Angel Ackerman's Blog, page 15

I gotta do it

Nan came over today so we could work on her writing stuff and she asked if we could stop for some bottled water, Excedrin and cash. We ended up at one of our favorite spots– Grocery Outlet– so I could buy some supplies for work lunches and some produce.

And they had her Excedrin, 200 caplets for $10. We also bought some mini soft iced molasses cookies from Archway and a bag of dehydrated kale with vegan cheese, and we made a video about them.

I did call my doctor today to see if I am a candidate for the medical nutrition program. But he doesn’t have any appointments before my already scheduled physical. I have to believe the extra thirty pounds plus on my frame isn’t helping my various symptoms, which range from tachycardia to orthostatic hypotension and my vitals seem out of whack.

And last week my doctor himself called me (when I have no tests or appointments that should even be on the radar) to tell me to stop taking my SSRI because with my ecg pattern there is a small risk of fatal arrhythmia. I had already started weaning myself off because I was on it for stress-induced high blood pressure and now that I have a beta blocker it seems redundant.

But now my blood pressure is high from life in general: losing my job soon, medical issues, mothering, pet parenting, business. It just keeps coming.

So Nan and I went to Grocery Outlet and I bought things I don’t even remember but I made this amazing salad for today and another for lunch tomorrow at work (with a flavored seltzer and a dr pepper zero strawberries and cream).

KalePesto saucecouscoushummusroasted chick peasblack beanspumpkin seedsred peppercucumber

Knowing dinner wouldn’t be until 7 p.m. I made myself a 4 p.m. snack.

PopcornRaisinsA bit of asian/Tokyo-inspired Sehale nut mixcrystalized gingerpeanuts

Festivities of Fashion: a trip to the 60’s fashion exhibit at Allentown Art Museum and the Threads of Fashion Exhibit at the Banana Factory

Even before the month went off the rails, Gayle and I made plans to visit the fashion exhibits at two of our local Lehigh Valley art centers: the Allentown Art Museum and the Banana Factory. The teenager’s work schedule allowed her to join us, and she had been to neither spot in probably a dozen or more years.

Her father and I once held memberships at both the Lehigh Valley Zoo and the art museum– as both are great places to entertain a preschooler.

Gayle wanted to see the art museum exhibit because she had some of those clothes from the Sixties, and I wanted to see it because I love post-World War II history and I have a minor obsession of fashion in the artistic sense. If you’ve read my Fashion and Fiends novels, this makes sense.

I took sooooooo many photos and honestly– hey, Joan, take note: I’d like to go back and bring a sketch book and some implements. And if I had a camera…

Our first stop had to be the Frank Lloyd Wright library. The Teenager has always loved it, and today proved no exception. She had a magnificent time pointing out how all the details fit together and complemented each other in clean, minimal design.

I am always drawn to certain items: the Tiffany glass, the writing set, the painting of the tall man with many eyes that hangs in the stairs, the man with the pipe that makes me think of Pablo Picasso, and the woman with cigar.

But then came the fashion…

I think I might wear these. Sixties profiles, note the white leather classic black pleats and burgundy boots that really accent A dress with see-through pants and bold gold jewelry men’s paisley pants that I adore hosiery from Hess’s (What color!) So simple. I love boots. How far we’ve come. colors, patterns galore I gasped in delight when I saw these what delightful patterns I can’t even. Clown shoes. First glance: Kangaroo? Then, notice the lines, the overlapping necklines, how the zipper aligns with the ties

So much to explore. Colors and patterns vibrating through the room.

And since the museum no longer charges admission, I bought a very bold umbrella at the gift shop.

Next, we headed to South Bethlehem’s Banana Factory. At their exhibit, featuring the work of local designer Barbara Kavchok. The work blew my mind, and the paintings and fashion illustrations that accompanied the dresses… well, if I wasn’t losing my job I would have inquired how to obtain one or two. The flowers. The ruffles. The lines. All just flabbergasting.

I had to stop in the bathroom, where I paused to take photos of the paint stains in the sink.

