Amy Lu's View

Are you a list-maker? Or maybe a list-consumer? If so, what kind? Many of us may first think of “To-Do” lists but there are all kinds of lists. I present:

A List of Lists

• To-do list
• Grocery/shopping list
• “Best of” and “Worst of” list
• Top 10 list (which could be “positive” or “negative”)
• Book list
• Reading list (yes, that’s different from a book list…I’m a librarian, trust me)
• Laundry list (which nowadays isn’t usually really about laundry)
• List of ingredients
• Christmas card list
• Vocabulary list
• Checklist
• Wishlist
• Playlist
• Guest list
• Cast list
• Short list
• Bucket list
• Hit list
• Who’s Who list
• Honey do list
• and, I can’t leave out…The Sh#t List (a favorite of my mother’s)

I don’t use all of these types of lists, or at least not that often. For example, I rarely need a list of ingredients, or at least it’s not much of a list:

Amy’s typical recipe list:

• Vegetables
• Faux meat
• Vegetables
• Hot sauce
• Pasta
• Vegetables

And I’m pretty sure a “Honey Do” list would not go over well in the Chamy household. (Although there is sometimes a “Honey Don’t” note on a whiteboard–as in “Don’t put dirty dishes in the dishwasher because I haven’t unloaded the clean ones yet.”)

But I love using lists when I write. Whether it’s a blog post or an e-mail or a performance review or a journal entry, using a list helps me get ideas out faster without having to worry about finding pesky connecting words to string my thoughts together. Lists help me escape the tyranny of prose.

Lists can be oppressive, though–especially To-Do Lists. Frog and Toad discover this in the story, “The List.” The titular list starts our harmlessly enough: Toad wakes up and feels he needs to get a lot done so he makes a To-Do list, beginning with “Wake Up.” I love that–making a To-Do list of achievable goals that are easily crossed off seems like a wise strategy.

At first, the list is empowering and affirming for Toad. He gets things on the list done and then gets to cross them off and he feels accomplished.

Then the list blows away, and Toad is completely stuck.

It’s like the chorus of the Greg Brown song:

Love calls like the wild birds-

It’s another day

A Spring wind blew my list of

Things to do…away

“Spring Wind” by Greg Brown

But unlike Greg Brown, Toad doesn’t embrace the freedom of losing his list. He doesn’t know what to do without his list. Toad, and his faithful friend, Frog, just sit around in limbo without a list to give them guidance.

Until eventually…they make a new list by writing “Go to sleep” in the dirt.

I think it’s now time to take a look at my To-Do List for the evening. I’m pretty sure the first items on it are “Publish a blog post” and “Drink red wine.”

*Yes, I’m hating on Hall and Oates again-even though it wasn’t on my list of things to do.

I spent the afternoon listening to the Inauguration Playlist (https://www.cnn.com/2021/01/16/politics/joe-biden-inauguration-playlist/index.html).

It has left me humbled, enlightened, confused, slightly critical, and inspired. 

Humbled, because I was unfamiliar with so many songs on the list. Not surprisingly, it was primarily the songs by young and or/artists of color that I didn’t know or didn’t know well. Yes, I know if one looks up “Middle-aged White Lady” in the dictionary the definition will be accompanied by an illustration of me. I know I’m not “hip” but still don’t always appreciate being confronted by that in such a stark way. 

Intertwined with humility is feeling enlightened–and not just about music by young or BIOPIC artists. I’m familiar with the Led Zeppelin song on the list (I grew up in rural Wisconsin in the 70’s afterall) but I didn’t know the title was “Fool in the Rain.”

Confused (or perhaps more accurately bemused) as some of the song choices just seem odd. I’m probably thinking too hard about the lyrics, when this playlist is intended to be a feel good, optimistic for at-home inauguration festivities. (I don’t think it’s intended to be an accurate snapshot of the type of music Joe normally listen to–maybe Kamala, but not Joe). But I can’t help but think that “Whatta Man” is supposed to be about Joe Biden…and while that totally works with the chorus, lyrics in the verses get a little strange…especially “And although most men are ho’s, he flows on the down low.”

