Category review

Laughter, tequila, good wishes & appreciation: gathering to celebrate a friend.

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

These are some of the people I spend my days with at my day job. I know their struggles. I see their growth. I feel their stagnancy when they experience it. And they share mine.

Our dear colleague Sassy has procured a new job– one in her field where she will help so many people, just like when she scraped me off the sidewalk earlier this month and stood by another work-friend’s side when she had a very severe heart attack. It’s no surprise that she’s returning to the medical profession where she can use her eagle eye, her sassy but loving mouth, and her wisdom to change people’s lives for the better.

As she changed ours.

These photos look a lot like our lunch table at work. The atmosphere was jovial and a little obnoxious, a lot like our lunch table at work.

We talk a lot about getting together outside of work for bowling or pizza or axe throwing or roller skating. But life happens and everyone has something going on so we don’t force the issue. But Sassy is leaving, and we talk a lot about tequila so this time the plans solidified.

And they involved tequila, in fancy margaritas– my first was cucumber– and Mexican food at a place that used to be a Pizza Hut decades ago (and I remember it as such) called My Tequila House. The food was amazing. The drink menu diverse. And next time, when I have more of a budget, we’re getting the duck carnitas tacos.

What amazes me about the event was how easily the conversation flowed, how different we all are as people but how we’ve all come together. We all worked together on second shift, “Midnight Society,” and moved together to the 4-day 10-hour shift “Sunday Cohort,” and now been relegated to Monday to Friday standard shift with those I lovingly refer to as “the day shift bitches.” These changes all happened with sixteen months or so, so at this point we’re all practically trauma-bonded, moving together through a world that keeps changing: new measurements, new overlords, soon new snacks. You get the idea.

Let your smile change the world, but don’t let the world change your smile

The youngest among us is barely legal drinking age, the older close to retirement. There’s Southern Candy, Sassy, My Faithful Reader, and some others who I might mention from time to time but who haven’t earned full pseudonyms… like the leader who’s also a very talented photographer, the young woman who encourages everyone while she herself has not only had to rebuild her own life but care for parents with serious health issues, the woman who has a sporty, young nephew and an adorable dog, and the supervisor who returned to work too early after surgery out of stubbornness and now advocates for everyone else’s recovery.

Sassy made us small gifts, gifts she made carefully with her own hands, delicate and beautiful. And meaningful. There’s a magic that occurs when people congregate, even more magic when they quietly support one another, and even more magic when something happens and they come together.

Part of that stems from corporate culture at our employer, more comes from the attitude we had on second shift. We learned to work as a team in an environment that focused on individual metrics in very simple, specific jobs. We had a chance to be different.

And even though our backgrounds range from various fields– restaurants, personal banking, medical, communications for me– that diversity strengthens our bond because we know who on the team will support us in what area when we need it. There’s a trust and a sense of integrity.

And as much as we love Sassy, I think we were celebrating our legacy as a team.

Dairy Queen Decadence

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

A while ago, The Teenager and I decided we wanted to try a Dairy Queen banana split. That we’d share one. And we decided tonight was the night.

We ordered one using the app, and when we arrived we were faced with two new ice cream options: the churro dipped cone and the end of the rainbow shake.

The banana split was delicious. Their strawberry topping was our favorite and it looked like they put two whole bananas in there.

But then The Teenager wanted to try the Rainbow Shake because it looked like it had the crunchies she loved from the cotton candy Blizzard.

So, she went into the Dairy Queen and ordered one. And the churro-dipped cone.

The shake was strawberry flavored and those crunchies tasted like sugary breakfast cereal.

Meanwhile, the ice cream cone tasted like the bastard child of Dairy Queen and Taco Bell, like someone had taken those cinnamon cream cheese balls they have right now and stuffed them with ice cream instead of whatever that cheesy stuff actually is.

