Chad says this isn’t that impressive, especially without a before photo. I actually asked if he would be troubled if I posted a photo of the inside of our refrigerator. I don’t understand his boundaries, and I could see where one’s consumables are a window to the soul.
Perhaps only those who have house sat for us or looked into our fridge for a drink will get what an accomplishment this is. So trust me, our refrigerator was a nightmare and now it’s not.
Feel welcome to judge us based on our refrigerator contents
Plus, I’ve been feeling extra angsty and antsy today, so it’s nice to have an accomplishment to point to. Even though Chad did the heavy lifting, I do take some credit because I started the cleaning on Sunday (vacuuming out the dried veggie particles until I realized I could just take the drawers out and shake out the debris). I also contributed to the cause today by leaving the house for a short run and getting out of the way.
This victory was marred by the tragedy of losing my tomatoes. I don’t think these two things are causal, just concurrent, although I did channel my mother and blame my spouse for my misfortune.
And yes, the tomatoes we’re never in the refrigerator but still I suspected Chad of doing something with them.
I’m not a fan of mysteries, so I just want to know what happened to my cherry tomatoes. I’m pretty sure I had some last night, and now the whole container is gone. Chad–when interrogated about what he did with my tomatoes–said he thought we still had some, too.
Not only do I mourn the absence of tomatoes, I’m worried about what “losing” them says about my mental, emotional, and inebriated state. How did I not realize/remember I used up my last tomatoes last night? Or did I put them away someplace weird and problematic? Am I going to find my tomatoes two weeks from now in a highly unappetizing state?
Is StanLee B. gaslighting me? Or, more likely, are the cats?
Today was the third day in a row that I ran a mile. I think these runs were successful–super slow and a little uncomfortable, but apparently not exacerbating whatever leg issue I have, or causing a new one.
I’m afraid to publicly state this, in case I jinx myself. I’m scared to get my hopes up that I may be back on the road to running, as I feel like several times this year I’ve started making progress only to have a sudden major setback.
“I’ll tell you a secret, Mom–nobody cares about your running drama !”–StanLee B
I just apprehensively consulted my running stats recorded by my Garmin watch, and was shocked to see that I actually ran 50 miles in February. Normally I run at least 100 miles a month, so 50 isn’t that much, but I didn’t think I was even close to that. I actually had a day where I did a 5 mile run. The fact that my memory was so off may suggest that 1) I have a really bad memory and 2) I have a flair for drama and exaggeration so I made my running story more tragic than it is.
My Garmin also helped me verify that my last real run before my latest woes started was on March 6. (Yes, just after turning 50 but I don’t think there was a direct causal link). I do remember (I think accurately) that I was going along just fine on that run when about halfway through, around mile 2, my thigh just started to hurt out of the blue. I did stop and walk but I ended up running again because it was a rather chilly night and I wanted to get inside. That may have been a bad idea. That was the beginning of this latest chapter of the Debacle of Amy’s Running.
Earlier this week one of the Memories that popped up for me on Facebook was from when I did a 21.4 mile training run for MedCity Marathon (which got cancelled because of extreme heat but the training lead to a really awesome MedCity Half Marathon and Grandma’s Marathon showing). At first, I almost cried. Damn you, Facebook, for mocking me, and throwing it in my face how far my running prowess has plummeted.
Then I recalculated. I remembered the advice that I gave myself and my blog readers (if any) about focusing on Personal Victories that are flexible and adapt to the current environment. I can take pride in past achievements without indulging in comparisons that make me depressed. I can appreciate a mile (or half or quater mile) for its own sake on its terms and be open to what it has to teach me.
(I definitely need this attitude or I won’t be able to wear half of my casual wardrobe–perfect for quarantine–because it’s race related. My Grandma’s Marathon pink track jacket that I just recently found in my closest is too awesome to stop wearing because it bums me out).
So I am hopeful that I’m at the beginning of my running comeback, but if that road is long and winding and never actually goes anywhere, I’ll be able to deal. That’s one of the main life lessons running’s taught me: to persevere.
With the end of this week I finished my sixth week of working entirely from home, and of Staying At Home.
