I sat down a few times to write a post and never finished.
In the last two months:
I celebrated my 50th birthday.
My personal cat of five years died suddenly.
My daughter turned 21 years old.
I spit out part of a tooth, one that I originally damaged during my big fall 15 years ago.
Even though we have other animals, and even other cats, in the house, the loss of Fog has troubled me. That’s been hard. It creates a special loneliness to have other pets around but none of them are truly mine. Now the bird would beg to differ, she would say that she is the ultimate companion and that I should have no other beasts before her. And perhaps that makes me her pet. For larger birds are even worse than cats for acting like they are the most superior of species.
Yesterday, my dear friend (and Parisian Phoenix art director) Gayle and I went to Boonton, N.J., to see if we could find the remnants of their portion of the Morris Canal.
We failed. And while I was there (specifically somewhere around point 10 on the map), I spent a few minutes studying the map to make our visit more successful, but the summer sun perhaps made it more difficult to interpret the map. I may have to return and try again.
So, Why Boonton?
I wanted to visit Boonton for several reasons. I had been discussing and researching the Morris Canal as part of my work with Maryann Ignatz, the fourth-generation proprietor of Steve’s Café/ Historic Morris House on South Main Street in Phillipsburg, N.J. Her family’s business abutted the Morris Canal and canal workers would stop for food and drink along the way.
Reason 1. I have a fascination with canals and the Industrial Revolution in the United States. The coal regions in Pennsylvania were so instrumental in feeding the cities from Philadelphia to New York. Think of all the petroleum reliance we have today– and in this era as electricity was just coming onto the scene the indsutrial sector used coal to produce steam to provide energy for travel and manufacturing.
Reason 2. I was born in Boonton and some of my family used to live there.
How the visit went
Parking is super easy and plentiful with a $1 fee to park all day. If you use ParkMobile, the fee is $1.30 and gets you exactly 24 hours.
I fell before we got fully out of the parking lot.
(But it was my first fall since April! And it didn’t register on my watch which means it wasn’t a hard fall. The impact was relatively gentle.)
Loved the Van Gogh paint job
The downtown had at least four coffee shops, some art galleries, several gyms/pilates/yooga studios, a record store, an alternative clothing shop, a bookstore (which is only open Friday, Saturday and Sunday), pizza places, convenience stores, a crystal store, a Mexican restaurant in what appears to be a classic diner, and other businesses and restaurants.
We meandered along the Rockaway River and found a couple of the spots listed on the map, but somehow completely missed that we should have explored Plane Street.
After exploring parks and looking for historical markers for about 1.5 miles, we visited Catfight Coffee– chosen for its name of course. It offered Goth-inspired decor and music from the dark end of the 1990s. ‘
The final thing we noticed was The Dog Days of Summer project. Various dog sculptures lined the downtown.
I bought my 2015 VW Jetta turbo in November of 2019. She had about 25,000 miles on her and I bought her for about $15,000 from my local Kia dealership.
She has been good to me– and even with my occasional road trips I only drive about 8,000 miles a year. And then my daughter’s car died, so for the last year she’s been more or less using my car full-time.
She’s put almost 20,000 miles on it. I used to take her in for service, an oil change and inspection every August and not think about her again until the next year. Not so now. Two oil changes this year. The kid blew one of my new tires hitting a curb.
Yesterday, I arrived at the garage at 8:15 a.m. for my 8:30 appointment. I had a large Panera iced coffee and a clif bar (brownie flavored) and brought one poetry book and my laptop intending to pound out a rough draft of my profiles of Milou Mackenzie and Miriam Sabih.
Which I did.
At 10:30 a.m., I received the video regarding the results from my inspection (all good) and the service coordinator came over to discuss which preventative maintenance would be best before Atlanta.
I knew going in my car needed a daytime running lamp and two new tires. We also opted for the complete tune-up since according to all my service records it had never had one and we now have more than 75,000 miles and I’m heading to Atlanta in two weeks.
When we get our next oil change, we’ll do the coolant and transmission fluid flushes.
At noon, the guy who supervises the actual technicians stopped by. They had replaced three of my four spark plugs. The last one was stuck. He said I could take the car home and return after my trip to finish the job. Great, I thought, I’m getting really hungry and would like to go home and have a real meal.
