Amy Lu's View

“The biggest challenge for you must have been acting like you were reluctant to take your clothes off.”

I love this (paraphrased) observation that my friend B made after seeing me recently in Expressions Community Theater’s production of “Calendar Girls.” I interpreted it as praise of my acting chops, and it made me feel very seen. 

It’s not that I don’t have any qualms about taking my clothes off on stage, but I do have a fair amount of experience doing it. Okay, I’m not sure what a normal amount of experience for this is, but since 2010, I’ve been in five shows (including Calendar Girls) that involved me appearing in my underwear on stage. Now Calendar Girls was certainly the most “extensive” of these appearances and I am using a broad definition of what constitutes an underwear-clad moment–my first instance involved a sports bra so that may not count, and I’m also including a scene where I was in a bra and a skirt. 

I do have body image issues and concerns about how I look scantily clad, but (surprisingly?) these feelings aren’t as strong as they can be in real life situations, where I am more fully clad and just trying to look snazzy. The theater scenes are brief, and not presented in a “hey look at this hottie” way. Okay, when I was the Ring Girl (aforementioned sports bra instance) that WAS basically a “look at this hottie” context but I did feel rather hot at that time. And for the other times, being in my underwear has felt like an integral part of the show that audiences would just take in their stride. There are also so many other things to worry about when acting–knowing my lines and my blocking and managing my props–that I’m forced to have a more utilitarian attitude to disrobing. 

Again, I want to be clear that I’m not saying that I wasn’t nervous about being on stage in panties and boob tape for Calendar Girls, but it was a brief scene, and my back was to the audience and my butt was mostly covered. Most importantly, our director was extremely conscientious and respectful, and I was sharing the experience with five other amazing cast mates. It was a delightfully bonding experience–how many people can say they’ve been nearly naked on stage together?

I think I had more anxiety about flashing my undies last fall when I did the monologue where I played an aspiring life model. Maybe I felt more anxious because I was the only one on stage, and it was a small theater, or maybe it was because I had campaigned to do the show and have the role so I felt like I was putting myself out there more. I also had this weird anxiety that I was going to forget to leave my underwear on (not sure how that would happen) and really be naked when I opened my robe up (that didn’t happen).

Despite all these anxieties and logistical headaches (did I mention how annoying boob tape is?) during my “acting in only underwear” career, I think it took the most courage for me to appear in long underwear back in high school. I faced this challenge when I played the Empress in our gender swapped version of the Emperor’s New Clothes (August was so forward looking!) This angst isn’t too surprising–I was sixteen (if I’ve got my dates right), so everything was mortifying, and I was a little bit heavier then and body positivity (and spanx) wasn’t really a thing in the 80s, and long underwear just isn’t that flattering for most of us mere mortals. But I powered through and did it, proving to myself that I was brave and perhaps sowing the seeds for future antics in underwear-clad acting. 

While I’m not exactly eager to take my clothes off on stage, it does make a role feel a little extra and exciting, and it does make me feel bold. So I will admit that I was a bit disappointed recently when I did NOT get to appear in a bikini when I had a bit part as a sexy double agent spy. The bikini scene was in the script, but the director thought it was gratuitous. I couldn’t argue with him in good conscience, and the scene worked great the way he staged it without the bikini scene–it was probably even funnier. See, I can put art ahead of my need for attention!

I’ve used my friend’s comment as a spark to discuss my onstage near-nudity, but maybe she meant I’m looking for opportunities to disrobe in real life? I don’t think so–I actually consider myself a tad on the conservative side when it comes to dressing to show skin. (Yes, I could just ask my friend what she meant, but speculation is so much more fun than direct communication). I do have some sense that being on stage in my underwear can be appropriate, but showing too much skin in real life (unless on the beach or at the pool) can just make me feel a little desperate (not that it should make anyone else feel desperate if that’s how they like to dress–You do you!). Oh sometimes I worry (hope?) I’m wearing a top that is too low-cut or a dress that is too short, but then I usually see others, sometimes even other middle-aged ladies, with more dramatic percentages of their bodies on display.

In the midst of all this excitement and fear, I have always kept my drawers on (literally) and have never been completely naked on stage. I’ve also kept my drawers on in the figurative sense, and have never become totally unhinged about being undressed. And yes, this is a rather tortured route to getting to use the phrase “keep your drawers on” which may only make sense to people over 50 from rural Wisconsin. Or maybe it’s something only my mom and sister said, as in “Keep your drawers on Amy, you will have a chance to shop for Empire Strikes Back trading cards soon.” 