Chill out, have some coffee and open some packages from Stitch Fix and a pinch of medical stuff

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

It’s been six days since I touched base. My friend is home from the hospital and probably climbing the walls. I’ve been doing a lot of work on Parisian Phoenix stuff– getting the Substack off the ground, editing material for clients and my authors, and sending packages out.

Normally I go to the gym Monday, Wednesday and Friday but this week I haven’t felt well. Even after my chiropractor appointment on Monday, I still struggled with body pain in unusual places. My chiropractor confirmed that I was feeling more issues in my sacrum as opposed to my normal troubles in my hips. My quads bothered me for a while after that and the drop from warm weather to icy wintry mix made my knees burn. That was new. All of these sensations led to my right side feeling rubbery and unstable.

I’ve also had a lot of commitments recently and not enough down time, so that didn’t help.

Wednesday night I ended up skipping the gym because of pain and a meeting for the Lehigh Valley Book Festival that ran until 6 p.m., which meant I didn’t even get to my town until 6:30 p.m. and exercising in pain and hungry did not seem smart. You can read about my visit to Let’s Play Books on the Parisian Phoenix blog, here.

And when I got home, The Teenager had purchased cheese steaks at Joe’s Steaks in Phillipsburg. My standard order is a hot cheese steak, no onions, and an order of pizza rolls. She did not remember the pizza rolls.

I actually asked my boss to use two hours of my intermittent medical leave to come home and take a nap yesterday, because supporting my own weight and balancing was exhausting.

Best. Nap. Ever. I still feel achy today, but much better, probably because I had an appointment with my primary care physician. I thought it was for my annual physical, but apparently it was a six-month follow-up. Follow up for? Be darned if I remember. My mallet finger and the resulting leave from work because I was all out of whack?

I noticed while waiting for him that I was wearing two different shoes. They are the same shoe, but two different pairs in two different sizes. Interestingly, I put the smaller shoe on the smaller foot. Because it turns out my left foot is a size eight, but my right is 8.5.

He approved of my blood pressure numbers, didn’t say anything about the roller coaster of my weight, wondered if I had my anxiety under control, and asked about my service dog application. He thinks I have a cataract starting in my right eye, that I’m salt sensitive and that I need to take care of myself and (my words not his) calm the fuck down. Oh– and lay off the caffeinated beverages.

And as soon as I left the parking lot, I went to the Dunkin a block away and bought the new chocolate caramel cold brew. Even though I had chocolate in my coffee. But I figured this would be a candy bar, and I was right. My lunch consisted of cold brew, pistachios, apples and a KIND breakfast bar.

I returned to work, finished lunch with my friends and went out to the warehouse floor where I might have hit way over 100% thanks to the buzz from the coffee. I took the early release/voluntary time off and came home to packages!

We got two Freestyle packages from Stitch Fix, one from the Dizzy (in Dallas) and the Phizzy (in Phoenix) which The Teenager recorded me opening.

Our Little Dog Neighbor Sobaka is staying with us this week. So The Teenager and I took both dogs for a walk.

Return to the gym and other small successes after a week where cerebral palsy gave me hell

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

It’s a quiet Saturday morning despite absolutely roaring winds and nasty cold outside. The Teenager and I were working out some financial details last night over tequila shooters after upheaval this week (and plans to do taxes tomorrow) in light of the fact that her check engine light popped on last night. Her car has turned out to be an enormous money pit.

I’m drinking Friendly’s Arabica Mint Chocolate Chip Ice Cream flavored coffee. I adore mint in coffee, so I picked this up. It has a light and smooth flavor, so I drink it way too fast (as I am used to my bitter dark roasts) and makes the kitchen smell fantastic, especially considering it comes out of a K-cup. Both the mint flavors I have found since stumbling on the Dunkin white chocolate peppermint, have been branded Friendly’s.

The importance of exercise when you have a disability

Last night I returned to the gym, having warned my fitness and strength coach Andrew of Apex Training that he needed to leave the sadist in him at home because my body is still delicate.

