This is more or less the “Holiday Letter” I sent out/hope to send out this year. 

This year my Yuletide Missive has a theme: Risk. No, not the classic board game, but risk as “the possibility that something unpleasant or unwelcome will happen.” (Such as, “By sending out this Holiday Letter, I risk that people will find me highly annoying.”)

Hmm, that may seem like a rather negative start to a festive greeting, but luckily, risk can also contain opportunity and the possibility that something pleasant or welcome will happen. (Such as, “By sending out this Holiday Letter, I am giving recipients the opportunity to make a paper airplane.” This worked better with an actual paper letter but feel free to print this out and make a paper airplane.)

I’m thinking about risk because this year I took a big one: I accepted a temporary promotion as Acting Coordinating Librarian for Web and Online Services. This means I moved from being in the department that is responsible for our library’s website to being the person ultimately responsible for our public (and staff) website. This was a risk because I was quite content with my job and wasn’t looking for something with more responsibility (and stress). 

Happily, taking the risk paid off: I’ve really enjoyed having new challenges and learning new things and even though I have definitely made mistakes, I think I’m pretty good at my job. Now this job IS only temporary and could end anytime in the next 3-6 months, but I’m being uncharacteristically open to uncertainty. And don’t give me credit for embracing too much uncertainty: I am guaranteed that I will be able to go back to the same or very similar job that I previously had when I’m done with this Assignment That I’ve Chosen To Accept. 

This has also been a good year to take a work related risk as it’s my 20th Employment Anniversary: I’ve been a librarian for Hennepin County Library for TWENTY YEARS. Wow. Although I have certainly taken other risks (big and small, many forgotten) along the way of my librarian journey, there is definitely symbolic resonance in taking a bigger risk during this landmark year. (And yes, there have been many Happy Hour celebrations, even if Chad and I have been the only ones in attendance).

 

Other risks I’ve taken in 2019:

• Wearing white pants: Okay, perhaps the risk that carried the least consequence, but got the biggest response. As a waitress at our favorite restaurant in Duluth (Lake Avenue Cafe) told me: “That’s bold.” So far, surprisingly, I have NOT spilled red wine or anything else on my white pants, and I aspire to write a blog post titled “When I am a Middle-Aged Woman I Shall Wear White Pants.” So,  consider yourself warned: The White Pants Society may be descending upon your favorite performing arts theater next Wednesday afternoon. 
• Being in theater: Speaking of theater, anytime I take the stage as an actress, it’s a risk. Yes, I have the benefit of 10 years of community theater experience (shoutout to my theater anniversary) and I DO actually work really hard to learn my lines and prepare for any role I have, but there are so many things that can happen (go wrong). I can still forget my lines, or trip (Chad actually fell during our last show but did NOT miss a beat or seriously hurt himself), or just do a lackluster job. And no matter what the show, to some extent, you’re making yourself vulnerable. Perhaps the biggest risk is that even if I/we do everything “right,” a show may just not work. I’m really grateful that our theatrical endeavors this year (including our Applause shows “Broken HIll” and “Uh-Oh, Here Comes Christmas” and Duck Soup’s “Belles of the West”) were successful and we really connected with the audiences. 
• Ziplining in Costa Rica: Realistically, this was actually low-risk, but if judged by feels (racing heart, excessive sweating) this was a BIG risk. Despite what my rational brain knew, I felt like I was mocking death. We also risked some sunburns, hangovers and weight gain but had a wonderful and relaxing vacation. 
• Running the Urban Bourbon Half Marathon in Louisville: Yes, I know I have run three marathons (none this year) so a Half Marathon doesn’t seem like that much of a stretch, but just like on stage, anything can happen during a race. And even when everything goes well, like it did with the Urban Bourbon this year, I still risk the blow to my ego that I didn’t do as well as I hoped (still pretty damn good for a 49 year old lady). And yeah, Chad TOTALLY rocked and got a personal record. 
• Talking to strangers while on vacation in Louisville: Openly interacting with strangers that I’ll never see again has never been my thing. It’s not an introvert preference, but maintaining ongoing relationships with friends and family already takes so much energy, it has seemed wrong to misappropriate my social capital. But this vacation I tried a new approach: talk, and more importantly listen, to people I meet. Risk “wasting” some time and live in the present and enjoy meeting some people just because life has brought you together in one particular moment (with or without bourbon).
• Singing in public: I love singing in front of other people, but attempting it always makes me feel like I should be in a Qbrexza commercial. From doing “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” at karaoke in the resort in Costa Rica to recently singing “The Christians and the Pagans” at our church’s solstice service, singing thrills and terrifies me.
• Using our SodaStream while StanLee B is in the house:  StanLee LOVES/HATES (hard to tell the difference) it when we use the SodaStream so every time I use it I risk being knocked over by him (yes, he only weighs 20 pounds but 20 pounds of pure puppy exuberance barrelling at me is NOT insignificant). We’ve had StanLee B for over a year now and life with SLB brings a bunch of risks: traumatized cats, trips to the emergency vet, the death of expensive running socks, interrupted sleep, and cute overload. (We also continue to risk the disapproval and sadness of our cats who still live in the basement to avoid StanLee—but it’s a nice basement, really!)

