Tag dogs

Balance Assessment at Susquehanna Service Dogs

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

About three years ago, Eva– my daughter, in the beginning of her career as a pet caregiver and dog trainer– said she wanted to train me a service dog. She wanted something to babysit me once she left home or when I was home alone.

She showed me some videos and I did some research and thought she had a point. When she leaves home, I will be a 50-something woman living alone with a history of falls and accidents. The presence of a dog in my life would keep me active and prevent spasticity issues, improve my gait as a dog’s gait never falters, and perform small tasks like bringing me my phone or picking items off the floor.

I have no doubt that with the right puppy and the time, Eva could train a service dog. But I suggested that for our first experience in the realm of service dogs, we should apply to an official service dog program.

Working with a program would teach us how the dogs are trained, give us support, guarantee good breeding and the physical fitness of the dog, and have some added legitimacy should people question my dog’s work.

Now there are no rules that prevent individuals from training their own service dogs. I think this is why one can encounter a variety of “fake” service dogs doing public access work. [I saw two service animals in the same restaurant this week. One looked like a well-trained Labradoodle with a handler who wasn’t cognizant of her surroundings. The Labradoodle was lying across the main floor area of the restaurant and not tucked under a table. The second was a small dog, perhaps some sort of schnauzer who barked and begged and whined and scratched at its owner’s leg for food the entire time. So, either that handler was having a medical emergency and the dog’s alerts were being ignored or the dog was not properly trained. A working dog should not make noise in public and it should not be distracted by food.]

I understand that training a dog with an agency or a professional trainer is expensive, but people who insist on using dogs for public access that are not properly trained make life harder for those people who have working dogs that don’t misbehave. Improperly trained dogs with public access are the dogs more prone to cause an incident with another dog.

And once I pay for my dog– which will take ALL of my savings– if that dog is attacked or threatened while working in public, that could impact its ability to do its job in the future. My dog might become afraid and unable to focus on its job. So I will have invested all of my money in a dog that won’t leave the house.

In the United States, there are no rules or governing agencies that regulate service dogs. There are, however, rules about what people can ask to a handler of a service dog– Does this dog do work that mitigates your disability? What tasks does the dog do? That’s it.

I have chronicled my service dog adventures on this blog. Here are most of the entries. (I am also working on a disability memoir.) There’s a lot to the process. My dog will be a light mobility dog.

They say the average placement takes four years start-to-finish. We filled out the application with Susquehanna Service Dogs in Summer 2022. I went to their facility and had an interview, fill out a survey of my life and health every six months, did an assessment while working with a dog where they recorded me, brought Eva with me to do public access work in a mall, passed a home visit, collaborated with a case worker to develop a plan of what my dog would actually need to do, and now yesterday, I went back to the facility with Eva for a balance assessment.

They had a mobility professional join us– I believe she was a physical therapist– and I worked with the dog and showed them how I get up off the floor and answered questions about my life and recent fall history. I love when Eva can come because she can tell them her insights. Apparently, she was annoyed because physically I was having a good day yesterday.

I worked with Captain. What we learned was that my dog will need to walk on my right. The dogs are trained to walk on the left, but when the dog is on my left I struggle to walk in a straight line. When the dog is on my right, my posture and ambulation is much more natural.

We also decided that my dog will be guided by a leash, versus a strap or a mobility harness. A mobility harness is rigid and has the most feedback between human and dog. In the photos, I am using a red strap on the far right. The strap was okay, and it’s an intermediary step between the harness and the leash, but it didn’t feel natural. (And the benefit of using leash only is that it gives the dog more freedom and space to get out of the way when I fall. Some dogs are trained to do things when a handler starts to fall, but I want my dog out of the way.)

It also seems like I’m at the proper place in the timeline. The next step: When they have a group of dogs that are flexible enough to work on the right and the right size to work with me, I will get to meet them. It might take a few meetings to find the right dog. Once the right dog is selected and assigned, I believe they will do any specialized training while boarding on site and then I go to their facility for a three-week training session.

