Tag teenagers

We now have a deep freezer

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

We recently got an old, hand-me-down deep freezer.

And at the same time, the federal government shutdown and Pennsylvania state budget impasse have complicated SNAP benefits for families who have them.

I heard on the news that 1-in-8 Americans have SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition or “food stamps”). I heard one story this morning about an unemployed widow with a 15-year-old son whose soundbite suggested she sent him to school so he could eat breakfast and lunch.

I hope she’s sending him to school for an education, first and foremost.

I consider myself a fiscally-conservative Democrat who believes that education and healthcare should be attainable and fair. I would love to have a Ph.D., but I can’t afford to finish my masters and I refuse to go into debt for it. I also have a disability, and even when I am well-employed I often have to make choices about my medical care.

Right now, I have my own small business. I work a part-time job in the food service industry to provide some reliable income on a steady timeline. I am an adjunct instructor at my local community college, and if you break it down to an hourly rate, I probably make a similar wage at my fast food job (because of the fact that I did not have the money to finish my degrees). And I have freelance writing and editing jobs and a mini author’s assistant job.

And I’m always on the look out for more. Applied for another this morning.

I started my career in public relations, and ended up in print journalism, which led to a long career of lay-offs as newspapers died. I worked in non-profit communications and development, where I learned a massive amount of useful skills like grant writing but also experienced a ridiculous amount of toxic managerial behavior. Some people work in the non-profit sector because they want to make the world a better place, but at the same time, many of those people have either childhood trauma and/or personal insecurities that create some challenging environments in an already difficult field.

I mention all of this because I have experience with unemployment. I have experience with being the single mom with maybe enough resources to survive a month. I was a single mom raising a teenager who lost her job during the pandemic and did not find out if she qualified for unemployment until the weekend after she accepted a new job. I was unemployed for four months and had opened my home to one of my daughter’s friends who didn’t feel safe in her own home.

I applied for public assistance because I was volunteering at a non-profit that provides services for people exiting human trafficking situations and my “boss” suggested it. Because I had no income and I had an official dependent, I received more than $700/month in food stamps. And Medicaid. Which was a great help. Even though I only received food stamps for four months, I rationed them so they lasted almost a year.

I had accepted a job in the warehouse at Stitch Fix. I loved that job, and the company, but after three years they decided to close our warehouse. After three years at a wage where my take-home pay was the same as what I had made as the development manager for a small non-profit with a two-million-dollar annual budget (thanks to the fact that Stitch Fix offered their employees free medical benefits), I found myself laid off again.

And when my unemployment ran out, I once again applied for food stamps. I had gone on multiple interviews, built up my small business, but still struggled with the cost of my medical care– my estranged husband put me on his benefits but my medicine was $50-$100 a month and all my doctor’s appointments I had to pay out of pocket because of the high deductible. So I really hoped I would qualify for Medicaid again. And I did.

I also qualified for $525 in food stamps.

Around this same time, Trump got re-elected and the cheap refrigerator I bought started freezing the food in the refrigerator and not freezing the food in the freezer. But I couldn’t afford a new fridge– and I still can’t– so we started buying only what we could eat in a few days, or foods that could safely thaw and refreeze.

Lettuce is not one of them, if you were curious.

The point of all this is to ask: Regardless of how you feel about who uses food stamps or how the government distributes them or whether or not people try hard enough or work hard enough, why is no one asking why we have a system where 1-in-eight Americans qualifies for food stamps?

I have seen and heard so many things about the system, and I have known people who work in the branches of government that distribute these types of assistance and they are all people who want to help. I have met people afraid to work because they might lose assistance, and I have seen people who need the help lose it because they made too much money. (And, like me, it’s usually people who need medical care.)

I have about $2,300 left on my deductible this year, and I have spent almost an equal amount if you read my EOBs from the insurance company. I’m losing my hearing in one ear and I need a hearing test and a visit with the audiologist. The muscles in my one leg have been spasming 24-hours-a-day for almost a year now and I just blamed it on my cerebral palsy but my neurologist has concerns that previously noted damage to my spine (from all these years of walking crooked) may have caused nerve damage in my lower back. And my one finger has been doing crazy things for about a year.