 

 

 

Of course, not all the risks I’ve taken in 2019 have ended in success. Just a few days ago (at 2:30 in the morning on Christmas) I literally fell on my ass (nothing broken!) because I risked taking StanLee for a walk when it was icy. (Chad just pointed out that in my middle-of-the-night sleepiness I didn’t actually realize I was taking a risk, but I should have). Now I may be attributing more significance to this failure because of recency bias (and because I can still feel the effects in my sore butt and back muscles) but hopefully I’ve learned to think more carefully about consequences the next time I’m tempted to be an impetuous idiot.

As is traditional in my Holiday Letters, I haven’t mentioned Chad very much. Well, to paraphrase Chad, “If I wanted people to know what I was up to, I would write my own damn letter.” So what risks has Chad taken this year? Well, we all define risk differently, but for Chad, the greatest risk may have been seeing if I’ve snuck zucchini into a meal. Suffice it to say that Chad has been very supportive in my risk-taking endeavors and without his calm (okay, sometimes seemingly uninterested) presence, I’m not sure I would have the courage to tackle new challenges. 

And I’ve been supported in so many ways by friends and family and co-workers, so THANK YOU!! I hope 2020 brings you the adventure and opportunity you are looking for!

And now I present my second installment of “I’m in a show and am going to beg you to come see it.” (The first was for “Broken Hill.” I hope I continue to be in shows so this shameless pleading and self-promotion can become a tradition).

Why should you come see “Uh-Oh”? Well, there are the standard Amy-centric reasons that will probably apply to any show I will ever be in: I’ve worked really hard on it and our little theater company is desperately underfunded and we desperately want an audience to see the fruits of our labors and/or witness the trainwreck and we need your money! (Hey, if you can’t go to the show–or don’t want to–you can still support our show through a donation and get me to stop bugging you).

At this point you may legitimately point out that your hobby/personal passion does not involve demanding the time and attention of others. You cook/bake/read/garden/woodwork/crochet/knit/sew on your own and at the most ask for some social media love or in person compliments. No need for your friends to buy a ticket or make a schedule commitment, and they may even get to eat or use something useful that you’ve made.

Um, is being morally superior its own reward?

So moving on to what’s specifically special about “Uh-Oh,” either to me or our potential audience…

• I’m surprised by how much this show moves me. Maybe it will move you, too? I was worried that this script was a little schmaltzy and dated, but it’s speaking powerfully to my “I’m-too-cool-for-Christmas” self-conscious heart. One of my monologues that I have the privilege to do is a direct challenge to my “I’ve Never Had a Perfect Hallmark Christmas” resentment. The whole show is a call to be open and vulnerable and throw yourself into joy.
• Chad gets to sing and dance and get his Neil Patrick Harris on. Enough said.
• There are several scenes about food. Most of us–except Chad–like to think about food… whether it’s too be tantalized or disgusted. This show gives you the opportunity to do both. And it gives proper attention to SPAM! And let me go on the record to say that if I ate meat, I would totally eat Spam.
• Deb and I finally get to play a romantic couple (even if only for a short scene).
• The show is based on the essays of Robert Fulghum. Okay, this may or may not be a reason to see the show…if you are young, or young adjacent, you may not even know who Robert Fulghum is. (His most famous book, All I Really Need To Know I Learned in Kindergarten came out the year I graduated from high school). But he is a famous writer, and not only that, a famous Unitarian Universalist author (UU’s represent!) and it’s fun to see how this cultural touchstone translates to stage.
• The language of the script is beautiful and funny. Source author Robert Fulghum is/was a very popular essayist, so he knew what he was doing with a phrase. Some of my favorite lines (some are mine and some are cast mates):
  • “That’s the whole deal with Christmas, I guess. It’s just real life, only a lot more of it and all at once.”
  • “So much for showbizz pizazz at midnight!”
  • “I’m too cynical to get into it, and too needy to stay out of it.”
  • “There are things you might consider doing to a donkey in private…”
  • “I’m not often aware that I am happy. But I often remember that I have been happy.” (Holy crap I feel like I could do a whole blog post on this!)

“Some of the most wonderful things have to be believed to be seen.”

I’m not sure our production of “Uh-Oh, Here Comes Christmas” will be wonderful (at least not through and through) but I am certain that you will need to see it to believe it!

I lied on Facebook today: We did NOT have a Tofurky for Thanksgiving.

No, we didn’t have actual turkey (Well, Chad did for lunch. Thank goodness Cub was open until 2:00 so we could pick up a deli Jennie-O turkey for him and veggie essentials for me, in case the weather is crappy this weekend).