“I can’t answer that question now. I have to blog about it first.” 

The question in question was “What is your favorite line in the show that you speak?” It was posed by one of my awesome Calendar Girls’ castmates, Joanna, a couple of weeks before we opened via our group chat. Joanna thoughtfully explained that we might choose a line because “…you think it’s funny, because it feels good in your mouth, or it is part of something bigger and important.”

Now that it’s been a week since “Calendar Girls” closed, it’s time for me to tackle the question. Of course, I could have answered it when it was first asked, but 1) I wanted time to overthink, 2) I do have a history/tradition of blogging about my favorite line/lines in a show and 3) I’ve been really lagging in my blogging output in 2025, and I can’t squander content!

To set the scene a bit, “Calendar Girls” is about six “mature” women who pose nude for a calendar to raise money in the memory of one of the women’s husbands, who has died from cancer. It’s based on the movie (which I have yet to watch). I played Cora, the pianist for the women’s group the friends belong to. Cora styles herself as a bit of a rebellious rocker, and she’s not ready to conform, even though she’s a middle-aged single mom. 

Cora is rather snarky, so delivers many one-liners and snappy quips–more than any other character I’ve ever played. This makes it both easy and hard to think of my “favorite” Cora lines, as I could choose just about everything Cora says. 

So with that introduction, here are some of my favorite Cora lines (not limiting myself to just one!):

“Why are we not drinking?” A favorite question for Cora, and me in my actual life. This may not even count as “a line”, though, since it’s just something I (frequently) say anyway (even if only inside my head). 

“If I’m not going to get them out now, when am I?” This may be my true favorite Cora line. Cora declares it while referring to her boobs in the moment she decides to pose naked for the calendar. It’s funny, but also inspiring–sometimes you have to seize the moment. This is the line that points to the “something bigger” Joanna asked about. 

“In my experience? Intransigent and hypocritical.” This line needs explanation–Cora is responding to the question “What is the church?” She’s being asked about the architecture, but Cora takes the opportunity to be a smartass. While I love the line because it’s sarcastic and a bit of a truth to power moment for Cora, it was also a slightly dangerous line for me. It was hard for me to pronounce “intransigent” and I originally confused it with “instransient”.

“This place has a mailbox?” Surprisingly, one of my consistent laugh lines from the play. I’m still not really sure why the audience found it so funny, so I love how it illustrates that you can’t always predict how an audience is going to respond.  

“I’ll be a bit insulted if they’re looking at my hands.” A snappy one-liner in response to a friend telling Cora she should have her hands placed on the right keys at the piano when posing for her calendar photo.  

“Whisky.” Not that remarkable or funny a word on its own, but within the context of the play, another reliable, and understandable, laugh line. It was Cora’s response to “Being naked involves detail, being nude involves…” And of course, I do literally like how the actual drink of whisky feels in my mouth. 

It was a kick to portray such a witty character, but of course people (real and fictional) communicate with more than just words. My Cora definitely had some facial expressions. I have evidence of this thanks to dress rehearsal photos. 

One photo makes me ponder and appreciate Cora’s line “Ruby, wherever you are, this is your mother.” I intended it as a bold statement of self acceptance, but in the photo, I/Cora look more than a little unhinged. That’s not what I was going for exactly, but after pondering it a bit, I like how that moment came together without my conscious intent. Boldness, self-acceptance, and unhingeness (if that’s not a word it should be) do often show up together in real life so why not on stage, too.

I could continue to reflect on the meaning of Cora’s lines and the experience of delivering them, but I think it’s time to get this post finished. Just like Cora’s boobs, if I’m not gonna get this post out now, when am I?

The main thing I look for in a hotel is a workout room. The second thing is a bar, but I can usually find one nearby so that’s not a dealbreaker. (A free breakfast can definitely be a perk, but is sometimes more hassle than it’s worth). 

So when I saw one of the recommended Baltimore hotels for the church convention/conference we were attending had a workout room AND a bar, that was good enough for me. The hotel, The Lord Baltimore, was relatively close to the convention center and other attractions, was more or less reasonably priced, and touted itself as “historic” which sounded interesting. 

I didn’t give the hotel much more thought or do much research into it, so I was surprised when we got there and learned that one of its “selling” points is that it’s reportedly haunted–with a reputation as “one of the most haunted hotels in the country.” 

