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Our Ostara Celebration

Angel Ackerman 2 Comments

For the last 24 hours, the teenager and I celebrated the arrival of spring with my college roommate, Curly, so nicknamed by my now deceased father.

The visit allowed us to be something akin to a spiritual family unit— as the teenager has a godmother type relationship with Curly that has fallen to the wayside for the last decade plus, but if grief and death can have a good side, it allowed Curly and I to reconnect.

The three of us are not quite a coven, as we are too informal and not the Wiccan type, but our pagan witchy souls share beliefs, energy and a history with tarot cards.

Compounding this holiday celebration (as the teenager called it) was the fact that the teenager had a robotic baby for the weekend as part of her childcare and development class.

Upon Curly’s arrival, we chatted and got as organized as we ever do and then went for a walk at the Karl Stirner Arts Trail with the baby and F. Bean Barker.

We, or shall I say the teenager and Curly, then consumed a ridiculous amount of sushi and related products at Jasmine Sushi Hibachi and Thai.

And then fighting a fish-induced coma and a crying plastic baby, we parted ways for the evening to meet again in the morning. Curly baked blueberry muffins while the teenager and I met up with Andrew at Apex Training so I could challenge my lower body and do some bench press. The teenager maintained her 95-pound bench press, while I, the old and feeble, peaked somewhere at 80 or 85.

Me, the robotic baby, and the real baby and Greg at Apex

What does any of this have to do with Ostara and the vernal equinox? Throughout the evening we had talked about intentions and goals. Today we set them.

For all of us, the themes became clear. Spring is the time to blossom— to take the intentions we had set earlier and make them bear fruit. Our goals involved relationships, health, creativity and balance. Those are all very strong “spring” ideas.

We took the baby for a walk downtown and I had so much fun exploring downtown Easton with an outsider’s eye and celebrating so many of my favorite spots. From the teenager’s favorite shops, to new stores, to old stand-bys like Mercantile Home, Bella’s Dog Cafe, Three Birds Coffee House, Carmelcorn and Easton Public Market.And we dipped deeper into other places like Smartivities and saw art by some of our favorite artists.

With thousands of steps under our belt, we returned to my house for a feast of leftovers (and despite more than 7,000 steps IN HEELS I was still going strong with no pain).

And we settled down for our ritual.

And at one point I asked Curly if the rooster could join our ritual and she said yes. After all, chickens are very symbolic of spring themes.

The energy was powerful in the room, and the ritual allowed me to reset and focus some ideas.

And when it was done— we shared chocolate dipped potato chips from Carmelcorn and macaroons from Cocodiem.

We shared passion fruit, crème brûlée, honey lavender, dark chocolate, pistachio and Earl grey. Very delightful.

A new day at the gym

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Today was my 69th session at Apex Training. The teenager and I did our first workout with Andrew, as Dan is taking some time with his family.

Now I don’t like change (who does?), but once I get comfortable with it, I can embrace it.

So the teenager and I met with Greg and Andrew at the gym last week and discussed our goals and got to know each other a little better.

And today we had our first session. I have to say Andrew did a great job ascertaining how my body moved and giving me some low impact exercises that would target my problem muscles.

Then he worked with the teenager on her powerlifting form.

And I was reminded that while I was very comfortable and enthusiastic with Dan, that the shift to working with Andrew is offering some fresh perspective and new ideas. That pushes me out of some potential ruts I may have created in my fitness routines.

Now excuse me, I’d like to go shower.

Rocking the Beast

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Today started as an average day in the Bizzy Hizzy. This was welcome in my world as we changed the clocks last night— so as far as my body was concerned it was 3:45 a.m. when my morning alarm sounded.

Yesterday they didn’t open the warehouse because of the predictions of the sloppy winter storm.

I performed as expected in Freestyle, meeting the pace they like us to keep. We ran out of work, so I went out to pick. Now, picking is the act of running through the warehouse gathering clothes. A normal cart for picking fixes holds 40 items. A direct buy cart holds 80. I picked my batch is 41 minutes. That’s pretty good.

But somehow I also managed to ship 515 items— when the goal for a 10 hour day is 500, and I left the department for 45 minutes.

I also learned from the supervisor that I have successfully made it onto the safety team.

The teenager said I could have a cupcake to celebrate.

