Amy Lu's View

One of the (few) good things my mom had to say about my dad is that he was a good tipper.

He was reportedly consistently nice to servers. I remember my mom telling a story about a time when a carhop spilled an entire tray of food in his lap at a drive in and he just shrugged it off. 

My dad is a good role model for how we should treat servers on this National Hospitality Workers Appreciation Day. 

Even though I worked years and years (and years) in customer service with retail and library work (and still supervise staff who do this), I’ve never worked at a restaurant or bar. 

When I was a kid, I did pretend that I worked at Burger Chef, and used to get napkins and condiments for the whole family when we visited (Burger Chef, a now defunct fast food chain, was a big outing for the Luedke Family in the 70s.) I also used to threaten to sell my sister to Burger Chef when I got mad at her. 

Now that I think about it, I don’t think anyone in my immediate family ever worked in hospitality, although they certainly worked in people facing professions (army, teaching). 

I can only imagine how stressful customer service must be when you add food and/or alcohol to the mix–people get emotional enough about books and library services. I certainly get emotional about food and drink. 

I try hard not to be that customer, but I do sometimes embarrass Chad. Mostly, I’m just that middle-aged white lady who asks for dressing on the side (#stereotype). I don’t think that’s too extreme–even when I send a salad back if there is a mixup and I get a fully dressed salad. But I have definitely had breakdowns when a place is unexpectedly out of vegetarian food or it’s taking an extra long time to get our food when we’re trying to get to a show. While I don’t directly aim those breakdowns at our servers, I’m sure they don’t enjoy being caught up in my emotional swirl. 

Writing this post is making me reminisce about one of our favorite places–Sanctuary– that, like Burger Chef, is also unfortunately no more. That is the only similarity between Sanctuary and Burger Chef. And unlike Burger Chef, I didn’t have to pretend to work at Sanctuary, as it had marvelous staff and an owner, Michael, who was just a delight–warm, personable, funny. He made every visit to Sanctuary special. Sadly, Michael died years ago, and is greatly missed. 

Even though I know working in a restaurant or bar must be extremely challenging, I do have a fantasy of owning a bar. I’d probably call it Chamy’s, although I’m not sure how involved Chad would be. Or maybe StanLee’s  But in my fantasy, I can work whenever I want, perform whenever I want (Amy at an open mic would always be a possibility), and tell people to f*#k off whenever I want. 

What could be more hospitable than that?

I’ve been thinking hard about what to write for World Thinking Day.

This is another holiday that I had no idea what it was about based on the name. Once again, I chose it as the best of lackluster options…certainly I could come up with something to write about thinking. But then I actually looked at the description and ding, ding ding…it’s about Girl Scouts. 

And I just happen to have my Girl Scout sash from the late 70s/early 80s hanging around in my/StanLee’s office. 

Even though I’ve held on to my sash for 40 some years my time in the Girl Scouts was rather uninspiring. Sometimes, it was downright odd and stressful. I’m not even sure why I was in the Girl Scouts, but I was in the Brownies and then then the Girl Scouts, for several years. Some of my scouting years overlapped with my participation in 4-H, and doing both always felt a little radical. 

My sash proves that I earned some badges, although I don’t remember what they were for. I know I managed to avoid most outdoor activities, although I did attend a day camp one summer. 

Although it’s surprising, it does look like I earned badges related to camping and cooking. If those are indeed camping and cooking badges, that may just demonstrate that I was good at figuring out how to earn the badges in creative ways that required little camping or cooking. 

I do remember trying to earn a badge that was theater related, but none of the badges seem to fit that. But one of the badges apparently depicts reading books to children so that seems appropriate. 

I think Girl Scouts are supposed to be spending today thinking about how to make the world a better place. I’m thinking about how I ever managed to earn Girl Scout badges. 

I know almost nothing about Tarot cards, and have few thoughts or feelings about them. But I thought I was going to have to come up with something to say about Tarot cards, as Card Reading Day seems my best option to blog about today. (The other “top” choices were National Sticky Bun Day and National Grain Free Day. Yeah, February 21 is a rough one). The only thing I possibly have to say about Tarot cards is that I gave Chad a Dungeons and Dragons themed deck last year for his birthday, and he occassionally uses them for meditation. 

Resigned to my task, I read the description of the “holiday” in a vain hope that I would find some inspiration, and discovered I had completely misinterpreted the meaning of Card Reading Day. And while I’m totally willing to interpret a holiday in any way I want for the purposes of blogging about (as demonstrated yesterday in my Tug of War Day post), the actual intent of the Card Reading Day is so much easier for me to relate to. 

Today is a “…is a sentimental holiday on which people savor the greeting cards sent to them over the years” (NationalToday.com). 

