Hotter Than a Pepper Sprout

I've been trying really hard to give 2016 a break. I've even been a little surly about the "F#*k 2016" movement, especially when it comes to celebrity deaths. "Yes," I've said (mostly to myself) "it's sad that so-and-so has died, but people die every day, blah blah blah..." I really have been moved by many of the celebrity deaths this year (Prince, Sharon Jones, Leonard Cohen, even George Michael) and I feel bad for all the grieving fans. I know many people are sincerely and deeply affected when a beloved celebrity dies, myself included, and I don't want to trovialize or mock that. But I also think we collectively go a little nuts. Public displays of grief sometimes feel like a fad to me, and I feel like they somewhat demean our private griefs. While I get that 2016 has definitely had high visibility in it's suckitude, 2000, the year my mom died, wins the "F#*k You Year" title for me. And of course we all have our ...

I did NOT dye my hair last night...  and that feels like an accomplishment. I may be on the serial hair dyeing spectrum, so I'm trying to explore the possibility of life less devoted to chemicals. No, I'm not ready to embrace the natural look, (I don't want to know how grey I truly am) but it seems like putting less chemicals on my hair (and by extension sending them out into the world) could be a good thing. I may have an unrealistic standard for grey roots so am trying to learn to tolerate a little less hair perfect. I'm pretty sure no one else knows or care is I have an eighth of an inch of roots. Not to mention that cutting back on my every three weeks hair dyeing habit will save me a little time and money. It won't save me that much time and money, as I am a DIY hair colorist. I don't think I've had my hair professionally dyed for over ten years. And although I am pretty cheap, the main reason I color my own hair is I just can't (or won't) m...

I have been living the dream...at least the dream of every 4 year old: I've played a DINOSAUR in Applause Community Theatre's "The Skin of Our Teeth." Okay, I'll admit, the role of the dinosaur was not necessarily my first choice or something I ever aspired to. But as a friend pointed out, once I knew I'd be able to have a "flamboyant" costume-- including shiny tights and sparkly green eye shadow--I warmed up to it. Thanks to the our very talented costume designer, I had an amazing costume that totally conveyed "dinosaur" but allowed me to easily move (and breathe!) and interact with others. Thankfully, no huge team mascot furry costume for me. (While my costume headpiece does remind me of a 1970's-era Doctor Who Time Lord get-up, that's just my geek background I can't escape). With the awesome Debbie Schneider, my woolly mammoth buddy I do have a little regret that I'm not still doing storytime. I'm sure Applau...

At a little after 10:00 tonight as I was checking out at Target, the cashier asked me if I was going to a party or just coming from one. My brain could not process the question. I was buying mostly groceries, so at first I thought she was asking this because of the bagged broccoli florets I was buying. If I am bringing anything to a party besides/in addition to alcohol, it's usually chopped veggies and chips. So "No," I replied, "that's just what I eat..." and before I finished the sentence I changed my mind and thought she must be asking because of the three dozen mini-cupcakes I was also buying. (Those were on sale so I couldn't resist picking them up for our rather long play practice tomorrow). "No," the cashier answered with a laugh. "I mean your glitter eyeshadow." "Oh," I answered dazzedly with an attempt at a chuckle. "That's just what I wear..." I had forgotten that I was wearing glitter eyeshad...

Chad is giving the sermon at church tomorrow, and his general topic is faith. Of course it's only 9:15 p.m., so he's still writing. We've talked about his sermon but we never delve into his talks too much before he gives them, so I can really only speculate on what his sermon will cover. I think it will, at least in part, touch on what "faith" means to people who don't necessarily believe in a god or some type of deity or spiritual force.  Since I haven't written a blog post in a while and I've been looking for inspiration and I'm on my own right now as Chad works on his sermon and I don't want to work or put away laundry or learn lines, AND I've had a fair amount of wine, it seems like a grand idea for me to write about faith, too. "Can I have an 'Amen'?" (or a polite nod) The first thing that comes to mind when I hear the word faith is a surprisingly awesome folk-y song we used to get to sing in the Missouri Lut...

