Amy Lu's View

I admit it. I’m a little desperate. I did something I’m rather embarrassed to go public with.

I Googled “birthday blog prompts.” Ideas that I discovered (and rejected, at least for now) include “Recap your birthday celebrations,” and “Celebrities you share a birthday with” and “Birthday dinner make-up tips” (I’m not even quite sure what that means). 

Why have I taken such drastic measures? Because I can’t think of a birthday-inspired blog post. Yes, I realize I am under no obligation to blog about my birthday, but I love my birthday and I love blogging, so I feel like I need to do this. I want to do this, and I should be able to. 

But I have already written several posts about my birthdays, so I’m out of ideas. I’m competing against my younger self. 

Hmmm, there probably is something there about aging and thinking about how I have changed through the years. And yes, I do have many thoughts about aging–mostly that I don’t like it, because I have an expiration date. But apart from that, I’m content with being in my 50’s (okay, I will point out early 50’s). Our society seems to give the message that older people are less “relevant”–whatever that means. (Less vital and interesting contributors to culture and society? I don’t think I’m any less relevant now–or maybe I should say more irrelevant– than I was when I’m younger.) 

But I am different. So maybe there is something to explore about how I compete, I mean compare, with my younger self. 

Luckily, I’m not aware of feeling that different physically than when I was younger. I’ve been blessed with good health, and I wasn’t exactly a paragon of a healthy lifestyle when I was young. I haven’t had too far down the physical prime ladder to fall. (There’s no dramatic story there, I was just a young couch potato who ate even more processed foods than I do now). 

My eyesight is sometimes a pain in the ass (I need readers and can’t read in low light, ahem, restaurant menus I am talking to you), but since I was extremely nearsighted when I was young (before I got Lasik) it’s now just problematic in a different way. 

And I will indulge in a rant here about a disconcerting physical change…in the last year my pointer fingers have inexplicably bent inwards. No, it’s not extreme, but even Chad has noticed and verified this. They don’t hurt and my hands don’t seem to function differently, but I don’t like it. It makes me feel (emotionally) unsettled. So yes, I will mention it to whatever appropriate health care professional I happen to see next. 

Of course, I look different, too. The usual–more wrinkles, more gray hair, some overall droopiness. Most days I can adapt a “whatever” attitude to these changes. I can even usually tell myself that it’s not about looking good for 52 but just that I “look good,” even though it’s different than a 22 year old can look. (And, although I look conventionally less attractive than I used to–regrettable fashion choices aside–I usually feel better about myself and how I look now).

Physical changes are the most obvious, but how is my personality different? Do I interact with others and the world in different ways? 

I think so. I hope so. Younger Amy did the best she could and certainly had her charms, but I think I’m more confident, more patient, more honest, more open, more forgiving (of myself and others) and more willing to feel my feels and respect the feels of others. I’m less anxious and fearful and judgmental and snarky. I have a better understanding of how people are more complex than I used to realize. 

I am saddened because I think I’ve lost some shininess, some exuberance. I don’t think I can throw myself into something like I used to. 

Paradoxically, I think I’m both more and less hopeful. 

Saying I’m “more” something doesn’t mean that I AM something. Or not completely something. I definitely have much more potential and space to grow when it comes to being confident, patient and all that. 

That’s one of the blog prompts I came across, variants of “What have you learned since your last birthday”(which feels redundant since I just considered that at New Year’s) or “What have you learned in your X numbers of years” (which feels rather pretentious). But I have learned/am learning that many things are not “this” or “that” but manifest on a continuum and vary by circumstance. 

In other words, sometimes, with some people, I’m compassionate, or more compassionate than I likely would have been ten years ago. Not nearly as compassionate as I could be. And on any given day if you get me at the “wrong” time, if I’m tired or distracted or hungover or just plain grumpy, forget compassionate–I’m just going to be bitchy. 

This summer I unearthed a figurine from my childhood that commemorates my birthday month, color and gemstone (aquamarine). It’s rather ridiculous–it’s a girl wearing a big flouncy dress with her hair up in a very fussy do. Not the type of thing I would voluntarily procure now, but I loved it then and I love it now. I’m sure I got it when I was very young from my mother, maybe we even bought it together at a Ben Franklin’s store. It reminds me of who I was and how I was loved. 

I’ve changed quite a bit, and hopefully will continue to change in years to come, but I always want to remember and be grateful for that–especially the people I’ve loved.

Maybe next year I’ll blog about birthday makeup (spoiler alert: lots of teal eyeshadow!) And I DO share a birthday with Ira Glass. 

I ran today for the first time in 2022! More than that, this was my first run since Dec. 24, 2021–over TWO MONTHS ago!

It feels really good to run again after so long, and reassuring to know that I still can run, but it was also disheartening. I just did a short run–a little over 2 miles–and my running was slow and awkward. 