Savor greeting cards? Now that I can do. Well, maybe “hoard” is more accurate–I have stacks of cards all over the house, including my bedroom dresser, in addition to the ones I have “put away,” i.e., stuffed in boxes. I still have the cards we received when we got married, in addition to the box my sister-in-law, Kelly (at the time a young teen!) made for people to put them in.

I could easily spend a whole day looking at cards I’ve received, and being sentimental. It would be lovely, but also rather intense–that would be quite the emotional journey for this Gen X midwesterner to experience in one day. 

In light of the limits of time and my emotional stamina, I only went through the pile of cards of my dresser and rather randomly selected a few to photograph to illustrate this post. 

The cards cover an array of occasions and senders. I was definitely drawn to the birthday cards, as it’s almost my birthday time again, and of course found several cards from my friend Pat, with whom I’ve had a long and ongoing card sending practice. I was most struck by a handmade Halloween card from my sister, as well as the sympathy cards I received after her death last year (including one from a fellow church member who just died).

A sentimental holiday, indeed, which did give me the opportunity to savor some sweet memories. Turns out, February 21 isn’t the holiday dessert I feared. Perhaps there should be another holiday that recognizes items I have piled up on my dresser.

I’m looking forward to Crumpled Up Laundry Day!

Happy “I Don’t Respect My Pets Personal Space Day” (officially known as National Love Your Pet Day). 

Or perhaps I should call it “My Pets Won’t Cooperate When I Want to Take Selfies With Them Day.” 

Of course every day is Love Your Pet Day. We love them in all their adorableness and weirdness, every day.

And not to sell our cats short when it comes to weirdness, or discount the weirdness of any of our previous pets, but StanLee seems particularly “quirky.” He is the puppy who has three “carry around sticks,” because he doesn’t chew his rawhide chew sticks but rather carries them about from room to room, burying them in our bed or “his office” futon, or dropping them in chairs, on the floor, etc. 

He has had one of these carry around sticks for at least two years. And it’s not because he has any qualms about chewing–he IS the puppy who graced our bookcase with permanent teeth marks, who loves to chew running socks–expensive running socks. Rather, he understands the adage that you can’t have your cake (chew stick) and eat (chew) it, too, 

Every time StanLee has received a new stick, he whines because (we think) he loves it so much that he just can’t stand it. He also (we think) deems the chew sticks so awesome and impressive that he will often get one to show off to a dog he sees passing by our bay window, and will also hide the stick after the display so no interloper dog can get it. 

I could go on and on about all the peculiar and silly and cute things StanLee does, as well as the antics of Pepper and Sprout, but since I’m blogging every day I’m giving myself permission to keep things short…and these anecdotes may need to be saved for future blogging. 

Every day is Love Your Pet Day, with the heartache being that there just aren’t enough days that we have with our pets to love them. Of course, we still love every pet we’ve ever had, even when they are no longer with us. But I WILL NOT GET MAUDLIN! I will just be grateful that we currently have three healthy, silly, annoying, adorable pets right now. 

I love them even if they resist my attempts at social media worthy photography. 

I think we occasionally had to do tug of wars in elementary school. I don’t think I liked it. 

I don’t clearly remember because it would have been a long time ago, and if it did happen, it didn’t happen with the frequency or terror of volleyball (which also lasted through high school). Maybe I just saw enough movies with tug of war scenes that I think I actually participated in them. 

I even think my dad might have participated in community tug of wars, but again, that may just be a memory of a movie. 

What I do know, on this Tug of War Day, is that as a teenager I intently listened to Paul McCartney’s album “Tug of War.” 

The album came out in 1982, but I probably didn’t hear it until 1985ish, after I became a huge Paul fan because of his duet “Say, Say, Say” with Michael Jackson. I think I checked the record out (multiple times) from the Eau Claire public library. 

The album is probably most notable for the song “Here Today,” Paul’s beautiful tribute to John Lennon. It also has “Take it Away” which I always loved and I can still remember hearing on the radio one morning while getting ready for school in my very orange bedroom. I’m pretty sure “Take it Away” introduced me to the word “impresario,” although in a pre-internet world it was years before I figured out what the word was and what it meant. 

Thinking about this song and album encouraged me to finally crack open the copy of the book “The Lyrics” by Paul that I received as a much appreciated Christmas gift from my sister-in-law. Luckily, “Tug of War” was included in the book. Paul’s big insight was that many people thought the song was about his relationship with John, and although he wasn’t thinking about that when he wrote it, he could certainly see how people thought that, especially because of the lyric “But with one thing and another we were trying to outscore each other in a tug of war.” 