I had been trying to eat healthy all day, and all day my blood pressure was low and my body wobbly (to use the teen’s words) and hands shaky. So I got a chicken sandwich at Wendy’s.

Every day I find myself more ashamed of my weight and my food choices– and every day I make more excuses. It has to stop. It just has to change. My body can’t take the extra pounds.

The synopsis of a long week

I’ve been meaning to write for days now and a week as gone by with minimal use of my own words. I’ve kept up with my editing responsibilities, but the idea of sharing my thoughts with the outside world has felt positively daunting.

Maybe it’s because I don’t know what to feel.

Brief synopsis of the week:

It rained during the “Wheels around Wilson” event.The teenager clogged the toilet and the plumber left her with this sage advice about the new low water flow toilets: when you take a massive shit… shit, flush, paper, flush.Stitch Fix gave us the financial figures and basic terms of our severance but has not announced our separation dates. That will come July 15.I received an email that the selection committee of November’s TedX Conference at Northampton County Community College would like to interview me regarding my application to give a presentation at the event. Coffee in the Morning, the new short story collection by Larry Sceurman, is available but be warned… we need to adjust the photos. Gayle and I aren’t happy with the printed result.Shuffling & Scribbling, the Teenager’s newly released tarot journal and workbook, is available through Amazon, as Ingram will not distribute the book, claiming the book is too “low content.” So this will allow Parisian Phoenix to compare the final printed results from both IngramSpark & KDP. The computer system at work is still recovering from its stroke last week so I’ve been working overtime. Making hay while the sun shines, as a farmer would say.The Teenager turns 19 Friday. That means only one more year before my teenager is no longer The Teenager.

I think my foster cat has gotten closer to living my career dreams than I have

As many of you who read this know, I have had one helluva week. I took my car in for body work on Tuesday, only to arrive at work late to find out that Stitch Fix had made the decision to close our warehouse in October when our lease expires.

Then the Canadian wildfires transformed our daily landscape into an apocalyptic sepia-toned photograph.

My colleagues that drove me to and from work during those days commiserated with me about our hopes and fears about what our future holds.

Every book I’ve tried to finish for Parisian Phoenix Publishing this week has encountered bizarre complications that I am still sorting.

But last night my car came home early, nice and clean.

But then FURR Louise got adopted today so I took these photos to chronicle her last moments with me today.

I met her adopter at our local Petsmart and it turns out she’s a talented and super animal-adoring journalist who recently earned a prestigious metro fellowship at The New York Times. By happenstance, I happened to subscribe to the Times last weekend, so perhaps I will see her work.

Louise is on her way to Hoboken, N.J., to live with an investigative reporter who works in Manhattan. She and her boyfriend are “cat people” who have every intention of spoiling her.

I hope Louise learns to love this young reporter, Erin Nolan of the New York Times.

Meanwhile Opie is adjusting to the loss.

Canada’s on fire and it’s looking like the apocalypse

So, it’s on the major media outlets that Stitch Fix is closing two warehouses– or distribution centers as the press release called them– and we are on the list. About 375 people losing their jobs.

Meanwhile, forests are burning in Canada and our air quality has reached such terrible levels that we can not only smell the fire, but the daylight has turned the world into a sepia photograph of sorts and the particles can theoretically absorb into our bloodstream through our skin.

And I also found out via social media that Big Papa’s Breakfast Bistro had a little incident and will be closing until insurance companies can agree and repairs can happen.

And I didn’t get any good news… Gayle needs not one but two surgeries on her eyes for pseudoexfoliated glaucoma and cataracts. There’s an omission in the book that got stuck for two weeks in prepress at the printer and we need to do it again. And don’t tell The Teenager but the distributor has issue with her Tarot book. But I’m appealing their issues.

In the midst of all this, while knowing we’re in a strange limbo between getting laid off and not knowing when our last days will be or what severance packages they will offer us, we’re faced with an apocalyptic landscape.

Another Day at the Bizzy Hizzy

Today was Rainbow Pride Day at our warehouse, with each department wearing a color to support our LGTBQIA+ peers. Outbound had the color red. I donned a low cut red bodysuit under pants, with a red embroidered bathrobe that everyone assumed was a kimono. I called it my cape. I also put on my red glasses.