(I know he’s a personal trainer, but that doesn’t seem enough to classify what he does, so I call him my coach. Life coaching has become so en vogue right now and that sort of coaching using combines listening, some psychological training and helping people get their metaphorical shit together. Personal training to me seems very goal oriented, whereas Andrew has to deal with a lot more than that. Training implies, in my mind, sharing knowledge of an activity that relates to form and tricks of the trade. It’s giving intellectual knowledge in combination with experience to help someone develop a skill, or in this case, a habit. But, having dabbled with hobby bodybuilding in the past, I have the knowledge and we’re working with non-textbook medical issues because I don’t have a “normal” body, so I need some extra support. And I love the guys at Apex for all the support they give to me.)

Andrew prepared a lovely full-body workout circuit for me that focuses on quality of movements versus high intensity or heavy weights. He and I have noticed during our now year-long relationship that the second set of an exercise is always better than the first set. And we’ve come to believe that my body– because my brain and the muscles in my lower body can’t communicate like they do in people without neurological conditions– needs to be reminded what to do. It feels like my body needs to be shown basic movements after even the most basic hiatus to break a cycle of malfunctioning, reset, and proceed in a different and better manner.

That circuit reminded my body parts how to work together again and get all those tissues and electrical connections firing. And after a week of sometimes intense pain, emotional and physical stress, and constant discomfort, the exercises allowed me to test my movement and release any sensations of immobility or fear I was clinging to. And Andrew was there to monitor my performance and make sure I didn’t hurt myself.

And let me just add, in case anyone else struggling with a disability like mine that manifests differently in people or that the medical establishment doesn’t fully understand: It is 100% true that you know your body best, but it’s also true that our experiences in bodies that do not do what standard bodies do often blind us to what we can and cannot do. This can bubble to the surface in many ways: 1. We are stubborn and should not do many of the things we attempt to do; 2. We give up too easily; and 3. Because we never see our bodies from an outsider’s perspective so we have a skewed outlook.

These are all important reasons why I have a personal trainer. All of them. I learned this from listening to my daughter talk about my body. She didn’t mention it as a young child, but as she got older she said things like, “Mom, your feet are fucky. Fix them.” She saw me fall so many times that she began to notice the signs of when I might fall. I don’t see that. I don’t see my feet from an outside perspective. And that’s why it’s emotional painful to see photographs of myself with twisted knees. And also why I asked Joan to photograph them for Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money. And if I’m honest, why I put the photo spread in the back of the book. (See below for Amazon purchasing details or buy from us here.)

In many ways, Andrew knows my physical limitations better than I do. THAT is why I have a personal trainer. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have exercised at all last night. And this is why I get angry when people cite a disability for why they can’t work out– that is specifically why you need to work out. You can’t pound weights like a powerlifter or run marathons, but bodies need to be used and challenged.

Mundane things like food and mail order packages

Rant over… My blood pressure is elevated this morning, but looking at the patterns of the last week and my list of dietary choices, I can see the role salt has had in my numbers. Dinner Thursday night had more salt than I’ve had recently, and dinner last night consisted of a canned black bean, sheep cheese and processed mole sauce lasagne with lentil noodles, laced with that sodium.

screenshot from Goodreads

Add the tequila, of which I did not have much, and the fact that I was licking salt off my hand…

I woke to a truly distressing dream that started as one of those dreams where you need to use the bathroom but can’t find one. I was wrestling a woman in a cheetah print denim dress to beat her to the toilet, and then, in the dream, I could not pee. Despite the pain and urgency of needing to pee. I suppose my mind really wanted me to wake up, because the next part of the dream haunts me even now. I saw a baby, who appeared to be blind (remarkably similar to the early 1980s hardcover, purple dust jacket edition of John Saul’s Comes the Blind Fury. And the baby had a baby. They were side by side, a newborn and a larger infant. Which took a cheese grater to my emotions, because I don’t think they were Irish twins. I had no choice but to get up after that horrific scene.

