The teenager has committed herself to her fitness goals at the same time that I have to use some serious discipline on my own behalf.
As the woman in her mid-forties with lower body cerebral palsy and a history of anemia, I have to join her.
The stress of my job has impacted my sleep and my blood pressure and the exhaustion that comes everything—from turning to various comfort eating techniques, drinking too much coffee and working too hard—leads to me not getting enough steps and not doing cardio or weight training.
That makes me look different, feel different and act different.
I like being a strong, fit woman, even if my body isn’t athletic.
My daughter informed me that she can’t work out with me. She doesn’t want her success or failure to have anything to do with anything other than herself. I respect that heartily, but I hope soon we can at least go to the gym together.
She downloaded the Instafitness app onto her phone. I purchased this app for $5 six years ago and it helped me make my body sleek and lean. I went all the way from 142 pounds to 110. That was too thin.
By the way, today I’m 142 pounds.
But why we like Instafitness— it divides workouts several ways:
By body group
By difficulty
By equipment (body weight exercises, dumbbells, and resistance band)
Some are labeled as weight loss
Each work out ranges from 10-20 minutes so you can mix and match to build a routine.
Today I tried an arm workout on FitOn. It was a 10-minute burnout session for upper body. I liked how complete it was, but man, I was not prepared for ten minutes of non-stop high intensity dumbbell pounding.
So far, and the reality of our need to get in shape has only really hit us this week:
We have made smarter food choices.
We have eaten most of the remaining “junk” in the house.
I have eaten less refined white carbs.
I have eaten more fruits and veggies.
My steps were averaging a sedentary 2,000 to 4,000 a day; now I am in the neighborhood of 6,000 to 8,000.
I lifted today. Briefly.
The teenager is killing it— yesterday was chest, abs & lower body. She repeated chest & abs today.
I might even try to get up early tomorrow and do yoga. Maybe.
I slept in today— until 8:15 a.m.—which is both good (I needed the rest) and bad (I made plans to meet a work colleague and fellow cat lover at Easton Farmer’s Market at 10 a.m.
The cockatoo completely ate the rest of my cork board (see Cockatoo Mischief) while we visited our favorite familia yesterday (see Visit with La Familia).
And a mysterious feline decided to deposit a hair ball on the couch on the sun porch. So I tried my best to clean everything up and I took down the cork boards only to also remove great portions of the paint. The teenager assured me we have the paint to touch it up.
Somehow we made it downtown on time— and met our friends. The teenager spent her birthday money on a strawberry plant and some pickles and stuffed olives.
I bought her breakfast at Pie + Tart (apple turnover for her and mini strawberry rhubarb pie for me) and beverages from Fieldstone Coffee Roasters (mango black tea for her and bubble tea for me— which the server gave me a yellow straw to match my yellow pants).
Easton Farmers Market
Fieldstone with Friends
Strawberry Rhubarb OMG
Ingenuity with Straw
After saying goodbye to our friends, we strolled the downtown so the teenager could visit The Loving Peace. They did not have any supplies she needs.
The teenager then directed my attention to The Carmelcorn Shop. She let me have anything I wanted!
In this video we review our haul from The Carmelcorn Shop. The biggest surprise was, as the clerk recommended, the tootsie roll balls were amazing. I don’t even like tootsie rolls! Review of Candy Haul
The best stories start with “it began as a typical day,” but in this case it did not.
The teenager turned 16 on Tuesday and my employer had scheduled our annual meeting for Tuesday so I planned to take off today and tomorrow to celebrate with my offspring.
With Coronavirus changing everything I could have taken Monday and Tuesday instead.
Last night, I curled up in bed with a gin cocktail and watched some more of Harlan Coben’s: The Five on Netflix. (Mini review: my friend, brow maintenance person and nail tech Beth recommended the show—and I am enjoying what I feel is edgy cinematography, rapid paced story telling, complex writing, and realistically complicated and tragic characters. It’s like watching a comic book.)
So I got to bed later than I normally do and I slept a little better than I normally do. I fed the kittens, made coffee, started laundry and finagled a cake carrier into the dishwasher.