We DID have a faux turkey but it was a Gardein brand Holiday Roast. But saying “Tofurky” is easier than saying “plant/soy-based turkey alternative.” Tofurky is to turkey as Kleenex is to facial tissue.

While I will always be happy to eat a Tofurky, I do like the Gardein product better, and it doesn’t have the frustrating-to- remove metal clips that a Tofurky sports.

Luckily I had this Gardein holiday roast (GHR) on hand, because we were not planning on eating at home this Thanksgiving. But, see the aforementioned weather forecast for this weekend.

I’m grateful that the GHR was not freezer burned, and pleased that it occurred to me to vacuum out the oven so it would be clear of fire-starting chip particles. YES I VACUUMED THE OVEN. I’m proud of that one on many levels. As many of you probably know, I do NOT bake (nor does Chad) and we primarily use the oven for chip and cracker storage.

Our GHR was damn tasty, and I’m already obsessing about when I can buy and make another one.

The accompanying roasted veggies I made- w/o olive oil–were also damn tasty. (And I don’t mean to hate on olive oil, but if I can get flavor without using as many calories, I’m all for that).

My roasted veggie marinade ingredients? Why, I’m happy to share! (I don’t aspire to being a cook but I am a hell of an assembler):

• Alessi pear-infused white basalmic vinegar
• Soy sauce
• Miso broth
• Sirachha
• Red wine
• Various spices: Italian seasoning, pepper, Trader Joe’s Umani

I think I am even inspired to keep our oven open/cracker free so I can continue to use it to roast veggies–at least for the next couple of weeks (Chad reminded me I say this every year).

We did NOT find a small pumpkin pie or pecan pie or pumpkin pie flavored Halo at Cub, but we did find a piece of carrot cake which seems relatively seasonable (more so than the strawberry rhubarb pie that also sounded yummy).

I have so many things to be thankful for, big and small. Right now, at this moment, I feel the most immediacy in being thankful for getting to live my quirky little life: vaccuming my oven, getting to run at the gym w/o having to dodge old people walking in the running lane, practicing the keyboard part for the Counting Crow’s “Long December,” whipping up a tasty veggie marinade, blogging on my phone, and watching superhero shows with a snuggly StanLee B.

There’s no “E” in Tofurky or bourbon, but there is an “E” in wine and love and awesome and StanLee. I’m so lucky my life can encompass the small joys of all these gifts that span the spelling spectrum.

“StanLee B. and the Case of the Mysterious Hotdog.” It sounds like a cute children’s chapter book, doesn’t it?

Maybe someday it will be if I ever pursue a career as a children’s book author, but for now, it’s my name for a couple of scary, adrenaline-laced hours Chad and I experienced worrying about StanLee.

Before we go any further, let me assure all my gentle readers that STANLEE IS COMPLETELY FINE, so it’s okay to make light of the travails of his anxious pet parents.

Our hotdog-induced anxiety was not inspired by my pseudo-vegetarianism, but by StanLee finding, and of course eating, a hot dog he found in our yard. Yes, I saw StanLee trotting around proudly with the hotdog, but there was no way I was ever going to get him to come to me with it, much less surrender his hotdog treasure (#dogtraining fail, #whataboutpuppybootcamp?)

I am not certain of many things in life, but I am certain that we are a hotdog-free household, so the hotdog clearly did NOT originate with us. And while I hate to be paranoid and generally poo-poo fears about crime, my mind immediately leapt to the reports of dogs who have been poisoned with tainted meat that has been thrown into their yard.

I called our regular vet’s office, and while the assistant who answered the phone wasn’t that concerned at first, after consulting with the vet, she said we needed to make StanLee vomit by giving him some hydrogen peroxide ASAP.

I proceeded to have a complete meltdown. “We don’t have any hydrogen peroxide and how in the world would I get it in StanLee even if we did!…was hydrogen peroxide spray the same as regular hydrogen peroxide? What was my time frame? Could this wait until my husband, already on his way, got home?”

The assistant tried to be helpful, and told me that it had to be hydrogen peroxide but not the spray, and that hydrogen peroxide was inexpensive, and I could try a turkey baster as a delivery system. Internally I screamed:

“I haven’t been holding out on buying hydrogen peroxide because I’m cheap, and regardless of price I still don’t have it and do I have time to get it, and no I do NOT have a f#*cking turkey baster!!!”

So I ran (not literally) to CVS, bought a bottle of hydrogen peroxide (which yes WAS cheap and also the exact same percentage of hydrogen perxoide as the spray we already had), returned home, and successfully fed a tablespoon to StanLee. He didn’t like this and cried a little so my heart broke a little, but it wasn’t actually that difficult.

And he did not throw up.

Chad got home, he called the vet’s office (I couldn’t be trusted), and upon their instructions, gave StanLee another dose of hydrogen peroxide.

Still no throwing up. (This steel stomach from the dog who regulary vomits for no discernable reason other than looking at a plant?)

