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FURR cat update and review of Richmond Farm & Brewery

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#1

Please excuse any typos and attribute them to the beer flight and draft I consumed in celebration of my mother’s birthday at Richmond Farm & Brewery, the almost six month old enterprise of Milissa and Eric Smith, classmates of mine from Bangor Area Senior High School in the grunge era.

#2

I am experiencing a tad bit of melancholy as our bestest FURR foster kittens — Em(inem) and (Slim) Shady, moved into a habitat at Petsmart on Rte 248. If all goes well, someone will fall in love with them and we will never see them again.

  • Shady on the cat tree
  • Em trying to find the pineapple upside down cake we took from him
  • Em and Shady in Petsmart

So after much organizing of the up-and-coming nonfiction identity-themed anthology for Parisian Phoenix Publishing, I was very much anticipating our visit to the brewery.

This was their first weekend indoors. The bar and the tap system are not even installed yet, but the decor and ambiance are perfect. You don’t even notice it’s unfinished.

And frankly, with so much economic uncertainty in the world right now, it’s nice to see business owners moving through the stumbling blocks but still operating.

You can’t recoup time and money invested waiting for everything to magically fall into place.

The renovation of this old barn— well, for this Slate Belt girl it didn’t feel “barny” enough for me. But it all seriousness, it was roomy and gorgeous, rustic but classy. Homey. Warm.

At this time, you order food at one register and beverages at the next. Simple. Expedient.

Milissa greeted us. I had warned her we were coming. I introduced my family and she was kind enough to ask me about my book and congratulate me on it. And she bought a copy for her daughter.

  • Myself & Milissa
  • Myself, Milissa & Eric

It was heartening to hear that many Bangor classmates are surprising Milissa and Eric by stopping by. Milissa is trying to collect photos of everyone. I tried to impress upon the teenager, since she is a high school senior with a class the size of mine back in the day, that someday she may be surprising her classmates.

In the end, I think Richmond Farm & Brewery did all the necessary impressing.

The food— a small, carefully curated menu— exceeded my expectations. And even though the choices were minimal, I still had trouble deciding and wanted to eat it all.

Richmond Burger

And I purchased a maple vanilla Porter draft for myself and a flight of six beers for mom and I to try.

Immediately I noticed that the maple vanilla Porter had overwhelming notes of blackstrap molasses. A very different taste than I am accustomed to in my porters, but one I grew to like as I enjoyed my burger with its bacon bourbon jam.

And the flight?

Not a “bad beer” on it.

For the full beer list, click here.

My flight included:

  • The Mosaic Masterpiece, aptly named, as it was my favorite. I did not read any of the descriptions before trying, but I warned the staff I wasn’t a fan of IPAs and gravitated to the porters and stouts. Many of their beers were not available, but the Mosaic IPA was my top beer of the night and very fruity in the finish.
  • The Diehly, surprisingly basic but easy to drink. The description refers to it as vibrant and full of unique hops.
  • The Richmond Pale Ale, my notes referred to it as light on the palate.
  • The Maple Vanilla Porter, which I arrogantly thought would be my favorite, had strong notes of blackstrap molasses.
  • Smitty’s Blonde Ale, I found mild but pleasant. Definitely a summery beer.
  • Extra Pale Zonkey Ale, the web site describes this one as the easiest beer to drink ever. And it is so simple and smooth, it’s very refreshing.

I was disappointed not to try the stranger brews— the shredded wheat ale, the cranberry ale or the gingerbread brown ale brewed with spiced gum drops. Or their cow tail brown ale with chocolate, caramel & coffee notes. Or their more traditional Potbelly Porter.

But, I am so so glad I was forced to try beers I wouldn’t normally pick. I enjoyed all of them, and most of them I wouldn’t have chosen under normal circumstances.

Just another example of how being pushed outside of your comfort zone is good.

For more on the brewery, visit their website here.

