Amy Lu's View

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:

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 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.

• 

• 

• 

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).

My Running Streak of 2020 ended yesterday, December 23. I ran 210 days in a row (a minimum of a mile every day) for a total of 1051.58 miles. That’s an average of just a smidge over 5 miles per day.

This isn’t a particularly Christmasy topic, but as the conclusion of my running streak occured during my Blogging streak (of only 12 days), I’m going to write about it and count the post as one of the “Twelve Blog Posts of Christmas” (Day #9).

The only connection I can make to Christmas is that my running streak was a gift I gave to myself. Particularly the time that I made for myself so I could run that much. I spent over 178 hours running during my streak. That’s only the actual running–that doesn’t count all the time I spent trying to work up the motivation to go running and get dressed for running, etc. Not to mention all the time spent on taking selfies and social media posts about running.

Was that the best possible use of that time? Certainly some of those hours could have been better spent, but overall I feel so grateful that I’ve had the time and health and ability (and cooperative weather) for my running streak. And thankful for all the hours of podcasts (mostly “TBTL”) and audiobooks that I listened to.

And of course, as I’ve blogged about numerous times, running gives me so many gifts: confidence, discipline, all the benefits of movement, a reason to get outside, an obsession that’s relatively positive, and membership in a amazingly supportive community.

There wasn’t any special reason that my streak ended at Day 210, beyond yesterday’s blizzard (I had plenty of time to get my run in finished before the weather turned) and my decision not to risk running on ice today. And I do like that it’s a “solid” number (no, that’s not a mathematical principle, but 209 would have felt unfinished).

I don’t have new running goals at the moment, beyond trying to support my running with a foundation of healthier nutrition (that’s my polite way of saying that I aspire to cut back on my cracker/chip and booze intake.) Yeah, nothing new there but just because it’s not a new goal doesn’t mean it’s not worthy). 

When Chad proposed to me, my response was, “You’re kidding.” [Note from Chad: She also gave a little laugh].

I’m not proud of this, but it’s the truth, and I feel like it’s time to go on the record with “the rest of the story” (to quote Paul Harvey, icon of my childhood). Actually, I’m surprised that I haven’t already blogged about this–if I have, I can’t find it.

(Quick recap, in case you’ve missed it–Chad proposed to me in his beautifully-written column for the Marion, Iowa newspaper on December 23, 1993).

So what in the world was I thinking?

In the weeks leading up to Chad’s proposal, I was frustrated, confused, and homesick. We had just moved to Marion, Iowa, a couple of months earlier and I missed my family and didn’t feel like I had created new connections yet in our new home. I didn’t think Chad, as a proper young liberal, “believed” in marriage (wasn’t sure I, as a bona fide young feminist, did, either) and I really didn’t know what I was doing with my life as new college graduate or what we were doing as couple.

We even had a fight a few weeks before Chad proposed because I basically told him I was going home for Christmas and didn’t really care what his holiday plans were. He told me I couldn’t do that and that we needed to spend Christmas together but didn’t give me a “good” reason (because he had already bought my engagement ring and was working on his incredibly romantic surprise).

I really was stunned by and completely unprepared for Chad’s proposal. I was quite insecure in myself, in us, and in life. So that swirl of emotions got conveyed in a blurted “You’re kidding!” (I also couldn’t quite wrap my head around Chad printing his proposal in his newspaper column in the real newspaper–I briefly thought maybe it was a copy of the paper only for me).

To top it all off, Chad was really sick with strep throat, and we didn’t have insurance so he didn’t see a doctor.

So in some ways, an extremely romantic proposal was actually pretty unromantic (yes, because of me). But, I actually think that makes it more romantic. I don’t believe in fate or destiny or that Chad is “The One” for me–I don’t think there is “The One” for anyone. But I am so grateful that we each decided that we would try to build a life with THIS one.

Not only am I not a fan of long dark nights, I am not a fan of snow.

Sure, a little snow for a short amount of time is fine, but Minnesota (even in this era of global warming) goes overboard. This may seem heretical to many, but although a “White Christmas” is undeniably romantic, I’d choose no snow on Christmas if it meant a less snowy winter overall.

Ignoring/denying what it signifies about global warming and the long term health of our world, I’ve totally been digging this warm and brown (although I prefer to call is “sepia”) winter that we’ve been having so far. I love that our lack of snow (and more importantly, ice) has made it possible for me to do a lot of running.

But of course, our snowfall amounts are not up to me, and it looks like that all will change tomorrow. (I am trying to prepare myself for my running streak ending on Day #210). To quote an influential Christmas carol from my childhood, “Here Comes Suzy Snowflake.”

When I was about 9 (to the best of my recollection) I got to play Suzy Snowflake in our school Christmas program. My role consisted of walking down the aisle as everyone sang “Here comes Suzy snowflake” and the piece de resistance was that I got to sing the line “Come on everyone and play with me for I haven’t long to stay” as a solo.

My mom made my Suzy costume and it was a work of art (another rare and treasured example of my mom venturing into the world of craftiness). Like our Christmas stockings, my Suzy costume was also a shining example of felt art, as my mom painstakingly cut out numerous intricate felt snowflakes, framed them in glitter, and hotglued them to a big flowy satiny nightgown. The gown was trimmed in silver garland and I also had a silver garland wreath for my head.