To bring things back around to happier things… and more references to Parisian Phoenix Publishing… (Please buy books!!!)

I prepared a special mail order package with a signed copy of The Death of Big Butch. I will be headed to the post office today.

What I ate Friday:

  • 4:30 a.m., one cup Friendly’s Peppermint Stick coffee, with half and half
  • 5 a.m., first breakfast, honey nut Chex with Silk protein cashew-almond non-dairy milk
  • 8:30 a.m., second breakfast, salted and roasted pistachios, mango jerky from Solely
  • 11:30 a.m., lunch, vegan tofu spring rolls and cabbage, diet Pepsi
  • 3 p.m., snack, iced coffee with half and half and cinnamon a very berry oatmeal cookie from Panera
  • 7 p.m., dinner, black bean and sheep cheese lasagne with cheddar and mole sauce on green lentil noodles and plantain chips
  • 8 p.m., tequila shooter with pink Himalayan sea salt and a slice of lemon

(and about 60 ounces of water)

Having some fun spicing up my glasses with Warby Parker frames

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

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 Parker mail 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.

A mom and her teenager attend M3GAN (because mom wants to see the stylish robot, and explore the AI/robotic ethics/parenting themes)

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

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.

Anyone else having a weird day? Or is it just me?

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Wednesday. 4 a.m. Alarm sounded. I contemplated staying in bed until 4:30 but I scrolled through my messages on my phone and fed the cats in the “fat kids” room by 4:15-ish.

I did take the time to use the restroom first.

I grabbed my clothes, but couldn’t bend enough to find socks. Got dressed. Went downstairs and started coffee. Took my medicine (muscle relaxer and antihistamine— I was incredibly stiff and I am allergic to cats and just about everything else).

I put on my gel lined toe protector.

About 4:45 a.m. First sips of Supercoffee dark roast. Updated my calendar. Went to the couch and started a blog entry. I was hurting and I didn’t want to work on creative projects.

5:15 a.m. Posted the blog. Went upstairs. Brushed my teeth and got a pair of clean socks I had stashed in the bathroom. Went downstairs. Grabbed my lunch from the fridge and headed to my shoe basket where I selected my cowboy boots.

5:40 a.m. I set up Spotify, checked my AirPods, and turned on the car and my heated seats. I felt like I was 80 today. Drove to work in fog so dense you could barely see the warehouse from the parking lot.

6 a.m. Morning routine. Change Spotify to work podcast list. Fill water bottle. Check work email. Pee. Have a snack. I had a cranberry almond Kind bar.

6:27 a.m. My Adventure Begins in Men’s Outbound QC.

Enough of the minute by minute bologna.

THINGS I LIKED WORKING MEN’S:

  • The personnel on the men’s side were very receptive to my accommodations
  • The ability to swap boxes easily even after the fix is complete

THINGS I DIDN’T LIKE:

  • The strict adherence to the 9×9 square. I had five boxes returned to me today when the dress shirt collar popped out too far of the wrap when I compressed it. Easily rectified once I knew of the problem, but they didn’t start coming back until after lunch.
  • The clothes are bigger than I am. I jest slightly.
  • The atmosphere is sullen and extra quiet due to the lack of automation. The lack of automation means some extra jobs — some of which seem ridiculously tedious.
  • Men’s fixes are boring. Shoes, maybe a hat or a belt. Jeans. Dress pants. T-shirt. Sweatshirt. Sweater. Over and over again. Boring colors. Boring styles. No way to make the fixes fun.
  • Sooooooooo many large boxes that could be medium

I attended the safety team meeting and finished the day at about 93%.

3:30 p.m. Despite two rounds of Baclofen, I was aching, stiff and crotchety when I arrived at the chiropractor. She agreed that I probably overdid my leg workout Saturday and the resulting hamstring spasms impacted my already interesting gait. She even helped the tension in my neck. I left with my pain and creaky body moving great.