That’s probably at least $6,000 worth of tests. Do I just try to schedule it all before the end of the year and finance the $2,000+ remaining of the deductible on a credit card? Or Able Pay? or do I wait until I am better off financially?

Back to the deep freezer. A friend of the family was hoping to get a decade-plus year old freezer out of his house. We took it. We took all the stuff from our cheap refrigerator that needed better freezer conditions and piled it in. And I thought– when Trump was elected an I was worried about the future of food stamps, I didn’t have a freezer to fill. I did however invest in every non-perishable food item I could tolerate.

Dried Beans. Plain-old Rice. Canned Fruit. Canned Vegs. Nutritional Yeast. Some condiments. Canned Tuna. Spam. Canned Chicken.

My childhood traumas leave me to ruminate frequently about food scarcity, financial security and general stability. I will probably always behave as if every trip to the grocery store is the last one I can afford. And I have done my grocery shopping at the Dollar Tree and the Grocery Outlet because I only had $20 left to feed us for the week.

The Office of Vocational Rehab considers me the most severely tier of worker, whereas the federal government says I do not qualify for disability because I work so much and at so many jobs. But the federal government doesn’t take into consideration that I have to work that hard to make ends meet. And I don’t always succeed and I often hurt myself doing it. And I just work past it.

But how do you determine an equitable way to decide who deserves help? And I ask a third time: Why does 1-in-eight Americans receive food stamps? What is wrong with our society if 1-in-eight people cannot afford to feed themselves according to the criteria the government sets forth?

Food for thought.

Two weeks in the life of Angel

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I wish I had some exciting reason that it’s been two weeks without a post. The reality is that I’ve been ghostwriting a novel and that every free moment I have has been dedicated to that client who is currently paying my mortgage. Luckily, I love the client, I love the story and I love the whole experience of being a part of the project so it’s not a hardship by any means.

The book publishing entity– Parisian Phoenix Publishing— has been paying the other costs of life. If you follow the blog there and/or read the Substack newsletter, you will see we are always doing something to keep the company and its authors growing. And if you need another reminder of why and where to buy books, check out the shop we’ve curated at Bookshop.org, where you can shop online and designate your favorite independent bookseller to receive the profits from the sale.

So, rather than try to catch you up with every bit of crazy while I’ve been away, let me provide this fine list:

The Initial Joys of Summer

  1. The Teenager only has a few more days of Teenagerdom and she has spent much of the last month renovating our garage into an indoor/outdoor living space. She is hosting her birthday party out there and I can’t wait to show you the final result.

2. I have started using the outdoor patio more as the Internet extends that far and there’s really no excuse.

3. We decided to try the Papa Johns Cheeseburger Pizza and their new Spicy Lemon Pepper Wing Sauce. The boneless wings are terrible, but the sauce is out of this world. And the burger pizza– especially with the $10 promotional price point–might be our new favorite food. The Teenager has proclaimed that all pizza should have pickles.

4. I spent some more time with my cat, Fog. We normally use a “crate and rotate”-style system for all the animals. For the last year, my boy Fog, our old tripod Opie and the cat the rescue gave up on, Canyon, have been in my room. We decided to let them free roam and this meant I got to spend some time during my long work days with my man, Fog.

5. Speaking of cats, our houseguest, Paulie, still loves to bite me, but he has gotten quite forward about being in my business.

6. We pre-gamed the Teenager’s birthday by going to Dave & Buster’s for some arcade time and then visited this strange convenience store with the old style poker video machines, alcohol, vaping supplies, penny candy, ice cream, strange snacks and all the household goods one would expect from a convenience store.

7. I made some new recipes including rhubarb quick bread (think banana bread but with rhubarb) and my own twist on fried pickles. I smeared/shredded cheese on a kosher dill pickle sandwich slice and then pinched it into a piece of Italian meat before breading and frying. Both were amazing.

8. My 2015 Jetta turned over to 71,000 miles. The Teenager has been driving it for work, so it only had 55,000 on it when I got laid off from Stitch Fix in September. But in other exciting news, before the end of the month, the Teenager should pay off her 2012 Nissan Rogue which we’ve had two years when we only planned to keep it for six months. It’s pretty much ready for a demolition derby now, but it was The Teenager’s first car loan and she paid it off six months early.