Silly items from the Grocery Outlet

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This weekend I’ve been working on a very small batch of local apple butter— you know local Galas with local Granny Smiths and some local honey.

I actually canned it after coffee and before the gym, after going to the Grocery Outlet yesterday for my favorite cottage cheese to compliment my apple butter.

Except Grocery Outlet no longer seems to carry my favorite Cabot cottage cheese.

What I did find is some exotic coffee creamers, some delicious Black Forest gummy bears and Terra Vegetable Chips in salt & vinegar.

The Honest to Goodness Madagascar Vanilla Bean Creamer has a lovely flavor and almost lightens the coffee to the level I prefer.

As for the Mooala keto plant based banana nut creamer has a unique muffin reminiscent flavor and at 10 calories a serving is incredible. But doesn’t lighten the coffee at all.

Some days you just have to declare victory

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This is a post about Wednesday. It is now Friday, but I made these notes after my Wednesday night when I experienced a sense of piece and hope— I was in minimal pain and did 94% of my metrics in my home department at work, folding clothes.

The air was frigid with ice on the cars, but I was wearing the teenager’s letterman jacket (and I made the wise crack to my favorite security guard that it was not my jacket, she had left it in the car, and I know it must be really hard to believe that I was not in marching band.)

I knew the end of this week would be draining, even before they announced the elimination of our shift at the Stitch Fix warehouse as they transition from two shifts a day, five days a week to operations seven days a week. (As second shift workers, we get first choice of the shifts available, so the company is trying to accommodate preferences, but every shift starts before 7 a.m. so that sounds like torture.)

So Wednesday was dentist day.

I thought the teenager and I had appointments at 9:40, which meant retrieving the child from school at 9 a.m.

She made me an offer I could not refuse. If she peeled and quartered the apples our friend Photographer Joan of Plastiqueville brought so that I could make apple butter as I promised, could she just skip first period?

I said sure. That meant I could sleep until 8 a.m.

I think she later regretted her choice as she has still not finished.

Hopefully today I can use my voluntary time off to get this into jars.

And in true Angel fashion, at 8:45 a.m., I discovered our appointment is at 10:40, not 9:40.

The hygienist and dentist gave me a disappointed talking to about my teeth— apparently my middle of the night tooth brushing has been half-assed.

But no major issues.

So the day prior my physician has ordered x-rays of my spine, si joints and hips.

I thought with the shift change, the information in those scans was more important than ever. And there is a radiology office in the urgent care across the street from my dentist. I asked the teenager if we should stop.

My doctors office had recommended one of these smaller urgent cares as they might be less busy than the hospital or the central outpatient radiology office by the warehouse.

My gut said go there.

I didn’t listen.

Instead I went to the urgent care that my PCP’s office always recommends because it is close to my home and operated by the hospital network he works for. (The Lehigh Valley is in the middle of a hospital war— both St. Luke’s and Lehigh Valley Hospital buying up and building offices everywhere.)

(I watched Lehigh Valley build a hospital near the warehouse, one I believe they have been trying to build for a decade. It opened in July. When I drive by at midnight, it looks deserted.)

Anyway. We go to the urgent care by all the good food. The teenager has a book in the car. It is 11:40 and her next class starts at 12:30. I know the probability is we’re not going to make it, but I need these x-rays and her presence will make sure I don’t procrastinate.

I have been to this urgent care once before— my si joint had locked up and was seizing and neither my chiropractor nor my doctor could see me and I couldn’t even think through the pain.

The staff at this urgent care was lovely, but I waited more than 90 minutes, got told to take a hot bath in Epsom salts, ingest some ibuprofen and the best thing for me would be a massage. And I got a $200 out-of-pocket bill.

I picked this urgent care because the location is convenient and it’s in a higher middle class suburban neighborhood. But they are always understaffed and seems to be frequented by college students with no common sense and a certain element that I hate to classify as unsavory, but let’s just leave it as there was one poor man who needed to go to the ER, even I could see that, but he didn’t want to go.

