So, The Teenager’s (now College Student’s) car won’t start and today I needed my car for a 10 a.m. chiropractor appointment. I’ve noticed over the last couple days some of my random hip/leg issues have stopped causing discomfort so that is awesome. The chiropractor is less than a block from The Teenager’s college campus, so I headed out a little early and did the last touches on this week’s Parisian Phoenix Substack newsletter. Are you interested in my little publishing company’s newsletter? If so, click here. Today I talked a bit about technology and privacy.
The Teenager’s first class was at nine, and my appointment was at ten, so that left me the dilemma of how to organize my day into pieces that fit our combined schedule. I completed the computer work I wanted to finish before 9:30 and I even got to watch the street sweeper comb the neighborhood. I read some of Stephanie Parents gothic D/s (of the impact play, not the sexual kind) mystery in the reception area. I found my favorite passage of the book so far:
“The trouble with this sort of exorcism was that when it ended, when Jack stopped spanking her, nothing had changed. She hadn’t split open, and nothing had spilled out from inside of her…”
The Briars, Chapter Nine (Claire)
I left the chiropractor at about 10:15 a.m., and I needed to use the restroom. I also thought I could swing out to the Forks Township Dollar Tree because I need some items, and I’m trying to stock my kitchen on an extreme budget. I have $74 left in my wallet in cash, and anything in my checkbook is for the bills these days.
It’s free coffee with any purchase Monday at Dunkin, but I wasn’t in the mood for iced coffee and that particular Dunkin requires a key for the bathroom. I usually get three munchkins for $1.29 and feed them to the dog. But today, I opted for a Diet Coke from McDonalds. I could just go in the backdoor and use the restroom and leave, but I try not to be that person.
I opened my app and ordered a large Diet Coke for $1.49 plus tax and redeemed some of my reward points from those previous Diet Cokes for a hashbrown. Then I used my “Apple Cash” to pay the $1.58. I didn’t realize that I’ve never stepped inside that McDonald’s– it’s all reclaimed wood with a stone look and oversized cushioned stools at the table.
I headed over to the next plaza to visit The Dollar Tree and discovered they don’t have refrigerated cases. Perhaps because it’s so close to a Giant Food Store and/or because it’s a more upscale neighborhood. I spent $13.08 from my cash and got some staples, some candy and the cornerstone of one meal.
Guacamole Flavored Tortilla Chips
Potato Gnocchi
Hunts Garlic and Herb Sauce
10 flour tortilla
Sandwich slice pickles
Self rising white corn meal blend on clearance for 50 cents
Yoohoo for The Teenager to surprise her
Canned Peas
Canned Diced Potatoes
Black Licorice
Wallably Hot Cinnamon Licorice
(Which reminds me that I made the turkey hot dogs I bought at Dollar Tree last week. Eight hot dogs for $1.25. I fried them in the skillet until they were crisp and seasoned them with garlic pepper, crushed red pepper and smoked paprika. Even the Teenager had to say, “How did you manage to make these taste so good?”)
From there, back to campus to retrieve the Teen. We also stopped at CVS for our medicine ($1). The Teenager made wanting eyes at the Jelly Belly Candy Canes that I thought were $3.99. I picked them up because I had a $3 off coupon I knew would expire before we set foot in CVS again. It turned out they were $5.19! For candy canes! But after my coupons, they were $1.96.
Then we came home and I opened the package from Amazon, of my own books from my own publishing house because Amazon has them on sale so cheap right now I can get them cheaper from there versus shipped from the distributor.
I cleaned up the kitchen, tried to declutter, and then ate the rest of the hot dogs for lunch. After some correspondence with friends, I came out to the sunporch to finish my Diet Coke and let the dog enjoy the porchy porch.
If you miss my ridiculous banter, you may want to visit ParisianPhoenix.com because most of my activities now relate to the publishing company because I’m trying to develop enough business to make a living now that Stitch Fix has closed its Bethlehem warehouse.