The dog itself has to be two-years-old and fully grown and cleared by a veterinarian before entering the work force. Moibility dogs have some of the hardest and most physical jobs out there for service dogs.

Fitness strike out

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I had my intake for the Thrive medical fitness program at St. Luke’s Hospital. I did not finish all of the required testing because my heart rate and blood pressure were too high.

But let’s back up. Perhaps things aren’t as “all or nothing” as I feel right now– I feel like in many areas of my life I am “failing” or “losing” and the reality is that life is more complex than that.

I was soooo excited to join the Thrive Medical Fitness program, and I still am. The staff seems pleasant and supportive.

And I wanted to do stuff.

No doing stuff yet.

I had a 5:30 appointment for the intake, and I was 100% honest on the form about my habits and my medical conditions. After all, it’s a hospital-sponsored program so they have access to at least my medical history anyway. So I told the staff member about my fall history, about my bout of afib, about my orthostatic hypotension, my anemia, and my increase in spasticity.

And I quickly learned that due to all of these conditions, I will not be allowed to workout independently at the facility. I will have to make an appointment and work out with one of their trainers for every workout.

Now, to start, I can see this being prudent, and I hope I will prove I am not a danger to myself and be allowed to drop by and workout. But, if not, my new home gym is almost ready.

So, I accept this. I even try to see the nice staff person’s small gestures to my elbow as I step on and off the fancy scale as kindness. She does not know me, so she has to be cautious. But it would be a delicious story if I fell off a scale. And hurt myself. At the hospital.

Which reminds me of the time I fell down the stairs at the hospital, but that’s another story. You can read that story here.

Then, they took my heart rate and my blood pressure. Both were really high and would not come down.

Part of that might have been because I did not know they were in the basement, and even when I made it to the basement, they were tucked in a corner that had me walking around the whole building for a while. Then I got myself worked up when my anxiety was already doing overtime– I’m thinking a lot about how I’m going to heat the house this winter, what my next strategy will be for maintaining the publishing company’s income, and facing the holidays, a time of year when I typically feel the absence of my family.

So today I started taking my beta blocker again as I initiated my Clever Fox fitness journal. I filled out all the spaces regarding measurements, goals and trackers. Maybe it will force me to be introspective and keep track of my own behavior.

And meanwhile, I have taken Bean Dog for several walks this week. Our first was on last week, and it lasted less than five minutes. We walked halfway up our block and back, just to see how she behaved for me and if she would walk with me and leave Eva behind. The second walk was straight down our street almost 1.5 blocks and straight back, for a total of nine minutes.

Yesterday we walked around the whole block, which took 12 minutes, but about 8 minutes in, Bean spotted our neighbor’s pitty jumping at the fence literally within view of our house and I was afraid to try to get her home. In trying to grab her heel-level handle, I scraped my knuckles on the asphalt and decided to just sit there and wait for Eva to rescue us or for the dog to calm herself.

Today we walked two full blocks (15 minutes) after Eva trained me to use a hands-free leash with a bungee-style lead to absorb some of the force. Eva hooked it to the traditional leash so if she started to react badly I could brace my body weight and use more of my power to balance the dog, and then regain my control by taking the traditional leash back.

We have not had to do that, but it’s good practice and good exercise for both of us.

PS– I return to the medical fitness center tomorrow to resume my intake testing.

People and Dogs: Come on, where’s the common sense?

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

If you don’t know, my daughter– The Teenager about to turn 20– works in the pet care industry, primarily doing dog walks and in-home pet care visits. She is also a dog trainer, and spends a lot of time and energy studying dogs, observing dog body language and finding solutions to people’s problems with their dogs.

She is the one who encouraged me to apply for a service dog, and although I grew up with dogs, she has taught me so much about dogs and why they do what they do.