The song “Tug of War” strikes me as quintessential Paul–beautiful and goofy and affecting. When Paul sings “In the years to come, they may discover, what the air we breathe and the life we lead are all about,” I’m all at once that young person filled with optimism and the much older person who still wants to be optimistic but thinking out how in all the years that have come since I first heard this song, they/we/I really haven’t figured out very much. (I also think about how we knew/know what air is all about so that’s a pretty silly line. For me, being a Paul fan is a constant tug of war between thinking “Oh my god this song, his voice, is so beautiful” and “Ouch, that lyric is cringey.”)

It may seem surprising that I’m writing about Tug of War Day, but today didn’t give me much to work with. Presidents’ Day was way too hard. I’m not interested in furniture sales right now, and the whole thought of the upcoming presidential election fills me with terror. And maybe hope. But back to terror. 

Maybe there is a connection between Tug of War Day and Presidents’ Day after all. 

It’s National Drink Wine Day. 

Or, to use one of Chad’s favorite comic chestnuts, for me, it’s a day that ends with a “y”. 

Yes, I do like drinking wine. I also know that drinking less wine, and less alcohol of any kind, is a good idea for me, and I am working on that. So as I celebrate National Drink Wine Day, it’s in the “spirit” of appreciating it more, but drinking less of it. (Drinking “less” still gives me quite a bit of space for drinking). 

Even though I really like wine, and have for many years, I’m an enthusiast, but not an expert. No one would ever confuse me with a sommelier (which is convenient, because I can’t spell the word without Googling it). Years ago, when my sister-in-law had “red wine glasses” on her Christmas list, I thought she literally wanted glasses that were the color red. 

Now I know, or think I know, that the size and shape of the glass has some impact on the flavor of wine. Bigger glasses are better for bringing out the flavor of red wine–and not just “convenient” because they require fewer refills. Occasionally I flirt with the idea of aerating my wine, but usually I can’t be bothered.  

They’re not classy, but I do have my wine preferences. I usually prefer red, but I won’t turn down a white, and warm weather definitely puts me in a white wine mood (although I don’t like my white wine too chilled). I usually go for cabs and red blends, but am up for almost anything. If I had a taste test I don’t think I could tell the difference between a shiraz, tempranillo, zinfandel, etc. Malbecs are a go-to because Chad likes them as well and I like how the name sounds. I do tend to avoid pinot noirs because cheap ones (like I tend to buy) can taste weak and disappointing. I like red wines that I think would be described as bold and fruity (although not sweet) so I’m not ashamed to have merlot. 

When ordering at a bar or restaurant, I often get the house wine or the cheapest wine, because I’m just not that discerning. How cheap is cheap? I rarely buy a bottle of wine that costs more than $10 (it has to be a really special occasion) but I get nervous if it’s below $6. I don’t have any qualms about boxed wine, and boxes are a better choice for the environment (wine bottles are environmentally problematic), but boxes of wine aren’t always a good choice for me. I like the visual cue that a bottle of wine provides–the easy way to see how much I’ve had. I also like buying a variety of wine and picking out wine based on the labels. Fun names and/or colorful and artistic labels make me happy. 

I never worry about pairing wine and food–taking the same approach that I do to fashion, decorating, socializing, and blogging, I just hope that if I like all the individual elements, they’ll all work well together. And I don’t think anyone would argue with me that most wine pairs well with chips. 

Scene: Chad and I sitting at the bar at a local drinking establishment, late Saturday afternoon

Me: Yeah, I want to blog when I get home…but I can’t really celebrate Random Acts of Kindness Day.

Chad: Because “f*#k these people?”

Me: No, because who am I going to be kind to? I don’t really see anybody but you and randomly being kind to your spouse doesn’t really seem to fit…I did try to be extra nice to you earlier this week when I lost my phone. 

Chad: That was just you trying to minimize how much trouble you were in.

Me: Oh…well, I wasn’t mean to anybody at the gym today! Although no one was blocking the running lane. But I was nice, or at least not bitchy, to the woman who was in my way in the locker room. 

Chad: Well there, now your blog post is written. 

Me: But aren’t you sick of me blogging about you?

Chad: You haven’t violated any boundaries, and I really don’t give your blog that much thought.

End Scene

Seriously, can you believe that Chad and I don’t have a podcast? Or that I haven’t written a play yet? Although I will admit, I have had alcohol-fueled dreams of turning my blog into a one-woman Fringe show. 

I like almonds. It’s National Almond Day. I bought some almonds at Cub today and ate them. Yay!

Sometimes celebrations are simple. 

Sometimes an arbitrary self-assigned blog post topic doesn’t give one much to work with. 

The most interesting aspect of my attempt to write about almonds is how little I have to say. Almonds don’t inspire any tangents or uncover any almonds related memories. 