I also love me some Steely Dan, and the song “Do It Again” is certainly groovy, but the lyrics are definitely dark (“And the mourners are all singin’ as they drag you by your feet

But the hangman isn’t hangin’ and they put you on the street.”) Maybe we’re just supposed to focus on the title and think about electing a Democrat again in 2024.  

Slightly critical, and only slightly, because really, I don’t want to be a hater here, but I’m just not going to approve of a Hall and Oates song (“You Make My Dreams Come True.”) I know, this is a controversial stand, and maybe someday I’ll have a conversion and finally appreciate the wonder of H&O, but I’m not that yet.

I do also wish there was a Country and/or Americana song or two on the playlist. Not only do I like the genre, I do think it would further the goal of inclusivity–and hey, not all Country fans are MAGA peeps. And isn’t Dolly Parton the only thing we can all agree on as a country?

But oh, I am inspired in so many ways. Inspired to learn more about the artists that are new to me. I’m inspired by the positivity of the music itself–sometimes the literal message of the lyrics, sometimes the feeling of the music, and sometimes both. Most importantly, inspired by the vision of America this playlist represents–diverse and optimistic. 

Our Chamy inauguration “party” is probably going to look pretty much like most Wednesdays do for us–Chad will have Geek Night (role playing gaming, online in the pandemic world) and I will drink too much and blog.

But I’ll be listening to the playlist in the days leading up to and following the inauguration, and it will help me feel connected to something bigger than our little NE Minneapolis enclave.

I have lost my black fleece-lined leggings!

This is a personal tragedy on a grand scale: 1) I hope to do some cold weather running in the foreseeable future 2) I’m cheap and they were relatively expensive and 3) Due to chip and booze weight gain, I don’t have many other “pants”/leg coverings that fit (certainly not of the non-elastic waistband variety).

So I am in a perfect situation to empathize with Toad’s predicament in the story, “The Lost Button” (Frog and Toad blogging challenge #6). 

As the title probably suggests, Toad loses a button. His faithful friend Frog tries to help him find it, and presents him with several “lost” buttons, but none of them are Toad’s lost button. Eventually, Toad realizes his button was in his home all along (a variation of the “Wizard of Oz–Red Shoes Can Take You Home At Any Time” theme). He uses all the newly acquired “lost” buttons to bling out/bedazzle a jacket for Frog. 

We, the readers, learn: a) Make a positive out of a seemingly negative situation b) Explore all options before freaking out and c) Don’t underestimate the psychological and spiritual value of accessorizing.

So the mystery of the Toad’s lost button was solved, and deeper universal truths were uncovered. 

I’ve never really considered myself a mystery fan. Sure, Sherlock Holmes and Agatha Christie are fine and all, but solving a mystery is too much like playing a game or doing a puzzle. You have to pay attention to details.

But I don’t think I’m giving mysteries–or myself–enough credit. While I’m not typically into whodunnits, I am interested in psychological mysteries. Why do people (& okay, I usually mean Chad) do the mystifying things they do? (Why does Chad put food in the microwave without starting it?)

I’m also interested in the mysteries of the universe–where is the missing giant black hole?

And no, I’m not going to tackle political mysteries–this is probably not the best place to try and figure out why people believe in Q-Anon. 

“What is a mystery you can’t seem to solve?” is another Live Wire radio question. Psychology and astronomy aside, the most perplexing unsolved mysteries of my life have always been wardrobe-related. Yes, due to poor organization and rarely actually putting my clothes away, I am constantly losing my clothes. (“Losing one clothes” should be a problem that arises from much more exciting and sexy circumstances).

My most persistent and long-lasting wardrobe mystery is: What happened to my The Current hoodie?

More than 10 years ago, I had, and lost, a hoodie with a logo for The Current (89.3 public radio) designed by Adam Turman. 

I have looked, and looked, and looked, to no avail. Did I leave it somewhere? But where? Hoodies aren’t like jackets–they’re hard to casually take on and off and discard. I’m pretty sure one of my friends would have noticed and said something if I left if at their house….Did I accidentally donate it to Savers?…Did it slip through a wormhole (maybe this is an astronomical mystery afterall?) Did the Deep State steal it? (Oh yeah, I promised not to go there).