Speaking of Stitch Fix, one of my friends who has gotten fixes religiously since I started with the company got an email today that whatever warehouse shipped her fix instead of ours did not scan the package as it left the facility so neither Stitch Fix nor the carrier has a record of it. Therefore, if she does not receive a fix today or tomorrow, she is to let them know as then they have reason to believe it is lost.
Yup. Did I ever mention that we were the most efficient, safest working warehouse in the network?
Random Cat Photo: Touch of Gray
Anyway, back to my day. I started my day assisting the Teenager with course registration at her college. She is studying BS psychology and had a good plan. She had courses and backup courses and I planned on catching up with my NaNoWriMo word count (if you don’t know what NaNo is or you have opinions about the NaNo controversary, my take is here) before meeting Nan and a poet friend.
She could not get into ANY of her classes, nor ANY of her backups, nor ANY classes at all in her department. With my help, we found Intro to Women’s/Gender/Sexuality studies, Theory of Religion and Intro to Sociology. She’s also hoping– but probably doesn’t have a chance–to get into astronomy. The professor was on of her pet-sitting clients.
With this new course load, I think she should apply for an interdisciplinary major of her own design, the new BA in Cult Leadership.
I managed to pull 500 words for my novel before heading out to get Nan.
I decided to give Nan her “Christmas present” early. I put that in quotes because I would have gotten it for her regardless of the season. It kept popping up on the available Amazon Vine items that I can review. If you’ve heard about Nan enough, I probably don’t have to tell you she LOVES NASA. She has followed the space program since before man landed on the moon.
Nan won’t go out for the day if there’s a NASA event going on. She has cable simply so she can watch NASA TV.
I got her a decorative desk piece that has an astronaut on the moon with some sort of moon lander or rover. And the space suit has a ledge where you can place your cell phone and the lander thing is a pencil can. The most impractical gift for a blind person. It’s a sculpture you can’t see, with features for items you don’t use.
I’m relieved to say– she loved it. She loves that she can put her two pens that she keeps for sighted friends on her desk. She loves that the sculpture has enough detail that she can look at it. And she loves that for the first time, she has something space-themed she can display.
We took it up to her room and arranged it on her desk and headed to our appointment. We had made arrangements to meet a new friend, we’ll call her the Italian Poet. We were workshopping some of her poems.
Now here’s some motivation/inertia for you: If you write, paint, photograph, whatever, you must find others who share your artistic sensibilities and draw from their energy. Sometimes you share feedback, sometimes you seek inspiration together. Sometimes you learn, sometimes you teach. But the union of people in a space can build spirits and keep you going.
And after Italian Poet encouraged me to pursue my educational goals and I prodded her to finish her Ph.D., Nan and I embarked on our annual tradition: Gobbler bowls at Wawa.
We live a simple existence. Then we taste-tested a peppermint watermelon sparkling water. Nan did not approve. I did. But, as Nan says, I do seek out the weird stuff.
The Teenager used Nan and I for a photography project.
I went to the gym for leg day where I squat 120 pounds on the barbell for eight solid reps. Definitely liking that!’
This week I have been laid off for two months. It’s hard to believe how the time slips by so quickly. I look at my calendar, perplexed at how it can always be so full and wondering if it will ever yield anything of note. And perhaps it doesn’t even matter.
I haven’t offered much in the way of personal blogging recently. I have been piecing together clients, hustling to make a buck, volunteering and showing up more than I should in order that I might build relationships that go somewhere. I hope some of the ties I have forged in the last eight weeks will create the kind of ties that yield interpersonal rewards even if they don’t present professional ones. Because in the end, if you foster the personal relationships, people trust you with their business.
But I realized yesterday, that I spend probably 8-12 hours a day reading, writing and/or editing and my poor brain never gets a break. So, I called Southern Candy and invited her over. She brought our favorite doughnuts (ours meaning she, myself, and The Teenager; flavor, sour cream) and despite the fact that I had a discount milkshake from Sheetz for lunch, I had a dougnut for dinner.