I went in a half-hour early as my neighbor works the 6-2:30 shift and my car is at the collision center. I got an email from them today stating my car should be done Tuesday. It needs a new bumper. But then I got a text from the collision center an hour later saying that my car has been moved from the prep department to the paint department.

One of our leads approached me today to tell me that I write well, and I thanked her, and perhaps babbled too much at her. And plenty of people complimented my kimono.

We had a safety team meeting despite the bad news delivered yesterday, and we ended up eating doughnuts and bagels while discussing how best to move forward. What started as a conversation about resume building ended up in the zone of how to build a lucrative Only Fans.*

*The Only Fans idea was not suggested nor encouraged by our employer. It was merely a humorous discussion about how we might be able to get people to give us money.

Already, this is not an ordinary lay-off scenario. One of my friends, and I forgot if I’ve given her a nickname, has laid claim to the gong. Supervisors don’t know for sure if they can let her take it home, but if they can… Well, I might have to name this person “Queen of the Gong.”

We also debated what to do with all of the break room toasters. Stitch Fix has a lot of break rooms, and probably at least 20 cheap, double toasters that have rarely been cleaned in the last seven years, if ever.

Metrics for the day landed between 103 and 105 percent for me. I had 30 minutes of overtime and 45 meetings of doughnut meeting– which means I needed to do about 127 fixes to reach 100%. I did 131.

This one is hard: the end of the Bizzy Hizzy

I’m a little glad The Teenager drank all the soda in the house, now there’s not even a splash of Fresca left for me to use as a mixer for the tequila or rum.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

I slept in today (5 a.m.), finished editing Julian Costa’s upcoming book, and starting writing a new memoir that I’m working on for a new Parisian Phoenix author.

Apparently there are Canadian wildfires causing smoky air quality in our region. Which logistically doesn’t make sense.

I took my car over to the collision center for a new bumper, which I’m told could take up to a week and a half. The Teenager drove me to work after, and I think I arrived at the Stitch Fix Bizzy Hizzy warehouse by 10:10 a.m.

But when I walked in the building– from the moment I arrived– things felt wrong. And when I made it into the door to the main breakroom, I knew there was bad news afoot. Very bad news. The room felt dark. It was crammed with all of us. And I heard the door to “P&C” open (People & Culture, that’s the politically correct term for HR) and one of our outbound managers was there. She’s one of the day people. But I had to have answers, because even she seemed solemn. And she always has a smile.

“Did you just get here?” she asked.

“Yes,” I whispered.

She motioned me into the vestibule. “There’s no easy way to say this, and I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from [our building manager] but the Bizzy is closing in October.”

“So,” I replied, “should I go clock in?”

She nodded.

I crept through the breakroom. Some people were sobbing, associates and leaders alike. Some of the toughest people I’ve known were fighting tears. Some people went home. My direct supervisor had red eyes and am expression that looked like someone had knocked the air out of his lungs.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I’ll be okay,” he said, unconvincingly.

“You look so sad,” I said. “I feel like I should hug you.”

“You can hug me,” he said.

I gave him a tight embrace.

We were told that we will get our individual separation plans next week. Those who stay until the end will get severance. The Dallas facility– the Dizzy Hizzy– will close a few months after ours. The Bizzy opened seven years ago, and yesterday it was announced that we won the network competition. This is one hell of a prize. Our warehouse is the smallest in the network, cramming merchandise in a space half the size of the newer buildings. Our lease expires this year, so what we gain for the bottom line in shipping rates, we must not have the flexibility of the newer spaces.

I’ve loved my job at Stitch Fix. I love many of my work colleagues. I appreciate how much the company does to keep our health insurance rates low and our other benefits perky.

But this is a blow.

I think of the supervisor waiting for major surgery. The people close to retirement. The couples where both parties work at Stitch Fix. The pregnant women.