My lead at work has started calling me a beast— basically because for two days in a row I think I’ve hit 110% of the daily metrics. But he also mentioned it when I lifted a heavy box (probably 35 or 40 lbs) from the floor and carried it to my work station.

At the moment it happened, the phrase irked me and I wanted to take some time and think about why.

I know he meant it as a compliment, in that same way we celebrate achievements in sports or the gym. But that’s not how it felt.

It felt like he underestimates what I am capable of because he knows I have a disability— but he doesn’t know I work out with a personal trainer. He doesn’t know I considered body building a hobby. He doesn’t know I used to take 1,000 pounds worth of boxes like that into a commercial kitchen’s freezer.

I am a beast. And I hope this good spell lasts long enough to figure out what to do if the issues return.

But I am a beast just for getting up and going to that warehouse on days that I hurt.

It takes way more “beast” to perform on a bad day versus a good one.

The splinter update: How do a raisin and a cockatoo impact disability?

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Earlier this week I visited a new doctor, where I learned about my femoral anteversion and need to gain more flexibility in my hamstrings.

After that visit, I had a miserable day at work with my hip bothering me.

But then I got a truly nasty splinter. And I wrote about the unexpected positive consequences of that here:

Part 1: A raisin and a splinter = 110%

Since then, my body has felt better than it has in 15 years (with only some minor discomfort after sitting too long and while sleeping).

And last night, between the raisin and my cockatoo (Video of her here helping me remove the splinter) I got the splinter out.

And I walked into the chiropractor today with no symptoms other than this very mild stiffness in the right hip on the groin side.

I told her the story. We laughed so hard we nearly cried.

And then she popped joints I guess she can’t normally pop.

And then she looked at my feet.

“Your feet look normal.”

We both think that the raisin and the nasty splinter DID impact my walk and my posture forcing me to stay on my heels.

So I need to practice balance and gait training, and also incorporate my doctor’s recommendation of stretching those hamstrings.

It’s so important— especially when you have a disability— to pay attention to your body and really track how you feel and all the changes.

Sometimes the bad, and the cold, can be good

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Working 10-hour day shifts after a year of second shift has certainly proved challenging (and this weekend will be one of those challenges as we change the clocks in the wee hours of Sunday morning). And I do appreciate the long weekends, but not the 6:30 a.m. start times.

My “weekends” (Thursday, Friday, Saturday) get hectic— usually one day for errands and medical appointments, one day for chores, and (only quasi-joking) one day for cats.

I woke today at 5:30 a.m. in part because my cat Fog seemed to be in the middle of a panic attack, banging on my door and screaming, wondering why I was still in bed. I thought I might snuggle back under the covers when the garbage man rolled up and decided to bang cans and recycling around underneath my bedroom window.

Now that I’m on day shift and normally wake at the ridiculously ungodly hour of 4:45 a.m., 5:30 a.m. is technically sleeping in. And while the garbage man and his predawn ruckus used to piss me off when I went to bed at 2 a.m. after clocking out at midnight, “he” is merely a minor inconvenience now.

But I woke with a strange chill as I crawled out of bed— but I am always cold so I thought nothing of it.

I picked up Nan and 9 a.m. and as we were working in my dining room, I asked, “Are you okay, I’m cold.”

And she confirmed that it was cold but it was okay.

But I said no, that I couldn’t feel my toes and we needed to nudge the heat even though it was approaching 50 degrees outside.

But the thermostat read “56” even though the heat was set at “62.” And I realized that my fuel oil company, Deiter Brothers, had sent me an email that I would receive my automatic delivery fuel drop in the next day or two.

Obviously, we didn’t make it.

We were out of oil.

I confirmed it and called Deiter Brothers and brought Nan out to the sunporch where it was 60 degrees and sunny.

And the dog kept us warm.

After I took Nan home, I did a headcount on our personal and foster cats and sure enough everyone was someplace warm.

Tripods: Foster Louise (left) and our pet Opie
Clockwise from left: personals Oz, Fog, and Misty and foster Touch of Grey
Fosters Mars (tuxedo) and Khloe (torbie)
Foster Minerva (sister of Mars)

I folded some laundry on the porch, now a toasty 64, and the oil man arrived as I sipped a cup of coffee to stay warm.

And much to my surprise— I had enough summer prepaid gallons left to fill the tank. If I didn’t, my locked in rate would have been $2.399 a gallon. Which seems insane compared to the current price of oil.