Her dog, F. Bean Barker, who, will be four this summer, can be reactive and territorial. The Teenager has worked very hard to decrease her dog’s reactivity and expose the dog to situations to improve her tolerance. Today, we took her to a dog park. The dog park is less than two miles away from our home and off-the-beaten path so it’s not as well-traveled as some other local places. It has a lot of green area to explore even outside of the dog park. So, if the dog park is occupied, there is other stuff to do.

This dog park has two sides, one for dogs 25 pounds and under, the other for dogs larger than 25 pounds. Each side has a double gate system, so you can enter the first enclosed room and make sure your dog is ready to enter the other side without risking releasing any dogs already in the park. (In this dog park, there is also a gate between the two sides.)

Now, if you do not have a dog or if you have a rural dog who has no need of a dog park, you may not understand that dog parks can be extremely dangerous. You never know how other people’s dogs will react, and you can find that certain dogs have behaviors that can unnerve the most calm and pleasant dog. Owners often don’t keep close enough control over their dogs inside the park, believing the environment is contained and safe. But just like two normally well-behaved children can suddenly behave like cold-hearted killers on a public playground, dogs can change in this unfamiliar and potentially unmonitored environment.

We know Bean is a good dog, well-trained with a recall, but that she often has a hard time with other dogs especially if they aren’t appropriately socialized. Now, even if you think your dog is “good with other dogs” or “well-socialized,” you may not understand dog body language or stress signals to know how well your dog is doing in a new situation.

Knowing this, we brought plenty of our dog’s favorite treats, put her in a harness and on a prong collar and tucked a can of “pet corrector” into our gear. When we arrived at the dog park, one adult and one child had two small dogs running the entire expanse of both sides of the dog park. The Teenager decided not to engage and walked the dog around the human passive recreation trails.

The family soon left, taking their two small dogs off leash through the parking lot and leaving every gate in the dog park open— the two entering the small dog park AND the interior. That means if someone had entered the large dog park, appropriately, the large dog could have run into the small dog side and exited into the busy parking lot. Really?

Needless to say, this dog grandmother went through and checked every gate before Bean and The Teenager entered.

I sat under the pavilion and watched while Bean and The Teenager explored.

I was technically lookout, because The Teenager had removed Bean’s leash and if another dog came The Teenager wanted enough time to leash her dog and make sure Bean was under control, or at least, obedient.

I looked up from my book (Hunter’s Shea’s Manrattan which I am enjoying very much) and there was an unattended mastiff with no leash standing outside the gate. The Teenager already had Bean outside the dog park and releashed. So, we left.

The owner of the mastiff strolled leisurely to the gate, while his unleashed dog just had free reign. Why don’t people have common sense???

Dogs in public should be leashed. It’s a law. I don’t care how well-behaved your dog is– if it is attacked or frightened, it will end up in a fight. Even the best dog in the world would defend itself in a fight, so regardless of how the fight starts, both dogs could be injured or killed.

And, as someone on a wait-list for a service dog, it angers me to see how many people don’t understand why certain laws exist regarding where dogs can go and how they should be handled. A dog masquerading as a service dog in a store for example not only might create a bad example for real service dogs, but if it is not trained properly it could attack or spook another animal (or a person or a service dog). A service dog that encounters poorly-managed and badly trained animals in public could be attacked or spooked in such a way that it might not be able to do its job, creating a financial and practical hardship for the disabled person relying on that dog.

So please, leash and control your dogs as the laws ask you to do.

The follow-up and the next fall

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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.

Welcome February or “Wow, it’s been a month!”

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I didn’t realize– or perhaps deep down inside I did– that I did not write in this blog at all in the month of January. I have written in the Parisian Phoenix blog, on my Substack, for the Lehigh Valley Armchair Substack, for Kiss and Tell magazine, for press releases and social media…

But not here.

I have spent much time applying for jobs, going on job interviews, and following up with second interviews, and working with my authors at our small publishing company, attending networking events, meeting with other writers and professionals, and grocery shopping at discount retailers like Grocery Outlet and the Dollar Tree.