After a cup of my favorite Archer Farms Direct Trade Cafe Mosaica from Target on my breezy enclosed sun porch, I slapped some clothes on… and ended up trying to accessorize a basic outfit.
Which is funny because I was going to pick up Nan, who is blind and won’t see my efforts anyway.
And then I was surprised to find out that the teenager made me breakfast— a mini bagel with greens, cucumber and fresh bacon.
After we worked on some poetry, Nan and I went to Lidl. And I took her home.
When I arrived home, the teenager informed me that her plan for today involved not wearing pants. So after a brief respite, I went to Wendy’s for a Frosty-ccino.
That was when the real adventure began.
I decided to take Nala, my four-year-old Goffin’s cockatoo who joined the family in January. Now, recently we took Nala to Dunkin Donuts to try hash browns and that went well.
And we had taken Misty, our kitten, to Wendy’s (Kitten at Wendy’s ) so why not a bird?
So I ordered my Frosty-ccino and a junior fry for my baby girl bird on the mobile app and got into the drive thru lane. And then I did what we all do in this day and age. I took a selfie.
That’s when I realized Nala had pooped on me in fear. And I had no wipes in the car. Green bird droppings now stained my white t-shirt and Nala was walking in the mess.
But everyone in the drive thru window loved her— three employees cooed at her from afar.
I pulled into a parking space and offered her a French fry and she was too scared to eat it. I drove her home, put the car in the garage, gathered the waste and the food and started up toward the house.
Now, the teenager’s father moved some heavy original doors from the house across the garage so he could use my great grandmother’s hutch in his apartment. He did this a couple week’s ago. The doors block a portion of the stairs.
I got tangled up on the stairs/with the doors and fell, to the left onto the doors to avoid smashing Nala who was on my right shoulder.
I almost spilled my coffee and French fries fluttered like hail.
But luckily Nala is a bird, and a forager, so she doesn’t mind a little dirt. I gather them all carefully and climb up from the floor, some contusions and cuts causing minor pain.
I bump the doors and they almost fall on me. This time the French fries scatter to the four winds.
I notice how much blood and dirt cover me and I head inside to discover Nala has pooped even more.
I set her down.
I remove my shirt. White tee shirt. Vivid blood. Green poop.
I wash up and count my blessings— I was very close (too close) to breaking an arm.
I put on my lucky shirt once I cleaned up.
Nala poops on me
I go boom
All clean
Band-aids
Incident Report
Addendum: I posted this link on my LinkedIn profile and wrote this introduction as to why I felt this piece was important especially as part of a discourse on social justice.
I don’t like to admit I have a disability— #cerebralpalsy. But it’s important to note that with all the stereotypes and institutionalized ideas people have about “others,” whether other cultures, races, religions, sexualities, identities, educational or social class (the list goes on and on), for those of us who have tried to “pass” as “normal” or “mainstream,” our experience is difficult. As all life is difficult to one degree or another. But if you are obviously “different” and you can’t “pass,” those notions of who you are based on quick judgments can be catastrophic. Or lead to people doing harm to you or someone you love. #blacklivesmatter
In that context, allow me to share with you what a typical day looks like for me. Warning— I end up bleeding by the end of it. Different isn’t inferior. Or threatening.
So as part of her birthday extravaganza I took the teenager’s mail and packages, compiled it into a box and gave it to her with her birthday cake during a small birthday dinner with her paternal grandparents.
I explained to the grandparents what this was all about— a monthly themed box of snacks from a certain region of the world.
I didn’t expect that after a mountain of meat loaf she could keep eating.
Best of the box:
The teenager loved the banana toffee.
We both liked the intense pickled onion rings.
The teenager enjoyed the shortbread.
Worst of the box:
The honey mustard potato chips were dull by my standards and too much for the teen. [after a while, the Mackie’s if Scotland crisps starting growing on me— the flavor and texture was perfect.)
We were all rather confused by the lamb and mint chips. They were weird. And not in a good way.
I found out today that my blind friend Nan likes horseradish, would like to try Fireball whiskey and has never had a margarita.