I think of myself, my service dog, my financial worries, my disability, my mental health, my future. I haven’t recouped enough of my losses from my recent health scare and hospital stay to approach this with security.

And Louise is getting adopted this weekend. It may be time to give up Touch of Grey and Canyon to other fosters who can afford them.

I have four months to figure out how to make Parisian Phoenix solvent– or face another transition to another job.

Let’s Play: Exploring the Connexion between toys and art, embracing how play can keep our minds vibrant

One of the challenging aspects of writing for both a personal blog and my small independent press is knowing when to address a topic as a publisher and when it would be better served to come from, well, me.

Today is definitely one of those times. I don’t have it in me to write two separate pieces. I’m not even sure I have it in me to do one that conveys the sense of enthusiasm and the nature of the art I saw last night at the opening reception for “Let’s Play” at Connexions, the art exhibit curated by Maryann Riker, who has participated in Parisian Phoenix Publishing’s anthology Not an Able-Bodied White Man with Money and provided custom art work for the covers of Twists: Gathered Ephemera and The Phulasso Devotional: Engineering the Warrior Priest for Dark Times.

artist with unique shirt Maryann’s work detail

I asked Maryann what the average viewer would see in the works. This is what she told me:

It’s a fun, whimsical and crazy, but playful, assortment of work. As we settle into the idea of a world with COVID, I hope this exhibit gives the viewer the feeling that play is important. The brain retains plasticity as we age by providing learning and creative opportunities. It gives us new perspectives and idea. Play is vital to children and adults alike.

Maryann Riker, curator of Let’s Play at Connexions, on display now through June 25

gallery cat Top row by Joseph M. Chapuk; bottom row Tom Maxfield all items on this sculpture start with T

Within the exhibit, Maryann selected several photographs by Joan Zachary featuring the residents of Plastiqueville. Joan has shot photographs for Parisian Phoenix that I can’t even list comprehensively, from author headshots to cover shoots.

Joan described the pieces in the exhibit as “while they’re quite different from each other, all depict Plastiqueville as the fun-loving, joyous world I’ve tried to create. All my creative projects attempt to build an imaginary world, filled with detail and lifelike characters (even though the tallest of them are barely seven inches in height, and most of the others are much, much smaller). I know I’ve succeeded if the viewer wants to crawl inside and live there.”

Joan herself is not a tall person, so I wonder if the choice to work with recycled toys in a small, plastic world has more to say than she realizes. One of these days we might find Joan inhabiting her plastic universe with Mr. Tiger Pants and his friends.

Joan’s photos Joan with viewer In Jar: plastic raft and rowers from photo

“Plastiqueville [is] an imaginary world populated by my random collection of little plastic people. You will see their competitive nature as they compete at Scrabble. You’ll experience their adventurous spirit as they go rafting through waters made from foil paper. And you’ll be invited into their private moments as they share their secrets. Plastiqueville is a world like no other, although it will probably look very familiar,” Joan teased.

The gallery has a second exhibit on display right now, the regional summer group show. The two presentations work well together– the group show offering scenes of spring and local views, an exterior examination of life; while Let’s Play encourages an interior dialogue of what toys mean, beyond their existence as the possessions of children. Do their vibes and their influence stay within us as adults?

The gallery itself is a fun place to visit, the hand of artists evidently at play with the eclectic blend of furniture, the items of display from jewelry to pottery, a nook for chess here, a very European feeling courtyard there. Even the music by DJ Kaos was perfect.

And anyone in the area knows the best place to get the best food is Forks Mediterranean Deli and Connexions certainly did it right. I once spent a year attending ever Hillel function at Lafayette College until they revealed the secret to their falafal– it came from Forks Mediterranean Deli.

As soon as The Teenager and I walked into the room with the refreshments we had the same thought. Surrounded by the familiar smell that could have made us drool like a dog, we both recognized it.

Chicky… and a puckle schmear, and a visit to Miller’s Hardware

Yesterday was a gorgeous Saturday morning and my coupon to Dairy Queen to get buy one, get one free Blizzards for my birthday was set to expire. The Teenager asked me if I would accompany her to the hardware store, and I said sure, if she would force me to go to Aldi for half and half, and she said, “Sure, then I can get more creamsicles with the popsicle outsides.”