I was SO excited to be cast in the “starring” role of Suzy. I anticipated the big night for days, maybe even weeks. Sadly, when the big day came, I had a really terrible cold. Oh, I didn’t miss the performance–I knew at a young age that the show must go on–but I felt miserable, and I was sad that I so congested that my voice sounded awful.

But I still remember–or think I remember–being the limelight in the old high school gym. Yes, my craving of the spotlight started at a young age.

My monlogue about Christmas pageants in our recent “Uh-Oh, Here Comes Christmas” production inspired me to think about my past experiences with childhood school and church Christmas productions. Not only did I revel being Suzy, I also enjoyed getting to recite bible verses at our church Christmas endeavors. We didn’t do anything as showy as a “pageant” with costumes, etc., but we stood woodenly and spouted Bible verses (from memory!) and stoicly sang some religious carols.

(I do fondly recall the paper lunch sack of crappy candy we got at church. That’s the thing about traditions–they don’t have to be “good” per se–just regular, to be comforting).

I also remember getting to play some type of hand held bells in the school program and being afraid that I was going to drop my bell while sitting in the bleachers. I definitely had stressful images of the bell slipping through my sweaty fingers and making a huge horible noise as it crashed to the ground.

Sadly, I don’t have any photos of young, chubby (yes, I was definitely a “hefty” kid) nasaly Amy as Suzy Snowflake. But I will always remember how much I loved that snowflake dress and the anticipation of my starring moment.

And I do hope these Suzies that are supposed to visit us tomorrow also don’t have long to stay.

I am not a fan of the limited hours of daylight we receive here in the Northern climes during winter.

Yes, I can see that there are potential benefits and perhaps even deep spiritual and psychological meaning to be found in living with and in extended hours of darkness.

But that doesn’t mean I like it.

The only advantage of long nights that comes to me now is that when I get up at 7:00 a.m. and it’s still dark out, I can pretend it’s because I’m such an early riser that I got up before the sun. I mean, yes, technically I did, but not such a feat in Minnesota in December.

And the later sunrises should make it easier for me to actually catch a sunrise, but while I often see the effects of the sun rising (“Hey, when I went into the bathroom to put on all my many layers of winter running clothes it was dark and I was worried I was going to have to run in the dark even though the sun has always come up before I actually get my butt out the door”) our home window configuration is not conducive to actually seeing the sunrise.

I do love having long hours of sunlight when the sun doesn’t set until 9:00 p.m, and of course, this is the trade off. If I had to choose, would I give up long summer days for more equilibrium? Wow, that’s a tough “Would You Rather” question.

Tonight we attended a lovely Solstice service at our church via Zoom. One idea that really struck me was the idea of possibility: This is the time of the year where the pendulum is poised to start swinging back in the other direction. Kinetic energy is at its zentih (I think…my science could be off so just go with the metaphor).

The idea of “stillness” doesn’t really speak to me (not saying it shouldn’t or won’t someday) but the tension before the release of the rubberband does. I don’t know what I want to launch into…maybe something as simple as the longer days of summer, with more time to run…and drink.

While there are many artifacts from my life that I wish I had managed to hold on to (like my wedding dress), I am thankful for some cherished holiday relics that I do still own: Christmas stockings that my mom made for Chad and me, and a creche.

I’m not exactly sure when my mom made my stocking, but I always remember having it. At least, I think she made my stocking. Damn, now that I’m really thinking about it, I wonder if my story is accurate–did one of her friends actually make it? Or did one of her friends make the stockings for my older brother and sister and then my mom made mine to match?

I do know for certain that the “Amy” on the trim of the stocking is in my mom’s writing. My mom’s writing was so distinctive and physically embodies her essence in a way I can’t fully describe. It always makes me sad when I hear that handwriting is going away because people only use keyboards nowadays (I say as I type) because handwriting is so personal.

And I definitely know she made Chad’s stocking. I don’t think it was too long into our dating career when she decided he was part of the family and needed a stocking to match the ones the rest of her “children” had.

These stockings are especially meaningful to me because my mom didn’t make a lot of things (I definitely take after her in that way). She certainly DID a lot of things, and bought a lot of things, and said a lot of things, and ate and drank a lot of things, but didn’t make things.

But she made these stockings, and 30-50 years lately, we still have them. She’s gone, but the memories (whether or not they are completely accurate) live on.

I definitely remember all the goofy “stocking stuffers” my mom gave us. We usually opened our “real” presents on Christmas Eve, and, much to Chad’s dismay, they usually weren’t surprises (although I often forgot what I was getting so was surprised). But on Christmas we were treated to a plethora of silly and weird gifts that more than stuffed the stockings, and spilled out and around them.

I don’t have any idea of how my family acquired our nativity scene, or how I ended up with it, but it’s certainly a tangible piece of my childhood. I never liked it per se, but it was always there. It does seem a little grim, but I like how durable it is, and I’m rather impressed that it features two non-Caucasian Wise Men.

I will always treasure this photo from 2017 of our dear elderly Oscar just days before he died:

I don’t believe in the literal truth of the story of The Wise Men visiting the Baby Jesus, but I’m pretty sure the Baby Jesus and Company would have warmly welcomed a visit from a sweet elderly dachshund. And my mom would have brought much more entertaining gifts.