It looks like I gained back every ounce of weight I had lost since the gym initiated its Christmas resolutions challenge. With about eight weeks to go, my hopes of reaching my goal had dwindled thanks to free Big Macs and too much Dollar Tree snack products.
My mobility has been rocky. When my gait is stable, my pain seems high. When I’m not in pain, I tend to fall. Since I’m unemployed, I applied for medical assistance and if approved, maybe I could do some physical therapy. I can always use physical therapy.
As if reading my mind, I received an email today from my caseworker at Susquehanna Service Dogs about creating my Personal Placement Plan or my P3. I scheduled that Zoom meeting for the end of the month and have to say it’s exciting to think about what my service dog might be able to do.
It’s also interesting to see how different people react to a lay-off. I’ve had people seem as if there’s something wrong with me that I haven’t found a new job yet. I’ve had friends and clients ask if The Teenager and I are financially okay. And I’ve heard some interesting news that some people think they know and influence my financial affairs even though they haven’t spoken to me since before the lay-off.
The holidays are coming up, with Thanksgiving kicking off the season next week, and with so many family members who seem to have disappeared, including my mother and stepmother who don’t reach out to me anymore and I don’t understand why, I’ll be trying to create my own traditions and my own sense of what I want my life to be. But sometimes, and lately more often than usual, I miss my family.
Earlier this week, I had an interview with the owner of a doggie daycare/boarding facility about a potential job. I’m striking out with some of my professional interviews, and perhaps they can sense that I really don’t want to return to full-time work. Ideally. I’d like to recruit more editorial clients and focus on Parisian Phoenix Publishing. A part-time job would give me the chance to do that, and provide some stability.
The dog thing happened by accident. I saw it on Indeed and figured “Why the Hell Not?” I’m not the dog-whisperer like The Teenager, but dogs usually like me. And between mothering and petsitting and fostering I have cared for kittens, cats, dogs, rats, parakeets, parrots (this includes Nala and a Senegal), rabbits, various lizards, hermit crabs, snakes, chickens and horses.
And I’ve medicated many of those creatures.
During the original interview, the cleanliness of the place impressed me. It didn’t smell like dog, and it didn’t smell like bleach or harsh chemicals. The facility wasn’t noisy. And there were many varieties of kennels and rooms and play areas for the dogs.
The owner invited me back for a second “working” interview today, so I got to learn more about the ins-and-outs and I got to help with private play for several of the dogs. I caught one larger dog (about the same size and build as our own F. Bean Barker) that got away from the caretaker because he didn’t want to stay in his room. I noticed some expired vaccines on dogs who applied to come in for an evaluation. I made friends with a miniature poodle with red hair that usually didn’t like anybody. I hosed off artificial turf.
In other news, I also followed up on a lead I learned about last night about an office position, part-time, in downtown Bethlehem.
I am trying to capitalize on skills other than food service, as I’d like my resume to follow my eclectic and diverse involvements so keeping it professional or doing more in animal care/welfare seems right for this phase.
My trainer Andrew announced that he thought I could bench 100 lbs by Christmas. This was after I benched 80 lbs for three solid reps. It was a new personal record for me and another reinforcement that I have regained strength in 2023, despite the health issues.
I told him that after the Christmas season challenges we already have listed on the public goal board at the gym, we need to add the next goals for my birthday in late May and another set for my 50th birthday in 2025.
But, even while my strength increases, my stress eating continues. Now, I aim for 1300-1500 calories a day so that even if I “binge” I don’t do too much damage. Nowadays, I often hit 2000 calories only on a bad eating day.
Today for breakfast I did not go for my usual bagel with cream cheese, avocado or even more decadent brie. I had one serving of Cabot cottage cheese (it’s very decadent and smooth), a golden kiwi, about a cup of raspberries, and a cold matcha latte, my style, made with sweetened matcha powder, unflavored whey powder and unsweetened, organic coconut milk that was delightfully hearty and robust. The breakfast came to 400 calories– including the cup of coffee with half and half I had four hours earlier (and come to think of it, I never finished it. Not only did it have lots of satisfying fat to tide me, but it also had 27 grams of protein.