It was 9:30 a.m.– The Teenager was on a morning break between pet sitting clients. She wanted to visit our neighborhood hardware store, Piscitello’s Home Center, for our first visit since the store changed hands. But first… I suggested we visit the other local hardware store in the small town a mile away from us, West Easton.

Now if you’re local to the Lehigh Valley of Pa., you might already know where I wanted to take her. You see the Teenager loves hardware stores, tools, doo-dads, mops and sponges. The Teenager took woodshop, engineering, and home repair in high school, all the hands-on, doing useful things kind of skills that she did not inherit from her father and I.

When she was about six, my brother had gotten a chain stuck on the pick up truck and Poppop on the Mountain was crawling around on the gravel parking lot trying to remove it. The Teenager– then the Wee One– crawled under the truck and gave it a yank with everything she had. Poppop laughed, and gruffly made the comment, “there’s my grandson.”

My father told that story, with such pride, at least once a year.

The Teenager doesn’t hesitate to tackle household projects so it was time to take her someplace special: Miller’s Hardware. It’s been around for more than 100 years, and our local television station even did a feature on it, click here. Most of us in the borough (Wilson) and in West Easton have homes that are 75 to 100 years old. So, to think that this little slice of living history with the bits and pieces we need to do things around our homes still exists is amazing.

They didn’t seem to take credit cards, and the cash register was very old, and Mr. Miller, whose grandfather started the business on Butler Street in Wilson and had been known for the in-house chickens, is a thin man who seems a tad slowed by age though he moves about the cluttered maze of rooms with precision.

I found some cash in my wallet that I keep for emergencies, and The Teenager bought a pair of safety googles, one of those long mixer drill attachments and some double stick carpet tape will dust glued to the box and graphic design that screamed of last century. I honestly encouraged her to buy it because of the box. The total came to $17.50.

We’re not sure how Mr. Miller did his math, but I think he sets the prices when he acquires the inventory and doesn’t increase them with inflation, because many of the prices were drawn on with marker and seemed way too low. But if it’s been on the shelf for twenty years, I think the merchandise is paid for.

I sent a photo of the tape to Gayle and asked her to give a guess when this product was made.

“1970s,” she said.

So is this double-stick carpet tape as old as I am?

Miller’s Hardware is an overwhelming and amazing gem.

But then we did have to go to the new Piscitello’s, where at one point, the Teenager almost had a part-time job if only she hadn’t worried about it conflicting with marching band season. We got a new hose, a hose splitter, some new hose nozzles and even some hose gaskets.

And then we went to Dairy Queen for blizzards. Now, with my recent health issues, I pee a lot. And even though I peed before we left the house, I had to go again already. So, The Teenager pulled over to Wawa and ate her blizzard while I ran in to use the restroom. Here is what we learned: Getting ice cream at Dairy Queen and people watching in the parking lot of Wawa might be our new favorite hobby.

And then on the way home, on the side street, right by our house, there was a turkey vulture in the middle of the road with a dead possum. And he made it quite clear, dragging that carcass around, that it was his and he was keeping it. We didn’t want to disturb him, so we sat and watched for a while, afraid to scare him away. But others didn’t share our special consideration for the vulture.

We made a video:

We did, by the way, get the half and half and popsicles so all is right with the world.

And today, The Teenager was chatting with me about her sudden appreciation for plain, old yellow mustard to which I said, “best thing on a hot dog, mustard and a puckle schmear.”

I really want my brain fog to lift. And then I offered her a piece of “chicky” because apparently my half-brain thinks chicken is too fancy a word.

Let’s get the holiday weekend started

Last night, after the representative from Susquehanna Service Dogs left, The Teenager and I went to Taco Bell because it was late and I was famished. Despite eating my meal and half of the teenagers– somehow I woke this morning extremely lightheaded and with a blood pressure of 110/60. The issue did not resolve until 5 hours later.

When we settled into the house last night, I noticed a wrapper on the floor.