Today, as it is the start of weekend and expected to be the hottest day of the week, Nan and I planned to head to Park Avenue Market to use some hoagie coupons from The Teenager’s marching band fundraiser.
But Nan hadn’t listened to the rest of my message— she was already distracted by thoughts of cucumber salad.
So we’re standing at the deli counter and I order a 10” Lebanon bologna hoagie with bacon lover’s cheese and lettuce, tomato and pickles for the teenager and I to share. And I order Nan’s turkey hoagie with bacon lover’s cheese, mayo, lettuce and onion.
We’re scoping out the salads and I ask her if she planned to take me up on my offer of coming over to eat our sandwiches together and mix up the apple pie cocktail from the ingredients I ordered from County Seat Spirits.
The teenager always likes to get one of the massive deli pickles. So as Nan was realizing we were about to have way more of an adventure than a simple trip to the grocery store, the teenager is pointing out to me that one giant pickle is 99 cents whereas two are $1.69.
Now no one needs two giant pickles.
But I say yes, get two.
She turns 16 Tuesday, I can’t deny her pickles.
So Nan excitedly accepts my offer to stay for dinner and promptly tells me that we need to buy apple juice.
While we wait for our deli orders— summer bean salad and cucumber salad for Nan and slab bacon and liverwurst for me—Nan and I explored the $1 bags of chips.
Apparently Nan loves horseradish so we picked up the horseradish cheddar potato chips for us and Jalapeño Popper Herr’s cheese puffs.
The teenager also wanted tuna salad, so I bought some celery and tuna.
And me, being me, I bought a cow tale and a coconut candy watermelon slice. You gotta have dessert.
We unpack the sandwiches and chips on my dining room table, and the chips were just like horseradish, some bites were just right and some the fumes went straight up your nose.
And then, we started mixing.
I get the vanilla vodka, cinnamon vodka, wine glasses, shot glasses, trays of ice and a cocktail shaker.
Nan is impressed that I have a cocktail shaker.
We pass the bottles around so everyone can smell the vodka. I usually hate vodka. This vodka is distilled from cane sugar and impresses me. The cinnamon vodka smells like Christmas.
First go:
2 ounces vanilla vodka
2 ounces cinnamon vodka
4 ounces apple juice
Result: strong
I add two more ounces of apple juice to the cocktail shaker. Nan approves.
I am merely tasting as someone has to drive Nan home.
I slice the candy.
Nan has never had a cow tail before.
The teenager tastes the alcoholic beverages and approves. We have a discussion about her 21st birthday.
Nan and I plot a trip to the liquor store and mixing Fireball with diet ginger ale.
I mix a batch of the cocktail which I put in a quart mason jar with a plastic screw lid so Nan can keep it in her fridge.
I drove Nan home as the rain started to fall. I had slipped a cocktail into the freezer for myself. This is good vodka.
I’ve tried to incorporate the spirit of my “staycation” two weeks ago into my everyday life. I have tried to embrace a more carefree joie de vivre.
I think to some extent it is working.
Scrolling through my blog feed, I see lots of random home-cooked meals, even more pizzas and fast food… I mean, what crazy mood swing prompted me to eat TWO blizzards from DQ in one night???
My dental work on Wednesday was a huge success and has prompted such a physical and emotional relief— because when you’re slowly paying off more than a thousand dollars in dental bills and something is not right, it drains you.
It reminds me, as life often does, that our struggles never really end. The only destination in this journey is death, regardless of what milestones we try to hit along the way.
Some days it’s harder to get out of bed than others, but hopefully there is something for all of us to appreciate and something we can do for the world.
I opened my Lock Keeper Gin from County Seat Spirits last night. Mixed a shot of so with equal parts carbonated water and a light French lavender soda.
Gin by itself has a clean but bitter taste, in my opinion, with the Lock Keeper Gin bursting with a strong citrus aftertaste. The light blend of lavender gave the gin just enough sweetness to be undetectable in my cocktail. I find gin way smoother and easy to mix than vodka, which I know is an unpopular opinion.
Well, if the pandemic’s been good for something it certainly has given me the opportunity to experiment with some of the samples I’ve received in my Ipsy Glam Bag.