I have a networking event I plan to attend later in the day, at a brewery, so I had lunch at 2 p.m. and decided to stay with the high protein low cal effort. I used a whole wheat tortilla to hold almost a cup of chopped romaine lettuce and a serving of Penn Valley homestyle chicken salad. I added a small glass of diet Ocean Spray ruby red grapefruit juice and a dessert– Chobani zero sugar Greek yogurt. That meal was a little more than 400 calories and also 27 grams of protein, but I did not finish the yogurt.
Tomorrow I have a working interview, my second, for a job where I would need black pants. So, yesterday Southern Candy, The Teenager and I went to the thrift store. My four pairs of pants came to about $8, and three of them fit.
So, Stitch Fix was the first subscription-based, personalized clothing service. The company launched in 2010, as the lore has it on Valentine’s Day, and every year on Valentine’s Day, employees in our warehouse received the latest edition of the annual Stitch Fix t-shirt. I started with the company in their Pennsylvania warehouse, neighboring a small city named Bethlehem.
The facility itself was about a 1/4-mile long, and the smallest in the Stitch Fix network when I joined the team in November 2020. Our warehouse was nicknamed “The Bizzy.” During my time with the company, we had a network of six warehouses– ours was the second ever opened: The Bizzy (Bethlehem, Pa.), Breezy (Atlanta, Ga.), Dizzy (Dallas, Tx.), Hoozy (Indianapolis, Ind.), Phizzy (Phoenix, Az.), and Rocky (Salt Lake City, Ut.) And that doesn’t include operations in the United Kingdom.
The Rocky closed first. Bizzy is closing now. Dizzy is closing in a few more months. And Stitch Fix is pulling out of the UK.
Working for Stitch Fix
I loved working for Stitch Fix. They paid well considering the work we did. I was hired as part of an experimental shift during the pandemic, a second shift from 3:30 p.m. to midnight, to reduce the amount of people in the building at one time. We were called “The Midnight Society,” and we had badass sweatshirts. After midnight society, we moved to ten-hour cohorts to run the building seven days a week– in line with the Freestyle business, allowing clients to order their own items and have them delivered promptly. We live in a universe where those packages show up on our doorstep within a day or two. Eventually, that ended, and we were all folded into traditional day shift. I made three shift changes in two years, some of my peers made four changes in three.
The work was easy. The corporate culture was great. But all the change was hard. Many of us clung together like trauma victims, connected by the bonds of shared experience. And for me– if you know me personally or follow this blog you know this already– Stitch Fix allowed me to recover from past work experiences that shipped away at my self-esteem, explore my health issues and be honest about how my congenital disability impacted my body and my work life, and participate in a work environment where, except for some of that day shift crew that never quite accepted us, made me feel valued for my contribution and for who I am as a person in addition to my role as a cog in a very big wheel.
Even amidst closing our facility, Stitch Fix offered a lot of opportunity and support to displaced employees that they were not required to provide.
The Stitch Fix employee’s friend’s client experience
I clearly remembering sitting on my sunporch reading a Vogue when I learned that a woman named Katrina Lake had launched a clothing subscription service. I wished I could log on and subscribe to this then monthly– and only monthly– box service because I love fashion. I was watching Elsa Klensch on CNN back in the 1990s with awe. I adored Jean-Paul Gaultier and bought his then brand new perfume (it wasn’t Classique yet, it was the only one then) and a bottle of the oh-so-trendy Chanel vamp nail polish in Paris in 1995. (And the perfume spilled all over my suitcase on the flight home, leaving a wildly strong aroma and a very broken-hearted me.)
My novel universe, the Fashion and Fiends series of horror books, blends supernatural and paranormal monsters/events with the high fashion universe. It’s just a mix of art, function, commercialism and international influence that fascinates me. Here’s an excerpt from one of my academic papers on the topic, also from 2010.