And lucky number nine….

(The Celts believed 9 was a holy number, because nine was a collection of three sacred threes.)

9. Today, I got to have a lavender matcha latte with my book-making, mixed media, painting artist friend Maryann Riker of Justarip Press. We stopped at Spectacular Coffee at Easton’s Silk Mill after indulging in a green sale (yes there is such a thing!) at Vasari Oil Paint.

Cat tree with a side of sneakers

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

I ordered a new cat tree. It was a product Amazon sent me for free in exchange for a review as part of their Amazon Vine program. And it was designed to look like a space rocket so how could I say no.

When the box arrived, The Teenager tore into it. And the first thing she discovered was a pair of ugly sneakers. “Unisex” no-tie, size men’s 5.5 sneakers. So she tried them on.

The 53-inch cat tree had no instructions packed with it, and the hardware wasn’t organized in the box either. So, the resourceful-as-ever Teenager called up a photo on Amazon, because the box had no photos either.

This cat tree was missing all the plastic half-globe pieces for the cats to sleep in. There are supposed to be two. It’s made of particle board and the legs were not equal heights.

The cats have explored it, but if I had spent $90 on this, I would be very unhappy right now. It’s the only one-star review I’ve ever given on Amazon. The random sneakers is what made me have to share this with you. Because once again, my life heads into the ridiculous.

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 little weird lucky things

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Yesterday ended up being a strange day. Strange in happy ways, I guess, and I’m afraid I don’t have any photos to accompany this post. But you will see some familiar characters.

I went to visit Nan in the morning. She’s been having some technology failures and is trying to rescue her remaining files from her Braille N Speak. Her current model is dying. So we did some dictation to save some items.

Then, I stopped at CVS. I thought I had $5, $3 and $2 in Extra Bucks with one of them expiring that day, but my phone only showed $3, $2 and $0.04. I went back to the pharmacy window and to pick up my allergy medicine. This spring has been awful for me.

The tech who served me, I had never seen her before, and she saw my $35 tab and suggested I try GoodRX. She found it for $17.24 (which happened to be my house number growing up, see previous post. I like numbers). So she saved me twenty bucks!

I meandered through the store looking for snacks, as my cupboard is bare. I noticed notebooks on clearance for 90 percent off. I texted The Teenager to ask if she could use them or if I brought them home would she just hoard them… She said she would hoard them until the start of next semester.

I got her return text as I was standing near the Nature Valley Granola bars. CVS had a couple varieties on sale for $1.99 a box. I grabbed two boxes of peanut butter biscuits. That and some notebooks (five) at 45 cents each came out to $1.17 after my $3, $2, and $0.04. But at the register, I noticed my $5 off coupon that I couldn’t see on my phone. So I paid, and went back into the store and found my favorite KIND breakfast bars for $2 off. After my $5, that came out to $0.99.

In the afternoon, I visited my neurosurgeon to follow up on my aneurysm. And read the results of my MRA in early May. I got a parking spot right outside the door! At the hospital complex! THAT never happens!

I arrived early, hoping to read more of my nonfiction marketing book that is getting on my nerves. They took me back early. And the doctor showed up early! I was out of the office start to finish in less than 30 minutes, which was only 15 minutes past my original appointment time. And good news– what looked like an aneurysm behind my left eye according to the CT scan did not show up on the MRA.

Then I met Southern Candy at a local park and in the evening, The Teenager, the neighbor and I took Little Dog for ice cream after a dental and having some teeth pulled.

The Unexpected Post Birthday Bliss

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

Gayle and I have been friends a long time. So last week, she asked, as friends often do, “What are you doing on your actual birthday?”

My birthday was on Monday and nobody celebrates on Mondays. She offered to take me out, if I wanted to go somewhere and have fun. I texted back, “What is this fun you speak of?”

Enormous TV with the best resolution I have ever seen

I asked her the budget, and she said $50. I thought “arcade.” I have been trying to make it to various small arcades in the region, but as small businesses, they often don’t have hours conducive to my plans. So I looked up Dave & Buster’s, knowing we have one by the Lehigh Valley Mall.

Gayle said, “You want to go to a sports bar?”