4:15 p.m. Grabbed an iced coffee at Wawa, but since I don’t like Wawa’s iced coffee I had them add espresso to it.

4:30 p.m. Came home, switched shoes, fed the overweight cats again, turned on the lamp for the cockatoo that’s afraid of the dark, and left for my walk to the gym. Whereas for days my back, glutes and hamstrings had been causing issues, now my quads were burning. As if saying, “Why are we the center of attention again?”

4:50 p.m. Andrew’s circuit of “Boom” exercises– meaning one after the other, despite the fact that I told him I have no Boom left– and the espresso had me sweating and had my pulse rate up. It was intense, but I’ve noticed my workouts feel shorter now. I’m assuming that means my endurance is improving. I know my upper body strength has, and I have definition in my arms again. And I know my mobility has definitely stabilized and improved.

5:40 p.m. Left the gym and walked home. The Teenager had put away the Hungryroot delivery and we sat down to open her fix. Our sun porch is full of Chewy boxes. She hated her fix and that made me so sad. I fold and pack adorable fixes in her size everyday. She interacts with the app and her stylist. I have had conversations via company email with her stylist and know her stylist is not the problem. Why is the algorithm failing her? Why does it appear that her stylist cannot access the items she wants? Why has she received sweater after sweater?

She started Stitch Fix hoping for new styles she wouldn’t pick on her own.

Just look at her in this video– her outfit has more style than her box! And it’s a boring, basic Lafayette College sweatshirt and the same pair of Denizen by Levis distressed skinny jeans in indigo that she has ordered from Target time after time, year after year.

I thought as an employee I could help her guide the algorithm to update her style. Even buying things from Freestyle, she’s had no luck. We’ve ordered at least five pairs of Vans, yet despite asking for new Vans, she doesn’t get Vans.

So I spent an hour in her account, on Freestyle, building her my own fix. A blouse, a t-shirt and a pair of Vans to go with the tank and the sweater she kept.

7 p.m. I finally headed to the shower. My foster Louise and my cockatoo are very needy for my attention.

7:20 p.m. The teenager brings me a delicious grilled cheese.

7:30 p.m. I check my Stitch Fix account. I haven’t ordered a fix yet. Waiting to get my employee discount back. But the suggested looks seem like they know me. I hope when I receive a fix, that’s true.

This is how we start 2023?

Angel Ackerman 2 Comments

It’s 4 a.m. on Sunday, January 1, 2023.

The Teenager is on an overnight for a client, petsitting. Her dog is sleeping in her crate in the living room below my bedroom. I have Louise, the sweet foster tripod cat, sleeping in my arms. Bean, the Teenager’s dog, whimpers.

You see, I normally get up for work at 4 a.m. She knows this. I fall back to sleep and wake to barking at 5 a.m. Poor Bean thinks no one is home and she will be left to rot in the crate. So, I get up, let the dog out, and make coffee.

I struggled with my mental health yesterday. I was prone to depression, anxiety and even anger. I had to see some people whom I no longer trust, and whom I feel betrayed me. I’m stressed about some recent financial upheavals: an unexpected medical bill that I should have expected, uncertainty about heating the house and the borough announcing that the garbage service we have used for the last 20 years has changed, the rules have changed and the days have changed and the rumor is that the price has tripled– starting tomorrow.

All first world problems. Except for the relationships gone wrong. It hurts when people don’t listen to you or respect you.

I hit a new PR on the squat at the gym yesterday, 145 lbs. Everything felt like it was moving well, and I even did impressively on my hamstring curls (and my right hamstring is reminding me of that fact today.)

Our New Year’s Eve involved finally remembering to retrieve our medicines from CVS. I grabbed a couple of clearance Russell Stover Christmas hearts with three milk chocolates inside. And I used my 40% off coupon to buy a Duncan Hines EPIC Fruity Pebble Cake Kit. The Teenager was soooooo excited she baked it right away. We washed down the cake with some leftover Jewish Christmas cookies from Little Dog’s Mom. She makes incredible cookies.

