Amy Lu's View

Sometimes I don’t really know what I think I know.

This was illustrated for me recently when a friend asked what the Sondheim song “Send in the Clowns” is about. He had just performed it for our church’s virtual coffee house.

I confidently started replying about how I loved the song and we had recently seen an astounding performance of it from Twin Cities theatre star Sally Wingert and…it was about…

I ended up mumbling something about disillusionment and an aging actress. Which probably was simplistic but not totally inaccurate. And gave Chad the opening to introduce me (I was next up on the bill with a monologue) with “speaking of aging actresses…”

Which led to groans and my protestations of “but I AM an aging actress which is better than the alternative.” (And really, we’re all an aging something. I’m also an aging librarian, runner, drummer, wife, pet owner, friend, blogger–you get the idea).

Days later, I’m still struck by how confident I was in what I knew until I tried to actually articulate it. As a child of the 70’s I have a powerful memory of watching Bernadette Peters sing the song and feeling like I got it. I’ve always understood this song, haven’t I?

I think that’s the power of a great song–it feels meaningful, even if that meaning is beyond words, or the meaning isn’t what the song is literally about. (Although assuming “Send in the Clowns” is actually about disillusionment, I do think I had an understanding of that, even in the 70’s, even as a kid, although probably a different understanding than I do today).

I also think it’s a great illustration of how we assume we know something until we really stop to think about it. For me, there’s nothing that encapsulates this better than trying to explain something to someone.

I think this also illustrates that I really suck at explaining things. Maybe that’s one of the reasons that I’m a librarian rather than a teacher–as a librarian I can give you the resources and let you draw your own conclusions. In that spirit, I don’t intend for this post to really unlock the mystery of “Send in the Clowns”–there is the interweb for that. (Wikipedia even does a serviceable job).

But after thinking about it a little bit more, I think it means (at least on some level) that if things aren’t going well, make a spectacle out of it. Don’t shy away from the failure, embrace it.

Maybe this is how having the point of view of the song from an actress (aging or not) is relevant–it’s all about telling and crafting your own story, even if the story isn’t going as you hoped. You can still find meaning (or at least entertainment/blog inspiration) in it.

*NOT in the creepy “Poltergeist” way (which I’ve never seen and don’t intend to)–although clowns can be creepy.

Yesterday I ran 2.23 miles in honor of Ahmaud Arbery, a young black man who was shot and killed on February 23 by two white men while he was out on a run. Arbery would have turned 26 on Friday so there is a “#IRunWithMaud” social media campaign to run 2.23 “Miles for Maud.”

I’m not sure I should post this–is it somehow disrespectful for me, a middle-aged white lady wrapped in privilege, to declare I’m appalled by the murder of a young black man? Is Facebook social activism so silly it’s offensive? Am I just jumping on a fad?

I think all these concerns are valid, but I also think there are more layers to this. I was struck and moved by seeing others post “#IRunWithMaud” on Facebook and it made me think more deeply about his death. So I decided to run 2.23 miles and post about it in honor of Ahmaud Arbery when I learned his high school football coach supported the campaign: https://www.cnn.com/2020/05/08/world/ahmaud-arbery-support-run-trnd/index.html.

I won’t claim that I spent all, or even most, of my run thinking about a young man I never met. But I did think about how lucky I am that I can run anywhere, and go almost anywhere, without anyone thinking I’m somehow a threat or don’t deserve to be there.

And I did think about how powerful it is that running gave me some commonality, no matter how small, to someone who’s life was very different than mine because of age, gender and race.

And I was (and still am) very, very thankful that I can get out and run. It’s a striking coincidence to me that the distance of this memorial run, 2.23 miles was almost exactly the distance I had been hoping to work up to after slowly returning to running. (Yes, to make this–I’m very excited to say I ran a tota of 11.23 miles last week! Saturday’s run of 2.23 was my longest. I hope to make it up to 3 miles by the end of this week).

Chad and I are supposed to be on our big vacation now to celebrate our 50th Birthdays and our 25th Wedding Anniversary.

Obviously, we’re not.

And obviously, I’m disappointed, but I don’t intend this post to be an “I’m Missing My Vacation Lament.” While I am bummed that we’re missing our vacation, I am really gratefuly that we’re both healthy, and employed and safe. I’m even–in some ways–digging spending so much time at home.