That feels significant and something I should observe in some way. I’m not really sure what to say, though–time’s going too fast, work is stressing me out, I like spending more time at home and I’m starting to deeply bond with my vegetables while at the same time I desperately want to go out to eat. I can’t even let myself thing about going to or much less being in a show again. Pretty sure I’ve said some variation of this all before in the last six weeks, and I’m sure I’ll say these things again.
“…I’m starting to bond deeply with my vegetables while at the same time I desperately want to go out to eat.”
–Me, this blog post
I did dye my hair yesterday–not necessarily in honor of the end of Week Six, but it’s as good a reason as any. I think it’s been at least eight weeks since I’ve dyed my hair–definitely a record for the last 20 some years. I always dye my own hair these days, so I wasn’t holding off because I couldn’t get to a hair saloon, but it just didn’t seem worth the effort. Chad says he prefers a more natural look, and I’ve been a little curious to see just how grey I really am, so quarantine seemed like a good time to experiment, but I finally just got sick of it.
I think I’m about 40 percent grey, but I’m just guessing. I didn’t really embrace the “natural look” or conduct a good scientific experiment as I was still using spray color to touch up some of my roots. (My hair is an amazing chemical cocktail of dry shampoo and spray-on color some days). If I do decide I miss my grey, it won’t take that long to rediscover it–I started using semi-permanent dye before lockdown as I read that permanent dye is a potential carcinogen and I was dying my hair A LOT–so my dye job will fade pretty quickly. Plus I don’t think the semi-permanent dye covers as completely as permanent. It also makes my hair feel a little gooey and crunchy.
Showing off my first dye job since Quarantine
So. Wow. A whole rambly post about dyeing my hair. I’d say that this is what SIX WEEKS STAYING AT HOME WITH NO END IN SIGHT* during a pandemic does to a person, but I think we all know this is just my normal level of self-involvement and obsession.
*Making my standard but more and more true and relevant disclaimer that I do realize how very, very lucky I am–in everything, but especially COVID-19 life.
Happy Earth Day! Earth Day and I are both products of 1970 and Wisconsin! (Yes, I’m giving Wisconsin Senator Gaylord Nelson credit for founding Earth Day).
I am hardly an outdoor adventurer, but I do appreciate lovely weather and the chance to be outdoors, especially this Earth Day. I’m not sure how I could stay even relatively sane during this pandemic if I wasn’t able to go outside for walks.
And that is about the extent of my outdoor activities–I like to walk and run and hike, but I have no interest in gardening or yard work, and very little in camping. And I don’t know how to ride a bike (yes, I’m serious. Okay, I kind of sort of taught myself to do a half-assed job of riding a bike when I was 10 and inspired by the movie E.T. and then tried again briefly in my early 20’s, but I doubt I could pull it off right now).
Sitting around outside can be lovely in a very limited conditions, but I’m uber sensitive about bugs, mainly mosquitoes. I argue that I am not just being a wimp, but that I am extra “allergic” to mosquitoes and react rather severely to their bites. This reminds me I have about a week left to enjoy the outdoors before mosquito season kicks in.
I think my blaise attitude about the great outdoors is rooted in growing up in the country. That may seem ironic, but for me, rural America was rather lonely and monotonous. A friend recently asked me when I knew I didn’t want to live in the country, and I was thrown because I never thought of country life as something I wanted. I always remember “wanting to get out.” (This was influenced in large part my mother’s unhappiness with our familial setting, I’m sure).
I’m learning to appreciate the natural world more and more as I get older, especially thanks to running. But it’s still a struggle for me to slow down (mentally, emotionally, physically) and pay attention to the nature.
My Earth Day frolick
Yes, I have purposefully focused this Earth Day post on my personal likes and dislikes, rather than on the real point of the day: the health of the earth. I just don’t have the emotional stamina right now to think about climate change. I want to be hopeful, but I really can’t think of much that is optimistic to say…Staying at Home has meant a reduction in traffic and greenhouse emissions?
And YES, I blogged even though my blog challenge ended yesterday! How could I pass up a major minor holiday with a Wisconsin tie?
Today is the end of my 50 Days of Amy blogging challenge! I made it! Whoo-hoo!
A carrot cake Oreo…a great prop cookie because they are quite disappointing so I’m not tempted to eat it.*…also like the grey Roguesque streak I didn’t successful cover up with my spray color.