At 12:30, the service coordinator returned. He gave me a bottle of cold water. Which was great because all I had to drink so far was coffee. He wanted to get the car fixed before Atlanta, and preferably he didn’t want me driving it. So, after some looking at scheduling, they opted to keep the car with the promise to get it to me today or get me a loaner for Wednesday.
And they said they could have the shuttle take me home. The shuttle returned at 1 p.m. and disappeared before offering me a ride. Eva got down with her lunch clients and offered to come get me a little after 1:30 p.m. She arrives– and I kid you not– an old man with a walker lumbers up the ramp and takes up the door. After almost six hours in the room, I could not get out the door.
When we got home, the frazzled energies continued: my eggs were frozen, I burnt my toast, and the cat we are fostering tried to steal the bacon out of my sandwich (he did, but I wrestled it away from him) and then I sat down to watch TV and my Netflix account wouldn’t load, but Eva’s did. I watched hers.
And everyone kept talking about a blue supermoon and I was so confused because a blue moon is the second full moon in the month and it’s the middle of the month. Then Eva explained, “no, Mom, it’s literally blue.”
“Then they should say the blue-COLORED moon,” the editor in me replied.
The dealership called a little after three. There were two Ackermans in service that day. The person who handed me my paperwork gave me the wrong set. I almost signed for the wrong car!
I got my car back. Adjusted the seat because I have little legs and cringed at the fact that somebody put the country station on in my car. I drove over to Wawa for happy hour to treat myself to a cafe con leche because it’s been a long day. (Though I did do a draft of my Sex Down South slide show!) The young man doing the barista work burned my milk. Bought Eva some Mountain Dew because CVS has no Adderall.
Today, I donned my publisher hat and I drove to Bernards Township Public Library in Basking Ridge to support poet and filmmaker McKenna Graf. McKenna publisher her second volume of poetry with Parisian Phoenix Publishing after self-publishing her poetry debut. Her next event is in Manhattan on August 22, 6 p.m., at the Barnes & Noble on the Upper East Side.
I started my day with a squawking cockatoo, and then proceeded to come downstairs with the intent to write a draft of my upcoming political profiles for Armchair Lehigh Valley and I did an hour of work on it. But for some reason sifting through Milou Mackenzie’s different Pennsylvania house bills spiked my anxiety and allowed that little voice to take hold. You know– the negative thoughts voice that says, “You can’t do this.” And/or “all your effort is meaningless.”
But, I know I have a road trip today so I eat a hearty breakfast, deliver Eva to her father’s car, and order my Panera iced tea. In the adventurous spirit of a road trip, I go to a different Panera and I love that there drive-through is a straight lane. But what I do not realize as I drive up is that they finally tore down the Phillipsburg Mall.
They have been saying that they were going to demolish the Phillipsburg Mall probably for a decade– and all the reports stating that the anchor store Kohls would be the only part of the mall left standing. This Panera was on one of the pad sites at the mall. (A quick Google search tells me that Crown American opened the mall in 1985, a key time period for malls, and that the stores vacated in 2019-2020. Supposedly a warehouse will be erected on the site. Because every warehouse needs a department store next door.)
In the late 1990s and early 2000s, especially when I worked in the area as a journalist, the Phillipsburg Mall was probably my favorite in the region.
The Author Talk
The drive to the library was uneventful. The Bernards Township Public Library appears a fairly modern vibes with the architectural feel of a small elementary school. McKenna did a wonderful job reading her poems and answered questions with ease during the chat portion of the program.
These are the moments when I very much love what I do, and these are also the moments when I get to contemplate how much the community built by a publisher influences everyone involved with it.
McKenna said several astute, thought-provoking items:
Self-publishing her first book put her in control of her own destiny instead of waiting for someone to deem her worthy. I would describe this a little differently: that self-publishing gave her a hands-on understanding of the industry which allows her to navigate and negotiate her future with less naivete.
Each book/work/poem represents a moment in time, and as such, they will never be perfect. And despite their imperfections, poems will always convey the feeling they need to share.
During her recent intensive geology class that toured National Parks in Utah and Arizona, poetry allowed her to grapple with something difficult. As she struggled to learn the complex scientific knowledge of the course, she used poetry to translate it. And she then made herself a photo book of the unedited work to capture the moment in time.