I DO intend this to be a “Don’t Forget This a Year of Important Milestones for Amy” post. That’s right, 50th Birthday and 25th Wedding Anniversary. Don’t think I’m going to miss out on calling attention to myself just because I’m having to forgo all the vacation photo opps. (Our anniversary isn’t until May 27).

Also, I want to give Chad a shout out for coming up with the vacation idea and surprising me with it for Christmas 2018 (that’s right, we’ve been planning this for a LONG time).

But what was the vacation we were going to go on? We were supposed to be exploring the Pacific Northwest, including the San Juan Islands and the Olympic National Forest.

We were actually booked on a CRUISE, but a cruise on a very small ship, with only 22 passengers. The company we were booked with is even called UNCRUISE Adventures. I was very nervous to tell people we were going on a “cruise” as the COVID pandemic unfolded. I’ve never been on a traditional cruise, and of course this year would have been a horrible time to be on one. I was also nervous to tell people that we were leaving from Seattle, one of the earliest and hardest hit cities by COVID.

I was honestly relieved when the travel company informed us the cruise wasn’t going to happen this year. (We are rescheduled to May of next year). I was a little worried that they would go ahead with the cruise and make us cancel (and lose our money) or that they would just cancel outright (although now I’m starting to worry that 2021 looks iffy for travel).

If I can put my anxiety and obsessing aside, or at least reign it in a bit, I now have a whole extra year to savor the expectation of going on vacation. I do think it’s well-documented that anticipation is a key component of happiness (just look at this article title even if you don’t read it, “Get More Bang for Your Happiness Buck: Revel in Anticipation“).

I can now stretch our anniversary celebration/commemoration out for a WHOLE year (you thought my “birthday month” was impressive, but wait, I can stretch that out, too!) and the 26th Annivesary is the “jade” anniversary, which sounds much more sexy and mysterious than “silver.” (Silver is just my natural hair color now).

I’ll also have more time to blog about our anniversary, AND I won’t have to deal with the stress of packing (at least for another year).

I wore a dress today.*

This seems worth noting because it was the first time I’ve worn a dress since March 12, and I used to wear dresses (or skirts) just about every day. I wore dresses because for me they were easy, comfortable, and made me feel good. I didn’t have to wear dresses, or even get that dressed up, for work, and seldom wore super dressy or professional dresses.

I think it’s worth acknowleding that I used to wear dresses and now I don’t, not because I’m sad that I don’t wear dresses anymore, but just because it’s a tangible sign of change. I could still wear dresses, particularly my casual, comfortable ones, if it makes me happy–even if I don’t leave the house or see people besides Chad in person. And maybe I will, especially now that the weather is getting warmer.

I like wearing dresses, but I’ve also discovered the perks of wearing pants, including what can best be desribed as lounge pants. Recently, I’ve become rather obsessed with finding clothes that make me feel like I’m not wearing pajamas, but that I can also wear on short, mid-day runs. I’m so much more likely to fit a run in if I don’t have to change my clothes.

Luckily, I’ve discovered that my preferred bra (which I discovered before COVID) can successfully be worn on a run, even though it’s not a sports bra. #SmallBustPerks. (These mid-day runs without a clothes change will probably not be possible when the weather gets too much warmer).

Another advantage of not regularly wearing dresses is I have a ton of t-shirts that have been languishing in my closet (or drawers, laundry basket, storage bin, etc.) Yes, for someone who doesn’t wear t-shirts very often, I have any amazing number of them–race t-shirts, concert t-shirts, superhero t-shirts, and now I feel accomplished when they get worn.

I do miss getting all dolled-up for a night out, and wearing a girlie-girl sexy frou frou ensemble. And again, I know I could still do this for an at home date-night if it makes me happy–but getting dolled-up is also a pain in the ass, so thus far, I’ve been skipping it.

The details of my daily life have changed significantly in the last two months. Some changes stress me out and make me sad, some I like, many do all of these things at once. I can’t necessarily make sense of these changes or find deeper meaning in them, but I can at least notice them and how they make me feel.

I primarily do this by blogging and drinking… some things haven’t changed.

*…for only a few hours during Zoom church. I purchased it in the Before Times but today was its inaugural wearing.

Chad cleaned the refrigerator today.

#QuarantineWin

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.

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 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.

And to rock running-themed attire.

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.

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.

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!

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).