I think I have more or less come to terms with the disappearance of my hoodie and the reality that it’s gone and I’ll never know what happened to it. (Although on my deathbed it might be my “Rosebud”). 

I still have hopes for finding my black leggings. 

I have much less hope for being able to once again fit into my non-elastic waist band pants. 

*One of my favorite and most deeply meaningful spirtual songs by Iris Dement (altough I learned it through a David Byrne/Natalie Merchant cover). It can also apply to missing articles of clothing.

Imagination is a good thing, right?

My first response to this question is a resounding “Hell, Yeah!”

I’m pondering this question because our church’s theme for January is “Imagination.”

I even have a bit (okay, a lot) of a prejudice against people who seem to have little or no sense of imagination. But maybe that’s just defensiveness–“Sci-Fi/Fantasy” is my favorite genre of entertainment and art, but it seems to be frequently maligned, so I compensate by pitying those poor souls who have no ability to suspend disbelief.

Of course limiting “imagination” to just being able to dig vampires and superheroes and Time Lords is pretty unimaginative. And imagination isn’t always positive. As I touched on in my last Frog and Toad blog post, imagination helps us see and consider all types of possibilities–both positive and negative. It can fuel our anxiety and our optimism.

Imagination helps us to identify with and have compassion for others…whether they be fictional aliens or Republicans. And in doing so, we learn more about ourselves. Imagination also allows us to get lost in made-up scenarios where the Big Bad Other is out to get us.

Imagination makes life more full, and interesting, and meaningful…and also stressful and scary. It helps us do great, and terrible, things on a personal and communal level. It empowers us to create and work and play and love and hate and fear and be brave.

AND…stories about vampires and witches and space travellers are just way more cool and interesting and compelling, and I can’t help but feel smug if you don’t get that. I just can’t imagine a reality where I wouldn’t be self-righteous about that.

For my third installment of pondering my life in 2020, particularly as it was impacted by the COVID pandemic, I’m considering the Live Wire question: “What have you learned about yourself?”

Several things I learned about myself weren’t revelations–pandemic life has highlighted things about myself that I already knew. Such as:

• I think a LOT about eating and food and plan my days around acquiring, preparing, and consuming food. Plus, I eat for entertainment (which I think is slightly different than eating because I’m bored).
• I like having (and feel I need to have) a “project”–anything from blogging to a maintaining a running streak to performing at virtual coffee house.
• I really like performing! Thank heavens I’ve been able to do online performances–yes, they lack the connection between audience and fellow performers, but they’ve been an important (and convenient) outlet and I’ve developed new skills.

The biggest and most surprising thing I’ve learned about myself is that I actually like spending a lot of time at home. I mean a LOT of time. Thanks to my fortunate circumstances and my ability to work at home and get everything I need delivered, I can go weeks without getting in a car or setting foot in a building other than my home (Yes, I do go outside–although there have been days this winter when I’ve only taken out the trash). And I’m–mostly–okay with that. I don’t seem to miss running errands or having casual contact with strangers the way many people do.

I also seem to have a higher than usual tolerance for living my life via screen. I’ve rarely had that feeling I’ve heard others express of “Lord, I can’t take another moment of Zoom (or whatever).” I even hope that many (although not all) of my work, church, and entertainment life will remain online in the after times.

A less far-ranging but highly surprisingly thing I’ve recently learned is that I like Wild Turkey (the bourbon, not acutal wild or slightly domesticated turkeys that wander around NE Minneapolis, setting off StanLee and intimidating me when I run. I still hate those assholes).

No, it’s not surprising that I like a bourbon, but I had it my head that Wild Turkey was not a “good bourbon.” This has been a deep-seated, long standing assumption with it’s roots in college. Chad had a couple of unfortunate experiences with Wild Turkey when we were in college, so for 20 plus years I have associated Wild Turkey with bad alcohol that one drinks in college. And, I knew nothing about bourbon in the early 90’s, and I’ve never liked turkeys, so it was easy to be prejudiced.