Whenever I used to fish for accomplishment related praise Chad would ask me if I wanted a cookie. He eventually stopped because I almost never wanted an actual cookie–booze or something salty seems to give more bang for the calorie buck.
Of course I want the metaphorical cookie of recognition and praise. I want the medal and/or trophy.
So yay me, I did it. I only cheated a little by occasionally writing two posts on one day and backdating.
I’m not sure if quarantine made blogging easier or harder or both. Perhaps more time but less topics, especially since I didn’t want to obsess about Armageddon lockdown (didn’t want to write about food or clothes every day) or write anything inflammatory about work. (Maybe I would have had these same topic struggles without lockdown).
I’m happy/sad my challenge is done. Relieved because I actually did get stressed sometimes about writing every day and sad because it gave me a sense of purpose. Yes, I know I can keep blogging but will I? How will I find the right balance between blogging enough to feel accomplished and not so much I drive myself crazy?
What did I learn from 50 Days of Blogging (during quarantine)?
It’s hard to be real but not too whiny
The little rhythms of life really are important
Food is more central to my life than even I imagined and I really enjoy preparing food. Quarantine gives me more opportunities to obsess about vegetables!
I really appreciate spending extra time with Chad
Having an intense job is exhausting but a blessing (and “intense” is totally relative–intense by my standards, not First Responder intense or anything)
Lockdown isn’t all that different than the summers of my childhood
What a weird time to be 50–but probably the ideal age for quarantine, as being young or definitely old would be much harder
I love love love our church community
I am so blessed and and lucky to have awesome people I miss and I want to keep connecting and re-connecting with
I cannot find a camera angle for virtual life that doesn’t make me look crazy pale (of course it’s not because I AM crazy pale)
50 Days may me over, but there are clearly more narcisstic lists and selfies in our future!
*I feel very radical foot-noting a caption: I’m not much of a fan of Oreos but love carrot cake, so had higher hopes for this. I think it’s missing the cream cheese zinginess. (I am a little sad I didn’t do birthday cake this year and these cookies certainly won’t compensate for that).
Our house is plenty big for two people (and 3-5 small pets) but it’s nothing extravagant. I don’t know the exact square footage, but it’s no McMansion. Still, I’ve discovered new spaces in our house since Minnesota’s Stay at Home Order (SAHO) has been in place.
Okay, I didn’t literally find new spaces in our house (although a common dream that I have is finding new/forgotten places in my childhood home…can you say symbolism?) but I’m experiencing parts of our house that I rarely make use of.
Before COVID-19, we were infrequently home, and I spent most of that time in the bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, and (when lucky) in the basement on the couch watching tv. Now that is about half of our house, which means that I’ve been ignoring the other half. Since the SAHO, I’ve spent more time in our upstairs, in the living room and in the dining room.
In addition to just not being home very much, I’ve neglected parts of our house because they’ve been too full of junk to inhabit. One positive thing about the timing of COVID is it aligned with our recent attempts to declutter our house. We still have a lot of work to do, but we were already on the path so it didn’t take Chad too much time to make the upstairs a usable office space. We got the kitchen table cleared off relatively quickly and have mostly kept it clutter free. Our second bedroom is still a disaster–not sure how long COVID will have to drag on for us to tackle that.
The fact that we rarely use all of the house we have makes me feel better about not having a bigger house–although if we had more space, we might have less clutter and then our house would be more usable. But knowing us, I think we would just let our clutter–mostly clothes, books and instruments–grow to whatever space we had. We could be in a McMansion and still have a small amount of usable square footage.
The return of nice (or even nice adjacent) weather does give us the chance to use our sunroom, which greatly expands how much house we have to use. Unforunately, I can’t work out there too much because it’s so bright (but it’s great for blogging, eating, drinking, and taking selfies–as you may have noticed–with natural lighting).
It’s interesting to see how people react to different areas of our home when I’m virtually interacting with them. People have remarked how our upstairs looks like a cabin–unfortunately, my work laptop doesn’t get a strong internet connection from there. Some have also enjoyed the backdrop of our kitchen (all the glassware) and the dining room (all the booze). It’s strangely intimate to have people who otherwise might never seen inside our house get to take a look at it while we peer into theirs (assuming the lighting cooperates).