The doctor was backlogged by 90 minutes so this seems like the normal wait time. I tried to slip out of the office politely but the office person (who was honestly coordinating a three-ring circus and remaining an angel despite it) wouldn’t have it. You see radiology is a different office. I was next in line.

The tech in the radiology room was a delight. I got all the x-rays I needed.

At work, a lot of people were congregating to discuss the upcoming changes. But at this point, I don’t understand the point of wasting time like that especially since things are still getting ironed out.

The Mirena seeks to be helping with my menstrual issues as cramps where they belong and the bleeding is significantly less.

And the apple butter smells amazing.

More people to assemble the puzzle

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I saw my primary care physician today. It was a scheduled follow up to some anemia-related issues I had over the summer, but, after reminding me what the visit was originally scheduled for, my doctor (knowing me?) added, “so are there any new problems?”

To which I replied, “I always have new problems.”

We went through my bloodwork— my iron has improved significantly and apparently I haven’t been taking enough vitamin D. The improvement has been good, and brought me into the normal range, but not enough to prepare me for the dark winter months.

After a discussion of my plan for my weight, he assessed my ailing hips. The range of motion from every angle is limited. And my back is definitely tight.

I have five scripts for x-rays, and am sitting in an urgent care waiting for them. I just got done at the dentist, and the dentist mentioned that my dental hygiene has been half-assed and took its toll.

The teenager is in the car reading a novel for her English class and I can’t help but stress about the decisions I have ahead of me— especially as pertains to my body, my routines and my job.

(See more info on the work transitions here.)

The Bizzy Hizzy Shift Decision

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As a writer and now a publisher, I often refer to my job at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy as part of the second shift (Midnight Society) as the “day job.”

And now, next month, the day job is really becoming a day job.

The head of our warehouse announced last night at 5 p.m. that second shift would be eliminated hopefully by December 5.

Second shift was a Covid-inspired experiment in the Stitch Fix universe and not every warehouse had one. I’m not going to say we were the first or the only, but we might have been. I joined the shift in November and it started when the warehouse reopened after the initial shut down.

We just earned a $1 shift differential a couple months ago.

The concept worked really well— a smaller, cross-trained team that could be moved to different needs in the warehouse to support day shift or function autonomously.

If day shift broke it, we fixed it. And I believe, and this is totally my opinion, that our flexibility allowed us to understand the entire operation and fostered a spirit of teamwork that achieved more than hitting individual metrics.

There is a distinct cultural difference between the two shifts, especially since we all know each other and move around so much.

So, here comes the interesting part, they are eliminating the second shift in favor of moving the warehouse to seven-days-a-week operations, just like our literal neighbors Chewy and Amazon. As the business grows in what the now call “Freestyle,” or people directly ordering what they want from custom-curated offerings based on the results of the algorithm (eliminating the stylist), Stitch Fix wants to be able to ship out orders so quickly they arrive in a day or two.

The Lehigh Valley is conveniently located within one to two shipping days of most of the country. I was aware of this because of my work with anti-human trafficking nonprofit ASPIRE to Autonomy.

I commend the company for adapting to the needs and desires of the marketplace especially since supply chain issues, the pandemic at large and internet retail remains a “Wild Wild West” landscape.

But this… is hard to digest.

Most of us have our reasons for working second shift and this complicates our lives. Supervisors were passing out information on child care resources and they told us that we would be emailed paperwork to rank our preferences for what day shift we want to join.

During the coming days, our shift supervisors will be pulling us aside to discuss our individual transitions. And we were told we would have first pick of the new shifts. And it almost sounded like preferential treatment in work centers, too.

The choices are:

  1. Traditional day shift: 6 am to 2:30 pm or 6:30 am to 3 pm Monday through Friday
  2. The four tens option: 6:30 am to 5 pm Sunday through Wednesday or Wednesday through Saturday.