Turns out, Wild Turkey is a totally acceptable and enjoyable mid-level bourbon. This is a pandemic-related discovery because my efforts to clean out our basement kitchen (part of our larger Pandemic-stay-at-home effort to declutter) led me to try the bottle of Wild Turkey that had been languishing there.

I have no idea when we got this bottle. That remains an unsolved mystery.

Maybe I can expand my new-found appreciation of Wild Turkey to a more far-ranging discovery about myself. I can re-think long held assumptions, and learn to appreciate new things. I can be curious and brave and try questionable foodstuffs.

AND the whole Wild Turkey revelation reinforces something I knew about myself before the pandemic: I’m terribly cheap and can’t stand the thought of wasting something. That really does seem to exlempify my pandemic related learning: Confirming something I knew about myself while also allowing for new discovery.

To paraphrase Popeye, I am what I am…but who knows what I might be?

Wednesday is often my night to blog. Not the only time I blog, but as it’s usually Chad’s Geek Night, it’s a nice routine…he plays online D&D and I blog.

I’ve been planning for a while now to use this Wednesday to blog about “Small Wins” since COVID, continuing to seek inspiration from Live Wire Radio and their audience question, “Tell us about a small win that felt really good.”

And then our country experienced an attempted coup today (unfortunately not completely unexpected) and writing about my Small Wins seems ludicrous.

I’m going to do it anyway. There’s no way I can helpfully blog about today’s event (I will say “WTF?!!” and express deep gratitude for everyone who is preserving our democracy). And maybe keeping up our little traditions and daily life in some way preserves order (it’s probably not hurting anything, I hope).

So, small wins that have made me feel really good–in no particular order. Some of these are actually “big” wins on the Amy scale, though small in the grand scheme of things:

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• Making the TBTL podcast online Talent Show with my “Pandrumic” drum solo
• Completing a 210 Day Running Streak and getting a PR on the “virtual” Women Run the Cities 10 Mile
• Singing in front of tens of people at the Landmark Center and feeling really good about my performance (socially distanced performance–we were on the balcony)
• Writing postcards and letters for the “UU the Vote” voter drive
• Figuring out how to use Instacart for delivery and pickup
• All my online MSUS coffee house performances and supporting Chad (i.e. staying out of his way) as he keeps the coffee house going
• Finishing three latch hook projects (one started pre-COVID)
• Participating in a six-week online course on “Transgender Inclusion in Congregations” with other members from our church
• Visiting several locals parks I’ve never or rarely been to, and NOT getting lost in the parks
• Acting in and to a small extent helping with creation of online productions with Applause Community Theater: A Collection of One-Acts (Chad and I did “Post-It Notes On a Marriage”), a new play reading, and Uh-Oh: Here Comes Christmas (a BIG win).
• Watching–and getting inspired by–most of the Democratic National Convention
• Giving away boxes of old clothes from high school and young adulthood and toys (“collectibles”) from our earlier Chamy years
• Participating in a spiritually small group with our church that involved a lot of stillness and deep listening
• Only gaining 4 pounds through alcohol and chip consumption (hey, it could have been worse)
• Keeping this blog going

None of these wins saved Democracy, but none of them could have happened without it (or at the very least they would have felt less victorious).

I expected 2020 to be a “big year.” 

My reasoning was a little superficial–2020 was full of big milestones: Turning 50, our 25th Anniversary, and the 20th anniversary of my mom’s death (obviously not a happy milestone but an important one). I wasn’t really sure what “big” meant or what I thought it would look like, but we did have a trip planned to explore Washington State’s San Juan Islands.

So yeah, the trip didn’t happen, and our anniversary celebration was decidedly lowkey (I did get a lovely birthday bash in before lockdown–although without lockdown, I probably would have had at least a couple more). 

But of course, 2020 was a BIG YEAR–or a something year. It was definitely an important year, a defining year. 