Another call to the vet, and the ominous direction to get StanLee to the emergency vet IMMEDIATELY. So StanLee had a lovely ride to the emergency vet, and we almost threw up from fear and stress.

The technician who did our intake at the emergency vet had apparently not heard of the crime of dog poisoning, and was rather mystified as to our concern. She kindly checked his vitals, said he seemed just fine and that even if he had ingested something dangerous it was now too late for purging to help, and we should just take him home and keep an eye on him. They didn’t even charge us, and the receptionist remarked that he wasn’t his first emergency vet visit (only 3 in one year…)

Blessedly, StanLee never suffered any ill-effects from his consumption of the hotdog of dubious origins. I’m still baffled by where this hotdog came from, and am beginning to doubt that I really even saw him with it (I was pretty sleep-deprived that day). I just can’t imagine the scenario where someone randomly, but not maliciously, threw a hotdog in our yard, especially in November. (Perhaps in the summer when many people are having cookouts like crazy a stray hotdog could get into the ecosystem and wind up in our yard).

I guess some mysteries are better left unsolved. Although if I do ever use this incident as the inspiration for a children’s book, I’m totally casting our cats as the criminal masterminds.

I ran my first race of 2019 yesterday when I did the TC 10 Mile! It was also my first race since the 2018 Twin Cities Marathon last October.

Wow, a whole year without races (no, NOT a whole year without running). This wasn’t an intentional break from participating in organzied races (although I am on an intentional marathon hiatus). Weather–mixed in with some life choices–lead to me missing two races earlier this year (“The Race Not Taken“), and JUST this weekend, the 5K and 10K we signed up for on Saturday were cancelled because of rainy weather and potential lightning. (Although we still did get all our race series bling–medals, awesome coffee travel mug–which I’m not even embarassed to rock because we totally intended to run).

And yes, I realize that the most dire consequence of global warming is not how it is affecting my race plans, but it’s what I feel most immediately.

Actually, given how crappy the weather was on Saturday for the 5K and 10K, I was very thankful they were cancelled. We signed up to run them as part of the “Loony Challenge,” to run the 5K and 10K on Saturday and the 10 Mile on Sunday. I wanted to do this, I really did (last year we did the “Ultra Loony”–same Saturday races with the Marathon on Sunday), despite having to get up before dawn two days in a row, and not just because signing up for the Loony Challenge guaranteed us a spot in the extremely popular 10 Mile. But since the weather WAS so crappy, I just couldn’t imagine standing around freezing my ass off in the wind and the rain, and I was soo happy not to make that call  to bail myself.

But the weather was perfect on Sunday and I FINALLY RAN A RACE. I almost forgot how fun and energizing and stressful and exciting a race can be. Yes, they are a complete pain in the ass (I’m willingly doing something that requires getting up at 5:00 in the morning in October when it’s not even light?), but the things I love most in life (acting, being in a band, etc.) seem to be.

And yes, I DID feel a little lame because I was “only” running the 10 Mile, and not the marathon, but still proud and excited to be able to do the 10 Mile and be a part of Marathon weekend and the running community, even if mostly via Facebook. I even got to celebrate in person with some of my amazing First TC 10 Marathon class of 2017.

The actual experience of running the TC 10 was wonderful–beautiful weather and route with gorgeous trees popping with fall color, and supportive and entertaining spectators. And I felt good–yes, I was defintely working, but no real pain or issues (I never wanted to puke)–so it was a win.

AND I think I ran my fastest individual mile EVER–Mile #1 I ran in 8:12. Which probably is more a sign of bad planning than athletic prowess, but still. In a wonderful metaphor for life, (how I love my running metaphors for life) the middle of the race, miles 5-7, were my hardest and slowest. I even learned some running strategy that may be applicable in future shorter races–it’s worth carrying water, because the water stops actually do add enough time to matter (unlike in a marathon where walking through the water stops is no big whoo and even gives you a beneficial break).

But yes, Amy being Amy (and I’m just trying to accept my neuroses as part of my charm), I AM a little confused and disappointed by my performance. I completed the 10 Mile with an 8:56/per mile average pace, exactly what I did 3 years ago (although in 2016 I had an overal time of 1:29:17 and this year I finished in 1:29:15 so I was technically faster!)

In many, many ways, an 8:56/per mile pace is a very good thing, especially since I’ve felt that my training this year has been rather lackluster (and there was that face plant thing I did). Honestly, I was worried I might be lucky to have a 9:30/per milep pace. BUT…there was ALL THAT TRAINING! I certainly was running  and “training” way back in 2016, but not with anywhere near the same effort and intentionality, which makes me ask…was all the training of 2019 worth it? At least when it comes to actual race performance (yes, my obsesseive compulsive self DOES really enjoy the training for its own sake).

