region, its neighborhoods and its nooks and crannies. It’s how Maryann Ignatz of Steve’s Café on South Main Street in Phillipsburg ended up in the Parisian Phoenix anthology, Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money. (Which Amazon has a ridiculous deal on right now. $2.60 each, limit four. I don’t think I can order them from the printer for that low of a price. So I ordered some. This also allows me to see if they really do have as many of my books in stock as they say they do. But I may do a Parisian Phoenix blog to explore this more. I ordered some books from Bookshop and Amazon, the kind I did not publish.)
But I digress.
Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab at Phillipsburg Petco
The cat rescue for which I foster originated in the Phillipsburg area “back in those days.” Mars, The Teenager’s foster fail, and his sister, the shy Minerva I mention occasionally, spent time in the Phillipsburg Petco to improve their socialization with a certain cat volunteer who I believe is the only person who has purchased, read & reviewed all of my novels. I call her my only true fan. She even bought some as Christmas presents for family. (I swear to this individual, I am writing the next installment. I am.)
So, when they have a “Meet the Kitties” event, someone from that crew usually invites Minerva.
Yesterday I received such a text.
I was in my bedroom plotting my catch-and-crate technique for the shy girls. I had two potential crates at the Petco, so if I could nab Minerva and tripod Louise, then they could share the crate on site, and eight month old kitten Jennifer Grey could have the other. Except Louise knew something was up and hid.
That’s when my friend and Parisian Phoenix photographer Joan Zachary texted.
“You going to be around later? I have some stuff I forgot to give you.”
I told her: The only place I had to go was to the cat event.
“I haven’t picked up my camera enough.”
Joan said she’d like to come photograph cats, as she hadn’t picked up her camera enough and could use the inspiration.
I don’t know what made me say it, but I asked her: “Have you ever seen the dinosaurs in Alpha?”
I warned her that they weren’t that exciting, unless you had a thing for dinosaurs or were five.
“I’m five at heart,” she replied.
So I told The Teenager that Joan would be coming over and we would go spend some time at Meet the Kitties and I might take Joan to see the dinosaurs.
“Can I come?!?!?!” she exclaimed as if she were five.
I have taken her to see the dinosaurs probably every three years since she was not-even-two-years-old. And she still acts likes the random metal dinosaurs are exciting.
G.J. Oliver’s Dinosaurs
We drove Joan to the Phillipsburg Petco where she took some kitty cat photos (“you need them for the new cat book,” she said). Then, with two cats and The Teenager in the car we headed to Alpha to the Industrial Park to see the dinosaurs. I heard the story about the dinosaurs at an Alpha council meeting, when someone was talking about how confused the MedEvac helicopter pilot was when a dispatcher told him to look for the dinosaurs to find the small municipality.
The story goes that industrialist G.J. Oliver built the life-sized metal dinosaurs, complete with a rather blocky, Minecraft-style caveman, for his grandson. Online research reports that the Oliver operation is a steel fabrication company, which makes a lot of sense. We did a photo tour of small town Alpha for the newspaper “in my day” and included another Alpha icon, the now defunct Charlie’s Pool Room which was primarily a hot dog joint run by two brothers with some blue plates, a crock pot, a skillet and their grandmother’s secret sauce.
The dinosaurs have been standing now for decades. The main display of dinosaurs in the field are now white. The Teenager insisted that they had to have been primed as the white was too even and perfect. The dinosaur by the gate is still deep green, which makes me wonder if sun damage may have bleached the others. (As of this writing, Joan has only shared her iPhone photos. She has not played with the real camera shots yet. And both the Teenager and I, having seen the dinosaurs a dozen times before, did not snap token photographs.)
photo by Joan Zachary via iPhone
Ingersoll’s Valley View Neighborhood of Edison’s Concrete Houses
photo by Joan Zachary, via iPhone
As we departed Alpha, some random information about my newspaper days started tumbling from my mouth.
“Did you ever hear about Thomas Edison’s patented, single-pour concrete houses?”
The Teenager, who has a fascination with all things built, leaned closer. Okay, maybe I’m being dramatic. But suddenly she looked up from her phone where she was probably engulfed in TikTok.