Being in a different part of house also literally gives me a new perspective. I definitely noticed this the other night (and yes I was having alcohol and poetry so feeling deep) when I was sitting in the chair in our living room by the fireplace and seeing our living room from a whole new angle. I never sit there, mostly because it has always been a pet’s chair and I haven’t wanted to deal with all the pet hair. (I’m less squeamish about pet hair in the End Times). Oh right, and I rarely sit unless I’m playing drums or watching TV.
The view from the fireplace…only a little bit of clutter and visible dust, and one super cute puppy.
I did hear on a podcast (can’t remember which one) that it is helpful to consciously experience a “new” place in your home–even if it is only sitting in a different chair. I can definitely see the benefit of this. Not only does this simple change of perspective help you feel less claustrophobic during a SAHO, breaking out of a routine, even a small one, can be freeing. I also realized this when I sat on our front step–first time in 20 plus years?–for the Minnesota Public Radion “Big Sing.” And spiritual, emotional and benefits aside, we paid for this entire house, so I might as well get my money’s worth!
It really does make me feel a little weird and antsy to realize what a rut I’ve been in and how much I have taken our home for granted. Seriously, we’ve lived here over 20 years and I’ve sat by fireplace less than 10 times. What other, more meaningful oppportunities in my my life am I missing out on?
I also heard on the podcast “‘Staying In with Emily & Kumail” the advice to keep one’s work space separate from the rest of your living space when working at home–even if it’s only having a separate chair. I definitely disregard that advice. My workspace is usually at our breakfast bar, which I find a problem not because it blurs the lines between work and personal life but because it’s basically in the kitchen and so close to snacks.
I don’t know who I would be without the song “Back on The Chain Gang” by The Pretenders. I’ve been singing it (not necessarily well) for the last 5 years with all the various incarnations of our band, “Pigeons From Hell.” (Band anniversary coming up in June! We are on band lineup version 4.0 now). In fact, our band name comes from one of the lyrics:
“Circumstance beyond our control,
The phone, the TV, the news of the world,
Got in our house like a pigeon from hell,
Threw sand in our eyes and descended like flies.”
–from “Back on the Chain Gang,” by Chrissie Hynde
Whoa, those words just keep getting more and more meaningful.
My latest attempt to bring “Back on the Chain Gang” to life was last night when I performed it for our church’s virtual coffee house. Actually, my most recent performance was this afternoon when I filmed myself playing it so I could post it here and on my friend Dan’s Open Mic Facebook page:.
Just a lady and her keyboard and her emotions in her basement. I actually do frequently get sincerely moved by this song–well played, Chrissie Hynde.
This is the first time I’ve played and sang the song solo without the Pigeons to prop me up, and it was terrifying. My hands were shaking so hard last night, even though I knew I had a super sweet and chill and supportive audience. But the fear is precisely why I wanted to do it–if you can’t take risks and make an ass of yourself at the End of the World, when can you? Plus, I’m an adrenaline junkie and performing is how I get my kicks.
(Speaking of being willing to risk not looking awesome, I almost didn’t post this video because it’s so unflattering…but looking haggard and puffy during quarantine just adds to emotional impact, right?)
I had to keep the keys super simple because 1) I’m not that skilled of a keyboard player and 2) I’m not that strong of a singer and 3) Combining singing with playing piano can cause me to freeze up. A couple of years ago I took piano and singing lessons and during my recital song (“City of Stars”) there were measures where I was only able to play one note. But I did keep playing!
I’m definitely a much more confident and stronger drummer than keyboardist. I did have years and years of piano lessons as a kid and there was a time when I was pretty good, but I didn’t keep it up and it definitely hasn’t come back to me like drumming has. Still, I enjoy it and I am getting better (if not good) and it’s definitely easier to sing a song solo if I accompany myself on keys rather than drums. Hmmm, honestly I guess I haven’t tried a drum solo while singing, although I have occassionally sang while playing drums with a band.
Ah, playing with a band…Man, I miss playing with other people! I miss my peeps from Pigeons From Hell (new and old), Clusterflock, and Church Key. I miss being able to get together and make music IRL, at practice and for performances! One of the very last out-in-the-world things we got to do was perform with Pigeons From Hell at the Acadia.
