The teenager and I headed to the gym this morning for the first time in a while. I did a gentle lower body workout to stretch everything and get my body rolling after the chiropractic adjusted just about everything yesterday. Even my ears.
The teenager wanted to find her max weights for powerlifting— which seem to be 100 pounds on bench and at least 155 on squats.
Tomorrow I head back to work after a weekend of falls and rest.
So that means meal planning and meal prep.
Our Hungryroot box came yesterday and since the app showed they didn’t have much product, I focused our box on mostly proteins.
With leftovers from last week’s box, the new box and pantry items I had in the house, I made this:
Chickpea rotini and beef meatballs with marinara and superfood tomato sauce.
Lemon pesto broccoli
Homemade pesto hummus
Omelet (with green olives)
Tempeh bacon
Brown bread
We also have leftover pizza and pancakes.
So for breakfast after the gym, the teenager had omelet with mozzarella and tempeh bacon on organic, sprouted everything bagels. I went vegan and had my bagel with my hummus and tempeh bacon.
And last night, the teenager and I went to my stepmom’s for Christmas and I got my hand bag. I have been admiring this Urban Expressions work tote since I started at Stitch Fix. I have one now.
It’s Wednesday night— which is my Friday! The Bizzy Hizzy has been a tizzy of Covid cases during this mandatory overtime week.
I’m doing my eight hours of overtime on Saturday.
Tomorrow I’m returning to the gym—the pandemic has also altered my training schedule.
And tomorrow, Georgie gets adopted! Yes, Georgie, our lovable former community cat from downtown Allentown, will be going home to a family where she will be the only pet.
I’m told Louise has an approved adoption application— but this is her third so I am not as optimistic as I should be. The person who applied for her wants two cats so FURR has suggested Khloe also be considered.
If these three cats get adopted— after Danu, Brigid and Aîné all getting adopted since December— I may weep tears of joy.
This week my body experienced all sorts of aches and pains, but I still managed to fold what I felt was a respectable amount of clothes for Stitch Fix. And today was our monthly employee luncheon— chicken Caesar wraps, tomato soup and carrot cake.
And on our final break of the day, everyone from my old shift got sweatshirts.
It’s kinda silly, but at the same token, it commemorates a special era of my life and celebrates the camaraderie we had on second shift. And believe it or not, even though we are scattered among the day shift, we still function as a team.
After work, the teenager invited me to Tic Toc family restaurant where we enjoyed grilled cheese sandwiches.
Ingram finally shipped Darrell Parry’s poetry book (Twists: Gathered Ephemera). And several other Parisian Phoenix titles are coming together. Perhaps as many as three titles releasing before the end of February.
Speaking of Parisian Phoenix, I emailed my class correspondent at Lafayette College and he ordered my first two novels.
And finally, side note… Actor Tim Daly was on the most recent episode of the podcast Hypocondriactor. I love Tim Daly. And I found myself comparing him to Anthony Stewart Head, you know… Giles on Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
I was specifically comparing Daly’s character on Madame Secretary to Head’s role as the school librarian/watcher on Buffy. Both were nerdy academics with interests in obscure topics.
On Saturdays, I tend to make my work lunches and make a loose meal plan for the week ahead.
I ordered an extra Hungryroot box after the snafu of last week’s shipment as we have almost eaten everything in the pantry and freezer.
And since I have heard there is mandatory overtime this week and I have already signed up to work next Saturday, I ordered a box to be delivered this coming Friday.
I have a $15 credit currently on my account and should see an additional $87 credit hopefully Monday.
Meal prep with Hungryroot groceries: superfood blend, salmon, kohlrabi noodles, beef meatballs, turkey meatballs and tortellini
I put most of the teenager’s food into one big divided container so she can design lunches.
For myself:
one lunch of kohlrabi noodles with marinara, shredded parmesan, nutritional yeast, two beef meatballs and two turkey meatballs
one lunch of kohlrabi noodles with thai peanut sauce, superfood blend, and broccoli
one lunch of teriyaki salmon, superfood blend, sesame ginger sauce and sesame seeds
One lunch of tortellini in kale pesto with shaved Brussel sprouts
Dinners will include nachos or tacos with chicken, cuban beans and avocado. Another of burgers, sweet potato fries and my “popcorn” cauliflower, and some sort of stir fry or grain bowl with the remaining brussels and/or cabbage, one of the leftover sauces and tofu burgers.