I don’t believe in ghosts with my brain as a literal reality (no offense to those who do) but I believe in them with my emotions. Thinking about ghosts excites me and freaks me out. I’m safely at home and it’s light out and I’m still a little creeped out while I write this. So even though I wanted to take one of the ghost tours that the hotel offered, I knew it would be a bad idea. I’m not what one would call a skilled sleeper under the best of circumstances, and Chad would make me sleep in the hall if I kept him up because I was scared after a ghost tour. Plus, they did sound like a little much–they included a psychic (not to be a hater but that’s just not something I can take seriously). I didn’t even let myself google to find out more about the hauntings (I waited until I got to the airport). 

Even though we didn’t go on the ghost tour, we did get to overhear a snippet of it on the Friday night of our stay when we were in the skybar on the 19th floor. The tour guide said the 19th floor was the most haunted, and in fact the cause of most of the hauntings, because so many people jumped off it during the stockmarket crash of the 1920’s. 

And the next night–our last at the hotel– we got to talk a bit with a delightful hotel staff person about the hauntings. We were once again at the skybar, when the lights briefly went out. “Sorry!” we heard her cry as she fiddled around with some lights. “I didn’t mean to do that. It must have been the ghosts.” 

She then told us about some of her encounters with ghostly happenings, including seeing a girl with a red ball. (I’ve since learned this girl is Molly and her whole family committed suicide by jumping off the 19th floor). But she said the ghosts didn’t mean her any harm and they didn’t scare her. 

So did I experience any haunted happenings? Well, once when I was in the elevator, the young man who was in before me wasn’t able to select the 5th floor (elevator shenanigans are one category of reported hauntings) but that doesn’t seem too compelling. And even though we spent a fair amount of time in the hotel bar–another reportedly highly haunted spot at the Lord Baltimore–we never saw an apparition…no odd patrons in anachronistic dress. Although I was so focused on getting food and drink that I probably wouldn’t have noticed a ghost unless they stole my provisions.   

I did have a nightmare where I woke up screaming (sleep disturbances are also attributed to the ghosts) but as I said before, my sleep is usually less than smooth and I wake Chad up because I’m having bad dreams at least a couple of times a year. (In case you’re wondering, this dream involved me being chased by something, thinking I had made it to safety and closing the door, only to have a skeletal hand with long painted fingernails squeezing into the crack between the door and the frame. I would like to think a ghost would give me a more interesting nightmare. If I indulge in self-directed pop psychology, I interpret this dream as arising from my angst over how my hands are aging and how I avoid painting my fingernails to draw less attention to them). 

The only really mysterious thing that happened during our stay is that I lost my eyemask that I wear while sleeping (or attempting to). (No, I don’t wear it for the sake of any beauty treatment, but because I’ve become almost comically sensitive to any light when I’m trying to sleep.) I checked the hotel thoroughly when I packed but it never materialized. So maybe a ghost swiped it? And I couldn’t blame them–they are probably willing to try anything to get some rest!   

When we talked with the hotel employee that said the ghosts didn’t scare her, she explained “We’re all just energy, and they’re just another type of energy now.”

I like that. I don’t necessarily believe it, but it feels right. And beyond what it may or may not say about what happens after we die, the “energy” we put forth (or “bring” as the cool people now say) while we’re still alive definitely impacts each other. Like it or not (and as a Midwestern GenX German I often don’t) moods and feelings and emotions are contagious. That may seem obvious, but it’s a life lesson I’m only recently learning. 

I don’t think we can do much (or anything) to affect what happens to our energy when we die, but I want to try to be more intentional and thoughtful about the energy I’m putting out in the world now, and more aware of if I’m letting others’ energy haunt me. I’m not necessarily going as simplistic as a “Good vibes only” motto but maybe a “No gratuitous bad vibes” approach. 

But be warned: If I do end up being a ghost, I’m going to haunt everyone and every place and every thing I can. Just as in life, I’m going to want all the attention I can get. 

At church this Sunday, I got several compliments on my western-themed costume. Folks thought it was perfect for the Dolly Parton song (“Wildflowers”) that I played percussion on. Someone even asked if I had rented it from a costume shop. 

I loved the positive attention and feedback. But I wasn’t wearing a costume. I was just wearing a new dress* that I thought was a little snazzy but perfectly normal. I chose to wear it mainly because I could find it in my closet (not something I can routinely count on) and it wasn’t wrinkled (since it was new) and it had a full skirt, which I thought would be good for cajon playing (turns out the skirt got in the way a bit but it was manageable). 

Now I have used a play as an excuse to buy a new dress as a costume for a play (with the intention to wear it later in my real life) or pulled something out of my own wardrobe to use for a costume…but this wasn’t one of those times. This was just me, wearing a dress. 