This is only the second time in the twenty years I’ve lived in this house that automatic delivery let us run out.

So now we’re toasty again— thanks to the oil delivery man priming the furnace and getting us running again.

I shared some good laughs with Nan, got some good animal cuddles and appreciated the sunshine more than I might have otherwise.

The raisin and the good day

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So, if you read yesterday’s post, you know I have a massive splinter in my foot.

What you don’t know is that the teenager told me to put a raisin on it.

Apparently, she saw it on TikTok* and my follow up research suggests that there is something in the chemical construction of the raisin that helps the splinter get out.

*edit: The teenager informed me that the raisin came from a discussion in English class not TikTok.

So I went to work with a raisin under the ball of my foot.

And stood on it for 10-plus hours.

They made those of us on 10-hour shifts in outbound stay the whole day even though everyone else in the building went home at 3. There was probably 10 of us left behind.

But here’s the amazing thing—

We had a meeting and I still managed to fold 175 fixes. The goal for a ten hour day is normally 162, but the 15-minute meeting drops it to 157-158.

My process lead called me a beast.

My supervisor confirmed I did 110% of the daily minimum expectation.

Nothing, other than the splinter, hurt. For the first time, the first day, in years if not decades, I didn’t have some body part malfunctioning.

Did the splinter in the ball of my feet change my alignment?

I slept well last night but still didn’t even get 7 hours sleep. I ate the same meals I’ve been eating all week.

And yesterday I was miserable.

So what changed?

Something to ponder.

I came home and checked the splinter. There was no swelling where the raisin had been.

I took a shower (because I worked so hard today I was smelly), soaked my foot in Epsom salts and applied a fresh raisin to the swollen pocket.

And then the dog forced me off my spot on the couch.

What a week… work, doctors and Shamrock shakes

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I’ve been trying to gather my thoughts for this blog for 24 hours now. And just when I thought I had them… The Teenager had dinner ready. Then The Teenager left for work and forgot to grab her shopping list.

I went to take a photo of it for her and got the largest splinter I’ve ever had in my life.

(And if you are looking at the photo, you’ll also see all the cracks in my toes from the blisters.)

I hobbled upstairs, dug my tweezers out of the closet and manage to very painfully remove the top half of it.

It’s so wedged deep into my foot and still very painful. I’m soaking it in Epsom salt right now.

Just another reason for my left leg not to work.

It’s already been giving me trouble today and leading to a lot of muscle pain in my back and torso. Even though it’s not responsible of me, I accepted the voluntary early time out at work today and only worked an 8-hour day.

So speaking of work…

Sunday I worked Freestyle which is a department where I can usually hit 100 percent. But Stitch Fix changed our small (#5) envelopes. They had two strips of tape instead of one. They were a tighter fit than the predecessor. And they were just sticky.

I ended the day at 86%.

Yesterday I worked in my home department of QC— at the quirky poorly set up table— and reached 100%. But today I was at a high table and only hit 80%.

Yesterday I saw a sports rehab doctor recommended by my primary care physician for his knowledge and training in orthopedic care. He was going to evaluate my hip pain. I shouldn’t say that— he did evaluate my hip pain.

He also read my x-rays, did a physical exam and used the photos and the exam to measure the extent of my femoral anteversion.

Apparently, the head of my femurs aren’t positioned correctly in my hip sockets. It’s what causes me to look like this baby when I walk:

Apparently, as the screenshot shows, it’s not uncommon in children and even more common among children with cerebral palsy. If the bones don’t rotate into the correct position on their own by age 10, often surgery follows.

A rather invasive hip surgery where the femurs are cracked, repositioned and stabilized with rods.

I have an appointment with the neuromuscular physiatrist May 31– but until then here are my thoughts.

1. I still think I am leaning forward at work causing the issue with my toes blistering. If my femurs fit into my hip sockets at the wrong angle, this lean might be “natural.”

2. The doctor I saw yesterday says nothing I do is causing damage to my body, so my activities are limited only by what I can tolerate.

3. Relieving some of the tension in my hamstrings may lessen some of my symptoms.

4. There is no clear solution on how to move forward.

So, I called Nan to discuss it and get her opinion. I learned she never had a shamrock shake. I rectified that. See video.

Nan’s first shamrock shake