But by the time I made everything, I forgot to save a meal for today. So the teenager and I tried Hungryroot organic peanut butter on her homemade cinnamon raisin bread with a side of the dark chocolate banana bites also sent by Hungryroot.
Her assessment of the peanut butter: “I don’t hate the peanut butter.”
The bites?
“These don’t taste like banana.”
I looked at the package. “That’s because they are salted caramel chocolate cashews.”
The verdict?
Teenager very much likes the cashews and doesn’t mind the bananas, though the cashews are infinitely better.
I went to the chiropractor yesterday. Nicole at Back in Line Chiropractic and Wellness Center warned me that she “beat me up” more than usual.
That’s amusing to me as I was in an incredible amount of discomfort and she eliminated 90% of it.
I explained everything going on— my stress, my lack of good sleep, the possibility I had omicron, not eating right or taking my vitamins, not stretching or working out, and working overtime.
But as soon as she touched the back of my right hip, the tenderness immediately told me there was an issue I hadn’t thought of: my hip.
I need to remember that when I struggle to use my legs I might have an issue with my hip.
This post explores the last time I had this same issue: click here.
And if you look at that entry, you will see my mental health had declined in similar proportion to what I experienced earlier this week.
Pain and shifts in mobility really do have profound effects on our mental health.
So maybe next time instead of focusing on all the things that are going wrong and contributing to my lack of function and mental health, I need to be quicker to ask for medical intervention because — as I already know— I can’t trust my pain.
My pain recently didn’t feel that bad. But all the signs, including 65% work performance indicated otherwise.
I really need that physiatrist appointment to get scheduled.
In cheerier news, I recap some of this in a YouTube video I did yesterday while trying the “brown sugar cookie” latte and new egg bites at Dunkin.
If you want the PowerPoint version of my impressions:
The Brown Sugar Cookie flavor is boring. To me, it tasted a bit caramelized and like “toasted white chocolate” syrups. I miss peppermint for Christmas and pistachio for spring. These flavors now only come in peppermint mocha or pistachio mocha. I don’t like mocha in my coffee. Unless my friend and colleague Mary Barnes, now deceased, was the barista making a salted caramel mocha about eight years ago before everything came in salted caramel mocha. Starbucks always introduced it for the holiday season. But back to Dunkin and Brown Sugar Cookie, the teenager compares it to gingerbread. I didn’t get the spice of ginger.
The bacon cheddar egg bites… these were expensive but at 17 grams of protein and 280 calories they can substitute for a meal. But $4.99 for two miniature donut shaped eggs? Cute, definitely. Firm and crisp on the outside. Soft on the inside. Smoky, cheesy flavor. Again, boring. Strange mouth feel. But a very practical and utilitarian option.
My blog entry Monday focused heavily on the decline of my mental and physical health— and how I attributed that decline to the death of my father on December 15 (three weeks ago today) and the stress that has put upon me, my family, and my routine. I also think I may have had a bout with Omicron pre-Christmas which may be part of why my body cannot seem to get appropriate physical rest.
I shared these things because these tribulations are key for the story arc; success and overcoming mean nothing without context.
And if you are someone fighting with similar discombobulation, you might find comfort in my words.
The last few days the pain in my spine has been increasing and my control over my legs is lessening. To walk requires more concentration and effort than I am used to. According to my iPhone, my walking symmetry was a mess yesterday morning. And now today, as temperatures plummet, my right knee has shooting pain.
I am guessing— and purely guessing— that my stress level is exacerbating the spasticity in my lower limbs making legs that can’t relax even more tense.
I haven’t been eating right, and with the lack of good food, I don’t take my vitamins. And when I do eat enough to take my vitamins… Well, I may have eaten half a Hawaiian Luau deep dish pizza from Little Caesar’s.
I cried with my psychologist yesterday in a long-awaited therapy session where he had to recount to me all my strengths while simultaneously making me laugh.
But this gave me the courage to call out sick from work today, sleep in and start the day with my Yoga cobra pose physical therapy sessions (and then take a much needed shower).