(Grocery budget has been $25/week, but this week I splurged and bought a baker’s dozen bagels for $9.50 at Panera because they have a sale on Tuesday, and I used my CVS coupons and their sales to buy 2 boxes of KIND breakfast bars, a box of Grape Nuts and a box of Cocoa Krispies for $13.)

My personal favorite cheap meal this month has been these gnocchi from the Dollar Tree, served with a cream sauce I made with butter, lemon, and some artichoke hearts (using the oil they were marinated in). The artichoke hearts and the Barber Foods Chicken Stuffed with Broccoli and Cheese came from Grocery Outlet. The whole meal cost me about $3 per serving. And I used up some half and half that was on its last leg.

If it weren’t for car insurance for the teen and heat (I’ve been keeping the house at a balmy 60 degrees since I had to pay for $600 in furnace repairs in December), I have enough clients to keep me afloat indefinitely even after unemployment runs out in about six weeks. But the uncertainty of it all is hard. My biggest faux pas since my lay off was dropping the oil cap into the engine compartment of my car while topping off my fluids before a winter storm.

Luckily, good old Southern Candy and her son came to my aid and he fished it out for me– took him 45 minutes and the promise of the $50 cash I had in my wallet. I could hear my Dad laughing the entire time. I swear he’s been playing practical jokes on me from the afterlife with all of these little mechanical problems.

Like he’s checking to make sure I can take care of myself.

Sometimes, Daddy, I don’t know.

We had two snowstorms in January. During one of which, the first actually, one of the Teenager’s college friends spent the night. (Photo: Here they are at about 10 p.m. having a snowball fight with one of our neighbors, a high school friend of the Teen.) The College Friend hails from Los Angeles, so this was her first snow. And we bundled her up in home-knit hats and gloves and sent her out to shovel and play in my snow boots. Because Lord knows I am not going out in that if I don’t have to.

I drove over to the Bizzy Hizzy, the now nearly empty Stitch Fix warehouse, to show my daughter the old Freestyle and Pick carts that had been set out for the trash. The carts are laminated, corrugated cardboard so I imagined they deflated pretty badly in all the rain. I explained to her how we used to pick, and showed her the pencil cans we used to hold our water bottles and the heavy-duty page protectors that held the pack slips after installation of the Big Ass Fans blew them out of the carts. Three years, evaporated and erased.

I’m still working out with Andrew at Apex Training and meeting my strength goals even if I am failing at my weight goals. The Teen says I need to be more body-positive, but I know I am regularly showing more than 500 garbage calories into my body for the emotional sensation of it. And I also know that as someone with heart and mobility issues, being overweight is not helping.

In good news though, because I share so much about my journal both as someone with cerebral palsy and someone who finds strength training cool and empowering, several other members of my gym are now setting strength goals and strength training into their routines.

While visiting Nan the other day I got to meet a really cute dog. She’s a French sheep dog. Nan and her owner both told me her breed and now I don’t remember. I asked Siri and she suggested a Wheaten Terrier or a Goldendoodle and both of those are wrong. So, I googled French sheep dog breeds and it suggested a few and I immediately recognized the word “Briard.” And it is indeed a dog that would get stuck in briars.

And last week, the Echo City guys and I went out to Pints & Pies for burgers for the guys and pizza for me. It was a very tasty pizza. I have been dreaming of it and the cold Yuengling draft I had ever since.

A Day for the Dogs

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Earlier this week, I had an interview with the owner of a doggie daycare/boarding facility about a potential job. I’m striking out with some of my professional interviews, and perhaps they can sense that I really don’t want to return to full-time work. Ideally. I’d like to recruit more editorial clients and focus on Parisian Phoenix Publishing. A part-time job would give me the chance to do that, and provide some stability.