And since I don’t know where else to admit this…I do feel “guilty” that when I registered for the 10 Mile, I said I anticipated a 8:30/mile pace. Yes, this was definitely a stretch goal, but not entirely made up. It was simply based on my Best Ever (“PR”–Personal Record) pace attained at the Rochester Half Marathon, (an easier, although longer, course).  I only feel bad because this declaration got me into the first corral of Ten Milers, which meant I didn’t have to stand around waiting to start the 10 Mile in one of the other corrals.

This was my third TC 10 Mile. Was it the Charm? What am I going to do next year? Will I do the 10 Mile again, or the Marathon, or just sit at home and watch the proceedings via Facebook?

Two years ago today I ran my first marathon, the Twin Cities Marathon.

I probably wouldn’t have realized that today is my inaugural marathon anniversary without the miracle of Facebook to alert me.

I don’t remember that much about the actual marathon, although I’m sure if I dedicated some time for reflection and blog reading more would come back to me. Mostly I remember the hours…and hours…and hours of training (and all the unflattering selfies of me all sweaty and redfaced).

But I do have lots of thoughts and feels to commemorate this anniversary:

• Disbelief: Sometimes I’m still shocked that I’ve run marathons (3 to be exact).
• Pride: Hell yeah, I’m badass.
• Regret: I’m NOT running the TC Marathon this year.
• Relief: I’m NOT running the TC Marathon this year.
• Inspiration/Strength/Confidence: I was able to do this! No matter what, I learned I can do far more than I think is possible.
• Self doubt/Weakness/Inferiority/Fear of Failure: I did something amazing then, but could I do it now?
• Gratitude: Despite this cocktail of contradictory feelings, gratitude overshadows them all. I’m so thankful that my life circumstances and health and the support of Chad and friends made it possible for me to do this. I’m also so thankful for the support and inspiration of my community of runners, most notably my First-Time TC Marathoners Class of 2017 Facebook group.

Of course the burning question on everyone’s minds is what does the future hold for Amy’s running career? As I’ve already said (admitted) I am NOT running the TC Marathon, or any marathon, this year. I am running the TC 10 Mile on Marathon Day and the 5K and 10K the day before (loving known as the “Loony Challenge.” But don’t be too impressed, last year I did the “Ultra Loony Challenge”–5K, 10K and Marathon in one weekend). These will be the first races I’ve run all year. Then Chad and I will be heading to Louisville in two weeks to run the Urban Bourbon Half Marathon (we ran this three years ago and all the bourbon we will want to drink is more daunting than the race).

Top questions about Amy’s running future:

• Why no marathon this year? Mostly because training takes SO MUCH TIME. I’m actually relieved I decided to “take this year off” as my job has turned out to be much more demanding.
• Will you run another marathon? Seriously considering it. I like the idea of running a marathon the year I turn 50 (next year) and also the idea of running a total of 5 marathons (at least).
• Will you keep running? Are you still a runner? HELL YES! I started running almost 20 years before I ran a marathon, I just wasn’t running with the same intensity. I plan to keep running at some level and frequency as long as I possibly can.
• Have you peaked as a runner? Quite possibly, at least as far as speed is concerned. Frankly, my training this year has sucked. I don’t know if it’s age, or weird injuries, or lack of motivation, or too many chips or too much alcohol, but I have slowed down. I’m nervous about how this weekend’s races are going to go, and how bummed I’m going to be when I don’t live up to past glories. But perhaps the biggest challenge now is to have the mental and emotional perserverance to keep going. See above: I WILL STILL BE A RUNNER.

In the not-too-distant past I came across a sticker at a race expo that read “There will come a day when I cannot do this. Today is not that day.” I immediately teared up. I may not do it as well as I used to (and this goes not only for running but perhaps also drumming, blogging, drinking, etc.) but I WILL keep doing it–and enjoying it and appreciaiting it–for as long as I can.

*The traditional gift for the second anniversary is cotton, and “Cotton to” is an idiom that means you understand something. I cotton to running, drumming, drinking red wine and bourbon, etc….Totally made up the “polyester” bit

“Wow, he’s an adolescent.”

Those were some of the first words out of Coach Carla’s mouth when we met her for our initial dog owner conference after StanLee’s first day of Boot Camp.

Yes, we’ve enrolled (enlisted?) StanLee B. in “boot camp” at our local Canine Coach. No, he’s not going to be shipped out to fight a war of canine cuteness, but he is going to go to training every week day for a month (we need to drop him off  in the morning by 9 and pick him up by 6).

Yes, Coach Carla (the trainer dedicated to working with StanLee) assured us that he is adorable and charming and that all the staff love him, but “training him is going to be a challenge I’m looking forward to.”

Hearing that StanLee is “challenging” actually made us feel better about our (expensive) choice to send him to Boot Camp. No, we’re not just lazy dog owners who suck at training (well, I am) but StanLee has some significant impulse control issues. He’s not aggressive (exactly), but he wants things, or more specifically, to play with “things” (other dogs, cats, emus on tv) NOW and when he can’t, he gets really frustrated and loses his puppy mind.