It’s not surprising that this was a lackluster reboot of my running–that’s just how running goes after a hiatus. While my cardio condition is still pretty good as I’ve been riding the stationary bike instead of running, running is a whole different game–physically and mentally. I need to get my muscles and mind reacclimated. Yes, I think I am (or will be) sore after only two miles!

I haven’t been running because I don’t do outdoor winter running. I just don’t feel safe running on even small amounts of ice without falling. (I’m also not super fond of being cold, either). In the Before Times, I would do at least some running on the track at the gym, but I haven’t felt safe at the gym this winter, either. (Hopefully the gym will seem like a better option soon). 

And it probably has been good for me to take a break from running, or at least not a bad thing. I am getting to still get some cardio exercise, and I’m mixing it up a bit both physically and mentally. And I get to watch the cats cuddle and wrestle when I’m working out in our basement. 

I know that if I’m patient and persistent, my running will get better. In fact, that is one of the most valuable things about running–it’s taught me to trust in the process of training and slow improvement. It’s taught me to have some faith in myself. 

This faith and trust doesn’t make my anxiety and impatience and self-doubt go away. It doesn’t silence the inner voices that complain that the paths will never be clear enough for me to run comfortably, or that I’ll never be able to run a mile relatively easily in less than 10 minutes. 

It’s an underlying feeling of angst and antsyness that makes me feel bad and even slightly guilty when the latest issue of “Runner’s World” arrives or the host of our favorite podcast talks about the 10 Mile race he just ran. 

The unease is still there. Those voices are still there, but I’ve learned to recognize that they are spewing exaggerated fears without giving them too much attention. I’m pretty confident that spring will eventually come. It’s pretty likely I’ll be able to run under 10 minute miles again–and if for some reason I can’t or don’t, so what? I’ll keep running. 

I’m going to need to have extra patience and optimism because today probably isn’t really the Beginning of My Return to Running (cue triumphant and inspiring music)–it’s more likely to be the prelude or the preamble or the preface. Wintry weather looks like it’s going to continue for a while yet. 

I’ve even mostly accepted that I may not be able to get enough running time in to train for a spring race (assuming that I’d be up to dealing with the hassle of actually getting to race in-person again). 

After all, I do already have enough medals and racing finisher shirts to last a lifetime. Okay, maybe the shirts won’t last (or fit) forever, but I definitely have enough medals to decorate several Christmas trees. 

Our congregation officially said Goodbye to our church building today. We’ve sold our building at 6565 Oakley Drive, Fridley.

We’ve sold our building so we can look for a different building that’s bigger, more accessible, more flexible, and that better meets our needs. It’s a positive and exciting step. 

Of course, it’s also a bittersweet transition. Just because our building wasn’t meeting our needs, it doesn’t mean we didn’t love it. We loved it as a community and as individuals. 

Chad and I have been attending MSUS since 2004 so we have so many memories of services, events, and experiences at the church located on Oakley Drive, that I can’t even hope to make sense of them in a blog post, much less make them interesting (obviously that doesn’t mean I won’t try).

My memories of the Oakley Drive building are also inextricably linked to my memories of theater. In fact, this is the 15th anniversary of the beginning of my theater journey (outside of high school) and it began at MSUS with a production of “Our Town.” (Yes, I played Emily at age 37). 

Since then, we’ve done so much theater at our church building on Oakley Drive–both with church productions, and when we were able to rent (on very generous terms) the building for productions with Applause and Duck Soup. (My theater friends who’ve been involved with shows at MSUS are bound to have some feels about us leaving our building, too). 

I don’t think I ever would have gotten into community theater without MSUS, and I probably wouldn’t have had nearly as many or as meaningful theater experiences without it. We did a performance of “Talley’s Folly” in 2013 at MSUS the day my dad died–something that I totally wanted to do and that felt right and important for me to do. 

We also had important personal events at MSUS, and were able to use it for parties and celebrations. We had our 10th Anniversary Vow Renewal, our 40th birthday party, and our 20th Anniversary party at the Oakley building. I think some of our family and friends who shared these events with us will also miss our church space. 

And where to start with all the memories of teaching Religious Education? Yes, there were more than a few moments of “unease” (okay, terror) trying to keep elementary-aged children actively engaged and mostly under control. My fondest memories are of spending time with the young adults of the church, especially of making collages with our “Turtle” class (a class about home) and any time I got to embrace my maternal side and make frozen pizza for the teens. 

I will always laugh when I think about chaperoning an overnight for teens and falling asleep while they were watching “Team America.” Yes, that probably IS an inappropriate movie for the situation. When I woke up minutes/hours later, the credits were playing and the music to the highly inappropriate movie theme song “America, F%$k Yeah!” was on a loop, but I was too tired to get up and try to figure out how to stop the DVD. (Don’t worry, all the teens exposed to the movie are, as far as I know, now all well-adjusted and highly functioning adults so we did not scar them for life). 

I laugh when I think about Chad and I trying to explain Christianity to the teens and kids in our various RE classes, based on our fuzzy memories of childhood and differing experiences of Catholicism and conservative Lutheranism. (Turns out my Bachelor’s Degree in Comparative Religion wasn’t as helpful as one might think). What DOES Easter have to do with Peeps, anyway? 