McKenna sold some books. I made some social media posts. I wove around the streets of Basking Ridge to entertain myself and I headed home.
Road Trips Snacks
On the way home, if I wanted to be a nice person, I needed to stop and put gas in the car. I noticed a sign for QuickCheck and that’s one of Eva’s favorites so I figured I would stop there. I discovered it was on Perryville Road, which is pretty darn close to her surname. I figured I’d run in the convenience store and get a snack (but hopefully nothing too crazy as I have lost four pounds) and then get gas.
I decided on a cup of their Kris Kringle iced coffee with light cream, apple slices and Lenny & Larry’s complete creme bricks… I mean cookies. The package said they had 15 grams of protein and 130 calories. So why not?
Gas was fifty cents a gallon cheaper than in Pennsylvania and it’s always a nice treat to have someone else pump it. The coffee had coconut and vanilla notes, which made me regret getting a small as I could have easily finished a large. I ate the apple slices (probably my first serving of fresh fruit this week) while waiting for the car to fill.
And wouldn’t you know as soon as I ended up on the road again the damn oil light came on. And the car is scheduled for an oil change in eight days.
The drive home was also lovely, and I enjoyed singing along to my music.
But if you’re curious about the cookies–
They tasted like hard discs of sprinkles. The vanilla flavor was that candy-ish flavor one gets from sprinkles, but the texture was hard, and I don’t mean hard like a cookie wafer but hard like an almond. When I got home to examine them closer I saw each serving had 130 calories, but each package of six cookies was three servings. So I had wasted almost 300 calories on some awful cookies. In addition to protein, they had some potassium and iron. The ingredient list looks like the whole cookie is wheat, pea protein and oil.
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.
I feel a little guilty right now because The Teenager has a sore throat and what appears to be the start of an ear infection. It’s a common occurrence for her and nothing says “back-to-school” like an ear infection on a 95-degree September day.
I had a good day, and despite my ongoing sensation of exhaustion (none of us who work at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy sleep well these days) I am experiencing an emotion I think I recognize as joy. It is bittersweet as I had to say goodbye to two work friends today, and many more will go tomorrow.
Speaking of the warehouse closure, I’m starting to feel unsure whether we are closing a business or a preschool. Today’s free pile included lanyards, insulated branded lunch bags, gift bags, inflatable guitars, bingo cards, and raffle tickets. Yesterday I brought home stickers, pipe cleaners, serving trays made out of cardboard-ish, egg carton material and I almost had a collapsible storage cubby but a random elderly colleague came over, took it out of my hand and said, “excuse me, that’s mine.” I handed it over because 1. I’m not acting petty over free things and 2. I was taken aback (but not surprised) by the gall.
My neighbor whose nickname I can’t recall had the other cubby and she offered hers to me, but I declined. She picked hers up fair and square. And really, I don’t need more random stuff.
I’m going to bounce around in this blog post, but I’ll try to use subtitles.
Sharing my words
So I went to my neurologist/physiatrist today and I gave her one of the Parisian Phoenix books, Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money. We had talked about it the last time I saw her and she told me to email her the info because she wanted to buy it. No one has ordered that book since the last time I saw her, therefore I thought it was safe to bring her a copy.
She started flipping through it right away. She teasingly chastised me for distracting her, and I told her that next time I would save books for the end of the visit. She also mentioned she had a patient whose wife was considering approaching a breeder about a mobility dog prospect for her husband, and she (my doctor) wanted to know the name of the program where I am on the wait list.
My doctor believed it would be too much expense and too much of an undertaking for this couple to buy a dog and have it trained as a service dog, especially since they don’t even seem confident that a dog is right for them. My doctor suggested looking for a program, and I offered to speak with them if they so desired.
When I left the office, I discovered organizers of the Artful Dash on the Stirner Arts Trail here in Easton reached out via Instagram to ask if they could use photos from my blog to promote this year’s 5K. I, of course, gave them permission.
Medical stuff
Today was my last specialist appointment before my benefits change. My team and I seem to be on the same page, and they appreciate the fact that I pay attention to my body and try to implement lifestyle habits to counteract any health issues.