I am leaning toward option 2, Wednesday through Saturday. Many of my friends have already expressed concern that I can’t physically handle ten hour days. I have done it before during mandatory overtime.

What’s the difference? Once pain and difficulty start, what’s the difference between eight hours and ten? I believe, if I can physically complete the ten hours, the extra day off would actually give my body more rest time. But perhaps I am naive.

If I do the traditional work week, I have to give up my personal training sessions, which would also have a negative impact on my health. I also would have five days where the animals in my house are left unattended for long stretches. The weekend shift lowers this to three days.

If I work Sunday through Wednesday, I can still hit the gym Tuesday and Saturday. And I would be available for FURR related events on Saturday. I can also keep a regular Friday chiropractor appointment.

My medical care will get more complicated— because even though Stitch Fix would still allow me to go, I will have to find minimally disruptive appointments. For example, I have a doctor appointment every morning this week and I need a pile of x-rays.

I’m going to have to go to bed 4-5 hours earlier than I’m used to, and get up at 5 a.m. That sounds brutal.

And I’m no longer going to be able to drive the teenager to work.

So even though a simple move, it’s really complicated. And a hard choice.

Halloween 2021

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

As I write this, I am mourning the loss of having finished The Night Shift on Netflix. I am imbibing some generic strawberry lemonade energy drinks strongly laced with too much gin. I am craving potato chips, cuddling my cat Fog, and nursing my injuries from the day.

But perhaps I need to back up…

The photos above summarize my Halloween.

At 11 a.m., we had an appointment for Danu and her babies from the Celtic Pride— Aîné, Baile and Brigid and our newest foster, Georgie, to meet our foster cat godmother for shots, flea treatment, dewormer and microchip and OH MY GOODNESS was Georgie dramatic.

Then the teenager had a commitment to walk in the local Halloween parade and she asked me yesterday to walk with her as she paraded in costume. I will do anything my daughter asks.

And half way through the parade, I fell flat on my face to the collective gasp of the crowd. I rise, keep walking, hip and knee in pain. But I keep going.

#f*ckcerebralpalsy.

I finished the parade. Outside the teenager’s high school. Her father and herself know that the fact that I finished the parade did not mean I was okay as I have been known to do things like walk a Chinese buffet with a broken ankle.

My knee is swollen. I tripped over a mirror late in the day that struck me in the tender parts.

My back hurts.

I am craving potato chips as my body adjusts to the Mirena.

My princess, the male cat I jokingly named Fog, is curled up next to me. He is my baby.

The teenager’s dad came over and they carved pumpkins and I typed some of a manuscript for the identity anthology. We handed out candy and even the dog got to enjoy trick-or-treat.

I ordered Wawa for dinner— the teenager’s favorite ranch Mac and cheese, chicken Caesar salad and pierogie quesadilla and Blizzards from Dairy Queen for dessert.

Tomorrow the teenager is consulting a cleaning woman to take some of the stress off me.

October 30

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

My husband and I celebrated our 22nd wedding anniversary today and, even though we have been separated for two-and-a-half years, we inadvertently spent it together.

My mother celebrated her 67th birthday today, and I postponed her birthday until next week because one of her brothers died on Thursday. The second brother to die of prostate cancer in about a month. And her ex-brother-in-law died last week, too.

The day started strong with the teenager and I killing our workout at Apex Training with Dan. I also ordered an Apex Training hoodie. The teenager and I benched 70lbs on the barbell, and the teen also did some hearty squats.

We signed five cats up for the “come adopt us” event with Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab. One of them was sweet Khloe. Khloe hid under the blanket with one eye poking out the whole time, until she heard my voice, then she came out. Not bad for a first day out.

Photo of me waking up with a Khloe scarf

So the husband came over to retrieve his car from the teen and do his laundry and assign his ISBN to his poetry manuscript.

He then rewarded us with pizza.