Today I wore the Maëlle Clearly Brilliant Tinted Lips in “Nectar”— which I say looks orange and the teenager says “it’s lip tint, Mom, it will look pink when you put it on. It will look good on you.”
I liked it. Not as thick and sticky and messy as lipstick and leaves a nice color on the lips.
The essenHERB tea tree foam cleanser was an add-on item I bought for $3. After a lesson in how to contour from the teenager, I went to show her how to use bronzer. Except I grabbed the highlighter and plastered that all over my face.
So that cleanser came in handy. I washed my face and didn’t think anything of it until I realized that my skin was abnormally soft.
The teenager touched my face and agreed.
I bought Sugar eyeliner for the teenager and she really likes the dainty pen and the ease of control. Again, a $3 add on.
The other lip gloss I also purchased because it looked like a really pretty purple-glittery color.
The highlighter powder went right into our unopened container for future use as I still don’t “get” how to use highlighter and I have one with my bronzer.
I bought a set from Ipsy last month.
The nail polish I tossed in my nail polish container. The lotion I gave to the teenager.
County Seat Spirits (they have a really yummy Instagram account) has been tempting me with their exotic to go cocktails for quite some time.
Elderflower.
Lavender Lemonade with Gin.
Watermelon Margarita.
Hibiscus rum-rita.
Some orange drink called a white bronco.
Apple Pie cocktail.
So I splurged this morning and I ordered the 4-pack of the lavender and the hibiscus— two of my favorite flavors. I ordered a single serve watermelon margarita and a single serve white bronco.
Yummy Yummy Cocktails
I called up my blind friend Nan as I suspected the pandemic had made getting out of the house for social visit more unlikely. I asked her if she wanted to come over for cocktails and my Asian fusion cuisine.
Nan rarely refuses my adventures.
Nan joins me to run down to County Seat at the Silk Milk. I’ve ordered curbside pick up.
County Seat Spirits (click image to go to web site)
Then we stopped and put gas in the car.
Once we arrived at my house, the teenager put the drinks in the fridge and we put out some nuts and cranberry cheddar (read more about the cranberry cheddar here: Cranberry Cheddar Review) to munch on.
Now Nan, though blind, loves to watch me cook. I poured her a glass of my mint green tea and she enjoyed my narration.
I was making spring rolls/egg rolls. First I showed Nan the wrappers and explained how I mixed the filling.
Ingredients:
Broccoli slaw
Cabbage
Fresh Ginger
Garlic
Black pepper
Purple pepper
Ras-el-hanout
Low sodium soy sauce
Balsamic vinaigrette
Smoked paprika
Canned white chicken meat
I let Nan smell the smoked paprika, the ras-el-hanout and the purple peppercorns.
I warmed my big cast iron skillet with coconut oil and sesame oil.
I stuffed, rolled, and sealed the wonton wrappers and fried them. I garnished with egg drop ramen noodles in a mild coconut curry sauce with a side of Korean barbecue pork jerky. (This was the jerky: Korean BBQ pork jerky.)
After some scrumptious egg rolls, we broke out the ‘lemonade.’
The gin made it super refreshing.
The teenager decided to make edible cookie dough. She forget most of the flour in the first batch, but Nan and I loved it. We dubbed it “chocolate chip cookie sauce.”
Nan tried the hibiscus drink. It was much heavier than the gin drink.
Still good, but the gin really tasted good on a lovely sunny summer day.
And the mailman came while I was driving Nan home— I got an Ipsy bag and the teenager got a rather unusual letter. But that’s for my next post.
I originally started this blog post intending to lambast my local Dairy Queen.
But literally as I was debating what to title this piece when either the owner or the manager of our local Dairy Queen called to make this right.
So as you read this long-winded tale of technological failure and questionable customer service moves, let me say that while it’s not 100% resolved now, I have the cell phone number of the person who can fix it.
The story begins with a mildly inconvenient family matter that still hasn’t been resolved. It kept me out of the house last night until almost midnight. I was lucky to get six hours of uneasy sleep.