The basic training we (mostly Chad) did with StanLee B helped, and he’s definitely calmed down as he’s gotten older, but he’s still a lot to handle. He’s an adorable little ball of energy who loves too much, and we just can’t exercise or train that away by ourselves (as some well meaning but judgmental folks have suggested).

StanLee propensity to love too much is especially problematic for us because our cats are terrified of him and still sequestered in the basement. (The one time he actually did come in contact with one of our cats–Pepper–she scratched/bit his ear and he cried like, well, a little puppy, but neither one of them seems to remember that).

We’re trying not to have too high of expectations for Boot Camp. We would LOVE to have StanLee learn not to terrorize the cats, but we’ll also be really happy if by the time of Boot Camp graduation we can take StanLee out around other dogs (yes, primarily so we can take him out drinking with us).

If we had known about Boot Camp when we had Oscar, we may have signed him up for it, as he also was never that well behaved in public. (Olive, with her fear aggression, was probably never going to be a terribly social dog. Ironically, we think she really DID want to kill the cats, but she was calm about it, so they were too oblivious to recognize it and we were always afraid the cats would commit suicide-by-dog).

And yes, we know Coach Carla and the Canine Coach crew can’t create miracles by themselves. We have to do our homework, too, and work on training StanLee at home. Boot Camp also includes twice weekly meetings for us (or at least one of us) with Coach Carla and at-home visits after the conclusion of Boot Camp.

The logistics of Boot Camp are both a burden and freeing. Even though it only takes 4 minutes to actually get to Canine Coach from our house, sometimes making sure we are there by 9 and picking him up by 6 adds stress to the day that we just don’t need. It can be particularly stressful when StanLee thinks that putting on this harness is a game of chase, although “yay” to him for demonstrating why he needs Boot Camp and affirming our choice.  And no, I haven’t dropped him off yet but I’m totally prepared to do it in my pajamas or workout clothes if I need to.

But those sweet hours while he is at Boot Camp–yes, I miss him, but I also love not feeling responsible for him and being easily able to do simple things like take out the recycling, not to mention spending time with the cats. (And if you’re thinking I’m totally overreacting to the stress of having a dog, thankfully I was self-aware enough not to have children). Boot Camp time isn’t as awesome as Puppy Daycare time, as we don’t have to pick him up from daycare until 7:00 and we can usually go to Happy Hour before, AND there is a puppy cam at daycare…but hopefully he’ll be able to go back to Puppy Daycare as a more polite canine citizen.

Whatever the outcome of Boot Camp is (and I definitely intend to blog about it), I’m pretty sure StanLee is loving it. Yes, he’s mostly exhausted by the time he comes home, because thinking and learning and paying attention and following rules is HARD (I know I feel the same way). But I’m positive he loves all the attention from Coach Carla and the rest of the staff (again, he’s mostly just like me, #WillWorkForAttention).

*”Blog Dog”–this is my blog, and StanLee is my dog, and it rhymes! Inspired by Luke Burbank, host of the podcast “Too Beautiful Too Live” and his “Pod Dog” Rudy.

Chad and I went to the Minnesota State Fair today. Voluntarily.

Take a moment to let that sink in

Obviously, going to the Fair is nothing that remarkable for thousands and thousands of Minnesotans (native or transplants like us) who go to the Fair every year. But precisely because of those thousands and thousands of Fairgoers, Chad is not a fan of the Fair. While I go most years (at least for a few hours), Chad has only been there once several years ago (1998? 2002?) for a Bonnie Raitt show at the Grandstand (we definitely did not stray too far from the Grandstand into the rest of the Fair).

So it took something special to bring Chad back to the Fair: a live taping of an episode of a podcast he adores, “Too Beautiful Too Live” (TBTL). I won’t spend too much time now describing TBTL or its wonder, but just say you should definitely check it out. (The show’s website describes it as “…a daily podcast from Luke Burbank and Andrew Walsh. It’s about life, current events, pop culture, puttering, laser baldness helmets, and tonight pants.”)

Not only did Chad go to the Fair to see the TBTL taping (which I totally take credit for), I even “made” him go and speak to the hosts and we had our picture taken with them! (I was so happily surprised by this that I didn’t even take any other photos for the rest of my time at the Fair).

Even though I’m not as big of TBTL fan as Chad (I haven’t listened to it as much as I don’t really bother to figure out podcast listening on my own) I am a bit of a Luke Burbank fan from listening to his public radio show “Livewire” and hearing him as a guest on public radio’s “Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me.” (Okay, I’m done talking about public radio for the rest of this blog, and yes, I’m constantly suprised I am such a public radio nerd).

Meeting the TBTL hosts Luke and Andrew was delightful. They were funny and sweet and charming, and seeing the show live was a hoot. And I really enjoyed their guest Brandi Brown, a local comedian who is also really into the Fair and a seed artist…who knew? We also got to see Stu ‘The StuBot’ Neuman, a show regular and copywriter for Surly famous for writing Welcome to Minnesota. (This was all new to me until today).