“Hey, when did you get Nutter Butters?” I asked the Teenager.

Apparently, the dog had stolen them and eaten most of the pack. The dog just looked at us guiltily and wagged her tail.

And we had bought her a cheesy roll at Taco Bell.

I told some leads and supervisors about my service dog approval at work today and then when those closest to me had heard the news from me, I sent an official email.

It’s not my most eloquent work, because I’m utterly exhausted. It says, “I have been placed on the list for a service dog. It’s about a three year wait because they raise a puppy with my input for me. I don’t know what the next three years will bring— but regardless of whether I still work here or move on, I would like to initiate a conversation about whether a service dog would be considered a reasonable accommodation. Legally, it is considered reasonable if it helps me with my disability while at work, does not put any person or company interest in danger, and if the dog would be safe and not exposed to danger for its own welfare. The dog could help prevent falls and help me get clothes and other items out of the cart and off the floor.

We have a couple years to pursue this conversation and I have 2-3 years to raise the $5,000 to pay for the dog. So to have that investment pay off, I want to bring the dog to work.Also I am working with Susquehanna Service Dogs which is a very reputable and supportive program.”

One of the other people at work asked me what I would name the dog. I pointed out that I think financial donors get to name the puppies and so once I met my puppy and learned its name I would probably develop a nickname for it. He wants to know the potential nicknames.

I haven’t named a dog since the late 1970s. Preschooler me named our Old English sheep dog mutt “Cheezie” because she liked cheese.

And a local professional offered me a discount on his services so that I could use the extra funds to put aside for my service dog. That was super kind, and just goes to show that when you walk in the world with kindness and try to support those who support your community, that the karma comes back.

I came home from work and The Teenager had planted my flower from Southern Candy, exactly as I envisioned it.

I did some work for the publishing company, drank a cup of coffee and headed to the gym since I missed Wednesday having fallen asleep at 6 p.m. Andrew promised to go easy on me, because lately my blood pressure is high, my heart rate is low, and my blood oxygen keeps dipping to 94%.

I had a great workout, and even made it home without a fall or incident.

I shared my basic granola formula with Andrew, made salmon and couscous for dinner, and finished the gummy bears with The Teenager.

Being that it’s Friday night, I’m up a little late as The Teenager and I were talking about service dog gear, Gunnar kennels, and ADA service dog rule cards.

Then I came up to take my shower and Opie shot out of my room and Louise followed him. Louise is the tripod foster from Feline Urban Rescue and Rehab scheduled for adoption June 10. She hasn’t voluntarily left my room since I worked second shift. When the house was quiet at 1 a.m. she would normally follow me to the bathroom.

More good news: I passed my home visit

Although I have not received the official email, the representative of Susquehanna Service Dogs who came to tour my home today gave me the verbal confirmation that I will soon be on the waiting list for a mobility and balance dog. I’m just about one year in to the four year process, and the representative confirmed that it will be 2-3 more years until I receive a dog.

But that’s good as I have to pay off some debt and save the $5,000 to pay for the dog.

From what I understand of the process, I will spend some more time working with dogs so that the organization can evaluate exactly what I need from a working dog companion. I will meet puppies when my name gets further up the list, and eventually one puppy will bond with me and they’ll send that puppy to a puppy raiser for basic training and then it will complete its specialized training with Susquehanna Service Dogs.

When that dog turns two, a vet will evaluate him/her to make sure its joints and health are adequate for mobility work.

Then I’ll spend several weeks training with the dog before bringing him/her home.

I think by the end of the visit with us, the representative of Susquehanna Service Dogs might have been afraid we were going to pull even more animals out of some random places.

The teenager did a great job explaining all of her animal training techniques and procedures. Even if she did babble a little due to CVS running out of her ADHD meds and her forgetting her hearing aids… but the representative of Susquehanna Service Dogs was polite, loves cats, couldn’t believe how nice our neighbor was to let us use her fenced in yard, and seemed genuinely appreciative of The Teenager’s creative ingenuity regarding household problems.

So, yeah, a new adventure awaits.