I could try to expand this post by building up the only narrative tension for this post I can conjure –I had to struggle with the decision over which flavor of almonds to buy today. I can also admit that I did not go to Cub on a mission to buy almonds for Almond Day, I just happened to be on an emergency yogurt mission, saw the almonds at the checkout counter, and thought “Hey, I could buy some and get a selfie with them for my National Almond Day post.”

Maybe there’s something beautiful about something that can just be enjoyed and considered at face value. (Face value as long as I just consider my personal reactions and ignore ethical questions related to the environmental impact of almonds).

Maybe sometimes I am tired and want to give up on a post and just go to bed. 

I really realized that there are differences between Wisconsin and Minnesota when I learned that deep fried cheese curds are a “special” state fair food in Minnesota. 

Don’t get me wrong–I think deep fried cheese curds are special in the sense that they’re amazing, but growing up in Wisconsin, they were a common source of awesomeness. Fried  cheese curds were widely available at most dining/drinking establishments and outlets, and we didn’t have to wait for a yearly celebration to enjoy them. (In the past twenty-five years Minnesota has evolved in its deep fried cheese curd availability and they are much more ubiquitous than they used to be). 

Stereotypes are often rooted in reality, and on this National Wisconsin Day, I’m celebrating how I embrace my Wisconsin heritage, although sometimes with my own twist. 

The two main “I’m from Wisconsin” boxes I check: I love cheese and drinking. However, in an effort to lower calorie consumption, I try to avoid cheese as an entree, and I do often have faux cheese, which may sometimes be slightly more ethical. And beer is not my alcohol of choice. (I don’t eat brats anymore, but they should definitely be cooked in beer). 

Since I’m a fan of non-beer alcohol, it makes sense to assume that I’m into brandy Old-Fashioneds, the way Wisconsinites are known to make them and enjoy them. I’m certainly not opposed to that, but I can’t claim it’s because I’m from Wisconsin, as I knew nothing about cocktails when I was a youth growing up there. (In addition to the legendary Bloody Marys I loved at the bar The Joynt, the only “cocktails” I drank were Long Island Iced Teas, which I don’t really think count as cocktails but college kid booze delivery concoctions.)

And I am not a Packers fan. Insert gasp here. Maybe even a swoon. But that’s not because I’m anti-Packers, but because I’m deeply uninterested in football. I’m not a fan of any team, but if I had to be, it would be the Packers.

I say pop, (water) fountain, and duck duck GOOSE, but I think those may be differences based on geography rather than state lines. I think I grew up saying and hearing “casserole” and “hot dish” interchangeably, although I now prefer “hot dish” so maybe I’ve been brainwashed. 

Fish frys were never a big deal for my family. Like brandy Old Fashioneds, they were something that I learned had Wisconsin associations after I didn’t live there anymore.  

Is being from somewhere just about what we eat and drink and say? Of course not, but those are the easy things to identify and make jokes and social media and blog posts about. 

I broke my blog streak* yesterday and did not blog about any holiday. 

I didn’t blog because I was too busy “celebrating” a holiday–unfortunately, that holiday was Desperation Day**. 

Why was I so desperate? I lost my cell phone–which was bad enough–but this was the SECOND time that I had lost my phone in two years. And once again, I lost it because of my carelessness. I think it fell out of my bag–as it has done several times recently. Clearly, I had reason to think that putting my cell phone in this bag was NOT a good idea, but I kept on doing it. 

I know we all make mistakes, but I hate the feeling of making a “totally-preventable-I-could-have seen-that-coming-in fact-I’ve-done-this-before” mistake. I should at least get some new material. 

But today, I get to celebrate Valentine’s Day with feeling all sorts of warm fuzzy lovey dovey feelings for my awesome husband who rescued my phone! (as in picked it up from the very wonderful person who found it and eventually called him). Chad also handled all the details of locking my phone and setting the message to call him. I’m also filled with love for the person who returned it and the universe who reunited me with my phone, thus sparing me from more hours of self-recrimination and the expense and hassle of having to buy and learn a new phone. 

And yes, I have learned my lesson: I vow to be careful about my phone whereabouts and to NOT lose it again. I even left it at home when we went to Acme tonight. 

I hope I can at least make it to two years before I lose it again. 

*I feel bad about not meeting my challenge but if blogging 30 days in a row was easy to do, it wouldn’t be a challenge, right? So I’ll be back on the metaphorical horse (I don’t think I’ve ever been on a real horse) and onward and upward!

**Desperation Day actually has something to do with the television show “How I Met Your Mother” which I have never watched, but I reserve the right to interpret the “holidays” I blog about in whatever way inspires me, as long as it’s not too culturally inappropriate.