So, mindlessly folding clothes in the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy while listening to podcasts and building my publishing company, Parisian Phoenix Publishing, suited me just fine. I got to see the clothes, touch them, build the boxes clients would open, and watch the machine whirl around me.
Stitch Fix offers its employees a 40% discount. We don’t get any additional discounts, like the 25% buy all, and we still have to pay styling fees. But when I started at the company, I was a single mom getting on my feet after four months of unemployment and I had gained 30 pounds that I hoped to lose again.
I gave my discount to a friend. Stitch Fix allows employees to designate their discount to anyone of their choosing, but this election can only change once every six months. My friend and I opened her boxes together– sometimes in person, sometimes via Zoom. The first couple boxes were fun, but soon we both started seeing repetitions. The algorithm that Katrina Lake raves about seemed to suggest very similar pieces to those in previous boxes whether or not my friend had kept previous items. And certain notes to the stylist the algorithm would ignore, like despite “no sleeveless” or “no horizontal stripes,” those items would come in the next box.
After a year, I had to admit those excess pounds might not be going anywhere soon. I was ready to get myself some clothes. We ordered my friend’s last box with my discount. And we opened it. I have embedded the video below, and note I am wearing a top and a pair of Judy Blue jeans that I purchased from the employee store at the warehouse.
The Stitch Fix employee’s daughter’s client experience
The Teenager, who had just turned 18, comes to me and announces that she has no idea what her own style is because people have purchased all of her clothes for her thus far in her life. As part of her Christmas present, I agree to pay for six months of Stitch Fix so she can work with a stylist.
Now, let me just go ahead and ruin the ending– this was a failure. I even looked at her client file and saw a note that the algorithm would not allow her stylist access to anything my daughter wanted. I know my daughter did not interact with the quizzes, nor did she bookmark items as favorites. Instead, she uploaded photos. And I don’t think the AI can understand that.
The first fix was moderately successful, but the later ones seemed to repeat, just like my friend’s did. I actually had more luck going into Freestyle and selecting items for her. I hoped that would make it better. It didn’t. If you watch the video of The Teenager and her first fix, she’s wearing a Hiatus t-shirt from Stitch Fix that I bought for her at the employee store in the warehouse.
Finally, MY experience as a Stitch Fix client and an employee
I feel justified in saying that the algorithm does not do as strong as a job as Katrina Lake would like us to believe. I received access to my employee discount in April 2023, and in June I received word that my warehouse would close and was led to believe I would lose my job in October when the lease to the Bizzy expired.
I had interacted with the quizzes for more than a year. I clicked on photos for my inspiration board. I ordered items from Freestyle and selected items as favorites for later. In the beginning, the hits and misses I assumed were part of the process. I signed up for the annual style pass ($50) so I no longer had to worry about styling fees if I kept nothing.
And then it started– despite purchasing every item I could find that met my criteria, my stylist could find nothing that suited my needs. Despite seeing multiple of items at my station every day, my stylist reports to me that none of the warehouses have anything like that. Despite saying I don’t wear sleeveless shirts for business or that I don’t have the shoulders for open blazers or cardigans, I get sleeveless shirts and open cardigans.
My discount expires in a few weeks, and all I want is to score a couple nice interview outfits. Yet, my stylist can’t seem to find access to anything that’s not a sweater or gaudy. I set up a fix in a panic Friday when I realized I didn’t have a white blouse that fit. I have a pair of Liverpool plaid pants, a pair of Violets & Roses plaid pants, a patterned Liverpool pencil skirt and a bright pink Skies are Blue blazer– all from Stitch Fix and on record in the system as “kept” purchases and not one shirt.
I wore a sleeveless mid-century style sheath with princess seams to my job interview, Calvin Klein from Stitch Fix. But I didn’t have a blazer.