My gynecologist, primary care physician and my neurologist/physiatrist all agree that some of my current stiffness and bladder issues may stem from a combination of stress and change in exercise habits. Now that my increased sodium intake seems to have eliminated my orthostatic hypotension and decreased my fall risk, I am working on losing weight (ten more pounds off by Christmas I hope) and paying more attention to my urination issues. My current management of my potential incontinence symptoms includes using a toilet every time I see one, and honestly, unless I start having recurrent issues in public I’m not concerned. It could be, my neurologist said, that my theory that my days of bad spasticity means my bladder might be having spasms, too.
And the random tingling limbs so far is not a cause for concern. But, as always, I have a list of symptoms to watch for.
Random Caramel Apple Iced Coffee
We received Wawa gift cards at work last week and I stopped yesterday and got a caramel apple iced coffee. Now, I don’t normally like Wawa’s iced coffee. It’s too weak for me. But the cold brew was a $1 more and I’m cheap.
It was delicious, though I do wish the coffee were stronger and they never put enough ice in there so it’s always warm by then end. Because I don’t normally drink sugary coffee I was buzzed by the time I got to the gynecologist.
I’ve been making friends in the writing community for decades, and collecting artists along the way. One of those writing friends is William D. Prystauk– from a chance meeting at a literary event for Kaylie Jones hosted by Laurie Lowenstein– which had to be 15 years ago.
Bill and I would meet for coffee at Lafayette College’s Skillman Library and talk writing for hours. We’ve even seen Gorbachev together. And he’s nailed my kid in the face with a frisbee, probably one of the first signs she had ADHD. She couldn’t stop talking long enough to notice the frisbee sailing toward her.
Bill is also the author of the Kink Noir series: Bloodletting, Punishment, Debauchery and Bondage. I asked him if he could bring Parisian Phoenix Publishingsome inventory for the upcoming April 29 celebration of National Independent Bookstore Day we are holding in collaboration with Easton’s Book and Puppet.
While Bill is not officially one of the Parisian Phoenix authors, he did appear in our 2022 anthology, Not an Able–Bodied White Man with Money. As publisher at Parisian Phoenix, I try to promote the hard work of authors that appear in our books, even if those other works do not appear in our stable. That’s one of the benefits of working with a tiny craft press.
Bill and I went to a new business in my neighborhood, Plants & Coffee. They literally opened last week. Bill and I are whores for good conversation, environment and taste-bud experiences. He tried their mango spritzer, and I went for the lavender rose basil spritzer. I love lavender. I love rose. And the mix… greenery surrounding us, the calming lavender and the exoticism of the rose, which reminds me of the Arab sections of Paris…
The shop itself is in a building where I once toured an apartment that could have come straight out of a 1970s porn set. The commercial space was most recently some sort of discount produce stand, and if I remember correctly had some makeshift arcade for a while, and prior to that what Bill referred to as the best Mexican food he’d ever had in this life at a place called “Garibaldi’s.” I remember it, but I never ate there.
So imagine my surprise when I walk into this gleaming space of black, cream and greenery. Small touches like books, retail items and couches providing so much softness and homey feel.
I will be back.
(Meanwhile The Teenager is at home getting her newly adopted rats situated.) They are fitting right in to the menagerie. She adopted them from the Harrisburg Humane Society.
And we also went for sushi at Jasmine, which I often think is Bill’s real reason for coming to see me.
I had my full activity session at Physical Therapy today. I did my stretches, got strapped into the gait belt, and did a series of single leg stability exercises under the supervision of the computer’s measurements.
Then we headed to the zero-G treadmill. I was advised to make my feet and pants have contrast. So, I wore my bright green shoes, my purple polka-dot knee socks, and my black-and-white cat leggings from Purr Haus in Emmaus.
He chuckled while remarking that I certainly followed directions.
The Zero-G treadmill required some rubbery pants surrounded by what resembles a surgical/Elizabethan collar (cone of shame) that get zipped into a treadmill pretty much encased in plastic. When it filled with air, it reduced my body weight. I was able to walk the treadmill at 50% of my body weight.
The reason for contrast is that the treadmill offers an image of your feet. Three views on a monitor: front, side and back. So I was able to watch my feet, move my legs, angle my feet and reinforce the improved gait pattern by watching it as I walked.
I was only on the treadmill for 15 minutes, but it that time I discovered what part of my foot I normally don’t use. It was exhausting– and exhilarating– and so fun to show the Teenager the results when I got home.