And I said, “No…. They have an arcade.”

But further investigation revealed that the have half-price games on Wednesday, so I asked if we could postpone until then to take advantage. Gayle said sure.

She tossed lunch into the deal, so I ordered the Hawaiian chicken sandwich with pineapple, slaw, and sriracha. Gayle ordered a house salad and we agreed to share all the vegetables. I say all the vegetables because I replaced my fries with asparagus, and we got sides of Brussel sprouts and roasted cauliflower.

Surprisingly, the Brussel sprouts were a disappointment. They tasted too crunchy, as if they were fresh and raw. The seasoning was decent, but they didn’t have the decadent, drowning in roasted flavor that parmesan-crusted Brussel sprouts normally have when prepared in a restaurant. The cauflower was great— but the dipping sauces for both were heavily mayonnaise-based. And the asparagus turned out to be thin and perfectly dripping with goodness. As was the sandwich, which surprised me with how thick and hearty the patty was and how sweet and abundant the glaze was. A very messy sandwich, but worth it. 

With the server’s assistance, we purchased a Dave & Buster’s Power Card with something like 200 (or was it 250?) chips on it. At about 2:30, we headed into the arcade and started our exploration. My first game was a mechanical, full-size version of Hungry Hungry Hippos. I will tell you at our Lehigh Valley Dave & Busters, the blue and the green hippos have a disadvantage, the ball popper holes do not function properly. To digest a respectable amount of balls, one must take advantage of the yellow or orange hippo.

I taught Gayle to play Air Hockey, and Centipede, and then I challenged her to Mario Kart (on Easy) and then we did Hot Wheels. And Rampage! We tried axe throwing and tried our skill shooting hoops. We even did some electronic bowling. And we tried the kids’ games— Cut the Rope and Doodle Jump. 

I looked at my watch and it was 4 o’clock and even though we still had forty chips left (and at half-price most games costs 3.4-5 chips per player), Gayle let me have the power card and now I’m plotting a visit with the Teenager. 

At that point, I picked up the Teenager and we headed to Joan the Photographer’s house. Joan wanted to take me to Point Phillips Hotel for dinner, where they have an on-site smokehouse and some of the weirdness seasonal cocktails I have ever seen.

That region has very Pennsylvania Dutch roots— and my grandfather- and grandmother-in-law are buried in that area. At the restaurant, the waitresses’ shirts said, “if you ain’t PA Dutch, you ain’t much” which led to Joan’s partner claiming to be the most PA Dutch person in the room.

To which I made a challenge. The Teenager is 3/4 Pennsylvania Dutch on her father’s side. Darrell’s mother’s side is Pennsylvania Dutch (his grandfather didn’t learn English until he started school at age five back in the one-room schoolhouse days) and his father’s side is 1/2 PA Dutch and 1/2 Welsh.

The food (and cocktails) were delcious and then we spent some time at Joan’s house, where he partner learned, apparently for the first time, that the Teenager is/was a musician. Discussion ensured of her experiences playing low brass and the differences between a euphonium and a baritone. Some old marching band videos were shared, and one thing led to another and suddenly the two of them had a trombone. 

Amidst a near-full moon, the Teenager picked up a musical instrument for the first time in three years and even though she had never played trombone, she attempted to find some notes.

It brought back a lot of memories for both of us.

How this nerd had the most spectacular birthday

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

My 49th birthday was Monday, May 20, 2024.

And my illustrator Joseph Swarctz of the Echo City Capers series drew me this “sexy Angel” for the conference coming in the fall. I think she’s fantastic. He asked me, over lattes at Panera because we were being fancy at our business meeting because it was my birthday, if I felt any different.

I had mentioned that as I get older, I suddenly realized how old everything else around me has gotten. Like the used car I bought in 2019, it’s almost ten years old now. And don’t even get me started on The Teenager– she’s going to not be a teenager anymore next month.

The mood (and the drama?)

I expected my birthday to be a catch-up-on-work day. I had hoped my birthday would be such. And I hoped that would distract me from the fact that since my father passed away, my family no longer talks to me. My mother sent me a passive-aggressive birthday card last week and my stepmother, who shares my birthday, made it clear that she does not want me in her life, first by ghosting me for more than a year and then by calling me up in February and listing everything I’ve done that she disapproved of during our 30-year-relationship.