I’m also thankful for the youth in a recent (perhaps the last?) class we taught that were patient and bemused as a class on spirituality and social justice in popular music often devolved into “Chad and Amy try to remember the 80’s.” (I’m still hoping for this podcast). 

I loved getting to read stories to the children (and adults) of the congregation during services. It was always a treat to get to dust off my youth services librarian skills for a mini-storytime. (Favorite MSUS storytime book: “LIzard’s Song” by George Shannon). 

We’ve experienced so many emotions at Oakley Drive–joy, boredom (#AnnualMeeting), grief, and everything around and in-between. I discovered at our church how profound and moving a Memorial Service can be–not just a rote exercise, but a true celebration of an individual life in all its complexity, a time to mourn and say goodbye and celebrate the accomplishments and challenges of a unique life.

I’m so thankful for all the people, young and old and in-between, people connected to MSUS and those that weren’t, that we got to interact with because we had that building on Oakley Drive to call our own. Some we just knew for a while, some have died, and some (like Deb who I hope doesn’t mind a shout out) are still our bestest friends. 

The building at Oakley is also where I’ve got to see Chad develop and shine as a lay minister (no, that’s not an official designation but I’m using it anyway). Chad has moved and inspired and challenged me (and I’m pretty sure many others) with his thoughtful and insightful sermons/talks, delivered with humor and passion. 

And yes, I have often been just about to burst with pride sitting in the second row watching him, although I’m not sure pride makes much sense since I haven’t really contributed to his success (besides staying out of this way on nights such as this when he is working on tomorrow’s sermon). Okay, maybe I’ll give myself a little credit for occasionally inspiring him with something I did actually learn from my BA in religion. 

Well, it’s cheesy, or at least predictable, but the song “Closing Time” is now running through my head (it really is a great song no matter how overplayed) and appropriate: “Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.” 

It’s an end, but also a beginning for us as a congregation and as a community, as individuals and friends. 

After our goodbye celebration at the Oakley church today, I left with a bottle of cheap champagne, leftover from some church event. I don’t know if I’ll ever drink it (not because I”m too discerning for cheap champagne but I don’t know how to open a champagne bottle) but it seems like a fitting memento for our dear little church–celebratory, aspirational, unpretentious, full or promise, and a little challenging.

It’s really quite amazing that a relatively small building (at least as far as churches go) can hold so many memories, hopes, and love. Blessedly, the human heart can hold even more. 

I can easily fall prey to expecting the worst. Overall, I think I’m an optimistic person, but I can get wrapped up in What Ifs–as in “What if this awful or annoying or stupid thing happens?”

I was certainly on the What If Express recently after our server gave our credit card to another couple. Yes, we actually ventured out in the world and saw a fabulous concert by some of our favorite musicians (Dan Chouinard and Prudence Johnson) at one of our favorite local establishments (Crooners Supper Club).

We had a truly lovely, and hell, I’ll even admit it, romantic evening. Fabulous music was heard, tasty food was consumed, festive drinks were imbibed, and sentimental emotions were felt.

But things took an abrupt turn when we realized our server had given our credit card to another patron, who had already left the premises.

I don’t want or need this to be a rant against our server or Crooners. We all make mistakes and I’m certain he did the best he could. We adore Crooners and are looking forward to going there frequently if Covid hopefully stays relatively quiet.

However, I did get pretty snippy when our server said “you’ll just have to cancel your card.”

I still can’t think of a way to respond to that suggestion that is close to PG-13. Just cancel our card?! JUST CANCEL OUR CARD?! Yes, it is a signifier of our cushy life but we have SO many services and subscriptions connected to that credit card. Canceling that card would be a huge pain in the ass.

But we had to cancel our card, right? We had no choice, right? I mean, WHAT IF our server gave our credit card to an elderly drug cartel kingpin (we were definitely among the youngest people at this concert) who decided to use our card to fund a weekend of debauchery? Or WHAT IF our card was now in the hands of someone with an Amazon addiction? Or what if it was given to someone well-meaning but clueless who dropped it in a snowbank, and THEN it was picked up by a drug cartel kingpin…

The disastrous scenarios felt endless, but surprisingly, I was able to silence the catastrophe script room long enough to consider that the folks who got our card would probably realize it when they got home, and furthermore, they would probably want to return to Crooners to get their card.

Unfortunately, we didn’t have a way to get in touch with the current owners of our card. I made sure Crooners had our contact information, but that was all we could do.

We had a decision to make: Did we go ahead and immediately cancel our card, or did we wait and hope for a good outcome?

I had to fight against my instincts, but we decided to be hopeful and wait…at least for a day or so. It was a rather restless night for me, but Hallelujah, the next morning we learned that the folks who had our credit card contacted Crooners and said they did indeed plan to return it…but they were going out of town for a few days.

So, more waiting. More trusting.