Little Dog Sobaka, Little Dog’s Mom and I listened to the recent Christmas episode of This American Life, where comedian Alex Edelman discusses his first and only Christmas. It’s a great story of experiencing Christmas as an Orthodox Jew. It also looks like Little Dog’s Mom will be able to accompany The Teenager and I to the Harrisburg Mall on January 25 for my Canine Therapeutic Evaluation with Susquehanna Service Dogs.

I also made this weird little treat: I took a sprouted flat bread, spread it with vegan cashew cheddar, sprinkled it with organic parmesan and herbs de provence and drizzled it with cold-pressed extra virgin Lebanese-imported olive oil and toasted it.

But this morning, things took a turn. I texted the Teenager about a run to Dunkin on her way home. She arrived with her tea, my bagel and some hashbrowns.

“Where’s my coffee?” I asked.

But quickly it became apparent that the Teenager was doubled over in pain. I have never seen her like that. On Monday, the Teenager and her uncle came down with a fairly violence stomach bug that seems to have originated with the Christmas Eve gathering at my mother-in-law’s. The Teenager’s cousin and her family got it. My husband got it. I did not. Though I did fart heavily most of the week. My guts did churn a bit so I think I managed to fight it off.

As a consequence, the Teenager did not eat for about three days and her meals since then have been tiny but frequent. The smell of the hash browns in the Dunkin bag triggered intense pain. The Teenager nibbled a protein bar with her hash browns and laid down for a nap. I am waiting for her to come back downstairs. Here’s hoping she’s okay.

Of course, her dog became extremely distressed that The Teenager was not well. And the Teenager did not want to dog all over her in her discomfort. So, I opted to take the dog and run to Dunkin to get my missing cold brew.

“Bean,” I said, “Do you wanna go for a ride?”

The dog looked at me confused, as if saying, “did you say what I think you said?”

“Do you want to go for a ride?”

The dog leapt to her feet and ran to the front door and then the back not sure if we were going to the garage or the street. We headed into the garage. Bean hopped in the car. Dunkin made me a fresh cold brew and I bought the dog some munchkins which I fed her at every stop sign along the way home.

Spending time with friends to spruce up mental health

Angel Ackerman 2 Comments

I have faced challenges recently unlike the previous difficult times in my life. I no longer live with my husband. My father passed away a year ago this past Thursday. I don’t hear much from members of my family. The health issues that come from aging with a chronic condition like cerebral palsy, while my prognosis is static, present their own difficulties. My cerebral palsy will never change, or get worse, but the complications from having spastic muscles, scissoring legs, years of toe walking and leg bones that don’t sit where leg bones were designed to sit are very real.

This week, for many reasons ranging from family stress to communication difficulties and new and old volunteer commitments, pressed my mental health beyond the point I like to go. I watched a lot of TV.

I also spent much time cuddled into my new Stitch Fix zipper hoodie. But I did peel it off to wash it today, and put it right back on my body.

And my curls came out nicely today. Thank you, curls.

Television viewing

I caught up on The Good Doctor (and while YES! Audrey Lim decided to accept her disability rather than go through a risky surgery, at the midseason episode now the team decides she has recovered some movement on her own and a new less risky surgical plan might restore her mobility. Even her new boyfriend in a wheelchair says she has to do it, and he proposes, to prove to her he’s there whether she can walk or not. The episode ends with her in surgery. If the surgery succeeds, I will be pissed. Will they then feature an interabled relationship? Why must she walk again? Why can’t we have an able-bodied fancy surgeon become a wheelchair user and excel at it? It’s ridiculous that mainstream television starts to show an able-bodied person accepting a serious disability and then again reverts to the idea that she must walk again. And disabled people know, no one complains louder, no one takes adjusting harder than an able-bodied person suddenly rendered less able.)

Wow. I didn’t expect that tangent.