Both my mother and my stepmother have experienced a lot of loss in the last few years, so I’m going to remember that. This isn’t the place to talk about family history, trauma, and the list of all the terrible things that can or did happen to people. We all live, we all love the best we can, and we all make mistakes. I think that’s part of why my dad meant so much to me– he understood that.

My dad

My dad was an extremely imperfect person, and now that I reflect upon it, he would make the most amazing fiction character. He was only five-feet tall and wore black motorcycle boots, jeans and Harley-Davidson t-shirts. He had tattoos, some of which honored the important people in his life. He was an alcoholic, and when I was a kid, he drank a lot. And sometimes that led to violence between him and my mother. Violence that I witnessed.

He also could fix anything. He had this sharp, strategic mind that could solve puzzles. He liked the Pittsburgh Steelers and would play Uno with me as he laid on the couch and watched Sunday night football. Which, as a parent now, I see is the easiest way possible to spend time with a child and still do what you want to do. For a while, I even collected football cards to share something, other than Uno, with my dad.

My dad would always have friends around with motorcycles or cars that needed fixing. They would arrange trades or bring gifts, which might have been because he wouldn’t take money.

I could tell stories forever about my dad, but the point is, that it always seemed like he gave people the benefit of the doubt, even when it was clear they were a mess, and I think that’s because he understood that we all have imperfections and some of his, he couldn’t fix. He could changed his behavior in a lot of ways, but sometimes those imperfections still hold us back.

So, it’s my birthday. And the only relatives who contact me do so on Facebook– and I have one cousin who posts this fabulous picture of us kids by my grandmother’s pool. I am between my cousins in the middle of the back row.

But for someone who did not expect or intend much birthday celebrating, it was a chaotic one and I have a feeling it might all extend into next week.

The PreGame

On Saturday, I presented a workshop to the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group. So, some of last week I “lost” in preparation for this event, which went fabulously, though I spoke too fast and squeezed what should have been two presentations into one. I thought I could use Sunday to recoup some lost client time.

How wrong I was.

I started with a Substack newsletter for Parisian Phoenix Publishing. You can read that here. I caught up on some email and watched a replay of a webinar I missed when I went up to the Times-News on Thursday. Then, it was time to go to Barnes & Noble in the Southmont Shopping Center where Joe was selling a LOT of books. It was one of our best days there ever for Echo City Capers.

And when I got home, I thought, now I can focus on some ghostwriting for my mafia novel client.

And then the Teenager approached. “Hey, Mom. I’m going down to groom [my friend and fellow author Tiffani Burnett-Velez’s] dog. You’re coming, right?”

Well, five-plus hours later I came home with a full belly and a copy of Tiff’s first novel because we traded– her first, for my fourth. And a cookie.

The family even sacrificed a cherry pie they had purchased for themselves to celebrate my birthday. And Tiff and I talked about neurologists longer than we probably should have. Because mine is the best one ever.

And during the drive home, the Teenager mentions that she has time on my actual birthday if I want to have a little adventure in the afternoon. So, I send her a list of ideas.

My birthday

The Teenager was definitely confused and perhaps disappointed by my final choice of Palmerton, Pa., for our outing. But I have a strange soft spot in my heart for that town and after my trip to Lehighton earlier in the week it felt like an easy choice.

Our first stop was the Country Harvest grocery store because according to Google maps they had doughnuts and a coffee bar inside. And unexpectedly, or perhaps very expectedly, The Teenager and I found lots of fun items in there. Including the iced teas we both had in school, and varieties of cat food that The Teenager’s finicky cat might eat. And for some reason The Teenager wanted puffed rice, and we picked desserts from the cooler and I bought a copy of the Times-News.

Then we walked down the main drag to go have a quick slice of pizza. Imagine our surprise when we discovered an amazing taco pizza, which we chased with a walk past the park and a visit to the public library so I could use the bathroom and enjoy the beautiful architecture.

The Teenager mentioned that she recognized the town and she felt like it was a place she had visited with my father on the motorcycle. That made sense, I told her, because my dad loved to take the motorcycle along the Lehigh River and through the picturesque hills and valleys of the region. So to celebrate him, we spent some time with the crane machine, another of my dad’s favorite activities.