In waking up slowly, I had the opportunity to gently force my lower limbs into motion. Walking feels a little more natural.
I had a chiropractor appointment scheduled for Friday and they literally just called today to see if I’d rather come in today. They say it is due to the threat of inclement weather but I think they read my mind.
My last chiropractor appointment was at least two weeks ago, because of the holidays, and I wonder if something might be pressing on a nerve since my right quad is burning again.
And still no work from the physiatrist about securing an appointment or the neurologist about whether my insurance will allow my CT scan.
In other news, Hungryroot gave me a $96 credit for the box that arrived late, less than cold and covered with chemical goo. I didn’t anticipate an issue with them and I had already gone ahead and ordered a new box which arrives tomorrow.
My timid tripod foster cat Louise still insists on cuddling me whenever I am in or on my bed. This upsets foster cat Khloe who likes to believe she is my favorite.
And the dog, F. Bean Barker, ate some more of my furniture.
And I’m starting to think my cat fostering peer might be the only one keeping up with my Fashion and Fiends series as she posted a review on Amazon recently.
The teenager submitted a photo of her and her grandfather for the high school yearbook baby photos. This photo was taken at the West End Fair where my dad was participating in a tractor pull. It was the first major outing I undertook with the baby by myself.
Nan will be coming over soon so we can do some more work on Not an Able Bodied White Man with Money. Which we will do over turkey bacon and omelets.
Let’s hope the next few days bring my body and my mind some relief.
It hasn’t even been a month since my employer eliminated second shift in favor of a seven-day-a-week operating schedule.
It has been about six weeks since my doctor ordered tests to try and pinpoint the cause of my spine, hip and leg pain. And about five weeks since the x-rays revealed a spine, that as my doctor said, wouldn’t be a problem if I were 70 or 80.
My dad died almost three weeks ago.
It has been several weeks since Omicron has soared across the world— and I discovered today, today, that Omicron grows best in nostrils and doesn’t take so well in lungs.
Did I have Omicron before Christmas? When I had stopped taking my allergy meds because of the funeral and had a congested head?
We had ten new cases of Covid at work today. This is the highest count ever. Most of the people who attended my father’s funeral have it. Curly, my college roommate, went home from my house to discover her teenage son had it.
My psychologist tested positive. My trainer did, too. My neighbor did. My other neighbor’s employer did.
It’s been almost two weeks since my neurologist appointment.
It’s been five days since my Hungryroot order shipped.
It’s been four days since my head CT was canceled.
It’s been four days since foster cat Danu went to Pet Supplies Plus.
Danu, gentlest cat ever
My grief has heightened my anxiety and has me lost in feelings that I am surrounded by love but I lack enough support. My feelings swirl in my chest and manifest as panic, panic I am too often stuffing away or channeling into tears.
My Hungryroot order came around noon today, after being shipped on Thursday. And the cooling gel pack exploded. Coating all the food. The food arrived bathed in some sticky chemical and warm. I contacted customer service but they warn they are busy and may take 48 hours to get back to me.
And in the meantime, I don’t know if it’s safe to eat the food. At least, the food in packaging. My guess is no. I hope they refund my money. But I ate everything in the pantry over the weekend and now I am out $100 and have no food.
And as I threw items away, I noticed the chicken they shipped me was dated, use by 12/21/21 and they sent it 12/28/21.
Sigh.
Then I got a text from my cat foster godmother: Danu was missing her rabies shot so she had to come home.
Normally I can handle this. But my numbers at work were around 65%, my body pain felt like my bones were burning, and then another member of the cat group sent a long message about how monitoring the medical records of the cats is important.
The vet was supposed to give Danu and all of her kittens the rabies vaccine when they were spayed and neutered. The vet didn’t. I didn’t notice. I screwed up.
Between the medical issues, the family drama, the grieving process and the shift change, I can’t get it life under control.
The second I empty the dishwasher, reload it and run it again, the sink is full. The toilets are dirty. The cats eat the dry food in the gravity feeder as soon as I fill it. The dog keeps eating things.
I’m not sleeping well.
And I have no time left to do anything I enjoy.
So my business plan for Parisian Phoenix is lagging behind.