Actually I learned (or at least experienced) a lot today at the Fair. It was a Day of Discovery, which featured these highlights:

• The deep fried pickles we had were not only full of saltly yummineess, but they weren’t over greasy and the pickles were crisp, even though fried!
• I correctly remembered where the Island Noodles booth was located in the International Bazaar, and the Island Noodles were indeed vegetarian (vegan, actually, in case anyone is looking for that). And apparently I was on a food texture appreciation kick today, and was pleasantly surprised that the noodles weren’t overcooked. They also weren’t saturated with sauce and even featured some actual vegetables!
• It is possible to get chilly at the Fair. It wasn’t a disaster, but deciding to wear shorts (actually, a skort–hey, I’m almost 50) wasn’t the best decision on a day when the temperature was in the low 70’s. (Totally appreciated the beautiful, if windy, day though).
• Chad can be way more chillaxed at the Fair than me. I had to keep fighting (not always that successfully) my desire to HAVE A PLAN and GET SOMEWHERE.
• I did not have the energy or wherewithal to make it to the Library booth on Read and Ride Day (Library Day), but I appreciated the $2 Fair ticket discount for having a library card and I felt clever wearing my date due stamp shirt (#represent).
• I was interested to see the seed art, but not nearly enough to wait in line. I was mostly content to see if from a distance behind the barrier, and felt accomplished that we at least glimpsed Brandi Brown’s Gameboy piece.
• In addition to seed art, the horticulture hall has really cool floral arrangements.
• I had beer, and did not burst into flames of calories (yet). I’m glad I tried to have special Fair beer: a Surly Mango Medusa (Surly in honor of StuBot) and a Schell’s Starkeller sour.
• The number of Hall and Oates shirts we encountered was suprising. Yes, I know they are playing at the Grandstand tonight, but how/why did that many fans have shirts in advance? Do that many people see Hall and Oates concerts multiple times so that they already have concert shirts, or are these just standard fans shirts available via the interwebs? And yes, frankly, I’m constantly surprised that Hall and Oates are so popular (not trying to hate I honestly just don’t get it) and I’m really surprised that they appear to have so many young (under 30) fans.
• Dino’s Gyros has a cool little beer garden space with live bands (thanks for the tip Mike Frasier!)

Yes, it was a day ful of wonder, but our Fair experience isn’t over yet…we’re going BACK on SATURDAY for the Brandi Carlisle concert at the Grandstand (not Dino’s). If Chamy attendance at the Fair twice in one year doesn’t cause a black hole to swallow the universe, there just might be more blogging (I’m sure there will be more fried food and drinking).

Self-deprecation can get tiresome quickly so I try not to indulge in it too much, but I really am not “what one would call a beautifully coordinated creature.”

That’s a quote, more or less, is from Chad’s character Matt in the beloved play “Talley’s Folly.” (More self-deprecation…I am NOT good at exact quotes). But you get the idea. I am, and always have been, a klutz.

It’s ironic that I’m a klutz, because I was born on a Tuesday, and Tuesday’s child, according to the classic poem, is “full of grace.” Maybe the poem’s author meant grace as a spiritual or emotional quality. If so, I still have lots of room in my grace tank.

Anyhoo, for whatever reason, I am not very physically coordinated or graceful. Maybe it’s just a self-fulfilling prophecy…somewhere way back when, I learned that I was a klutz, even though I must have some coordination, as I am rather kick-ass amateur drummer.

But one thing I love about running is that it doesn’t take any great physical skill or coordination…until it does, or at least more than I have, and I trip and fall for no apparent reason, as I did yesterday morning.

The lack of a known cause for my fall yesterday has me a little weirded out. No, I don’t think I have a new medical condition or anything, but with all the other times I’ve had a running fall or trip (approximately only 5 in the last couple of years) I remember tripping on something on the sidewalk (or in one case this summer doing an awkward manuever trying to avoid a car).

If I’m honest, I feel a little cursed when it comes to running this year. No, I don’t really THINK that I’m cursed or that I’ve offended some running deities that I don’t rationally think exist, but I FEEL cursed. Between pulled butt muscles and rained out races and slower than average training runs and more than an usual amount of falling, I’m a little scared to go running again and keep training for the Twin Cities 10 Mile.

But worse than being scared of running again is wondering just how long will I need to wait before I can–or should–go running again. While I am very fortunate that I’m not significantly injured in any way (although I do have a rather impressive bruise on my chin that looks even more colorful today than yesterday when I posted an unflattering selfie to show it off) I am sore and stiff. My neck and jaw are particularly problematic, making it challenging to sleep, drive, and chew salad (all the necessities of life).

So I did not run today and took a SECOND rest day this week. Argh. I can already feel the downward spiral starting as I write this while eating ice cream and drinking bourbon. Yes, yes, yes, I know that “rest” and “recovery” are supposedly healthy, but how long can this madness continue?