The dog thing happened by accident. I saw it on Indeed and figured “Why the Hell Not?” I’m not the dog-whisperer like The Teenager, but dogs usually like me. And between mothering and petsitting and fostering I have cared for kittens, cats, dogs, rats, parakeets, parrots (this includes Nala and a Senegal), rabbits, various lizards, hermit crabs, snakes, chickens and horses.

And I’ve medicated many of those creatures.

During the original interview, the cleanliness of the place impressed me. It didn’t smell like dog, and it didn’t smell like bleach or harsh chemicals. The facility wasn’t noisy. And there were many varieties of kennels and rooms and play areas for the dogs.

The owner invited me back for a second “working” interview today, so I got to learn more about the ins-and-outs and I got to help with private play for several of the dogs. I caught one larger dog (about the same size and build as our own F. Bean Barker) that got away from the caretaker because he didn’t want to stay in his room. I noticed some expired vaccines on dogs who applied to come in for an evaluation. I made friends with a miniature poodle with red hair that usually didn’t like anybody. I hosed off artificial turf.

In other news, I also followed up on a lead I learned about last night about an office position, part-time, in downtown Bethlehem.

I am trying to capitalize on skills other than food service, as I’d like my resume to follow my eclectic and diverse involvements so keeping it professional or doing more in animal care/welfare seems right for this phase.

We shall see.

I had a bladder and kidney ultrasound today

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It’s definitely Monday. You know those Mondays when you can’t get motivated and the day drags on forever? Yup, one of those.

I mentioned to my neurologist/physiatrist that sometimes when my body gives me trouble I can’t feel when I need to pee. She tested my urine to see if I had some kind of infection (and I didn’t think I did as this started more than a year ago). When my urine came back clean, she ordered a bladder and kidney ultrasound.

The test begins with an ultrasound of a full bladder, so I had to drink 20 ounces of water an hour before the test and not use the bathroom.

I selected a facility near work, so I could head over directly after my shift. The lobby was loud, and it seemed like every female patient had a two-syllable name that started with A. And then, an old lady stumbles awkwardly through the waiting room, bent strangely, a heavy purse dangling from her arm and, even more maladroitly balanced below her stomach, a toy poodle.

Yes, a poodle.

She practically falls into the chair at registration, and soon after completely her paperwork, releases the dog on a retractable leash and it’s running all over the lobby. It’s certainly not working, and it’s certainly not wearing the appropriate gear to be a service dog.

The ultrasound tech did a magnificent job and we talked at length about Stitch Fix, my publishing company, higher education and then she asked me about my educational background. Maybe she’ll buy some books.

Christmas Eve Phase 1: Celebration of Life and Friendship

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I am determined this year to explore new Christmas traditions, so when my Jewish neighbor invited me to deliver Christmas cookies to her deceased family members in the cemetery I said sure. And even though it’s 9 degrees outside (yes, that’s Farenheit), I had a great time.

The neighbor in question is “Little Dog’s Mom,” who made a reservation for my dear Sobaka to visit in April. This is exciting! We always love to have the Morkie (maltese-yorkie) come to spend the weekend. She’s such a fun little dog. And total side note, speaking of dogs, I have been scheduled for my Canine Therapeutic Evaluation with Susquehanna Service Dogs on January 25.

This means The Teenager and I, because you must bring at least one support person, are heading to Harrisburg Mall to work with a service dog. It’s a test to see if the dog helps me or provides a challenge. And also gauges how I will interact with a service dog in public.

The three of us— Little Dog’s Mom, myself and The Teenager— bundled up and piled into Little Dog’s Mom’s car for the ride to nearby Easton Cemetery.

Parents and Sister
Aunt and Uncle

Little Dog’s Mom carefully explained each cookie, and lined them up nicely, while explaining that the squirrels and other animals would get a nice treat.

She tried to give everyone their favorites, and having lost my father last Christmas— which to me still qualifies as “just last Christmas”— it touched me to commune with relatives who have left this Earth even if they aren’t mine.

The outing had some levity after that as Little Dog’s Mom told us about a flamingo Christmas sweatshirt she had contemplated buying with her 40% off coupon at CVS.