I pick myself up and look at the positives every day, and every night I fall into bed defeated.
The teenager graduates from high school this spring. My baby is graduating in 2022. My baby.
It’s been a good start to the year.
My great grandmother was born January 1, 1900. So every year I think to myself that my great grandmother would be X years old. 122. She died in the 1990s.
I woke up at 4:30 a.m. and cuddled cats until 6ish. And believe it or not, I had a cup of coffee and starting doing chores— dishes, meal planning, updating the wall calendar.
The teenager came home from work around 9 a.m. She and her dad brought my favorite coffee, café con leche, and a Sizzli: pork roll, egg and cheese on a bagel. I have wanted to try the pork roll Sizzli for a while and it was delicious. 19 grams of protein and 400 calories.
The teenager and I went to the gym, where we goofed around during the official Boot Camp class. She loaded 188 pounds onto the leg press! When Boot Camp was under control, we started barbell squats and then Romanian deadlifts.
The teenager squatted 135 pounds! I made it to 115, but I wasn’t comfortable attempting 135. It’s too close to my body weight.
I love to watch her lift.
Then, I went to get Nan as we were scheduled to work. After we finished her writing, I prepared a chicken bone-broth soup and a cheese and pierogie casserole. My Hungryroot is stuck in transit so I rooted through my pantry to see what I could prepare. I had a long overtime shift yesterday and don’t want to spend my day off grocery shopping.
And then we starting reading the upcoming Parisian Phoenix anthology, Not An Able-Bodied White Man with Money. And meanwhile Joan is shooting more photos for Trapped.
I have received several beautiful messages today— from current and former colleagues at work, strangers on my blog, and my psychologist.
And another good thing— I got to laugh heartily with my daughter. Mostly at the expense of her dog.
And this is Bean trying to make friends with Khloe. Video
** P.S. I haven’t done my Cobra pose physical therapy. My spine is hurting. Is this why?
For the first time since December 15, I felt like myself. I’m still grieving. I’m still hurting, but by the time end of today (12/26/2021), the overwhelming hurricane of different emotions had pushed me into its eye. And I felt like me.
Yesterday was a hard one. My mother called early in the morning, wishing me a Merry Christmas. Really, my brain couldn’t even fathom why she would wish me a Merry Christmas when I was home alone and my dad is newly dead.
The holidays are always hard on me. They start with hope and usually end with disappointment. I had often said I wish I could ignore them all together. Just skip. And go to Paris.
There were no presents to open Christmas morning. I let the teenager open hers early when we needed some joy in the midst of funeral stuff. No decorations. I never got the Christmas tree up. I never listened to Christmas music this year— and I love Christmas music.
The world stopped when my father died.
The teenager has multiple pet sitting responsibilities. Something like eight visits a day. And her father just got his new car on the 23rd, so I had expected to have a car to visit family without her.
My nephew came down with Covid so there would be no gathering with that side of the family.
So my little funeral tantrum that led me to spend most of the service in my car apparently prevented my exposure to Covid.
I did have a bit of a something— a cold? A sinus issue? Backlash from not taking my allergy medicine for a week?
And I had hoped maybe I could go have some of Mom’s lasagne.
But by the end of her phone call, I think she hung up on me. I don’t know if she realizes it, but her last words were, “well, excuse me for being alive.”
That stung.
I thought she would understand how much I was hurting. She lost her dad when she was 21.
I spent the day alphabetizing and organizing some cards I’ve been saving. It tools about six hours, while watching reruns of ER and drinking coconut rum and pina colada lemonade.
The teenager brought home sandwiches from Sheetz. Other than that my meals were Christmas cookies and potato chips.
I went to bed around 8:30 pm and woke at 4:15 a.m. I did my physical therapy cobra poses and went downstairs to have my coffee.
When I arrived at work, my body struggled with anxious feelings, trouble breathing, difficulty regulating body temperature. I was no longer sick, though the post nasal drip is still very real.
When we got to Freestyle— our assignment for the day— there was no work for us. So a bunch of us had to transfer to Freestyle Pick and go out into the warehouse to pick our own work. And although the Freestyle carts are 80 items instead of 40 like ordinary fixes, I had a great time. I always liked picking. I arrived back in Freestyle not first but not last.