This also reminded me of the time the cashier at Target asked me about the costume party I was going to, because I was buying glitter eyeshadow…and I wasn’t going to a costume party (yes, I blogged about that, too: https://peppersprout.blogspot.com/2016/10/glittery-eyeshadow-aspect.html). This did happen a few days before Halloween so I can see why she had costume parties on her mind, but glittery eyeshadow is just a makeup staple in my book.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by people’s reaction at church to my dress, since Chad said “Wow, you’re really leaning into the theme” before we left the house when he saw what I was wearing. “What do you mean?” I asked. When he explained that he thought I was intentionally going Western for the Dolly song, I just thought “Well, Chad and I have pretty different ideas about fashion.” (When I told him I was writing this blog, he said the dress made me look like Holly Hobby, which is more prairie than Western, but I definitely loved Holly Hobby** as a kid–I even had a Holly Hobby birthday cake one year. And of course, I did watch a lot of Hee-Haw. Maybe my love of my dress is based on a deeply imprinted childhood preference for lace and ruffles.)

I did intentionally wear my cowboy hat during the song, thanks to Chad, who suggested it. At first I thought “no that’s too much” but then brought it along (and wore it only while we played the song). Chad even wore his, too (yes, we both own “cowboy” hats, although they’re just flimsy Target ones. Chad does own a more substantial one, but didn’t wear that to church). 

Unfortunately, I didn’t wear my cowboy style boots, which I nixed because I didn’t think they would be as comfortable as the flats I did wear. Maybe that’s for the best…people’s heads may have metaphorically exploded if I went too Western.

But, to reiterate, even without cowboy boots and before I donned my cowboy hat many people thought I was wearing  a costume, when I was just wearing what I considered a regular dress. And I love this. 

What did I say when I got these “Great costume!” compliments? “Thanks!”…while trying to clarify that I was just dressed as Amy On Any Old Day (or at least one where I left the house). I could have pretended that I was intentionally theme dressing and this wasn’t my regular look, but I wanted to embrace the situation. I love that I was “dressing up” even when I wasn’t trying to. 

I love when I’m being authentically quirky without any intentional affectation. I’ll take pride in bringing a little unplanned theatricality (not “drama”) to a gathering and a smile of bemusement to someone. 

I just hope no one ever thinks I’m wearing a Sexy Librarian costume because everyone should know that is just ONE HUNDRED PERCENT me.

*I’ve been decadent and purchased SEVEN new dresses in the last week. I’ve been trying to reduce my carbon footprint and support of businesses with questionable ethics (and I have a serious lack of closet space), but sometimes I still indulge my clothes habit. I can only say as a slim justification that I purchased three of the dresses from a small local business and the others are “eco-friendly.” I consider all of the dresses more or less practical (meaning I can wear them to places I will actually go without too much of a production) but I’m interested to learn if there are more unexpected costume parties in my future! I did wonder if the dress I wore to our anniversary party looked like a swimsuit coverup but no one mentioned that…

**Actually, he said something more colorful about my Holly Hobby look, but you’ll have to ask me about that in person or via a direct message–we have his ministerial reputation to consider. 

Even though this is just a two person play, sometimes I’m not the co-star. Sometimes, I’m not even on stage. 

After 30 years of marriage, I’m just starting to learn the lesson that sometimes, Chad isn’t thinking about me. 

This may sound a little harsh, but it’s actually rather freeing. This shift in perspective is helping me realize that when Chad is frustrated or annoyed or mad, it’s not necessarily about me. And yes, this also applies to recognizing that I’m not always the cause of his positive emotions and experiences, but I may not be quite motivated to explore that insight yet. 

I think most of us feel we’re the hero of our own stories, and that everyone else is a supporting character in our story, or maybe just an extra or in the audience. It’s so hard to imagine that there are an infinite number of other stories simultaneously happening where we’re not the main character. We may just be a prop or scenery.

A mundane example of how I center myself in Chad’s story is that I get annoyed when I see Chad cleaning in the kitchen. The feeling arises before my mind has a chance to kick in and think, “Amy, you’re being silly and unreasonable.” I think part of this feeling is territorial–even though I’m hardly Martha Stewart, I feel like the kitchen is MINE because I’m the one who is always eating, and thereby always looking for or assembling food. I also can’t help but imagine that Chad is thinking “Amy does a crappy job cleaning the kitchen” when he’s cleaning something up. Maybe sometimes he thinks that, but I bet most of the time he just thinks “Hey, this should be cleaned.”