I know my recent running mishaps pale in comparison with the injuries and hardships that many runners face, but that only makes me more nervous. What else is lurking around the corner? How would I deal with a real setback?

Okay, I’m indulging in something I AM good at: worry and imagining worst case scenarios.

One of  my most influential college professors told us that the experience of enlightenment is like falling…your brain just stops and you are totally in the moment. That may be true sometimes but she did not know the inner workings of my brain. Yesterday morning my poor brain kept working and had plenty of time to think “S#@t! I’m falling and I can’t stop it and I’m going to hit the sidewalk and that’s going to hurt.”

It’s weird when a metaphor (or analogy or symbol or whatever literary device) becomes literal. I have new appreciation for the meaning of needing to get up and keep moving when I actually had to get up and keep moving.

(Another Lesson of the Fall…although the bruise on my chin looks a little dramatic, it doesn’t hurt. What really hurts and causes me problems–my neck and jaw–are invisible injuries. Now THAT’S a metaphor).

Luckily, I was only a block from home when I fell. This was advantageous, obviously, because I only had a little ways to go before I was home, and I had almost completed my planned run (yes, I made sure to stop my Garmin watch as soon as I could manage it–I was only a minute short of my goal). The downside is that I can’t help thinking if I just could have kept my act together for just one more block I could have made it safely home.

But who knows, maybe the space/time continuum needed me to fall on that date and time to keep reality together so I just would have come home and tripped over StanLee. (If I do end up giving up on running, maybe I can expand my writing hobby from blogging to include really mundane science fiction stories).

 

Last week Chad and I saw “The Muppet Movie” on the big screen in an actual movie theater. (Kind of a dumpy movie theater, but not quite as dilapidated as the theater where the muppets have their film screening in “The Muppet Movie”). It was a special screening in honor of the movie’s 40th Anniversary.

Obviously it is rather mind-blowing to me to realize “The Muppet Movie” premiered 40 years ago. As Linda Holmes says in her amazing and profound essay, Rainbows, Frogs, Dogs And ‘The Muppet Movie’ Soundtrack at 40,

“And I could tell you that this makes me feel old, but it doesn’t. It oddly makes me feel just right.”

Actually, the 40th anniversary of the Muppet Movie DOES make me feel old, but also just right. Or maybe it’s more accurate to say that I feel like being old IS all right, as long as I can still bask in the wonder and magic and optimism and goofiness of “The Muppet Movie.”

My muppety appreciation may be even richer and sweeter because of all the 40 years I’ve lived since my first viewing of “The Muppet Movie.” Today I still love the inspiring muppet message of following your dreams, but now I realize that I often have to redefine my dreams and keep having new ones.

Now when I sing along at the end of the “The Muppet Movie” to one of all-time favorite lyrics, “Life’s like a movie, write your own ending, keep believing, keep pretending,” it’s not only a straightforward “take control of your life and make things happen” message. Now I also think about how I want to tell my life story, what the narratives are that I want to create to make meaning out of my life, even when, or especially when, I can’t control what happens.

I think about all the layers of the word “pretending,” encompassing everything from imagination to lying, bravery to denial. In a simple sense, it’s what all actors do: pretend to be someone else. It’s also what all people do, at least in the sense of pretending to be other aspects of ourselves. So instead of pretending to be something or someone we don’t want to be, can we choose which “me” to be and when? Can we keep trying to be our best, or at least “best at this moment” selves, even when it’s hard and we feel like we’re just pretending?

I love how Kermit and the muppets give us great examples of selves we could pretend to be. They are all admirable and flawed and funny and interesting and bold in their own ways. With infinite time I probably could blog about the symbolic meanings of each major muppet, but for now I’ll stick with Kermit. 

Today Kermit is still my hero and my crush (more about that other key aspects of my Muppet fandom in This Looks Familiar), but I am surprised to discover how Amy “The (at least temporarily) Man” admires Kermit as a boss and leader. Kermit inspires me because he wants to live up to his responsibilities to his fellow muppets, but still keeps it real. Kermit gets snarky and scared and annoyed, but leads anyway. No wonder Captain Mercer of “The Orville” (a brilliant show) has a Kermit doll on his desk, explaining, “…He’s just a leader I admire. Always keeps his cool in a crisis [there’s some irony there], inspires greatness in his people…”

And today, as a professional amateur actor, I now get and appreciate all the puns that lace “The Muppet Movie” more than I ever did as a kid. After 10 years of performing with the pun-loving Duck Soup theater company, I almost feel like an honorary muppet.

Yes, seeing the special anniversary screening of “The Muppet Movie” with Chad was quite the momentous and moving occasion, and I got to enjoy it with a cheapass little individual bottle of theater merlot (I didn’t get to enjoy that when I was 9). If only they had sold Muppet Sparkling Muscatel!