Phillipsburg has changed a lot over the years. The Ingersoll Rand tract has finally been developed into warehouses. When I still attended Phillipburg council meetings (before The Teenager was born), the town council constantly discussed the land’s redevelopment and finally took the parcel by eminent domain. Or maybe they just talked about it. But I’m pretty sure they did. I also remember one property on the site I may have visited in the first attempt to revive the site, but that might be my imagination.
So, it’s no surprise I lost my bearings among the warehouses and had to google Gino’s Market, the landmark of the Valley View neighborhood where the concrete homes (one neighborhood of only three in New Jersey featuring the experimental quick-to-erect, low-cost homes by early 20th century standards) stand. I don’t know why I didn’t google Green Street School.
I had overshot the neighborhood by a street and that’s how I confused myself. I had the Early Childhood Center in view the entire time but I was on the opposite side of the building where I thought I was.
Now, honestly, I don’t know if Joan really needs all my quirky adventures. I’d like to think she does. And The Teenager laments that she never knew me as a reporter and that she would love to experience all these strange tidbits I have floating in my head. I don’t know what made me think of the concrete houses today, but The Teenager loved them. I suppose it’s no surprise that I write fiction because sometimes my paranormal stories are less strange than my real life.
As I mentioned in my earlier blog post, The Teenager and I went to see M3GAN late Thursday afternoon. That in itself became a delightful adventure and you can read about that here. We had a lot of fun, but The Teenager still hates horror movies. We had a brief stint as reviewers on Crash Palace Production’s horror blog, watching horror films as a mother-daughter team. (Here ares our reviews of Little Shop of Horrors, Nosferatu, and others.) I had listened to an episode of NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour podcast on the film, where reviewers discussed its similarities and differences from the Child’s Play franchise and the changing ethics of robotics now that we have reached the age of AI.
As soon as I saw the trailer, I couldn’t help but make a comparison to VICI (pronounced Vicky, “Voice Input Child Identicant”) of Small Wonder, a sitcom that aired from 1985 to 1989. Now, VICI and M3GAN are both androids made to appear as girls about ten years old but man does M3GAN look like a badass compared to girl next door VICI.
If you never saw or don’t remember Small Wonder, it’s available on YouTube.
But forget the innocent, eager-to-please robot of the 1980s. M3GAN wears dark eye makeup and takes her role as the friend and protector of Katie– the child she’s paired with– very literally. I mean, she’s a robot so I guess that’s to be expected.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. One can liken a good robot story to a good vampire story, but from different sides of the human condition. I always considered any anthropomorphic, humanoid monster a way to explore the darkness of our souls. The monster does what many of us would like to do: give in to our urges, be violent, be sexual, be indulgent, and selfish. A good robot story examines what it means to be human and what happens when technology fails because they lack what makes us human: emotions, the ability to age, the capacity to see beyond black and white.
The reviewers at Pop Culture Happy Hour portrayed the film as homage to 1980s horror, and spoke about it with an enthusiasm that sounded more fun that just discussing its merits as a movie. And one reviewer said something that, especially when combined with the concept of what happens when AI goes rogue? piqued my interest; she said that everything the robot did was justified when you consider the basic command it was given.
I asked my friend, Bill Prystauk, founder of the horror website I referred to earlier (Crash Palace Productions), if he wanted to join me. He said apologetically that his schedule was tight and that he wasn’t sure he would enjoy the horror comedy.
I stared at my phone. Horror Comedy?
Did I happen to mention that I am very out of mainstream pop culture? I specifically listen to podcasts like Pop Culture Happy Hour and Why are People Watching This so that I might have a clue.
But I don’t.
But I did want to see this movie.
So what did I think?
The movie began with a satire of a Furby commercial. Which in itself was confusing in the best way. It was a not-so-subtle reference to the company where Aunt Gemma worked. And the toy Aunt Gemma had bought Cady for her birthday. And then we witness a car accident. And (MILD SPOILER– you might be under a rock if this is a spoiler) this is how Cady comes to live with Gemma.
And Gemma builds robotic toys. As a new guardian, Gemma has to struggle with work/life balance and her own inability to be emotionally available. When she gets the opportunity to use Cady to beta test what Gemma believes will be a best friend and babysitter, she takes advantage. The clincher is when Cady remarks that if she had a doll like M3GAN (Model 3 Generative Android) she would never need another toy. And the social worker had said that Gemma had to get Cady some toys.