Imagination is the magical means that empowers us to see the world through another’s perspective. I don’t think it’s possible to have empathy without imagination. But for me, it’s far too easy to get wrapped up in imagining how someone is feeling or thinking about me. It’s hard for me to really believe that I may just be part of whatever they are considering or contemplating, or I may not even be in their equation. 

Sometimes our imagination can take us down dubious paths. At some point during the middle years of Chamy, we realized that we were having fights that Chad wasn’t actually present for. “I don’t think I said that,” Chad observed when I referenced something he had supposedly said. “I don’t think we even had a fight about that.” “Oh yeah,” I clarified, “that’s just what I knew you would say, so I didn’t bother actually talking to you about this.” 

While Chad and I agree that I probably am usually right when I imagine what he would say and that we can both save time if I just go ahead and have the fight for the both of us in my head, I now try to sometimes make the effort to include him in a real world argument. Who knows, my imagined responses for him may be wrong. And even if I’m right in playing the role of Chad, it’s still good to sometimes make him do the work of being a participant. 

I can’t imagine love without imagination. I need imagination to understand Chad’s point of view, and to understand that he has his own story. And we both need imagination to create a story of us, and to imagine who we are together, and to make sense of who we have been and who we want to be. 

Most of all, I sometimes need imagination to believe that it’s even possible for Chad and I to love each other in all our messiness and weirdness, and that it’s possible for love to survive and thrive when the world feels just too hard and mean. 

I don’t think my powers of imagination will ever be strong enough to understand why Chad gets angry that he has to eat lunch, but I can at least imagine a world where we successfully share a life together anyway. 

There are some things that I move quickly on (maybe too quickly): Replying to an email, buying tickets to a concert, blaming Chad for something. But for other things, I can put off making a decision or taking action for a long time. 

I often delay making purchases. It’s not because I’m not materialistic–I like things just like any average American–but because shopping can be hard. I frequently find myself overwhelmed by choices. Replacing things is especially challenging, because it usually involves getting rid of the original item and that disposal can create several logistical and environmental headaches. 

I also have a tendency to immediately forget about problems once I’m out of the situation, and prefer to make do with what I’m familiar with, rather than investing time in learning something new. For example…our coffee maker was leaking water for months, but I would forget about it until I encountered the pool of water every morning, and would just think “Oh well, wiping this up is easier than buying and figuring out a new coffee maker.” 

Chad did eventually get us a new coffee maker (and taught me how to use it without us getting into a fight!) but for the last ten or so years I’ve been thinking I need a new curling iron. Not because it was broken or I didn’t like it, but because it didn’t have an automatic shut off. This missing feature led to countless instances of me compulsively checking to see if I turned it off, which was always stressful when I was running late but yet ran back in the house (or asked Chad to) so the curling iron situation could be verified. 

But this era of curling iron anxiety is about to end, as I just ordered a new curling iron with an automatic shut off feature. 

What finally inspired me to take action? This blog! Well, at least in a roundabout way. I’ve been lacking in blogging inspiration, so I decided to try using a conversation starter card by Esther Perel* to generate ideas. I don’t want to call this a “blog challenge” exactly, but I wanted to make a good faith effort to write about whatever question was on the card I randomly picked. The conversation prompt on my card was “An item I’ve been holding on to for too long…” 

Wow, I could answer that in so many ways–everything from the bottle of barbecue sauce in the basement fridge that we will never, ever, consume, to the pair of underwear that I’m highly unlikely to ever wear again but hang on to “just in case.” Maybe I will blog about those items someday (and what case I’m expecting my old underwear might be appropriate for), but I settled on the curling iron. 

Not too long ago, my curling iron DID come apart–the wand part that I wrap my hair around came out of the base. In typical Amy Fashion, I just crammed it back together and forgot about it. But just a few days ago, it came apart again while I was getting ready in the dressing room for the one-act play I’m currently in. This caused some slight embarrassment that combined with a couple of “I’ve never seen a curling iron that looks like that”** comments from castmates put the curling iron at the top of my mind. 

So as I thought, “I could blog about holding on to my old curling iron for too long,” I realized I could actually buy a new curling iron!

Now I wasn’t going to go wild and actually go to a store or anything, so I bought one online. And now I know why I waited so long to buy one–it was surprisingly hard to find a curling iron with the type of wand I wanted that had an automatic shut-off feature. 