Last night we got our credit card back. I am so relieved and thankful and heartened that we were able to trust in strangers to return our card. Now, this trusting was made easier because we could easily check our card balance while our card was out of direct possession and make sure that there weren’t any suspicious charges on it.

We also found it easier to be more trusting than we, or at least I, would normally be because we felt a kinship with our fellow Crooner’s audience members. That’s one of the things we love most about Crooners–the community of music lovers it brings together. Even if we didn’t know who had our card, we felt like we knew them in a sense and that our shared love of the music of Crooners created a connection with them.

And yes, I’ll admit, all my jokes about elderly drug kingpins aside, we were more inclined to trust the people with our card because we assumed they were senior citizens. A completely unfounded stereotype–I wouldn’t trust senior citizen Donald Trump with our credit card–but there you go.

In an attempt to lessen the tediousness of this tale, I’ve omitted descriptions of all the frustrating communications (or non-communications) between me and Crooners. (Chad thinks I’m being too critical of them, and yes, the staff we talked to were always very apologetic and polite and we did get some free drinks for our trouble).

I don’t think I was/am overly critical, but my storytelling would be amiss if I didn’t mention that I did share some overly dramatic communication (via email and voicemail) with them.

I sent them an email with this gem: “I can’t overestimate how much anxiety this is causing us. Our Discover card which you gave away is automatically set up to pay EVERYTHING for us so we will have to spend countless hours trying to cancel and reinstate payment.”

Hmmm, I think I meant to say “overstate” rather than “overestimate,” but hey, festive beverages HAD been consumed at the concert. And yeah, capital letters is never a good look. Chad also took issue with “countless” hours but I stand by that because I am really not good at math.

I stand by my overwroughtness, though…it’s very on brand for me. I have a tradition to maintain. Before we were even married (so in the days before email) I sent the Columbia House Music Club a very strongly worded letter about how they had morally offended me with their terrible customer service (I don’t remember the specifics of their crime). I DO remember that I signed Chad’s name–something he did not appreciate (hey, the club membership was in his name).

At least this time I owned my dramatic customer service correspondence and left Chad out of it.

Mark Twain said the famous “Dance like nobody’s watching…” quote? Really?!

I’ve heard this inspirational exhortation a million times, and just assumed it was an anonymous and rather cheesy feel good saying invented by a marketing team to put on coffee mugs and wall hangings. Not that it doesn’t have merit. In fact, I Googled it because I wanted to make sure I had the quote correct to use in this blog post (which yes, is going to be about dancing). 

“Dance like nobody’s watching; love like you’ve never been hurt. Sing like nobody’s listening; live like it’s heaven on earth.”

-Mark Twain

But Mark Twain said it? Okay, I haven’t put my librarian powers to rigorous use on this one so maybe my Googling isn’t accurate, but it certainly seems the case. Wow, this does not seem like a Mark Twain saying to me (not that I’m a Mark Twain expert or anything but…)

Well, wherever the advice to “Dance like nobody’s watching” comes from, I’ve been doing it every day for the last month, since January 13. And it’s been easy to dance like nobody’s watching, because nobody IS watching. 

I’m not sure why I started what I now consider my Daily Dance Break, except that I’ve been thinking for the longest time that I should do more dancing. This has especially popped into my head as I’ve been spending so much more time at home during the pandemic, and I’m sure I’ve been inspired by hearing and reading about others dancing in their kitchen. 

I definitely do not consider myself a good or confident or graceful dancer (especially when it comes to something that’s choreographed). I’m not a particularly expressive or creative dancer or sexy dancer. But, I enjoy it, as I suspect most people do, or would, if they weren’t worried about how goofy they looked while dancing. 

So I make sure to dance around our dining room or living room or through our kitchen when I’m alone (except at times when StanLee is present). Sometimes I crank up the speakers; sometimes I put on my earbuds and sequester myself in my home office/spare bedroom. 

But…even though no one else is watching, I’m often still watching and judging myself. So I try very hard to focus on the music, and how I want to move to it, no matter how silly or simple my dancing may be. I try not to worry about “getting exercise” and just moving and being grateful for the ways my body can move. I try not to think about whatever else I should be doing. It’s as close as I get to a type of meditation.

My hope and goal is to dance to one song every day. (Sometimes I have an “bonus” song). So far, I want every day to have a different song which I’ve been tracking in a spreadsheet (although my bonus song could be a repeat).

Picking a song can be tricky. There are so many classic songs I love that have special personal meaning for me, but I want to expand my musical horizons, too. I don’t want to just be on a nostalgic kick. Plus, I tend to gravitate toward the singer-songwriter genre which isn’t necessarily the most conducive to dancing. 

Sometimes, I want to pick a song to fit a certain mood or a theme or a holiday or something timely. 

My very first song was a classic, “Rock Me Tonight” by Billy Squire. I think I got the idea because Billy Squire had recently come up on our beloved TBTL podcast. Recently, I discovered The Current has a “Music You Should Know” list which has definitely invigorated my Dance Breaks and helped me discover some new music. 