I did some more work for Parisian Phoenix and some more cleaning, and then the teenager asked me to come down to the diner for coffee and my favorite pie.

Photo: waiting for my daughter at Tic Toc Family Restaurant

This morning my legs felt more normal than they have in weeks and everything seemed to be working in coordination. But as the day wore on everything started stiffening up. It was the first time in about a month my right quad wasn’t burning all day.

So we shall see what tomorrow brings.

Hopeful Friday

Angel Ackerman 2 Comments

It’s is almost 3:30 p.m. on a crisp autumn Friday afternoon. I normally would be standing in front of the daily work schedule at the warehouse, but today they offered us voluntary time off. And my body needs it.

I had a chiropractor appointment today, about ten days after my last one. I described my symptoms as a lot of back pain that made basic movements like stretching in front of me to move a pile of clothes from one spot to another very uncomfortable, to my left leg feeling immobile like a tree trunk while my right was very flexible but weak and prone to discomfort.

And she noted that my left hip was stiff and locked in a position out of alignment. And she concurs with my assessment that it’s time to ask my doctor for some x-rays.

She asked what I was doing this weekend as she moved my bones around and I answered I had some work to do for my publishing company and that I have to drop a copy of my novel off at the Mary Meuser Memorial Library, my local public library.

And she thought I meant an overdue library book.

So, I corrected her.

And then she and her staff, the three of them, engaged me in a lively conversation about my book as the bought copies.

I did stop at the library. I did give them a copy. The teenager is appearing in the Wilson Centennial/Halloween parade with the library staff as the library mouse.

Last night, I had an interesting text message from a former colleague who left my last place of employment around the same time the man who hired me also left. She apparently has landed in a much better place, two years later, at a similar nonprofit with a larger service area. She texted me as I was pulling into the parking lot at the Hizzy and asked me if I would consider a position in her office.

I sent her the resume I had on my phone and she talked to her boss on my behalf.

Because I was “awesome” and “under appreciated” at my last nonprofit position.

Regardless of if or when this goes anywhere, it’s always uplifting to see that someone acknowledges who you are and what you have been through.

Another thing that can be frustrating or uplifting, our dog, F. Bean Barker, the black lab, pit bull and mastiff mix

We left work early last night, after shipping about 1900 men’s fixes. I have this equation I work in my head. On nights when they offer us VTO (voluntary time off), I survey the valleys of people doing my job. I count them roughly, using my journalist-surveying the crowd skills, and then I estimate, based on who I see and their skill levels, how many fixes I think we will be able to ship an hour. Then, when the leads call out our progress announcing how many we have shipped or how many we have left, I do the math in my head.

And last night, when they suggested that we could VTO after shipping 1840 fixes, I did my calculation (and gave more extra time since most of us and very inexperienced in men’s fixues) and thought we would be done by 9:30. The leads kept suggesting about 10 p.m. But I trusted my gut. And sure enough, we got the call of VTO at 9:20.

Also today, I have been editing and doing projects for Parisian Phoenix with breaks when my eyes hurt. I use those breaks to clean, because the teenager has booked a consultation with a cleaning lady for Monday. Her idea is if we have someone help me with the vacuuming, dusting, floors, nose-printed windows, and bathroom maintenance that maybe it would be easier for me to survive my bad days and get ahead on so many projects we have.

I did some furniture rearranging and my floor scrubbing and a whole lot of laundry, including I finally took the time to empty the chest on our sun porch and move the “winter things” into the hope chest we brought downstairs to sit under the winter coats on their hooks more than a year ago.

Oz, one of our personal cats, is on my lap while I work today.

After I update my blog and the Parisian Phoenix website with the story of how I accidentally started a podcast, my next task will be to explore the handwritten manuscript that one of our authors prepared for me. I’ve been looking forward to her tale for quite some time, but I don’t have the best typing skills so I have been saving it for a day when I have a nice block of uninterrupted time.

And then, I will rest by folding laundry. And when the teenager returns home from her waitressing gig, we will have tacos for dinner.