And I got to see the warming sunrise through the warehouse windows.
My guess is that I performed at about 90% in Freestyle QC/ship.
And then, at the end of the day they asked me to go pick again! And despite my back hurting a bit on the right side, once again I had a great time. The Freestyle/Direct Buy cart took me 45 minutes. I imagine the goal is 40 minutes.
That motion drove the feeling of panic away.
And before I left, I grabbed some hard-boiled eggs to share with the dog. I had asked the teenager to grab some jarred vodka sauce at the grocery store when she was between clients and she one-upped me.
She went to George’s Pizzeria and bought their homemade vodka sauce. My favorite.
And our cat foster godmother, now the teenager’s client and the teenager’s boss at Apricity Pet Care, left her a bottle of wine to bring home to me.
While the teenager finished her afternoon shifts, I made spaghetti. I sautéed a chicken breast and heaps of fresh broccoli, kale and spinach. I mixed it all up with George’s vodka sauce.
We ate like queens.
And then as I cleaned up the leftovers and packed my remaining work lunches for this week (Mr. Accordion stopped by and brought me his scrumptious halupkis that I finished today), the dog grabbed my favorite cat by the scruff of his neck and starting running around the kitchen with him in her mouth.
The cat was fine. The dog just wanted to carry him.
Sunday we arrived at work to learn we couldn’t punch in because engineering was upgrading the time clock system. I managed to ship 374 items in 296 packages as part of the Freestyle department.
And my dad— who has been struggling with Covid— ended up back in the hospital.
But then Monday rolled around and I was back in my home department folding clothes.
I was ready to try and excel as the change in shifts has been hard. The ten hour day is amazingly smooth, but getting up at 5 a.m. is exhausting — even if I go to bed at 9 p.m.
And then we changed software and the computers couldn’t keep up with the new system so everyone was working at 80 percent. Okay, I can’t prove everyone, but there’s a day shift woman who told me she always hits her numbers and yesterday she only did 108 instead of 130.
On top of this I had several fixes that I struggled to put in an extra large box and half way through the day the stats went down.
I am struggling to stay motivated and moving without my average time per fix being tracked, let alone no stats at all.
And then some guy drilled each of our table and attached new brooms and butlers. We used to share one or two brooms per valley, now we have about 20.
Many many brooms.
And around 2:30 p.m., a day shift peer was talking to someone who might have been a processing lead and she started hysterically crying for a good 20 minutes.
So I was very glad when yesterday was over. Not only was my back hurting, but my right leg is acting up again and I have intense pains in one of my right toes.
Then today started. My computer doesn’t have a keyboard or a mouse. Just a keypad. And the computer can’t “see” it. Lost ten minutes looking for a mouse until a lead stole one on my behalf.
One of my favorite second shift QC support people— we’ll call him Flying J in honor of the way he buzzes through the valleys with carts under his arms like wings of an airplane— brought me refixes! You know, the fixes that needed to be fixed and come on top of the cart instead of inside.
AND he told day shift that I liked them.
And one of the day shift support people came to see me and said she would bring me as many as she could. Then she paused.
“I don’t know how to say this without offending you,” she said.
“Honey, you can’t offend me.”
“I see the way you work and I see the way you walk—”
I interrupted her. “I have cerebral palsy,” I said. “And right now, my spine is bent the wrong way. I struggle to get the fixes out of slots 7 & 8.”
I was really moved. I am always touched when people want to help.
And today was our December employee luncheon.
Meanwhile, at home, the teenager did a ritual (at my request) for my father’s recovery.
Me and my dad
After work, we took the dog for ice cream at The Spot.
My first three day Thursday through Saturday weekend is now coming to a close.
I did some laundry. Did some dishes. Meal prepped for my upcoming lunches and cooked the remaining groceries so the teenager has some food if she wants it. We also discussed our upcoming dinners. I plotted my wardrobe, and I hope to finish gathering underwear and socks, that way I can put my clothes in the bathroom where I can dress without disturbing the cockatoo.
I did a whole lot of work for Parisian Phoenix Publishing, including sending Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money off for copyright.
So, with all of our food planned for the future, the teenager and I visited McDonalds for buy one, get one free Big Macs.
Angel Ackerman 