I think what made the day special was that all we did was walk, talk and enjoy the scenery. Toss in some desserts and a good slice of pizza and what more could I ask… well, and it turns out we also had the presence of my dad.

The Face ID meltdown

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

In middle school, I was part of the generation of kids who had introductory computer programming classes mandatory in the curriculum. Everyone had to sit at the IBM computer and learn DOS commands. It was 1989, and we had no idea why we would ever need to do this. Our parents were farmers, mechanics, plumbers and other blue collar workers.

At the same time, we saw our first local farms sold and turned into developments. One summer, school let out and in September, at one farm on my bus route, suddenly 8 kids stood at the end of a road by a field that now had houses all over it. But the real shock was when some of these kids had dads that worked in offices and wore suits and carried briefcases.

My dad went back and forth between an OTR truck driver and a diesel mechanic. Periodically he would buy a truck (twice he bought the same 1965 Kenworth) and when he had driven our family into debt with the cost of massive tires and gasoline, my mom would force him back to work as a diesel mechanic at a local paving company.

In high school, we got ONE computer in the back of the classroom to print the stories for the high school newspaper and literary magazine. Previously, we sent our copy down to the business classes so those students could type it in columns. Whether the business students typed it or we did it on the computer, we cut it out and glued it on blue grids with rubber cement.

By college, we all had email addresses and computer labs and web sites on Geocities.

My college roommate had an IBM computer that ran Windows 95. And after my freshman year, I saved ALL my money, drove two hours and bought a floor display model of a Powerbook 165, which if you do not know, was the first real consumer laptop.

I’ve been a die-hard, fight-to-the-death Mac girl ever since. And if you want to have the Mac vs PC fight, save your breath and remember, Steve Jobs and Bill Gates both stole their ideas from Xerox.

My point is, I am not a Luddite.

But I have reached the age– and tomorrow is my birthday– where technology issues can unhinge me. I ate half a bag of flaming hot Cheetos last night because the FaceID on my iPhone 13 suddenly stopped working.

I tried being patient. I tried restarting it. At the behest of The Teenager (who only has one more month of being a teenager) I tried to reset it. That failed. And suddenly I was being asked for the password to my bank account. I was faced (pun intended) with having to TYPE passwords and I, for a moment, wondered if fingerprint ID would work… and then I remembered fingerprint ID went out with FaceID.

I tried again. I could not reset FaceID.

Well, I thought, the sensors that read my face must have died. And then suddenly it worked.

I reset my FaceID. Without the help of a teenager.

It still only works about 50% of the time. But, somehow, I will persevere.

The Starter House

Angel Ackerman Leave a comment

In January 2003, my now estranged husband and I bought our house. We hadn’t been planning on buying a house. Some time in the months after we got married we moved from our first apartment to a bigger one, and I honestly don’t remember why. Maybe the rent went up in that shoddy building or maybe I got sick of incidents like the time the landlord had someone take the tires off my car thinking my car belonged to a tenant who owed him money.

Darrell and I loved our first apartment. We could pass the groceries directly from the sidewalk through the kitchen window. We could sit outside with our cat who liked to play with the neighbor’s dog. And the guy who owed my landlord money– I think he owned ‘The Cat Who Came to Visit,’ the cat who used to sneak in our open windows and sit and watch our fish tank. Or was it our lizards?

Our second apartment was in a sorta-questionable neighborhood but it was only $100 more a month than our first apartment for a lot more space and essentially what was a two-story cottage attached to an apartment building. (This was circa 2000: $475 for our one bedroom in downtown Easton, $575 for our “two bedroom” on Easton’s South Side. Compare that to today. If you want to, do a real estate search on zip 18042.)

That particular landlord and his administrative partner kept putting the property on the market because the insurance assessor kept claiming the building was worth far more than the owners thought it was worth and to prove it, they would try to sell it for that price.

Finally, I had enough. We had a great landlord in that second apartment. And we didn’t want another landlord who would take the tires off of my car.

So we bought a house. At apparently the ideal time to buy a house. It was out of our price range at $95,000 but luckily the price dropped while we were talking to our real estate agent. It dropped to $89,9000. I have never felt so old as I do today writing that.

