So today was the first day of the 2024 Write Stuff Conference with Amy Deardon on marketing and Melissa Koberlein on podcasting. The morning presentation provided an overview marketing checklist. The afternoon workshop allowed participants to workshop some ideas for podcasting to provide a realistic overview of what it takes to put a podcast together.
The conference will continue through April 13th, with a small workshop setting with keynote Jonathan Maberry tomorrow and a series of sessions on Saturday with Maberry, Deardon, Koberlein and YA author Jordan Sonnenblick and appointments with editor Donna Tollarico of Hippocampus magazine, agent Mark Gottlieb and agent Marie Lamba. As I maneuvered cookies from the dining salon to our meeting room 1,000 steps away on the other side of the hotel, I ran into Jonathan as he was checking into the hotel.
I saw the leftover cookies on the buffet table and felt it was my duty to transport some to the workshop room to combat the afternoon slump.
It’s always interesting to see the energy in the room and what people are looking for from an event such as a writers conference.
Personally, I’ve been devouring books by Sonnenblick and Maberry– finishing Curveball last night and INK earlier this week.
Anyone who has ever been in my inner circle knows that I have a jelly bean problem. They are my favorite candy. Come Easter, I shove them in my face like some sort of crazed monster and eventually I forget they exist until Easter again.
In college, for spring semester final exams, I would walk to the Woolworth on Main Street and Bethlehem and buy all the jelly beans at 75% off and stow them in my desk drawer. While the other kids drank coffee to study, I ate jelly beans until my stomach ached.
This year, I did not buy jelly beans… until today. Three full days after Easter I found myself in the Dollar Tree where I could now buy jelly beans for 67 cents a bag. And one of the brands/flavors was Kool-Aid. Now, I turned 10 in 1985. I know the Kool-Aid Man well. I’d say intimately but that’s kind of creepy.
So, in part, this blog post is a review of Kool-Aid jelly beans. The bag is smaller than the others but the jelly beans are larger and a strange size.
The flavors are grape, tropical punch, cherry, kiwi strawberry and orange. They are tasty. The texture is thicker and crunchier on the initial layer than a lot of jelly beans. They don’t remind me of Kool-Aid but the do remind me of artificial fruit flavors. And I like them.
The Sweet Tart Jelly Beans, on the other hand, do remind me of the namesake candy and come in the traditional jelly bean size and texture.
The generic jelly beans are very sweet and bold and crunchy, but some are too chewy. They remind me of the basic lifesaver pack flavor wise. In taste and texture, they do not stand out.
A few days ago– Friday to be exact– I took Little Dog’s Mom to the grocery store as she is still in the “no driving” phase of cataract surgery recovery. I drove the car to the street to wait for her and when she got into the car she noticed some pawprints on the windshield.
Later in the day, The Teenager commented about pawprints on the hood.
The next morning, (yesterday) I went into our garage and smelled cat urine. I immediately texted The Teenager, “I think we have a cat in the garage.”
It took her about twenty minutes to find it, hiding behind a rocking horse from The Teenager’s toddler days.
So she texted her boss about borrowing a cat trap. We set up food, water, a bed and a litter box in the mean time.
Yesterday afternoon The Teenager set up the trap (with sardines) and this morning, we had a stray cat shaking and looking at us.
The cat is not reacting to us at us. It appears to be a “she” but we’re not poking around too much at her genitalia to be sure. We set up a crate in our mud room and soon she will need a bath (she is filthy), some fled meds and dewormer and hopefully after Easter passes we can have her scanned for a microchip.
In the meantime, if anyone in my neighborhood recognizes this cat and can send the owners my way that would be great. Because based on its behavior, this is someone’s lost house cat.
I have been staring at this blank screen for two days– staring at nothing but a title. Yes, the one you see up there.
As many of you already know I am a perpetual fall risk.
I have been trying for about two years to study and track when I fall. I have monitored the effects of my blood pressure, my allergies and even sodium, and now upon looking at the fall data from my Apple Watch I suspect hormones and the full moon may have an impact. Like the ocean and the tides, I suppose.
Sunporch as a cat haven
It has been almost a year since I bought this Apple Watch and it has been a year, a week and a couple days since I was last discharged from the hospital– my first ever hospitalization for a fall.