I just wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t attempt to do some reflective blogging as 2020 turns into 2021. Yeah, it does feel pretentious and presumptuous and self-absorbed to blog about 2020 when it was a horrible, lonely, depressing, scary and oppressive year for many–so, so many. I’m only attempting to write about my experience in this post (and any previous or subsequent posts about 2020–or anything, really) as an incredibly lucky, privileged, white, middle-class and middle-aged experience.

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So, for inspiration in trying to make sense of, or at least acknowledge, 2020, I’m using/modifying questions posed to the audience of one of our favorite radio shows/podcast, “Live Wire.”

I’m going to start with:

What’s a positive change you want to keep from this time?

• Taking more walks (even/especially in not “ideal” weather) and getting to know my neighborhood better
• Going to local parks (city, county and even State)
• Not having as much FOMO (Fear of Missing Out)
• Starting to declutter our house
• Being a diligent fan of the TBTL podcast and Live Wire Radio
• Doing more solo singing while accompanying myself on keyboard
• Rocking the athleisure look more often and wearing the many race shirts I have
• Keeping connected with church friends I’ve gotten to know better through our various Zoom gatherings

And perhaps, most importantly, I want to keep appreciating small comforts and getting more excited about “little” things. Even though I can’t even think of any good example of this, or any “new” comforts in 2020–I just have this sense that I did appreciate things more and I don’t want to lose that. Yes, little, ordinary things like good coffee and soft fleece and purring cats and sunshine. (And yes, mid-level bourbon and red wine). I hope 2021 is full of these gifts and that I am wise and present enough to appreciate them.

I LOVE Christmas cards (or whatever winter holiday cards are appropriate).

I love getting them and I love sending them out.

I’m also really bad at sending them out–I’m super disorganized and can never keep track of people’s addresses from year to year. I also struggle with remembering who I’ve actually sent them to this year.

Oh yes, I have a spreadsheet. But I’m still a disorganized hot mess. But a Merry hot mess, so it’s all good.

You may be asking, “Aren’t you a LIBRARIAN? Shouldn’t you be ORGANIZED?”

No, that is yet one more well-meaning but slighlty infuriating (at least to me) stereotypes about librarians. (The top infuriating-to-Amy stereotpye is that we are “smart” and automatically know things). As a librarian, I know (theoretically) how to retrieve information, not how to organize it (that’s a very specific and highly skilled subset of librarianship known as cataloging).

AND, I ran out of stamps. I thought I had ordered more, but apparently didn’t push the right button to complete the purchase.

“Greeting cards have all been sent, The Christmas rush is through

But I still have one wish to make, A special one for you…”

–“Merry Christmas Darling,” The Carpenters

Of course it’s not just mailing the cards…creating the cards is quite an undertaking. And by “creating” I mean ordering them through Shutterfly and deciding which photos to use to capture the year. Sure, I could easily fill a card with photos of me, but I do aspire to use photos of both Chad and I, and finding such photos that are at least moderately flattering of both of us is no easy task. Finding photos for 2020 was really challenging as most photos of us were screenshots.

I’m always nervous that I’ve selected the wrong photos or included a typo until the cards actually show up. Luckily, it hasn’t happened yet….

And To Christmas Letter or Not To Christmas Letter? I think Christmas Letters are the bee’s knees and always enjoy reading others, but mine seem pretentious and annoying. Oh, that doesn’t stop me from sending them in the end, but I do wrestle with the wisdom of it.

Despite how much I lack in the art of Christmas card management and execution, I totally dig everything about them. I love having a holiday project and mission, and the tradition and ritual.

I love the sense of connection Christmas cards give me to people throughout my life. I love how I maintain relationships with some people only through Christmas cards–not that I wouldn’t like to communicate with them more, but in awe that we’ve kept up sending cards to each for so long (in some cases 20 some years).

This year, I even participated in a card exchange with other fans of our beloved podcast “TBTL.” Yes, that is hardcore fandom AND Christmas card mania.

And…YES, this post brings us to the official conclusion of the “Twelve Blog Posts of Christmas Challenge.” It took some unexpected topic twists and turns and gave me an excuse to indulge in extra sentimentality.

Now that I can spend less time blogging I can devote more time to getting my Christmas cards out before Valentine’s Day.