Tomorrow FIVE of our Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab fosters are headed to Petsmart for the adoption meet and greet. These babies need homes!

We signed up: Khloe (a four or so year old female grey torbie), Slim Shady and Eminem (the bestest, sweetest kittens ever, Shady is a black female and Em is a grey tabby with white feet, male) and Mars and Minerva, the tuxedo siblings who have been in foster for more than a year.

  • Shady the kitten with Nan
  • Khloe on my bed
  • Minerva and Mars at Petco
FURR cats

Another day seeking answers

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

This is another in a series of posts about trying to learn about my cerebral palsy and improve life in my body in general.

As sometimes happen, I woke in pain. I took two Tylenol PM last night so the pain didn’t keep me awake though my cat kept trying to intimidate one of my fosters so that made the six hours of sleep I got rather restless.

I woke to an alarm at shortly after 8 a.m. as I had to be at a doctor’s appointment at 10:05ish and the office is 20 minutes away.

To read about the connection between my gynecologist and my novel, visit the Parisian Phoenix blog.

Today was the rescheduled appointment to get my Mirena IUD that will hopefully reduce my heavy menstrual bleeding and my back pain from menstrual cramps. I had another new-to-me doctor today, and this one had an amazing sense of humor.

She was also the first doctor to ask me, upon hearing I had cerebral palsy, if there was anything she needed to do or be aware of to help me. In my case, the answer is no. But if I had worse issues with my flexibility and lower limbs, this would be a good question.

This is my third IUD, although my first Mirena. So nothing unexpected happened during insertion.

There was a pinch here and there and the doctor told me to take ibuprofen for the initial cramping. And to be prepared for a period that might be weird for the next few months. Every woman reacts differently but I may see my periods lighten or even skip cycles.

I did experience some light cramping and spotting but nothing to require OTC painkillers.

But, once I got to work, my right leg seemed to be impossible to control with my quad and knee burning. My ankles also started to burn. My lower back just throbbed, regardless of whether I was twisting or standing still.

By the end of the night I struggled to reach forward or to lift the pile of clothes.

I only QCed 92 fixes. That’s almost 71% of goal. Now granted tonight we were in the men’s Hizzy for the first time ever. It took me 4.5 minutes to do fixes that in women’s takes less than 3.

And they have such nicely organized work stations with drawers.

While listening to my first podcast of the night— 60 songs that explain the 90s— i discovered that Weird Al donated the profits from “Achy Breaky Song” to the cerebral palsy foundation.

My British colleague asked why I’m not on disability. That made me wonder how bad I must look if she says that to me.

In good news, let me regale you as I drink my last pins colada lemonade gin cocktail, the teenager is very excited about the new soap dispenser she bought.

I did a thing and did a soft launch on a Parisian Phoenix podcast on Spotify. I thought my blind friend, Nancy, would like it.

And if you want some fun pet items:

Nala the cockatoo plays in the shower.

Bean Dog tries to get bone out of tire.

I walked into the teenager’s bedroom and the kittens of the Celtic Pride were all in her laundry.

Celebrating the small victories

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Yesterday was a day of mixed signals.

The pain in my hips kept waking me the night before, despite a cocktail and a Tylenol PM. I woke grumpy, stiff and achy.

I didn’t keep that from affecting my workout with Dan at Apex Training.

Because here’s the thing about pain— sometimes it’s a warning that you need to stop but sometimes it’s recognition that your body is changing.

I did 75 lbs on the barbell incline press. And that reminded me that my body is not all bad.

But at the same time whatever is impacting my spine, hips & leg is making basic mobility difficult and my job folding clothes painful.

I slathered myself with my CBD Medic Arthritis ointment and somehow folded more than the requested 130 fixes QCed. I did 133.

I’m probably in half the pain I was last night.

And in seven hours I need to get out of bed and go to the gynecologist for my Mirena IUD.