On Sunday, I went out to my sunporch, and a cat had vomited on one of my new chairs so I went to clean it. And after scrubbing the cat vomit out of the chair, I went to throw it into the garbage can that we keep on the porch as part of our package opening station.
Now, this is where I understand but I don’t understand. I knew and saw that the metal supports for one of the dog’s place-stay platforms were in front of the garbage can. Somehow, I caught my foot on it (Can we blame cerebral palsy or could it have happened to anyone?) and I tripped. Unable to catch my balance, I fell.
Sunporch last Christmas
I landed with my hands in fists against my sternum, as if giving CPR to myself. I landed on a large block of stone that forms the step to my front door. The edge of the stone block hit underneath my breasts at the spot where a bra band should be, but I was in my pajamas.
I knocked my elbow pretty badly (it’s bruised and bumpy) and I cut my leg and bruised my foot. But that blow to my chest– my full body weight– knocked the wind out of me. I walked into the house slowly and somehow ended up on the floor curled up against the dishwasher crying in pain as I pulled up my pajamas to see if I had any visible damage.
I did not.
But it hurt. It left my nerves shaken as these falls often do and it was VERY uncomfortable to sleep that night. I woke up in the morning curled up on my side so I took that as a good sign. It hurt mildly to stretch my arms or cough or laugh, but all-in-all I felt okay.
Today, I woke up feeling worse. I put on a workout top that supports everything so the weight of my breasts doesn’t add more discomfort. But it definitely hurts worse. And walking is uncomfortable. Walking fast enough and long enough to increase my breathing often makes me stop and wait.
On top of all that, I got on a scale today. I’ve gained another 10 pounds. I wish I could say I didn’t know how that was possible. But I know. I can’t believe I’ve gained another 10 pounds in about three weeks.
So I went back to calorie counting today. And more importantly nutrient and macro “counting.”
Hopefully tomorrow will be less painful– because I have a job interview for a little something that might fit nicely into my life.
Today I had the pleasure of hanging out with one of the Parisian Phoenix authors in the morning and to go on a job interview this afternoon.
Both of these activities reminded me of the different types of intelligence and social interactions people have.
I have been working hard with my freelance clients and working on building the presence of Parisian Phoenix that I had forgotten that sometimes it just feels good to interact with new humans and to help people already in one’s circle with situations I have faced or thought about before.
I was not necessarily energetic or feeling like I was putting my best food forward before the job interview today, despite having a stellar morning with someone I respect and enjoy. Even now, I feel a little exhausted and out of sorts.
Maybe because I am learning to take care of myself in a new type of professional landscape.
The interview went very well, and even if I am not their final hire, I gave them some ideas that they can use. And the interview reminded me that I have more knowledge and experience than I sometimes think. Sometimes we are ready for the next adventure and have all the necessary skills without having scaled that exact mountain.
And sometimes it just feels good to have conversations with new people.
And when you are me, it always feels good to take photos of trucks and industrial scenes and blue sky.
As I am part of the Amazon Vine reviewer program, we get a lot of packages. I spend about an average of an hour every day opening packaging, checking out products and updating what items we are ready to review. The Teenager had a moment of brilliance, and created a package-opening station in our sun room– a garbage can for packing materials, a recycling can for the cardboard once I’ve broken it down and I set my Stitch Fix tool bag on the sill. It contained my ceramic knife, my safety box cutter, a sponge/eraser and my fingerless gloves among other little items like pencils.
The safety box cutter migrated to my desk. My Stitch Fix branded fingerless gloves ended up on the floor.
But on Monday, when I went to open a pile of packages, the clear bag of tools was gone. Just gone. My guess is that it fell off of the window sill and into the garbage can when The Teenager took out the trash, and it looks like it did it before she changed the trash as the trash can is empty. And the trash has long been carted away.
It’s nothing important. But the loss of the small cosmetic-bag-sized collection of tools from the warehouse made me pause and dropped me into a sadness, a grief, that I did not anticipate.
You see on Friday, on Friday it will be six months exactly since I left the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy. I have had many interviews, many hopes and still put out many applications. In my heart I still hope to make my small publishing services and book publishing operation a success and live off that, but unemployment will end very soon so the reality looms.
I still believe I can succeed.
I did not anticipate the way the universe seems to be saying, “it’s over. It’s really over. Do not cling to these thoughts and items you clung to in the warehouse.”