I don’t want to get too worked up about how long I will keep up my Daily Dance Break streak, but right now I’m pretty committed to it. Currently I have four daily routines/practices/rituals (not counting those related to eating or drinking): cardio exercising, journaling, Wordle and the Daily Dance Break. I really like having my small goals and challenges–they give me structure and a sense of accomplishment. 

I’m tempted to blog about my daily Dance Break Song choices, but not only do I not have time for that, that seems a little obsessive, even for me. Maybe I’ll occasionally blog about some highlights. 

I’ll just focus on making time (and energy–yes, sometimes I do feel tired to dance, even to a singer songwriter tune) to dancing to at least one song every day. 

Like nobody’s watching.

Or, better yet–like several people ARE watching but they unconditionally think I’m a talented and graceful and beautiful and sexy dancer. Even if I mostly hop and flail my arms and toss my head and generally dance like a muppet. 

1/13/22	Rock Me Tonight	Billy Squier
1/14/22	Hollywood	Carseat Headrest
1/15/22	Skinny Love	Bon Iver
1/16/22	Many Times	Dijon
1/17/22	A-Flat	Black Violins
1/18/22	Deacon Blues	Steely Dan
1/19/22	The Less I Know The Better	Tame Impala
1/20/22	Stolen Car	Beth Orton
1/21/22	Man on the Moon	R.E.M.
1/22/22	Something I Should Do	Nada Surf
1/23/22	Be Here Now	Mason Jennings
1/24/22	Werewolves of London	Warren Zevon
1/25/22	She’s A Rainbow	Rolling Stones
1/26/22	Now is the Time	Jade Bird
1/27/22	Myriad Harbor	The New Pornographers
1/28/22	Stand for Myself	Yola
1/29/22	Ten By Ten	Rex Orange County
1/30/22	Stay Positive	The Hold Steady
1/31/22	They Called It Rock	Nick Lowe
2/1/22	Year of the Tiger	St. Vincent
2/2/22	Write a List of Things To Look Forward To	Courtney Barnett
2/3/22	Feel the Way I Want To	Caroline Rose
2/4/22	Year of the Cat	Al Stewart
2/5/22	Strange Girl	Laura Marling
2/6/22	Softly	Arlo Parks
2/7/22	Running Up That Hill
2/8/22	Atoms Never Die	Adam Levy
2/9/22	Enough	Samm Henshaw
2/10/22	Rhododendron	Hurray for the Riff Raff
2/11/22	Steppin’ Out	Joe Jackson
2/12/22	Passengers	Aoife O’Donovan
2/13/22	More Pressure	Kae Tempest
2/14/22	Love is the Law	The Suburbs
2/15/22	Don’t You Forget About Me	Simple Minds

I’m wondering about wonder.

Yesterday I came across the essay “The Wonder of Reading Children’s Literature as an Adult” by Sarah S. Davis. The title immediately grabbed my interest as I’m a big fan of reading childrens’ books. 

As I perused the essay, I was most struck by this line “To seek wonder is an act of bravery.”

Whoa…bravery? I had just been reading how 2022 could be seen as a time for bravery and courage–it’s now the Year of the Tiger according to the Chinese Zodiac, and the Tiger potentially symbolizes bravery. Mind officially blown. 

Sarah Davis’ essay explores how children’s literature and fantasy/sci-fi in general open us up to wonder through exposing us to worlds beyond our normal experiences. I’m pretty down with that. I’m a geek because I love the sense of wonder the genre generates. Not surprisingly, I have a well-developed suspension of disbelief muscle. I love musicals and have no problem with people bursting into song.

I’m definitely sold on wonder, especially as experienced through fantastical stories. But how do I cultivate wonder in my mundane, everyday life?

Maybe I should back up a bit…What is wonder? I often casually equate it with curiosity (“I wonder why StanLee ate that?”) but I think it’s so much more. Curiosity may be a component, but to me it suggests…awe, delight, gratitude. 

I can’t experience wonder without paying attention and being present. I’m not going to be aware of the amazing colors of the sunset or the softness of my cats’ fur if I’m too distracted. 

I’m definitely sold on the value of wonder, but why does it take bravery?

Sarah Davis also writes: “We need to prime ourself to look at and experience our world through fresh eyes, to accept the inspiration that wonder creates, to brave the scary thought that anything — safe or otherwise — could happen. To seek wonder is to be vulnerable, to risk hurt and pain, to go beyond the logic of the world we know, to chance that we’ll run up against evil.

ANYTHING can happen–fun, boring, sad, amazing, painful, profound, goofy. 

This new year of 2022 really does seem like a very appropriate time to open up to wonder. We’re very aware that we don’t know what’s going to happen, but wonder can be waiting for us, whether we’re getting all dolled up for a night out around other humans, or snuggling up with our pets in our comfy pants. 