With that caught up, I tried Little Women: LA and a few episodes of Little Women: Atlanta. I learned some of the varieties of dwarfism, and was forced to thing about discrimination in hiring, but as with most reality series, the focus seemed to be on drama. The Atlanta spin-off really heightened the drama. Within two episodes, we had a pregnancy with an indifferent father and jealousy and cat-fights in the clubs. Because if you use Little Women: Atlanta as a source (which I would not) apparently stripping is a great way to make a living and still collect your disability checks. I was not born with that kind of disability.

I heard a podcast featuring Randall Park and thought I would try his Netflix series, Blockbuster. That was also a disappointment. The humor fell flat for me, and I struggled with the concept. There is one Blockbuster video store still in existence, in Bend, Oregon, and USA Today wrote an article comparing the fictional last Blockbuster and the real one and honestly that just confused me more.

So, I went for Hoarders season one on Hulu. It’s amazing after having binge-watched later seasons during previous times of emotional crisis to see how unpolished the initial season is. You can see the crew determining what works and what doesn’t. The cinematography is more dramatic, but the professional only have two days to clean massive hoards and they slowly tack on more time.

At this point, I renewed my Motor Trend streaming service and will stick with Mike Brewer and Marc “Elvis” Priestley on Wheeler Dealers.

Rocking New Boots

I finally got to wear my new Marc Fisher over-the-knee boots! The Teenager worried about me leaving the house in higher-than-usual heels. They were so much fun to wear and didn’t feel any more uncomfortable than other boots.

I left my house around noon. I had promised to bring Maryann some books as her tavern is featured on the cover of The Death of Big Butch. I delivered her copies, visited for a moment (but not as long as I thought I would because the traffic and road closures in downtown Easton made it impossible to drive the three miles to her. It took FORTY minutes.), and heading for my lunch with Bill Prystauk, the author of the Kink Noir series and a long-time writing friend.

We had a lovely meal at Gap Diner in Wind Gap, Pa., a midpoint we select between his location in Stroudsburg and mine in Easton. He had a spinach and feta omelet where the rye toast had this perfect dark line around the edge but the bread remained flexible. The potatoes were also picture perfect. They had this crisp outside and looked soft on the other side. I had pepperpot soup and the buffalo chicken Caesar salad. I was a tiny tiny bit disappointed that the chicken was chicken fingers cut into bite sized pieces but honestly, the beauty of the shredded romaine and its luscious green color won me over.

It was a good eating day as the Teenager brought home fresh bagels from the bagel deli and I had had a salt bagel with piles of kale and spinach and hummus for breakfast, an iced coffee for an afternoon treat, and a dinner of heaps of vegetables (kale, squash, potatoes, sweet potatoes, cauliflower and zucchini), a vegan chicken tender and a token amount of pork.

Much better than yesterday when I ate a double steakhouse cheeseburger from DQ, cheese curds, pretzel sticks with queso and a blizzard (snickers/brownie) so large in came in a medium soda cup.

Visiting her Ladyship Maxine

From Wind Gap, I traveled out to Point Phillip through some scenic roads to visit photographer Joan and deliver her copies of Big Butch, which apparently I would trade for celery and pears. Joan and I are often trading edibles.

I met the younger stepson, the grandson, and even got to pet the adorable Maxine, a striking cat of great renown. As soon as she heard that I was the one who alerted her people to the existence of Tiki Cat cat food with shrimp, she sniffed and rubbed against my boots providing me with the ultimate blessing.

And Joan gave The Teenager, myself and her own self a Yule present: a game called Ransom Notes, basically Cards against Humanity but with magnetic word stickers. The Teenager cannot wait to play.

All in all, I think I put 50 miles on the car.

I received a phone call from a journalist trying to convince his editor to write a story on Big Butch. And I participated in a speaker phone call with The Teenager and her grandmother (my mother-in-law). She revealed that she would be having fried chicken and potato salad among the offerings on Christmas Eve so I may now have a social obligation that night. I love my mother-in-law’s fried chicken and potato salad.