We stopped to look at it, and The Teenager surprised her by buying it for her with our 40% off coupon. Then Little Dog’s Mom let me use her 40% off coupon to buy one for us.

To thank us, Little Dog’s Mom took us to McDonald’s for diet cokes.

So thanks to her, we are feeling bubbly.

A reset? The NaNo Dilemma, a podcast/YouTube interview, and some disability philosophy

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

I signed up for NaNoWriMo 2022, in part because deadlines and challenges and what feels impossible sometimes motivates me. But between foster cats with diarrhea, work shift changes, health issues and mood in general, I’m losing my focus and drive. I need a reset and an evaluation of my goals more than I need a push.

I have learned in the last five years or so as I’ve “come out” of the disability “closet,” is that when you have a disability or a chronic condition you have a choice: you either withdraw from life or you become tenacious and stubborn and adaptive. I think the majority of those of us with congenital issues, especially when our parents didn’t make our physical difference the center of our existence, tend to be the latter to the point of ridiculousness. We want to do things, whatever they are, and we don’t want our bodies to hinder us.

I think people who came to body differences later in life might be more prone to accept “well I just won’t do that anymore” while younger people with catastrophic injuries have the will to keep on going, and those with issues since birth learn that if they want to experience certain things they have to work harder but in reality we need to work creatively. So the 20-year-old proclaimed paralyzed as the result of a sporting accident will be more motivated to walk again than the 60-year-old who had a car accident.

But these are really complex topics to ponder and very personalized to the emotional and financial resources a person has to support them.

If you read my personal blog, you know I have diplegic spastic cerebral palsy. If you get tired of hearing me day that, I don’t care. I’m 47-years-old and like many Generation Xers out there I’m wondering how the hell that has happened so quickly. But more importantly, and I write this without judgment, I had no real medical treatment between the ages of five and twenty.

I realized– because of my job working in the warehouse at Stitch Fix of all places– that not only do I know nothing about cerebral palsy, but my medical team might not know much either. So no wonder I have a lot of unanswered questions. This week I celebrate my two year anniversary with Stitch Fix and my journey to understand my own body will be forever tied with my warehouse job with them.

Up until December 2021, I had never seen a neurologist. Until that late December visit with a neurologist, I never even had a diagnosis on my file.

And to think, now I have TWO neurologists. I guess I just want to remind everyone, and this is why writing a cerebral palsy memoir will be one of my next projects, that we tend to view our doctors as people in a hierarchy above us and we approach them for answers and with hope of relief. Instead, we need to approach them as peers with education and insight and it’s our responsibility as patients to ferry information between them and do what we can for ourselves.

I had a fall Friday night, after a week long battle with nerve pain in my foot and leg. I agreed to cortisone shots in my foot to see if that would curb the pain in my foot (and it did) but the resulting change in sensation and muscle responsiveness has made this leg (which happens to be my good one) less reliable. Throw in lack of sleep, not enough food and a cocktail and down I went. As someone with cerebral palsy, I need to remember that normal side effects for people who have proper muscle control may manifest differently in me.

So, Saturday morning, I nestled under my new Dad blanket (if you need to hear more detail on any of this about Friday click here) and planned to work on my NaNoWriMo project. Even though I had the time, and the healthy start needed to get a flow going on the project, I didn’t write a word. And I’m wondering if, already having one novel underway and past deadline, if starting another is merely destroying any chance of focus I have.

I have 4,000 words on the NaNo project, which if you don’t know is National Novel Writing Month, and I should be at 12,000 words by now. I had hoped the new project, a new idea which is nothing like anything I’ve ever written, would shake off the bad habits of an editor/publisher debating every word and allow me to write freely. That impetus would revive my ability to write quickly and without overthinking.

And strengthen writing habits.

The jury is out.

I may abandon official NaNo in favor of sticking with a strict writing schedule of rising at 4 a.m. daily before my warehouse shift and writing from 4:15 to 5:15 a.m.