I have a few friends who I have kept. Many other people I had hoped would stay in touch and it doesn’t seem to be happening, but life goes on.
I am so surprised by the depth of my sadness at losing a ceramic box cutter and a spongy eraser thing.
But sometimes you really, really have to let go to move on. And in my opinion, the universe or “God” or whatever creative power you believe in, kicks you in the ass to make you do it.
So one of the products I’ve reviewed is a pack of French motivational stickers– and if you know me, you know I adore the French language. These stickers make me happy and I am plopping them onto my computer and my calendar.
Another was a small message board that I have set upon my desk and I periodically change the quote and my goal is to post quotes from my clients, because my clients and authors are the people who keep me going.
Joe recently ordered a lot of hardcover books for the upcoming Pennsylvania School Library Association conference and when he asked me how much he owed me… well, it was a nice chunk of money, ending in $6 and some off change. He immediately texted that he would get me the $6 soon and for some reason that made me cackle. So I put it on the board.
And then, more recently, I had to announce the discontinuation of my “friends and family” rate for clients and one of my clients sent me a long email supporting my decision because I am not running a charity, he said, and I need to keep a room over my head, gas in my car and (my favorite) Panera coffee in my belly. So I added his quote, “You deserve to have an adequate income,” to my board. (I also placed the board beside my enormous “I’m kind of a big deal” mug and my silly jellyfish aquarium lamp.)
Last week created a lot of stress for me. Good stress I guess because clients all needed things and checks are coming in this week. But it also taught me that I really need to protect my sanity in this endeavor.
Today, I took the checks to the bank, deposited some cash payments from clients, and took my neighbor who just had cataract surgery to run errands. We visited the municipal building, which I had only ever seen the council chambers. That allowed me to view a few Wilson borough artifacts.
The Western Addition of the City of Easton, a blue print map of building plots available, dated 1893, hung on the wall. It was indeed blue, like the slate blue of an old fashioned chalkboard, and it showed what would later become Wilson Borough.
Last night, I started the dishwasher as I always start the dishwasher. It’s not a built-in dishwasher, but the freestanding full-sized dishwasher that sits in the middle of my kitchen like an island. I wheel it to the sink, pulled out the house and attach the female end of the hose to a special male adapter that resides at the end of my faucet.
I went out to my desk and left the dishwasher to do its business. Our dishwasher will be 20 years old in early May, it’s a Maytag as most of my appliances are. It joined us in our home somewhere around May 10, 2004. I know the exact-ish date because I was eight months pregnant with The Teenager and I said there was no way I was doing dishes by hand once the baby came.
I rose from my desk to meander through the kitchen on my way upstairs to my bedroom. I planned to make tea and of course unfasten the dishwasher from its bondage to the sink if it was done. It was not. As I wandered into the kitchen, my socks slopped through deep water and I immediately thought one of the animals did something undesirable. I looked down to see only water. Everywhere. Around the bottom of the dishwasher.
I opened the door and closed it again wondering if my haphazard dish loading of the poor machine had caused a leak. And then I saw water pouring down the hose from the sink to the dishwasher, creating a stream down the front of my cabinet. I finagled the hose so the water couldn’t possibly follow that angle… and then I saw that the counter was flooded.
We had bathed my cat, the dog and swapped out our own towels the day before so I had a pile of clean towels a few feet away. I began mopping up the mess, still uncertain where it had stemmed from.
I told The Teenager I was done and she said she would investigate. She told me she never did determine where the failure had been.
In the morning, I washed more towels. One of The Teenager’s friends came over for a Tarot card reading and The Teenager asked me to stay nearby in case she got stuck. I glanced over her shoulder at the reading– both she and I are often choppy in our skills– and the whole reading just made sense.
Odd, I thought to myself.
I went about my work, researching and drafting some profile information on local political candidates for a freelance assignment I have. I was very cold and decided to take a shower to warm myself.
When I got out of the shower, puddles pooled across the entire length of the bathtub atop my beloved ceramic floor.
Why is the water going haywire? I asked myself.
Of course, I opted not to research it. Instead, I asked a friend who has some knowledge of these elemental natural matters. Turns out it was her birthday, so I took a moment to celebrate her and asked her what she thought.
I also turned on some yacht rock for quiet background noise. Spotify thinks I’m in a yacht rock phase.
“Ahh….new moon in Pisces,” she replied. “LOTS of water energy all over right now, my dear! Not all of it comfortable!”