I received a Preview of my fix today. I asked for blouses to match the clothes they know I have. I received one white Calvin Klein blouse which I told them to send, but I have a cream Calvin Klein blouse which is too big and they are sending the same size. They offered two ugly old lady sweaters, that I declined. A plain black shirt that was way too boring for the price and probably a Henley. Two pairs of pants and the black Liverpool pencil skirt (and I can hear the note from my stylist: “since I couldn’t find blouses that match your skirt, I sent a new skirt), which I also declined.
I then hit up Freestyle and didn’t find much either. But a package should be on the way. I don’t have the money, but shirts are necessary in the workplace. My fix will arrive October 16.
Cautions about Stitch Fix:
I have worked returns. My friends work returns. Gross things get returned and Stitch Fix allows it. We have received pants with blood stains, clothes covered with animal hair, dildos and underwear. I found a pair of socks in a cardigan pocket. As a consumer you should wash any garment you buy before you wear it. Stitch Fix takes stuff right out of the return envelope and puts it right back on the warehouse floor.
Ants, bedbugs, spiders. Because Stitch Fix accepts returns directly from the consumer, we accept their filth and critters, too. Each warehouse in the Stitch Fix network is monitored for pests, including monthly inspections from a bedbug sniffing dogs. And a month before I lost my job, my neighbor at the table six feet to my right found a bed bug on a pair of jeans she was folding for a client.
The algorithm sucks. Every Stitch Fix warehouse is supposed to carry the same merchandise, yet I never received anything close to what I had hoped to get from my Fixes. When I complained that my stylist could never “find” what I wanted, I received a note that Stitch Fix often runs out of items in certain sizes. Ummm… I’m an average woman looking for a basic white office blouse.
The shipping times have dramatically increased since the announced closure of half the warehouses. When I used to receive items or fixes within a day or two, it now takes about a week and often more. Returns take a month or more.
Exchanges are slow and costly. Often they don’t have a piece if a different size when you want it. If they do, they charge you a second time and refund your money for the returned item about a month later. So if you order a shirt off Freestyle, pay $75, return it because it’s too small and ask for another, they charge you another $75 immediately. So, you order the first shirt, pay $75, wait about a week for the shirt to come, order a second, return the first, pay another $75, wait another week. Let’s say the second shirt is fine. You have $150 on your credit card. And you have to wait another 2-3 weeks to receive a refund of the other $75. That’s about five weeks debacle for one shirt.
Benefits of Stitch Fix:
I LOVE being able to open my Stitch Fix account and see my kept clothes. It reminds me what I have and also suggests how I can wear my items when I just don’t know what to wear. Today, the weather has turned cold. I had planned to wear my hoodie to breakfast but then Stitch Fix reminded me I have a very cute cropped brown sweater with billowy sleeves. And ironically, I think this might work with my Violets & Roses plaid pants for an interview outfit.
Prices are reasonable if you know what the brands usually go for and watch the Freestyle sales.
If clothes are damaged, they will replace them.
They have a wide variety of clothes at their fingertips.
They can usually deliver clothes for any occasion quickly, if you order a fix. Freestyle is slow as molasses.
They take ANYTHING back.
These are all of my videos regarding our Stitch Fix experiences:
My secret hope for this weekend was to run to Washington DC and visit my traveling companion M. He has to work this weekend, so I ended up chatting with him briefly on the phone and accompanying The Teenager to Quest for bloodwork.
Like me, The Teenager has difficult veins, but I’ve had good luck with one particular Quest office I book for all my blood draw needs.
Apparently in addition to being tiny, The Teenager’s veins like to hide. They did manage to extract the goods, but it took a heat pack, some patience and some trial and error.
Since the bloodwork required fasting, we stopped at Sheetz where The Teen loaded up at carbohydrates so I swung by Dunkin for an egg wrap to balance her choices. She had a client meeting at 10 and at 9:45 the employees at Dunkin couldn’t find our order.
I told the Teen to leave me and I’d read a book in the lobby until her return. So here I am.