Except for Gemma and Cady, many of the characters are two-dimensional in the satirical way. The ridiculousness of these people is what gives this movie its humor: the ill-mannered tech CEO, the overlooked assistant, the bully at school, the annoying and inconsiderate neighbor, the “granola” mom. The humor is far from complex, but certainly at a higher level than let’s say middle school boy.
The creepy factor is 100%. From how M3GAN baits her victims to how she does what does. I shiver a bit even now. Let’s just say M3GAN doesn’t need traditional weapons.
The CGI can be a tad over the top.
But the ending… is perfect. The final battle shows that Cady was paying attention all along and is way smarter than anyone gave her credit for.
But overall–
I felt like I was strapped into a roller coaster. Maybe an old wooden coaster trying to compete with modern steel. The way the film moved from campy humor to dark horror in seconds was a jarring transition, and overall the film felt super rushed. As a viewer, it felt like the entire movie spanned only two weeks. And I’d like to believe that if M3GAN is going to outgrow her original programming, it would have required more time. And this is amazing because in the first scenes of the movie, M3GAN’s head blew off in an accident with the construction of her face. She goes from melted to demonic in no time flat.
In totality, the movie was fun and as said earlier extremely creepy and if you take the time to think about all the topics they are tackling– from the dangers of AI to parenting with technology, there’s a lot going on. And in many ways, M3GAN finds her reasons to act on all the things we would really like to do: deal with the jerk at the office, the annoying dog, the obnoxious neighbor and the school bully. But the movie is also a satirical romp through all the horror tropes, which I did not expect, but I suppose I did enjoy.
In closing, let me offer you this review from Critical Drinker.
Yesterday, The Teenager came with me to see M3GAN, which I had an interest in because of an episode of NPR’s podcast Pop Culture Happy Hour.
The weather had turned rainy and dreary, making the cold January dusk seem later and more ominous than it was.
And when we walked into Regal– there was no one in the lobby except one employee behind the concession stand desperately trying to find things to do. (We scanned my Regal loyalty card and it said my visits were at negative four. That amused me. I attend about once movie a year, and I think the last one the Teenager bought the tickets online because it was her movie.)
The big sign in the outdoor-facing booth where viewers used to queue as little as three years ago (I remember because it was one of my few sad post-break-up attempts at a Tinder date) read “Buy Tickets at Concession Stand” but the little room stood so oddly barren and the theater so damn dark I thought I had entered The Walking Dead and was about to try and loot the place for stale Jujyfruits and processed nacho cheese sauce (two of my favorites). Excuse the extreme run-on sentence because it’s Saturday morning and I’ve been trying to write this since Thursday night and now I’m getting swept up in the mood.
When I googled my spelling of Jujyfruits, this clip came up and I did not watch Seinfeld “back in the day” and I love a fresh Jujyfruit, I had to watch it. Let me share:
The Teenager, as I paid for the tickets, surveyed the concession menu and grimaced. I could tell by her body language that the prices had been a sucker punch. She asked me if I had a quarter as we traversed the long, empty (and silent) corridor to the last theater in the corner. I had one, and she had been obsessing for days about an everlasting gobstopper. I gave her my quarter and she raced to the boxy red gumball machines and moaned when she discovered her sugar fix of choice was fifty cents.
I suggested she go to the car for a second quarter, which she did after much deliberation. I handed her her ticket and opened the door to the very empty theater.
I forgot to check my tickets for seat numbers. I’m “of that age” that this assigned seats at the movies doesn’t make sense to me. I plop my butt in a chair and receive a text from The Teenager.
“The car is locked.”
I heard the theater door open and I was about to toss the fob at her when I realized it was a rather rotund man with a soda and a vat of popcorn the size of my head (including my frizzy shoulder-length curls) walked in. And he sat just enough behind me that I could hear his chewing and have that cozy feeling that the dog had come to the movies with us.
The Teenager returned and I offered the keys and she announced that she had surrendered the hunt for the confection. She asked what seat was hers. She looked at her ticket and pointed out we should have been exactly one seat over on the other side of the aisle. I thought it pretty impressive I had almost selected the seat the lovely person at the concession stand had assigned to us. And, my anxiety made me debate for the next ten minutes whether we needed to move to the other side of the aisle in the empty theater. I stayed put. And no one else came into the theater so it was not an issue.