So I googled it.
Difficult news and disappointments may leave Taurus (that’s me) disconnected or unsure. You might even feel a mix of anger and sadness. Whatever emotions come up, it’s important to acknowledge them and know that they are valid. Journal how you can use your intuition and wisdom to determine next steps and find solutions. Trust yourself. You have the strength to overcome.
Another site said that this is the time to wish upon a star, make a dream come true and manifest. This article also pointed out that it’s a Pisces super new moon. We have reached a portal for manifestation and spiritual awakening– in Pisces, the sign at the end of the zodiac, where dreams and reality merge.
That feels like my whole “theme” for 2024.
Merging reality and dreams.
And it looks like Venus will be in transit through Pisces until April 5 encouraging empathy, kindness and artistic expression.
And for Taurus specifically– it will be a time of renewal of friendships and future endeavors.
“Envision your dream life and believe in the path it takes to get there.”
Meanwhile, the Teenager says she will run the dishwasher tonight.
In my neighborhood, we used to have three Dunkins within “walking” distance. We had one about a half mile to the east, at a major intersection in a weird section of the neighboring town. That one has since closed. That was the closest, and the employees didn’t give a shit, and they always would mess up even the simplest drinks but they would pretty much give away any doughnuts you could want.
There is the Dunkin a mile away, but that one is in the middle of a busy intersection of the highway, a main road and the meeting of several shopping plazas. A traffic nightmare and a tiny parking lot. But that one gets your drinks correct.
Then, there is the Dunkin about two miles away, a block off the leisurely bike path. That one has the largest lobby and bakes the doughnuts for the others. That’s the one I used to walk to so I could pee in the middle of my four mile daily walk. That was years ago. Hard to believe a decade has passed.
During that time, Dunkin has free coffee promotions and mug promotions, $1 iced coffee and now $2 iced coffee. I have realized over time that my loyalty to Dunkin was about convenience and frugality.
When I worked at Target I drank Starbucks iced coffee, because it cost 50 cents, the refill price, if we brought our own cups. Even then I preferred Starbucks to Dunkin.
But I have always enjoyed Panera’s iced dark roast. And finally, after years of considering it, I joined their monthly sip club in December.
On Sunday, I got my second month update of how many times I used my Sip Club privileges. 42 beverages since December 15.
The Sip Club retails for $11.99 a month. It allows the user to redeem one soft drink, coffee or tea (the simple Panera beverages) every two hours. I received an invitation to try the Sip club for $3/month for three months. I find Panera a relaxing place to work and an easy place to meet clients.
But 42 drinks in 60 days? I never anticipated that. I didn’t anticipate heading to Panera about once a week to escape my house and force myself to focus on projects I had been procrastinating. I didn’t anticipate having write-ins with a friend every other week, or suggesting to other friends that Panera could infuse positive work energy into a troubled project. I also did not think about how my favorite Panera sits beside a Barnes & Noble and a Dollar Tree.
Considering all of those things– I think the Sip club might be an even better business investment than HP InstaInk and Paper. I’m sold on the ink but I’m still on the fence about the paper.
Anyway… I had a Dunkin coffee today and it did not measure up to the coffee I enjoy at Panera.
Yesterday, I visited my primary care physician. He was thrilled because my blood pressure has stayed at 100-110/70 for the last six months. I am disappointed that my weight has not budged.
Around the last snow storm, I noticed my sinus troubles got so bad that only a day of Sudafed would stop my sneezing (see more here or via the publishing company’s Substack newsletter here) and that since then the mild lightheadness and congestion have not abated. And since I took a flying leap out the warehouse door March 1, 2023 and following that with stair acrobatics at home March 13, I had to ask my doctor– could my sinuses be contributing to my fall risk more than we realize?
So, he changed up my allergy medicine to move me from OTC remedies to prescription medication.
I also mentioned that my heart rate has been stable, even when I have no caffeine or overindulge in the stuff, and that salt has a strong effect on my heart and my weight. But I was no closer to keeping my heart rate under control first thing in the morning.
He asked me to tweak my beta blocker routine to take it before I get out of bed in the morning. And to be completely attentive to it at night. For a month, I am to take both half-pill doses as close to 7 o’clock as possible to see if that prevents my heart rate from jumping from 60 to 80 when I sit up, and then from having another jump from 80 to 100 when I stand. If that balances out my heart rate, he may move me to an extended release medication to maintain my heart rate. Especially since I have a small aneurysm in my brain.