I’m reading The Last Train to Key West by Chanel Cleeton that I ordered through Bookshop.org. The book is the next selection for the book club at Mary Meuser Memorial Library where I serve as a trustee.
In the lobby with me, there sits three men of “Middle Eastern” descent, probably Lebanese or Syrian, all jabbering away in Arabic, one of whom The Teenager and I recently met in our local CVS.
Shortly after I arrived, the woman with two toddlers whom I saw at Quest came in. She treated her kids to donuts, probably as a bribe after sitting in their collapsible wagon at Quest.
I hate the nerves of getting dressed, trying not to spill coffee on myself, picking shoes that I won’t trip over, worrying about traffic or getting lost or sticking my foot in my mouth.
But on the good ones…
I leave feeling empowered, confident and excited. Regardless of whether the employer decides to hire you or not, a good job interview has the person in the chair thinking about their own skills, their history, their past. And if it’s a good company, and a good interview, a person can leave understanding more about their own value and with a clearer idea of self-worth.
Even if the company feels wrong– if you leave an interview with a better concept of what you want that is valuable. Of you see red flags and think “oh no, not working there,” that’s a sign you’re getting more sure-footed in your decision-making.
But sometimes you leave thinking you just had a good conversation with some new people, and you heard statements come out of your mouth that surprised you with their succinctness and relevance.
Those are the days you have to think, “Wow. Maybe I belong here.”
Those are the days it’s also easy to get discouraged when they say no, but it’s important to remember that culture and fit plays a very important role in choosing new employees and that there’s always a lot of people looking for jobs. So it might not be something you did.
Keep going, my friends, keep going.
And in case you are interested, I very much felt like I belonged when I went to the interview today. No doubt in my mind that I could do the job, do well at it, and grow as the opportunities came. We’ll see what happens. I wore a Calvin Klein sheath, sleeveless, very pink, princess seams, high neck, and black cowboy boots. Bold choice perhaps.
Tonight is my 30th High School Reunion, scheduled in the casual and amazing environment of Richmond Brewing. Our classmates own the establishment and have agreed to let us assemble and celebrate without a lot of formal to-do.
But I don’t know if I’m going to go.
I was on the reunion committee. I love the food and the beer at Richmond Brewing. It should be fun.
But I’m stressed and if I’m honest, I’m scared. And I think this is probably the first time I really wished my service dog was already here. Because having that dog would relieve some of the physical barriers to attending, which might help my emotional issues.
I’m already showered and dressed and ready to mingle. But I’m struggling with my own mobility today– which if you aren’t a regular reader I have diplegic spastic cerebral palsy which means I have issues controlling my legs. Last weekend I took a medium fall. I didn’t do any permanent damage, though I did damage my expensive glasses, probably delayed healing of my sprained right pinky, and got myself some nasty bruises and bumps on the head.
But today I fell again. This is is going to sound ridiculous (my trainer Andrew can probably vouch for me here, I think he’s seen it happen) but I can’t pick up my feet today. Primarily my right one. It’s dragging. It got caught in the cracks between the sidewalk and down I went. No damage, my Apple Watch didn’t even alert.
Which is probably a good thing as I’ve been enrolled in the Women’s Heart Health and Mobility Study at Brigham & Women’s Hospital in Massachusetts and when I fall and my watch registers it, they call to check on me. I talked with them for a half hour on Monday.
I fell on the way to the gym, and my workout went fine, although at the same time, I struggled with some muscle control.
I went over to the Christ United Methodist Church for their craft and vendor fair where Joe Swarctz, our fearless illustrator and the creator of Echo City Capers, was selling the latest in children’s books. I didn’t fall, but every bump on the sidewalk or imperfection in the floor challenged my balance.
The Teenager has to work tonight, so I’ll be on my own for the reunion tonight. And I’m scared. It’s about 30 minutes up there, and with my recent layoff gas money is tight, plus I won’t be able to have a beer. And it would have been my father’s 75th birthday today, if he were still with us, so that has me in a horrible, dejected mood.