Wonder is an act of courage because it may not last and we end up feeling and looking silly. Wonder opens us up to acknowledging not only things that delight us, but also things that scare us. Wonder makes us treasure our world and our everyday gifts, and the more we treasure these ephemeral things, the more we’ll hurt when they are inevitably gone. 

One of my favorite Christmas songs is “I Wonder as I Wander,” as performed by Ed Ames. It’s a beautiful, but very somber, almost depressing song. But I wonder if I can find everyday inspiration in it? I certainly do my fair share of daily wandering, if not literally–although I do a surprising amount of wandering around our relatively small house–but figuratively in my thoughts and emotions. Wandering seems like a side effect of distraction, but perhaps I can combine wandering with intentional wondering? 

I hope in this new year of the Tiger I’m brave and increase my capacity for experiencing wonder and all the joy, awe, vulnerability and even fear it brings.

But I’m never going to stop wondering what StanLee just ate.

Happy Birthday to my blog! As of January 27, 2022, my blog is 8 years old! 

Or maybe it’s more appropriate to say it’s the 8th Anniversary of my Blog. The traditional gift for an 8th Anniversary is bronze–which feels rather appropriate. After all, bronze medals are usually given for 3rd place, and while I don’t think my blog is first rate, I might say it’s third rate (at least if there are only four blogs by middle-aged white ladies in the running?)

Whether blogs celebrate birthdays or anniversaries, imagine an “Entertainment Tonight” style fluff piece, with a very enthusiastic TV personality, to publicize it.

Blogger Tonight Host: Wow, eight years of blogging, you must be so proud! What an accomplishment!

Me: (humble with an “aw-schucks”) Well, yes I am. I love writing, and I’m glad I’ve been able to stick with writing this blog for 8 years.

Host: Yes, eight years! How many posts have you written?

Me: This is actually my 350th post! 

Host! Wow, a nice solid number! That’s an average of 43 posts per year–that’s at least one a week!

Me: I admit, once I realized my anniversary, or birthday, er blogversary? or whatever, that my 8th year milestone was approaching, I tried hard to make sure I hit a number that felt aesthetically pleasing–500 would have been cool, but that was way out of reach (self-deprecating chuckle). 

Host: Now you keep referring to “your blog” but haven’t you actually had at least two blogs? If my interns have done their research, didn’t you actually launch the blog “Hotter Than a Pepper Sprout” on January 27, 2014, followed by this “Amy-Lu’s View” which started on November 11, 2017?

Me: Wow, your interns are good! Yes, I’ve technically had two different blogs on two different platforms, but I consider that a re-branding more than a new blog. Truthfully, I moved from Google’s Blogger to WordPress thinking that WordPress would be easier to use and make my blog feel more up-to-date, but WordPress–at the least the free version–kind of sucks. 

Host: Hmm, okay, but didn’t you even have a blog before that? Didn’t you get your start as a blogger with a rather controversial little blog about being a librarian…

Me: (cutting in)…whoa, whoa! I was told you weren’t going to ask about this? (grumbling) This is supposed to be a “Blogger Tonight” fluff piece for goodness sake…Ah yes, I did have an earlier, rather ill-conceived blog in my youth that did have a lot of content about working in a public librarian, but that is no longer available to the public (mumbling)…I HOPE…

Host: Very interesting! Any other skeletons in your blogging closet?

Me: Well, I wouldn’t call it a “skeleton” but I also had a very angsty, emotionally-intense blog about dealing with my mom’s death. It was very cathartic to write and good free therapy, but I don’t think even I would want to revisit that–too painful.

Host: (tearing up a big and conveying big sympathy) Okay, let’s focus on the present…why do you blog?

Me: I do periodically blog about my blog–I know, how meta– so I may have covered this all before, but primarily, I just like to write. And while I think I’m pretty realistic and don’t expect that many people will read my blog, I like the possibility that they could. Of course I journal, too, and that definitely has its own value, but I like the challenge of sharing my ideas in a way that might be of interest to others in a way that feels appropriate to share. 

Host: How interesting!

Me: I guess that need to share and be seen is just another side of my drive to perform. 

Host: How perceptive!

Me: Blogging also helps me feel like I’ve accomplished something…I can look at a post and say, “Hey, I did that!” In fact, reviewing old posts in preparation for this interview has made me feel really happy with what I’ve been able to create. And, unlike some other things I like to do, it’s something I can mostly control…I don’t have to depend on other people or external circumstance to blog. Failed auditions or pandemics or whatever can’t stop me from blogging!

Host: That’s inspiring!

Me: But I really love how grounded blogging makes me feel. If I go too long without blogging, I start feeling angsty and antsy. Blogging helps me feel like I’m making some order out of the chaos of my ideas, and that in some small way I’m holding on to precious, ephemeral thoughts, feelings and experiences. As I wrote in my very first blog, “ Life seems to go by in such a whirlwind and maybe if I take a little time to write about it I will be a little more aware and reflective.” Having this eight year record of my life is really pretty incredible, and I’ve been surprised by how much I like many of posts. I’ve definitely had several “Wow, I wrote THAT?! It’s pretty damn good” reactions to posts I’ve completely forgotten about.