The new allergy medicine he put me on– shifting me from Zyrtec and Flonase to prescription strength Claritin and Nasonex– was ready at my pharmacy by dinner time last night.
“It’s a preferred medication of your insurance,” my doctor said, “so it shouldn’t cost you too much.”
So, the teenager and I took the dog on a walk to CVS this morning where the generics of these two medications, for a one-month supply, cost $93. I know my Zyrtec and Flonase probably cost similar– but I never pay full-price. I use coupons and extra bucks and buy the generic, and on top of all that buy the twin pack and split it with my friend Nancy.
We walk home, and I don’t really complain about the price because I need to know if sinuses are increasing my fall risk and I want to know if I can reduce that risk so the investment is worth it.
On the way home, the dog was frolicking on a small hill, and she came trotting down to catch up with the teenager. She misjudged or maybe lost her footing and raced down the hill right at me, hit me in the legs and sent me flying. I landed on the sidewalk. My knee has a hearty scrape, my hands are sore, and my nervous system is done for the day.
Earlier this week I was behind on a deadline. I hadn’t quite missed it, but I had drawn uncomfortably close to it. I texted a friend, a former work colleague, not from Stitch Fix but from my non-profit work. She’s been working on her own creative projects, so I invited her to a write-in at Panera.
She came. We didn’t exactly get any work done, but we had some spirited conversation as we usually do (which comes as no surprise as the topic of the article was ‘sex and the single mom.’) It was Friday afternoon, and suddenly my friend turns to me and says, “I know it’s last minute but…”
And she invited me to an art gallery event in Long Island. The next day. Well, it was a GLVWG Saturday so I had some meetings to run, but I said if we could work it out around the GLVWG schedule, I didn’t have anything else on my formal schedule. Then, she added “we’ll have to stay overnight” and something about drinks and a beach.
That sounded delightful and I haven’t been away from home or out on a Saturday night in a while– We all had that crazy 2023 that kept us guessing.
Now, it’s Sunday morning and I’m in South Jamesport, N.Y., writing to a beachfront view.
We went first to a boutique, North Fork Apothecary, in Cutchogue, N.Y., for an opening of Glen Hansen‘s Full Moon Rising, a collection of photo-realistic paintings of crescent moons. The paintings were probably about 12 x 12 and so textured and real that they looked like the actual moon when photographed.
And as would befit the atmosphere of such a show, on a full moon night, the shop was decorated with candles and hosting tarot card readings.
From there we met up with Glen at a fundraiser and installation, “Baroque O Vision Redux,” he worked on with East End Arts at the Glen Hansen Studio in Southold. In its simplest terms, the installation featured 3-D printed “copper” pipe woven throughout the room. In reality, the reaching arms of the sculpture featured a variety of textures, sizes and outcroppings.
A conversation with the artist Bill Albertini revealed that the initial concept spurred from his drawings, and later additions and modifications came after he saw the space in the studio.
We had some wine and snacks and traveled with the piece, following the piping throughout the room and marveling at the different connections and ends.
And they had some delicious yellow peppers and cookies, and bread that looked hearty and welcoming, but most of the cheese had disappeared by our arrival. But what lingered behind was a mysterious jam that neither of us could quite place what it might be.
So, I tried it. It turned out to be a fruity jam with a zappy kick of ginger at the end.
“Sassy,” I said. “I don’t know what it is but it is sassy.”
If you want to experience more of the videos, I linked a couple of youtube shorts here and here.
From there we went to The Watershed where my friend, Glen and his friends would turn up after the event. We started with dinner, where my friend and I both had pasta. After dinner, we moved out to the bar where Jay Shepard entertained the crowd with covers, and witticisms, and incredible guitar playing. I’m listening to his Spotify as I type this. I’m told the Watershed has amazing pineapple margaritas which they make by soaking their pineapples in vodka. The glass vat of pineapple cores and vodka sits at the end of the bar.
I quickly discovered Jay was not eating the olives on his beverages so I started stealing them once the empty glasses returned to the bar.
After our dancing, cocktails and music, my friend and I returned to the room, where we read tarot cards in our own full moon celebration. According to the cards, we are indeed women on a journey.
Angel Ackerman 