I hope I like my new curling iron, and that it is easy to learn to use. And I hope I do actually get rid of my current one (sticking it in a drawer somewhere rather than throwing it away isn’t going to help the environment) 

Maybe my new curling iron will even look less “unusual” and more like a curling iron and less like another device. 

*Yes, I’ve probably been holding on to these cards for far too long without using them–is that meta? I’m not sure who I thought I would have card-inspired conversations with…StanLee?

**My curling iron looks like a sex toy. I’m not sure this is appropriate to include in my blog, but I figure if this observation is buried in a footnote, I’m being discrete and classy. Now, I’m not 100 percent certain this is what my castmates meant by their comment (surprisingly I didn’t ask) but I think it’s a distinct possibility. 

Chad’s quest to become a minister was almost thwarted by my chip eating habits. 

“WHAT are you doing?!” he recently asked as I was digging around in a chip bag trying to retrieve the smallest chip bits. 

He wasn’t exactly disapproving–just deeply confused. So confused that I could see his brain shutting down. He was freezing up in an automatic response caused not by fear, but bewilderment.

I knew this day would come. Over the many years of us sharing a life together, I’ve learned that Chad can regularly find something I say or do so perplexing that his entire being is consumed with trying to figure me out. While it’s scientifically proven that no one is good at multitasking, Chad takes this to a new level when he’s trying to figure out an Amy Mystery–he simply can’t do any other task. 

Chad happily ponders deep theological mysteries that are intellectually challenging, but he can’t fathom how I eat chips. Luckily, Chad was able to pull himself together before I had to report to his seminary that he couldn’t finish his Masters of Divinity because his brain had short-circuited because his wife was just too weird. 

My practice of purposefully seeking out chip particles to partake of is, admittedly, a little peculiar, so I guessed that it would be too much for Chad to process. I tried to protect him from this behavior and not engage in it in his presence, but sometimes, a gal needs her chip fix and can’t wait for privacy. 

You may also be wondering why I intentionally want to eat small pieces of broken chips, instead of chips that are fully intact. It’s a simple case of the “just a small bite” phenomenon taken to extremes. I started purposefully eating the bits of chips with the hope that I would eat less chips…and then I got to actually prefer them. I know it’s unlikely that I actually eat less chips by eating small pieces (perhaps I even eat more) but at least this tactic draws out the process and slows me down. It takes me longer not only to eat the chips, but to rummage in the bag for them. It’s become a little game, a little ritual, that makes chip eating even more enjoyable. I even enjoy the physical sensation of eating small chip pieces better, which is ineffable, because obviously they have the same texture and taste of whole chips, but they just feel different. Better. Special. 

I do have rules for my chip game. Or at least one rule: the broken chip pieces have to be naturally occurring–I’m not going to take whole chips and break or smash them. And I will go to some lengths to get the small pieces, which usually fall to the bottom of the bag. I’ve poured the contents of a bag on the counter to get at the small bits, and then put the whole chips back in the bag, and sometimes I even have two bags open at once so I can more easily separate the big and small pieces. (Luckily Chad didn’t see this level of chip consumption complexity or he might be catatonic). 

I did confirm with Chad that he wasn’t hoping for the chip bits for himself–he definitely prefers the bigger pieces of chips. So we agreed we had our own version of “Jack Sprat” going on.  

Isn’t our complementary chip consumption a cool little example of how we fit together, and how Chamy works?

It’s almost an example of how I have great power over Chad, so let’s hope I never choose to misuse my ability to confound him. 

This year I took my birthday observance to a new level (not saying in which direction) and decorated a birthday tree.

My birthday tree was initially our Christmas tree. We broke with our tradition and put up an artificial tree this year. I was excited by this change–I didn’t think Chad would be up for it, but jokingly suggested it as we were late in getting a real tree. When Chad was open to the fake tree option, I seized it. I’m not anti-real tree, but we always had fake Christmas trees when I was a kid and they seem like less hassle. 

Procuring an artificial tree turned out to be a bit of an undertaking itself. Ideally, I would have loved to have a retro aluminum tree, but I wasn’t willing to put the time or money into finding one. My laziness basically limited me to shopping at Target or Home Depot. 

Since we were going the faux route, we both agreed to go all in with it and we got a white tree. No one would think we were harboring any illusions that our tree could pass as real. (I did suggest a pink tree but that was a little too extreme for Chad). 

Once we had a white faux Christmas tree up, it was a short distance to “Hey, let’s make that a Valentine’s tree,” especially as I already had some appropriate lights. I also have a personal precedent for having a Valentine’s tree because I had them in my young teen days.