Host: Whoa, my mind is blown!!! Let’s pull this back to more concrete topics a bit…So what do you blog about?

Me: I guess I follow the old adage to write what you know, ha-ha…so I usually just write mostly about what I’m doing or thinking. Depending on what’s going on in my life, lots of posts about and inspired by running or theater or church online coffee house, frequently something about my mom, and drinking and food are always tried and true topics. I’ve learned to be very careful when writing about work, and I definitely stay away from politics or most current events because I really don’t have anything helpful to add to those conversations.

Host: What’s the hardest thing about blogging?

Me: To misquote Buffy…just doing it! But going along with your previous question, finding new things to blog about, or new things to say about perennial favorites. And when it comes to an individual post, coming up with a catchy title is super hard, and I always struggle over a zingy ending. 

Host: How would you describe your blogging voice? 

Me: Slightly slurred! LOL–I mostly want my blog to sound conversational, like I’m talking to (or maybe at) my reader. Me, but perhaps slightly wittier because I have a little more time to think about it. But I don’t want to take too much time in writing–I’m okay that my posts are a little half-assed because I’d rather get something out there rather than agonize over it being perfect. And I want to be funny but also honest but not too troubled–I don’t want anyone to feel like they have to help me get professional help because of something I’ve written. And I don’t know if this is really about voice…but I definitely start many sentences with and, but, however, so…I’m trying to be more judicious about that. And…I love parentheses! I think they definitely capture my tangential way of thinking and all the asides that happen in my head. 

Host: How has your blog changed through the years?

Me: The biggest difference I’m aware of is I try to write shorter posts–well, not counting this post. 

Host: What are some of your favorite posts?

Me: The one that jumps to my mind first is actually one of my oldest that I wrote after Robin Willaims death, Grab That Styrofoam Egg While You Can (peppersprout.blogspot.com). For a more recent  post, I really like The Ballad of Colleen–the structure is quite a bit like this post!

Host: Amy, this has been just delightful! I could talk to you for hours, but I need to move on to my interview with Pete Davidson. Any final thoughts to share?

Me: Who is Pete Davidson?…but I want to send a huge thank you to anyone who has ever read one of my posts, and an even bigger thanks to those who are regular readers. And if you’ve enjoyed reading any of my posts, don’t forget there are 349 more out there!  While I do blog mostly for myself, knowing that someone has read one of my posts gives me a feeling like somebody got my message in a bottle. I feel connected and affirmed. It’s like…

Host: (cutting in as show’s theme music starts, under her breath) Geez you do really suck at wrapping these us…Thank you!…Where’s Pete?

Xfinity disconnected our internet on Friday. Intentionally. We were without internet access for 24 plus hours.

They did this without giving us any advance notice. 

They did this without contacting us after they had disconnected us. They did this without proactively taking steps to fix the problem. 

This is astonishingly bad customer service. It actually transcends the realm of customer “service”–it’s probably more helpful to classify it as astonishingly successful customer sabotage. 

They disconnected us without warning, but not without cause. No, it wasn’t because we didn’t pay our bill. There was a technical reason they needed to disconnect us. Of course, I don’t really understand it, but there was something wrong with “our line” that was making internet service crappy for everybody in the neighborhood. Maybe the tiny internet gnomes or trolls that live in the cable were having a huge and ongoing party and were too drunk to effectively use their magic to transmit data through the interwebs. 

Whatever. The cable needed to be cut/disconnected to improve service for several customers. Fine (although I do hope the tiny drunk gnomes found a new place for the party). But Xfinity couldn’t be bothered to tell us? Chad even talked to the guy who disconnected us (obviously, we didn’t know that was what was happening at the time)–Chad was out in the garage while the guy had the Xfinity service truck in the alley. No “Hey man, we’re disconnecting you” heads up transpired.

As we all know, you can’t just “call” a company like Xfinity when you have an issue. Chad lost years of his life to an automated menu purgatory he will never get back trying to report the outage (yes, 15 minutes on hold with Xfinity = 2 years of a middle-aged man’s life). THE OUTAGE THEY CAUSED!

AND it didn’t occur to Xfinity that they would need to do something to restore our service? No, in fact they mocked and gaslighted us–as soon as the Xfinity van pulled away, Chad saw a notice that there was a service disruption…that had been restored. Well, not for us!

I really am so bewildered by the situation that I haven’t even been able to get really angry yet. Was this caused by ineptitude, poor communication, apathy? A “We can do whatever we want because what the hell are you, the little customer, going to do about it?” customer service philosophy? Or does Xfinity really hate its customers, or perhaps just Chad and I specifically (okay, I know we’re probably not important enough to be targeted by Xfinity but sometimes a gal needs to feel special). 