It can be pretty easy to assume the worst.

This is the trap Toad falls into when Frog is late for Christmas Eve in their aptly titled story, “Christmas Eve.”

As Toad awaits Frog’s arrival for their holiday celebration, he starts imagining all the kinds of different horrible fates that may have befallen his dear friend: Falling in a hole, getting lost in the woods, being eaten by a big animal. Just like many of us “creative types,” Toad experiences that one of the downfalls of having a strong imagination is that can be overactive and torment you with anxiety.

But Toad doesn’t passively sit around waiting and worrying. He arms himself with a rope, and a lantern, and a big frying pan and is just about to set off to rescue Frog when Frog arrives.

My first response is to admire Toad for being ready to take action, but it probably would have been wiser for Toad to hang back and calm down and and try to accurately assess the situation. If Toad had charged off to “save” Frog, it’s very likely that Toad could have had some type of accident himself.

My family MO was definitely Toad-like: Spiral into negative thinking about potential disasters, and then after fully working oneself into a tizzy, race into action to fix things, ideally with a hopelessly complicated plan.

Our church theme for this month is “Stillness.” It’s been a hard theme for me to embrace, and when I started this post about Frog and Toad I didn’t think there was going to be connection to the topic. But now, as I write this, I’m certainly seeing one. I often equate “stillness” with passiveness and giving up, but this amphibian Yuletide tale is helping me see their can be wisdom in stopping to take a breath (literally and figuratively).

In fact, it was just a year ago on Christmas Eve when I fell on my ass after I got a bee in my bonnet (delicate way of saying mad at Chad) and decided I needed to take StanLee out in the middle of the night while we were visiting Chad’s family. (Yes, there was some alcohol comsumption involved). I barely made it out of the front door before I slipped on the ice. Luckily, I didn’t get seriously injured, but it hurt so bad that I’m still kind of astounded when I remember it. The fall may have also caused a leg issue that kept me from running normally for about four months.

That whole “Amy Falls on Her Ass on Christmas Eve 2019” debacle could have been avoided if I had just took a moment to be still and think through my assumption that StanLee was going to blow up if didn’t get to go outside right at that very moment.

Luckily, I’ve been more chill this Christmas Eve (and Christmas Day and Day After Christmas) and and there haven’t been any falls–although StanLee did almost trip me while I was putting him in his crate.

*Yes, now that is it Boxing Day, I am getting around to blogging about Christmas Eve. And for the record, this post officially fills my “Twelve Days of Christmas Blog Challenge” (Day #11?!) AND my “Frog and Toad Blog Challenge” (Post 5/15, one-third finished!).

Chad got me a super cool Yamaha Reface keyboard for Christmas. It’s main claim to fame is that it can make really awesome organ sounds. It’s the second in the Reface line that we have. Now all I have to do is figure out how to use and how to get it to make all the super funky sounds I want (or get Chad to figure it out and show me).

All I can really say at this point is that it’s red, and I’m really psyched. I hope I can figure it out enough to be able to play it for our church’s zoom coffee house soon, and that I can play it with one of our bands in the not-too distant future.

Not only is this an amazing present, it’s sentimental because one of the first “big” presents that Chad ever gave me (other than an engagement ring) was a Casio keyboard. We were living in our rented house in Cedar Rapids, IA, in the mid-90’s and I was missing have a piano and had aspirations of spending more time playing keys.

I don’t remember how much I ended up playing immediately following that Christmas, but playing keys has been a constant in my life since then. It’s certainly become more important since I became the keyboard player for our band Pigeons From Hell and during COVID when I’ve been doing almost weekly keyboard/vocal solo coffee house offerings.

Chad’s gift way back then laid a foundation for my 30ish year journey of playing piano/keys as an adult. Sometimes the music I make is made badly or half-assedly (I often joke about embracing my inner-Linda McCartney, RIP), and I’m a much more confident drummer than keyboardist, but I’m so grateful to have the outlet. (Especially as it’s hard to do a drum/vocal solo and a keyboard is much more mobile. If I ever decide to go busking it will be eaiser to do it wtih a keyboard and amp than a drumset).