And I had a dream that a good friend had come to stay for a couple days to help me deal with some of the things in my life, so I woke disappointed and tired.
The teenager is staying with her dad. She stopped by for her wallet and to get some items she needed to pick up some strong medicine at the doctor.
I ended up leaving work in late morning because of fatigue, and the personal text messages I kept receiving.
The teenager left around 12:30 to head to the doctor.
I hadn’t eaten yet and I saw that DQ has a new Blizzard. Frosted Animal Cookie. Doesn’t that sound interesting?
So I thought I’ll get a 3-piece chicken strip meal deal and the Blizzard and a cheeseburger. A little naughty but it’s been a rough day.
I very carefully selected what I wanted— and left the house at 12:50. The order was submitted, I received a confirmation email and a notice from my bank that $11.25 had been deducted from the $27 left in my account.
DQ’s mobile app has this feature, that you tell them that you’re “here.”
I pulled into the drive thru. So I hit the button.
Now traditionally, in the pre-Coronavirus universe, I hate drive-thrus. I worked for five years at a McDonald’s, much of that in the drive-thru. It was so stressful, but it was my job through college. Drive-thru’s contribute to our anxiety and laziness as a country. We’re all too busy to get out of the car.
Now with Covid-19, I am using a drive-thru once a week. I’m in the line at DQ.
My order disappears.
1:10, I arrive at the speaker. I very professionally and clearly say, “I had a mobile order, but it seems to have disappeared even though I was charged.”
The mysterious voice in the box apologizes but says there is a problem on their end with mobile ordering and she can’t give me food.
I ask her, “May I read you the order and show you it on my phone?”
No, she says.
But you took my money, I said.
You need to call corporate, she said.
May I have the phone number? I asked.
It’s in the app, she replied.
And I had to sit in the drive thru for 20 minutes to not get food.
At 1:30 I pulled into the parking lot to search the app for a phone number. Found a comment section in the app. Gave them 1 star.
Who can’t give $10 of food or a phone number?
I found a comment form and started filling it out and after I got it half way done and the form automatically submitted itself.
I started over.
Then I finally found a phone number.
I called.
Waited 10 minutes.
Had a really skillful customer representative named Jeremy who laughed at my jokes and sympathized with my plight. He filed a report and asked me if I wanted to add a complaint against my particular store. Jeremy asked if they were rude, and I said no but I just felt like they could have handled it differently.
So, that done, I ordered a burger from Wendy’s and Vanilla Frostyccino. It was 2 pm and I still hadn’t eaten.
I brought my Wendy’s home, fed Nala (my cockatoo) her French fries and some apples, watched some Gordon Ramsay and prepped to blog a scathing tale of DQ.
As I finished my meal, I got a phone call from someone in charge of my local DQ. I didn’t catch his name, but we had a lovely conversation.
Addition to original post: I texted him this blog post and he told me his name was John and that he owns both the Easton and Bethlehem DQ stores.
I told him I worked for almost a decade selling icees and making Pizza Hit pan pizzas in the Target on Rte. 248. And I would have been able to give my customers a phone number and I would have given them the food.
I had an $11.25 order, for goodness sake.
And he said he would have handled it differently and that he’d like to make it right.
This is a summary of what I told him:
I’m glad you called, because even if I never see the $11 again, just knowing that there are business owners that care and want to provide a good experience matters. The virus makes it hard, we don’t have those face to face interactions. People are tired and aren’t prepared for some of these issues.
So I get that. But he called. And I appreciated that.
And I would let him know if I didn’t get my $11.25 back.
He thanked me for being understanding.
And he told me if I ever had a problem to call him— on his cell.
#customerservicewin
He dealt with my complaint within an hour, over an $11 sale. He didn’t have to do that.
Thank you.
And John’s response to my blog entry: “Thanks and again, so sorry again about the inconvenience. My name is John and I own the stores in Easton and Bethlehem. I have great crews at both stores but this incident could have been handled much better. I will be using this and sharing it with my crews as a learning experience to 1) do the right thing – take care of the customer and 2) when mistakes happen or problems occur take ownership and let the customer know that you are sorry and that you care. Have a great weekend!! John”