The next year, the other half of our twin sold for $120,000. The following year (or so) an almost identical home a couple doors down (but without a garage) sold for more than $150,000. And I’m not sure, but now some of these homes are selling for $200,000. I can’t even.

Anyway, the point of this post was not to comment on the insanity of the real estate market. I wanted to tell you my definition of a “starter home.” Our home is “half a double” in town with a nice school district and in an almost completely walkable neighborhood. We have three bedrooms. We had two full baths until I asked the plumber to rip out the rotted downstairs shower in favor of a stacked washer and dryer so I don’t have to worry about falling down the basement stairs.

But now I can say I have two washing machines.

We have an enclosed (heated) sun porch, a detached garage that’s got an entire workshop, and despite some issues and small or weirdly shaped rooms, it’s a solid brick house. And when we bought it, I thought about people who called it a starter house. They implied that some day we would buy something bigger and better.

But now I think I have a different definition of starter house. It’s the house you learn on, practice maintaining, and in so many ways, the house I have both cherished and failed.

I have learned– the hard way– that the starter house teaches you about plumbing, windows, drafts, electricity, floods, patching plaster, staining floors and painting walls, all on a regular timeline to keep the house functioning. My toilets exploded a year or so ago. The toilets were probably eighty years old and my daughter sat on one too hard and cracked the tank in the middle of the night. It ran and ran and flooded the house.

Which was our second bathroom related flood in this home.

I’ve learned a lot about deferred maintenance and things I should have done and things I need to do. And the costs of owning home. Which is still way less than the cost of renting in my area. So, I use my home as a learning tool for my daughter who has taken home repair and wood shop and pays attention to every person she meets who has skills.

Because her father and I do not.

So on Wednesday, I had a job interview and a business meeting and when I got home, The Teenager had successfully patched the concrete on the garage floor. She decided to tackle replacing our faucet. Because we have an external dishwasher, it puts pressure on the faucet and they have a shorter-than-usual shelf life. We found a new one that I could review for Amazon, saving us the expense.

But we found we didn’t have the strength to remove the old one– which was regularly flooding the counters and the floor. Apparently the plumber had used a power tool to install it. The Teenager emptied the trap and removed the pipe. Unfortunately when we disconnected everything, the one piece of old pipe disintegrated.

The next day we called the plumber. Since The Teenager did most of the work already, it took the plumber minimal effort to attach everything and we really like our new faucet. Now, we just need to find another way to use the dishwasher or hand wash dishes, which I haven’t done in 20 years (20 years almost exactly as I got the dishwasher in May 2004 right before The Teenager was born).

Almost like a vacation

Angel Ackerman 1 Comment

This year’s Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group THE WRITE STUFF Conference came and went in a flurry of excitement and camaraderie (in the middle of Mercury retrograde to boot). I gave myself Sunday off–and swore I would stay in bed all day watching Grey’s Anatomy, which didn’t happen, in part because I started reading books and talking to my authors and associates at Parisian Phoenix Publishing about the conference.

I attended all three days of the conference, as I am president of the group, and I treated myself to a hotel room at the venue Friday night so I could stay and enjoy the social. My friend William Prystauk and I keep saying we’re going to book a hotel room and sit at our laptops all weekend, so I invited him to join me. I figured we could have a nice dinner between events and catch up.

Yes, you read that correctly. We are writers, after all, so we want to book a hotel room and hide from the world at our keyboards.

Some history… and notes for memoir.

Anyway… last year’s GLVWG conference happened not long after I was released from the hospital after the scariest series of falls in my life. (If you’d like to read more about that, you can read it here. I have to say, I was reviewing it this morning, 13 months later, and my sense of humor amazes me. This was the second fall I had last March, the first of which happened at work on the first day of Cerebral Palsy Awareness Month. That fall is memorialized here.)

(One of the sessions I attended at this year’s conference was Jordan Sonnenblick’s session on memoir writing. I have known Jordan for 20 years and I did not know he wrote memoirs, but it turns out this is a recent turn of events so then I felt better. What I find fascinating about Jordan’s memoirs is that he writes them like his middle-grade fiction, but with his as a protagonist. I bring this up because one of his techniques for recreating his past was to map the scars on his body. I finished The Boy Who Failed Show and Tell last night, and I reviewed it on Goodreads. Some people classified the book as historical fiction and slammed Jordan for “promoting toxic masculinity” — as if in 1978 there was a universe without toxic masculinity.)