Having a Valentine’s Day tree isn’t that unusual, but a birthday tree? I’m not sure what inspired me to give it a whirl–I definitely wouldn’t have bothered if my birthday wasn’t so soon after Valentine’s Day. 

So what does a “birthday tree” even mean? How would I decorate it? Lots of ideas floated through my head, ranging from the silly to the obscure. Should I embrace the birthday party motif? Have lots of cupcake lights? Do I decorate with ornaments that somehow symbolize Amyness? Do I just go with anything teal (my birthstone color) or fish-related (as Pisces is my Zodiac sign). I was limited by not wanting to invest too much time into my birthday tree or buying too much from Amazon, especially as I don’t know if this will just be a one time passing fancy. 

I ended up with a loosely-themed Pisces tree with teal lights and a string of “Ocean Beach Themed Sea Life Cute Fairy Decorative String Lights”. (Unfortunately, I missed that this string of lights is battery operated, so they’re not very convenient to turn on). I also got a string of lights that spell out “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” and supplemented the lights with some teal flower lights I already owned because of years of being interested in decorative lights. 

I don’t have too many ornaments on the tree–I was able to use some plastic “Happy Birthday” rings that originally were cupcake toppers so I felt pretty resourceful about that. I also hung up some plastic bead strings that have fish on them that I found buried in my jewelry chest (no, I did not get them at mardi gras and I have no idea why I have them). After some deliberation, I decided to leave the sushi Christmas ornament, even though it feels a little macabre to have on a fish/Pisces themed tree.

I don’t have a topper for my tree, but I did repurpose two big Pisces symbols that were part of a banner. Overall, the banner was a purchase fail–it was supposed to say “Big Pisces Energy” but when I opened it I discovered that I needed to string the banner together. NO. I guess I’m not sure what “Big Pisces Energy” means (the phrase just amuses me) but certainly no one with Big Pisces Energy is going to be bothered with assembling a manner. We Pisceans are clearly too busy being emotional and creative and needy for that. 

Now that we’re past the Days of Pisces (Feb. 19-March 20), I’m pondering the value of my birthday tree. Did it make my birthday more festive? Add a little spark to my celebration? I’m not sure yet if my birthday tree was worth the effort, or the space it takes up, and now I need to decide if I’m going to leave our tree up and redecorate it for Easter. I think I will, since I already have some easter/spring light strings. I am a little nervous to play in this “Christmas tree gets left up all year” space, especially given my sister’s history with leaving up a tree most (all?) of the year (yes, another slightly oblique reference to the family feud/fish sandwich in the Christmas tree story that you will have to ask me about in person), but I think I’ll risk it. Maybe we’ll deliberately end up being a “tree of life” house celebrating everything from my birthday to quirky national holidays to personal milestones.

What could a Chamy 30th Anniversary tree look like? (To be continued?…)

If you do happen to see our Tree of Life (not to be confused with a “Life Day” tree that might celebrate the wookie holiday) when you visit or drive by our house (or if you happen to be our neighbor) please just know that it is intentional, and that we haven’t left our Christmas tree ups as a sign that we’ve just thrown in the towel when it comes to upholding our domestic standards (we’ve got other signs of that). 

I had high hopes for my recent vacation to Mexico for Brandi Carlile’s Girls Just Wanna music festival, but I never dreamed I would experience the enchanting sight of a crowd batting around small inflatable horses. 

We were watching the band Muna perform their song “Anything But Me,” which opens with the awesome lyric “You’re gonna say that I’m on a high horse, I think that my horse is regular-sized,” so presumably, the horses were in honor of that. The horses were cute and it was fun to see them flying through the air, but I was really impressed by the deep fandom for Muna people must have had to know that this was a thing to do, and that they took the time and effort to obtain the horses (where does one even buy an inflatable horse?) and to bring them along to Mexico. I guess an inflatable horse (which the lead singer referred to as “Staceys”) doesn’t take up that much room in your luggage, but still, that demonstrates an above average level of commitment. 

I don’t know why the horses are known as “Staceys” (a cursory Google search didn’t give an answer) so I’m clearly not a hardcore Muna fan (although I definitely like them). But I loved the energy and enthusiasm of the crowd, and the joy was contagious. I didn’t have to understand everything that was going on to experience delight. 