We DID receive excellent customer service from the service man who came out on Saturday morning. He was not only on time and polite and friendly, but he restored our service and explained the situation. (We did not press him for answers because we were pretty sure it wasn’t his fault, and the absurdity of the situation really didn’t hit us until after he left. We were just so excited to get our interwebs back).

He did make sure to let us know that the customer service survey we would receive would only be about his performance–not our experience with Xfinity as a whole. 

Today at church we discussed how good things can eventually come from bad or challenging situations. I do realize that losing the interwebs is hardly a catastrophe, but from our privileged perspective, it was pretty frustrating. Yes, we still could access the internet via our phones and even use our phones as hotspots, but that could only get us so far. I could still get to Facebook and Wordle, but working from home was going to get tricky. (Thankfully, I have a selfie stick/tripod so I could use my phones for a Teams meeting without the video being too unflattering. I couldn’t blur my background, though, so I’m not sure how much of the clutter of my home office was visible). 

And how were we going to stream our entertainment? This was ruining a Friday night of television viewing! I mean, what were we going to do, talk to each other? (Yes, I’m stealing Chad’s line but I’m pretty sure jokes are marital property, and being married to a lawyer means I have a vicarious law degree). 

So, what good or at least beneficial things came from our period of internet estrangement?

Obviously, we now have a much greater appreciation for our good fortune that gives us reliable home internet access (which I’m sure we’ll soon go back to taking for granted). 

I was hoping for inspiration for an insightful blog post about our interdependent web–but although a great metaphor, the situation was almost too obvious. Plus, it’s hard to take inspiration from corporate dumbassery. 

But, since we weren’t able to stream anything, and we didn’t want to overdo that whole talking thing, we discovered we had an unwrapped old MST3K DVD! So we watched a truly horrible movie (“Red Zone Cuba”) that received a truly hilarious treatment from Mike and the Bots. 

Xfinity saved us from missing out on an MST3K episode that had fallen into our household obscurity…I guess that IS really awesome customer service!

When I hear “Pete Davidson” I immediately picture this: 

This is wildly inaccurate.

Up until quite recently, I had no idea who Pete Davidson is. I now know that Pete Davidson is a current (or at least recent) SNL member and possibly a Kardashian boyfriend (I really am not interested enough to find out). I won’t share a photo because you probably already know who Pete Davison is, or can easily find out. 

Whoever Pete Davidson is, or isn’t, he is definitely NOT, PeteR Davison, the actor who played the Fifth Doctor Who back in the early eighties (January 4, 1982-March 16, 1984, to be exact). 

But that’s where my mind goes because that’s my frame of reference, my realm of knowledge. I know very little about SNL since 1993 but my heart and memories are steeped in Doctor Who, especially pre-reboot (“pre-re”? Yes I guess that is a thing). It’s pretty easy for me to ignore the missing “r” and extra “d” and conjure up Peter Davison. I definitely, totally, completely had a crush on him. Yes, please keep in mind he was the most crush-plausible Doctor in a pre David Tennant world. Forget walking 20 miles in the snow to school, kids…I had to have a crush on Peter Davison. 

The recent Wordle Word for January 19, 2022, was…SPOILER ALERT…Point. This may be a good word to reflect on at this moment. What is my point with sharing my Pete Davidson/Peter Davison confusion (and good heavens, speaking of confusion, just writing these two names frequently and in proximity is making me a little dizzy)?

My point: It makes me laugh. I hope it might make anyone who reads this laugh, too. 

It also makes me think about how and why we know what we know. It makes me ponder what information we share and value as a culture and subcultures, especially now as our unlimited media landscapes and information sharing tools can enable us to create smaller and more specialized tribes. 

It also makes me think about what it means to be “cool” or “old”–or what I think it means. Do I think I’m not cool enough to know who Pete Davidson is or do I think I’m too cool? (Yes, “cool” is probably way too outdated of a word but I think that just makes my point). 

I am solidly in the middle of the age continuum and not in anyone’s target market for relevance, but I can also be confused and ignorant in many situations that have nothing to do with age or hipness. Just recently when I heard about “cousins” having covid it took me a while to realize the conversation was about the Viking’s quarterback and not my friend’s cousin. #sportsball

I’m also fondly remembering way back when I was a teenager, circa 1987, and two of my friends were talking about “iced tea” and I said, “Oh yeah, I like iced tea, but unsweetened” and they just rolled their eyes because they were talking about Ice-T (the rapper).

Or…there was that time when a friend was talking about PT Cruisers and I asked her what they were and she didn’t believe me that I didn’t know.  

BUT I can have a good ten minute discussion of old Target clothing brands. Although…it took me a while to remember “Merona” just now. My mind kept defaulting to “merlot”. 

My knowledge, especially of popular culture, is definitely rooted in my age, my whiteness, my geekiness, and my lack of interest in things like cars and cooking and sportsball. Like all of us, I don’t know what I don’t know, but I’m shocked that you don’t know about the things that I think are important.

And this all makes us feel just a littler superior. Okay, a lot superior. We all know that. 

*Yes, I AM referencing Donald Rumsfeld!