Joan & Bill at work

Last year, the conference occurred during the same weekend as The Lehigh Valley Book Festival, where I had volunteered, but I was nervous to attend the event, alone, after so many medical incidents. Joan asked me to be her photography assistant and so I did. This year, Bill ended up working as her assistant since he was in the building anyway. Joan provides author headshots at the event for a $40 charge. It’s a bargain, and the photos have many versatile uses that I don’t think writers consider.

So this year’s conference had not only a great conference line-up, but many of my friends milling about as extras. And I had the naive idea that I might have time to connect with some old friends I hadn’t seen in a while and connect with some new folks. That did not happen.

A hotel with history

Bill left work a little before 5 p.m. to meet me at the hotel. My daughter had stopped by at 4 p.m. at the end of the workshop with Jonathan Maberry to have him sign her battered copy of Rot and Ruin. We are slowly collecting the whole series, as the last books of the series seem to be harder to find. We currently have books one through three of the series, and I have ordered four and five, but I’m not sure I have the Texas bits…

The Teenager with Jonathan Maberry

A bunch of conference attendees and presenters were meeting at the hotel restaurant for a light dinner before the evening events and the social. I encouraged as many as possible to line up in a big, long table that we kept adding squares to the bottom. Bill arrived in time to join us.

Now, here’s where things get very interesting from a writer’s perspective. More than a decade ago, during one of my previous incarnations as the group’s president, we used to flip-flop between the current hotel and the one by the airport. Both were mid-range hotels with plenty of space for a large keynote and enough smaller rooms for break-out sessions. As prices would go up, we would pit the two hotels against each other and the venue that gave us the best deal won.

I’ve been away from the group for almost a dozen years, and a pandemic happened which made the conference virtual only for a while, and now we are building up the GLVWG conference game again, last year with Maria V. Snyder and this year with Maberry.

The hotel though has seen better days, in part because for more than a year now the owner of the land has submitted a proposal to the township to knock down the hotel and build a warehouse. As a consequence, the maintenance on this octopus of a hotel (the floor plan has arms jutting out everywhere) has been minimal.

Jordan Sonnenblick said his wedding used the venue in 1994, and nothing has changed since then. Well, except the name. I think that hotel changes names every other year. The toilets run and/or have low water pressure. Some areas of the hotel smell like “weed and old people” as The Teenager puts it. The restaurant is small. The food is limited. The coffee is terrible. And while the staff is delightful and they keep the place clean and functioning, there were a lot of small but important mishaps probably due to being understaffed. The parking lot is always full of trucks and there’s what appears to be a much nicer Hampton Inn right next door.

But amidst all of this– Bill knew the bartender from earlier in the hotel’s history and apparently she makes good drinks. So after dinner, we stayed for a beverage and heard from a staff member that they have been told the hotel is closing for good in December 2024. We shall see.

The Social

William Prystauk, Marie Lamba, Dianna Sinovic, Jonathan Maberry, & Jordan Sonnenblick

From there, we moved down to the social. Mark Twain was kind enough to visit and I noticed a lot of people in literary cosplay.

I had a lovely time surrounded by friends and some of my favorite writers.

Jonathan Maberry at his table at the keynote luncheon

[I had intended this blog entry to be about my personal life, but I didn’t quite get there. I wanted to at least mention my OVR planning session yesterday. Better luck next time I guess.

PS–I still don’t like Grey’s Anatomy, and with every episode that passes I like Meredith Grey less and less. And I was so excited to get to Derek Shepherd’s death. But man– the whole arc of Meredith disappearing for a year to have another baby. So dumb.

And I cannot believe how you never see the kids, and Meredith never has any paid help, but yet she’s raising three kids as a single mom. And Alex just sells her her house back because it’s important to her to be at home and not in her family house.

Meredith is a spoiled, entitled brat who thanks to her past traumas believes she can behave however she wants and rules don’t apply to her.]