I love that I’m still able to make music and that I’m getting to stretch myself with singing and being solo, and I love virtual coffee houses and open mics for the opportunity. But I hope I’ve learned not to take playing with others and for others who are in the same space as me (no matter how small or indifferent the audience) for granted.
Chad and I did the Minnesota Public Radio’s (MPR) “Bring the Sing” tonight.
At 5:53 tonight, we sat on our front step while we played Carole King’s version of “You’ve Got a Friend” via the MPR News station. We sang, sort of.
We were the only people out in on our block (although we did see one of our neighbors across the street and his new adorable puppy, Lola).
It was hokey. It was half-assed. We felt silly.
Italy it was not.
It was still pretty awesome.
I have no idea how many folks participated in this, but we felt others we couldn’t see or maybe only imagined.
We both made an effort to be around to do this together–no, our days aren’t super full right now after 5:00 but Chad had to get StanLee from daycare and I had to plan my walking and drinking. (Having StanLee at daycare made our participation by sitting on the front step much easier).
This was actually the first time we’ve sat on our front step in 20 plus years of living in our house (#notthatcomfy+dogs).
We felt connected to each other and something bigger than ourselves.
Selfies from tonight (yes, tell Chad to smile if you must…):
I also learned that I don’t really know the lyrics to “You’ve Got a Friend.”
In the days leading up to this, Chad reminded me that I confuse “Up On the Roof” with “You’ve Got a Friend.” When he said “You’ll probably sing up on the roof” I didn’t realize what he meant and thought he was being literal.
So remember, winter, spring, summer or fall (or quarantine) all you’ve got to do is call (or, preferably, text or e-mail and then we can schedule a time to Zoom) and you’ve got a friend. Not necessarily a good or sober friend, but a friend.
The other “night” (actually 4:00ish in the morning) I was awoken by the worst Charley Horse that I’ve ever had. (It was the classic in the calf of the leg kind). I’ve never given birth or had kidney stones so my pain scale is limited, but I think this was the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. The pain was so bad I was light-headed and nauseous and broke out in a cold sweat to an extent I never have before.
There’s no need to be worried or give me any medical advice–I’m sure it was caused by all the comon reasons (dehydration, lack of stretching, over-exercising) topped off by an unwise amount alcohol consumption. Oh yeah, and according to my Googling, aging CAN be a contributing factor.
While doing my Googling, it struck me that “Charley Horse” is spelled CharLEY instead of CharLIE–the way my brother’s name is spelled, rather than Charlie Brown. This seems to be a more uncommon spelling of Charley, at least these days, so this made me mildly curious. Why was Charley spelled this way? And what was up with the Horse?
So I did some more Googling, but quickly lost interest. Too much reading. It was like when I tried to follow the Triscuit story. I got as far as learning the muscle cramps are named after a historical baseball player who frequently suffered from them. I don’t know what was up with the horse.
A unicorn is as close as I have to a horse…this is an an Amy heirloom that’s about 35 years old.
I also don’t know why my mom (I assume my dad didn’t have much of a role in the decision) decided to spell my brother’s name “LEY” instead of “LIE.” I didn’t know that many Charleys in my life so never thought much about it. Again, I attempted to find out via Googling, but only got as far as learning that today “Charley” is more common as a feminine nickname for “Charlotte.” Huh, I don’t think I’ll point that out to my brother (he prefers to go by “Chuck” anyway).
Writing this post has really highlighted a) what a limited attention span I can sometimes have and b) what tangents my thoughts can take. Here are just some of the mental rabbit holes I’ve went down while writing this inspired by thinking about the word “horse”:
I really like the show “BoJack Horseman” which we’ve just started watching. This may be our biggest televsion viewing success story of the pandemic.
Lewis Black has that great joke about overhearing part of a conversation and getting the totally random line “If it wasn’t for that horse I never would have went to college” stuck in his head.
The 70’s “Horse With No Name–>Who performed that song, America or Bread? I can never keep those two bands straight–>other bands I can’t keep straight: Dr. Dog and Dinosaur Jr. (both have animals in the titles and Dr. and Jr. are close).
I may never solve the mystery of the name “Charley Horse” but I do hope I never have one so bad again. #BetterChoices?
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