The Teenager has had two overnight clients and I think at last count it had been 16 days since she slept in her own bed. When she arrived home yesterday morning, she looked at me on the couch and her dog lazily dozing and decided we both needed fresh air. So she mentioned key words: “walk,” “ride” and “window.” The dog lost her mind.

The Teenager knows how to bribe both of us.

She recently bought a new harness and long line for the dog. So we went to a small park to try it out. The park outlaws tobacco, alcohol, fireworks, drugs and golf. But dogs are okay.

There’s a cute video on YouTube of F. Bean Barker enjoying the outdoors.

And then we went to “the Window.” Which in this case meant Dunkin as it was still early and we sampled their new Cookie Butter offerings, the cold brew and the doughnut. Both were dangerously decadent. The doughnut is 370 calories so I’m hoping it sells out to the extent where I can’t get my hands on it.

I went to the park and the window in my pajamas, because it was a gloomy Saturday and I didn’t see the point of fancying myself just to hang out with the dog.

I spent a good portion of the day doing dishes and laundry and watching “Wheeler Dealer Dream Car” on Motor Trend’s streaming channel. I subscribed to Motor Trend last month so I could binge watch the Dax Shepard redo of “Top Gear America” and I may hang on to the subscription as I enjoy the content. The Teenager finds this perplexing as she knows I have no mechanical aptitude.

She classifies my car knowledge as “it looks pretty” and “it goes fast,” but I suppose my interest is similar to my fascination with haute couture sewing. I have read my haute couture sewing guide cover to cover (and yes there is such a thing) and I can’t sew to save my life.

I suppose I am a true academic. Reading and obsessing over knowledge of things I will never have the skill to do.

Then, the Teenager found “her box” on the doorstep, her third fix from Stitch Fix!!!! So we opened that bad boy.

I think The Teenager is disappointed that her box doesn’t have more flare, but the staples she receives is really improving her day to day look. As a dog walker, I am now seeing her in these Stitch Fix selections as a way that she can maintain comfort and still look put together.

If you watch the YouTube review, you’ll see more of The Teenager in what she calls her new “math teacher sweater.” It’s a keeper. It’s about 16 hours after she received it and she’s still wearing it. Stay tuned to see if I steal her shoes and keep them.

Later in the day, I had an interview with David Figueroa of David’s Cerebral Palsy and Fitness Channel. I have explored his YouTube content and I listen to his podcast. I am working hard to take charge of my aging process and I hope my message of the importance of strength training and my approach to medical advocacy resonate with people.

We talked for an hour and a half. I’ve included a link to his YouTube channel below. Let’s hope the chaos of my house wasn’t too distracting! But one disruption I welcomed was the motorcycle that passed by while I was talking about my father.

I ended up sleeping more than nine hours last night, and woke up this morning covered in cats. I hope your time-change-hour served you as well as mine did. Here’s a photo of me with the fosters, and it’s blurry because I took it without my glasses.

Walking, workouts and waffles

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I did not work a full ten hour day any day this week. But you know what? That’s okay.

My stats on Sunday were 105%, then 98 Monday, 88 yesterday and 94 today. What happened?

I don’t know. I was in pain Monday, stiff and uncomfortable yesterday and almost fell today but caught my balance.

And then Andrew at Apex put me through legs. We did split leg squats and he got to watch my hip do the funky angles it does. And I got to feel every fiber in my knees, quads and hamstrings.

Plus, I walked more than 8,000 steps today while my legs were stiff. Well after that workout they are not stiff but jelly.

The Teenager showed one of her dog walking clients some of the neighborhood dogs and their tricks— here is the video.

And then for the final event of the day we went to Waffle House as earlier this month we had heard that August 24 was National Waffle Day.

I had a scrumptious hash brown bowl with egg, cheese and jalapeños.

We split a peanut butter blueberry waffle.

These are the moments to treasure.