And this was when the theater lit up with an advertisement that they needed employees, and I may have chortled.
“To do what?” I asked the teenager.
Now I fully intend to write a review of the movie, and I hope my brain can do a good job as I forgot my journal so I did not jot down notes. I then thought I would make some notes when I surprised the teen with dinner, but as we go on with the story you’ll see why I did not.
And when I checked my email after the movie, I noticed Regal had sent me an email while I was at the film offering me fifty percent off a popcorn for National Popcorn Day.
The Teenager darted toward the door after the movie declaring that she hated it, in that same tone that she used to tell me how much she hated summer camp. That she attended nine summers in a row.
“Am I driving?” she asked. And there may have been a reference to what was for dinner.
“I figured I wouldn’t feel like cooking…”
“Do you want me to make something?” she interrupted.
“I was thinking of IHOP, I’ve had a craving for pancakes,” I said.
She was in. But when we left the parking lot of the enormous, confusing shopping plaza, it was pouring rain and my windows fogged up faster than the car could defrost them and my astigmatism made it impossible to see with nearly-a-half-century-old eyes. I turned into the opposite side of the highway and went away from the IHOP instead of toward. Traffic and eyesight meant we went almost half way home before we found a spot to turn the car away. But we wanted pancakes.
And not comforting, grill-greased diner pancakes, but sickeningly sweet IHOP pancakes. Meanwhile, the Teenager googles IHOP’s hours because we’ve had a long day at this point and I don’t want to fight my way there and learn they closed at 6 p.m. or even 7 p.m. (It’s about 6:50 p.m.)
But as she typed– she typed IGOB instead of IHOP and we have a good laugh about IGOB because that sounds like her kind of place. Like an all-you-can-eat buffet where you show up and they pile food in front of you and you shove it all it your gob. (Did you know: apparently gob is British slang?)
We made it to IHOP and we drive around the building through the parking lot. All the lights were on but the place was empty. We practically drove up to the front door and there was one person, hunched over the counter by the register, scribbling on a tablet, or maybe dead. The former Howard Johnson’s/America’s Best motel beside us was literally falling down. I tried to park the car nicely in the streaming rain and I totally missed the lines.
“I’m driving home,” The Teenager said.
“Please do,” I replied.
Now, the theme of Zombie Apocalypse was running amok in my head. I felt like I had entered a dystopian fantasy. And part of me wanted to give up and forget pancakes.
But… pancakes.
And I had Christmas cash in my purse that the Teenager had given to me and I had traded her electronic funds into her checking accounts because she knows I like to have a cash reserve. The budget is super tight the next few months and I have pledged to minimize use of my Amex until I replenish my savings. Especially if I am approved for the service dog wait list.
This week might be a week of last hurrahs.
We walked in and it became apparent there was one employee in the kitchen and one in the front of house. The hostess/server announced they were closing in twenty minutes, which really meant the kitchen closed in thirty minutes but close enough, right?
I suggested maybe we should go and the employee’s demeanor changed.
“Oh no,” she said. “You’re good.”
(Maybe she realized serving us would be more interesting than standing around doing nothing for an hour?)
The server, Holly as the receipt later said, started telling us all the things we were out of.
“We just want pancakes,” I said.
The Teenager ordered the cupcake pancakes and I ordered the protein lemon ricotta pancakes with mixed berry sauce. Tossing protein powder in pancakes makes them healthy, right?
As we waited for the pancakes, which may have taken eight minutes (we were in and out in thirty minutes, including the five minutes I watched out server hand wash dishes before coming to take my money), The Teenager (using her waitress eyes from her time in the business) spotted a very dirty five under a ketchup bottle. We passed it along to Holly. She was grateful.
IGOB.
The bill came to $25.63, which I remember because I counted out the 63 cents and The Teenager kept thinking nickels were quarters (kids today), and I left $40.63. Yes, I left a $14 tip. Hopefully I brought Holly some joy, or helped her pay a bill, who knows? The place was so desolate it felt like it was the right thing to do.
Then I went home to these two. Foster Louise the Tripod acts like FURR kitten Jennifer Grey is such a threat. But Jenny keeps trying to be friends. They cuddle me from opposite sides of the bed. Louise gets my right; Jenny gets my left.
Angel Ackerman 