If I had my service dog, I would feel safer. I would at least feel more secure about my ability to navigate walking. And I would know that I would have another living thing there that could help me if something did happen. I know that all of my classmates at the Reunion would be helpful, but there’s a certain comfort from those who already know what you need and how to help. Because it’s a dreadful feeling when you have an accident in public, and people want to help and no one quite knows what to do or they do too much or the wrong thing.
I’m not sure what to do, but I know the choice is stressing me out.
But if my balance is already significantly compromised, I don’t know if traipsing around an old barn is a good idea.
I’ve been spending quite a bit of my free time working on a freelance project for a savvy dentist who writes business books in his free time. While he’s a dentist, his books combine his profession and his work in emotional intelligence and leadership with his business acumen. It’s fairly fascinating.
My life right now is not nearly as fascinating. But it is interesting to me, and it’s been good and perhaps even healing for my soul.
I mentioned a few days ago that I had hoped to develop a regular posting schedule for both my personal and business blogs and to expand my Substack newsletter. And I realized that today is Thursday, and while my particular Thursday (how dare it be so rainy and cold again today? We had such a warm and lovely yesterday) might be dull to the average person… it’s been a good day.
Yesterday I took my friend’s sister to the doctor. She’s nervous to return to her normal bus usage because of some recent knee issues. I had a nice time, and it was nice to get out of the house and drive around on a sunny warm day.
Sundried tomato spinach artichoke pasta
In the evening, I made an amazing sun-dried tomato, spinach-artichoke pasta with a few ingredients from Grocery Outlet and some leftover fresh spinach that had finally started to wither. (To read more about that grocery trip, click here.)
The artichokes, sundried tomatoes and carrots I used in the sauce (and except for the artichokes I didn’t use all) cost me $4.50. The shredded cheese I used as a topper was $1.99. And the spinach I was nursing for the last week had cost $3, but I have already gotten my money out of it. I had the noodles in the cupboard, but I suppose if you included the pasta, the whole meal might have cost $12 to serve 4, with leftovers of most of the ingredients for other meals. (And I had a can of whole black olives in the cupboard I had picked up at the Dollar Tree.
My trick for that delicious sauce was to take several of the artichokes, a clove or so of garlic, and one of the sun dried tomatoes (hand torn) into a skillet with some of the oil from the artichoke jar. I left that simmer on low while I tossed the rest of the jar of artichokes, some carrots, all the remaining spinach, and about half the jar of sundried tomatoes (and as much oil as I could spare from that jar without leaving the tomatoes exposed) into my Ninja food processor. I added a couple olives, then chopped some other olives and added them to the skillet.
Mixed the whole mess up with the pasta, added cheese to taste and delivered to the table.
As I put the leftovers away and cleaned the kitchen, I noticed the fridge was crusty so I wiped up some of those shelves (and then I went as far as to organize items so The Teenager might find them– hummus by carrots, yogurt with milk and pudding for easy snacking, cheese, beverages, bread).
Lending a hand
Yesterday, as I left my friend’s sister’s house, I literally drove my Southern Candy’s house. So I stopped and gave her a hug before heading home to the work I had from the dentist. Today, I visited another Stitch Fix colleague who had some trouble with her unemployment paperwork. She felt terrible to bothering me– but I told her– “I’m glad you felt comfortable calling, because I hope that means we all really will stay in touch. Too many lay offs mean the end of relationships.”
Believe it or not, we laughed a lot while she fought with the government web sites. She even gave me a small Wawa gift card to thank me. She said she figured I wouldn’t take gas money. I laughed and said, “These days, with us all unemployed, I’m not so sure.”
But it is nice to be reminded that we can all work together, and sometimes it’s nice to have people who you can ask for help.
When I got home, I had received a Fix. Now, I figured I would keep nothing from it because of my situation, but my StylePass is active so it costs me nothing to order and return it.
Angel Ackerman 