But before I got home though I had an appointment to have my stitches out and on my goodness did I have the most personable and confident resident yet. I only had three stitches but that last one gave her a terrible time. It took her thirty minutes to get all of them out. I had her laughing and she was very patient and determined, and so afraid she was going to hurt me because “if it were me I’d be jumping out of my seat!”
She said I was the best patient ever, that I sat so still and I must have a high pain tolerance.
Between the two appointments, I stopped at Dunkin for a decaf coffee and saw they had a new “egg taco.” I read the nutritional info and with 500 mg of sodium, 180 calories and 8 grams protein, it had less salt and more protein and less calories than the avocado toast. I am so sad they no longer have the hummus.
When I got home, I did some little things and ate the homemade chicken and dumplings my Pennsylvania Dutch mother-in-law is known to deliver when people in the family are sick. And then I tried to take a nap, but a little birdie was guarding me.
I haven’t had much time this week to eat, or rest, or even go to the gym, so I haven’t had time to read books, report on podcasts, or blog. And that’s a shame because I’ve seen some silver linings recently.
My friend in the hospital is doing well, and the staff on the cardiac floor seemed appropriately mortified at how her case was mishandled on Sunday. That doesn’t fix the long-term damage to her heart, but at least now she has the team to move her care forward in the future. And our coworkers have paraded into her room literally one after another, including her direct supervisor who turned up before she had emerged from the ICU. That makes me proud to be part of the team with whom I work.
She’s coming home from the hospital later today.
I visited my friend on Thursday evening, and again Friday after work. The Teenager had a dinner party and game night planned for the evening. My job was to stop and augment the alcohol offerings. I still need half-and-half after running out last week. Three trips to the store have yielded no such milk product. I have had tea. I have had terrible coffee at work. I have drunk my peppermint tea black. And I have resorted to, with great desperation, coffee with two percent milk. My father preferred his coffee with milk, and it’s something I just can’t adjust to.
I stopped at the new Weis market in Bethlehem near the hospital, purchased several single-serve-type bottles of various wines and a cold six pack of Sweet Baby Jesus chocolate peanut butter porter. I love a good porter or stout and DuClaw’s Sweet Baby Jesus is a solid one, though not as smooth as Samuel Smith’s Organic Chocolate Stout. That is my favorite.
I also grabbed a half gallon of Weis-branded ultra pasteurized half and half, dated March 23. Let me skip ahead to this morning and alert you that my half and half, after I freshly popped the seal, was spoiled. But, at the time of my arrival home, I felt like a successful warrior queen.
The Lovely Teenager and I received a package from Stitch Fix yesterday with our Freestyle goodies. You can see the unboxing here: (The Teen is wearing a Stitch Fix sweater from a recent fix.)
The Teenager invited a couple over for dinner and invited more friends to join us for Ransom Notes, a blend of Cards Against Humanity and a magnetic poetry kit. I didn’t take any photos of the evening, as I was distracted laughing, enjoying a beer, and socializing, something that has not happened nearly as much as it should. The Teenager expertly prepped and executed a menu of homemade mac and cheese, steak, and air-fried asparagus, with box brownies for dessert. Knowing one of our guests was vegetarian (and relieved he was not vegan), she prepared one very large standard mac and cheese, based on the recipe from the never-let-you-down Betty Crocker Cookbook. But being the carnivore and bacon whore she is, she made a second, smaller mac and cheese with bacon.
When your bird is distressed by all the commotion in the house, you show her what is happening. Photo by Joan Zachary.
Conversation flowed freely. The Teenager’s father arrived next, bearing the essentials for rum and Cokes. Our artist friend Maryann Riker followed with some Yellow Tail. Somehow Uno became the first game as choice as poor Maryann had never played this classic.
Brilliant photographer Joan Zachary arrived next with her partner, who immediately made friends with The Teenager’s extra long cat Oz. Joan joined us for a round of Cards Against Humanity, and did impressively well for her first time playing. I did not win a single black card. But I laughed my ass off.
And it was Uno we returned to to end the night, never quite reaching into the box for Ransom Notes. I guess that means we may need to host another game night.
Also, my cat Fog has been sleeping with The Teenager against his will. But they seem to be developing a relationship. Meanwhile, foster tripod Louise has permanently become my snuggle buddy, sleeping in my arms every night.
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 Creamflavored 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
Angel Ackerman 