When I was younger, I thought I couldn’t really be a fan of something unless I was an “expert” on it. Now, while I still appreciate having some context and background for whatever art or entertainment I’m experiencing, I’ve given up on having to know too much about it. Maybe it’s because I now have access to so much more than I did when I was young (thanks in large part to the internet). Maybe I don’t have as much “free” time to dedicate to my cultural education. Maybe I’ve just accepted that it’s okay if I’m not that knowledgeable about something, and that I don’t have to prove my fan bonafides to myself or anyone else. Maybe liking (or not liking) something isn’t as much a part of my identity as it used to be. Maybe I’ve learned to lighten up just a bit and just enjoy the moment. 

I think I’m learning to find more opportunities to experience things as surprising and interesting and cool. 

Of course, this is easier to do when on vacation, when encountering so many new and different things. “Oh, look, I was just startled by an iguana! THAT doesn’t happen at home in Minneapolis…and hey, guava for breakfast! And hey, I’ve never been at a music festival before that had bathroom attendants for the port-a-potties!”

Recently I saw a column headline about having a “Traveller’s Mindset,” which made me think about how I want to have a “Vacation Mindset,” even when I’m at home. No, I don’t mean thinking it’s a good idea to regularly engage in day drinking, but to expect to find delights, and to be open to being charmed and intrigued. Okay, living my regular life in Minnesota is probably not going to be as magical as spending time at a resort in Mexico, but perceiving my life as even 5 percent more enchanted would probably feel pretty extraordinary. I do regularly encounter passionate quirky people here that I can appreciate, an adorable neighbor dog that quivers with excitement and loves to run along the fence with StanLee, and sherpa-lined leggings to make me feel cozy–just to name a few regular life pleasures. 

Maybe when I need to add a little pizazz to my life I’ll just starting thinking of people and things as “Stacey.”

I just bought a fanny pack.

I don’t know who I am anymore.

Okay, I do know who I am. I’m a middle-aged lady who is about to embark on a vacation to Mexico to attend Brandi Carlile’s music festival, and I got sucked into a time vortex at Target trying to find gear* at the last minute to make my vacation as awesome as possible. I’m very excited about and thankful to be going on this vacation, but I’m also anxious about it. This anxiety is getting transubstantiated into consumer angst: What are the perfect things to buy that will make me look as cute as possible, be useful, easy to pack, and practical enough to justify the consumer waste I am creating?!

I bought the fanny pack because I wanted some type of personal storage device that will let me conveniently carry around essential items at the festival. I was thinking of a small purse, but none of the purses at Target seemed right. Before I knew it I was considering a fanny pack–yes, as a teen of the 80’s they give me some cultural PTSD, but apparently they’ve made a comeback and I can adapt with the times, right? So I bought the fanny pack, but its fate is uncertain–the strap seems way too long, and I’m realizing that one of my running belts might work just as well, if not better.

I also bought a new swimsuit, which seems reasonable since we’re staying at a beach resort, but I already own several serviceable swimsuits that more or less fit. Yes, they’re old, including items from the now defunct Target brands of Mossimo and Merona, but as I almost never wear them, they are in okay shape. But swimsuits don’t take up much room in a suitcase, right? (NO! I’m not going to let myself go on a rant right now about how inadequate my luggage is).

I did resist some temptation–I did NOT buy new flip flops (my Croc sandals are amazingly just fine, if ugly, after 15 years!!) or a new hat (because I remembered that I have two cowboy sun hats, which seem very appropriate for this event, and now I just have to figure out which one to bring). Okay, I only failed to buy new running shorts because I couldn’t find any, but still. And I bought at least one practical and necessary thing–sunscreen! It’s even reef safe (I think).

I think I have everything essential for vacation except insect repellant (which I’m hoping I can still get at CVS). The recommended packing list does include a carabiner, which I don’t have, but that’s so one can attach a water bottle to a belt loop, and most of my clothes don’t have belt loops. Luckily, I have small, flat, water bottles for running that will fit into pockets or a small personal storage device (whether that ends up being a fanny packet or a small Baggallini purse that I just ordered from Amazon while writing this, talk about fraught consumer choices). Anyway, I don’t think I’ll die of thirst even without a carabiner.

The recommended (technically “Bueno”) list also includes a “Sweat Lighter”–what the hell is that? Yes, I did a cursory Google search, and I’m still nonplussed. I think I’ll just leave that as a mystery to solve on vacation.

If you are a calm and/or experienced traveler, you are probably rather bemused and mystified by all this packing drama. Or if you are just a relatively grounded person, you’re probably wondering why and how I can make a vacation so much work. I guess it’s just one of my superpowers (do real superheroes go on vacation?)

*Portlandia reference: https://youtu.be/R3SFqV0hMyo?si=IVfuRDhq2L4yDBBO