(Or:  "Why do I keep getting so many Facebook event invites from Amy?") Technically, Chad and I are currently in four bands. Hell, maybe even five depending on how you define "in." That stat is rather misleading, though, as one band is set to expire tomorrow and another only has a likely lifespan through August 27. Still, at this very moment in time they all exist and a little marketing (er, explanation) seems in order. All of our bands have origin stories that begin with Twin Town Guitars. This amazing local music store has an awesome instructional program (which we so wittily call "band camp") in which one signs up for six weeks of lessons with other aspiring musicians that culminates in a recital of six songs at the Whiskey Junction. Yes these shows are free to attend and booze is sold.  Since May 2013, Chad and I have been members of at least 14 Twin Town bands and have loved it.(Huge shoutout to Ben Glaros and Mark Wade for being our fearles...

Dear Target, I love you, you know I do. But please don't have your cashiers ask me if I have anything "fun" planned for the night. I just don't need that extra pressure in my life. This question forces me to either lie or have a really awkward conversation. And because I'm not prepared for it this test, I usually end up lying badly which is still awkard. And what does "fun" mean, anyway? Now there is a philosphical question. Tonight, for example, I am going to a singing lesson. Now my teacher is great and it is certainly a positive experience and I feel extremely fortunate to have the time and money to have this opportunity. But I'm not quite sure I'd call it "fun." It is work, it does require effort, and some bravery to overcome my self-doubt and put myself out there. Singing in a Target dress So even if I consider a singing lesson "fun," that's still pretty subjective. My assumption is that the twenty-somethin...

It's been a distressingly (at least to me) long time since my last blog post. Lack of time and inspiration are the main culprits. So I've decided to seize on whatever small bit of material I can find (no matter how lame). This post stems from a recent ride in my friend Wanda's car (not surprising as Wanda is frequently hauling my ass around to a social outing--usually a concert  or trivia). Our friend sitting in the backseat remarked on the awesome collection of concert baseball hats Wanda had sharing the space with him. Of course I just had to share what I happened to have in my car, and will now do so for the blogverse: Things in my car (a Honda Fit) as of this morning: a gi a toy megaphone a dartboard a used printer toner cartridge my drum set stool a travel coffee mug (that isn't mine) This list provides a rather telling snapshot of my life and glimpse into my psyche. Okay, mainly it just reavels that I'm a pretty messy person and treat my car as a...

In a little less than two weeks I'm going to run the Red, White & Boom Half Marathon. I'm not expecting it to go as well I want it to. So before I face that disappointment, I want to make sure I fully revel in the success of the last half marathon I ran in April. That means, time for a photo of a DJ pizza cat in space in my honor: I feel like this cat is spiining tunes of victory just for me My most recent half marathon (also my second ever) was quite a personal coup because I achieved a PR (that's runner's geek speak for "personal record.") I ran it way faster than I ever thought I could or would with an overal time of 1:56:07. That's an average page of 8:52 per mile. You can get all the details (if you happen to be extremely bored and stuck without any human contact or any type of intellecutal stimulation or tv). So why am I talking smack to myself about the upcoming race? Primarily because it will probably be much hotter on the Fou...

Chamy vacation math: A deposition for Chad in New York = opportunity for mini Chamy vacation. We had a great time and I get the bonus of a little blog material and the chance to share some of the memorable moments and trip-inspired musings: My selfie at the New York Historical Society Museum which had an awesome Mo Willems exhibit. I may have been the only adult there without a child.   I award myself a metaphorical cookie for walking from our hotel, to the New York Historical Society Museum, to the Museum of Modern Art, to the TKTS booth in Times Square, back to the MOMA and then finally our hotel, by myself, without getting lost. Woot.  I discovered I'm a total sucker for the Pret a Manger restaurant chain, even though it's pretentious and I had no idea what the name meant before I googled it. "Manger" seems like a really odd word to have in a restaurant name, but the appeal is all about the easy access to salads. If these ever come to Minnesota I may just ...

Chad and I recently spent a moving and intense weekend on a spiritual retreat. It was a time of discovery and growth, and one of the lessons we learned I want to share: Don't put me and Chad in charge of your breakfast pastry needs. Chad and I have a lot of talents and skills, but picking up caramel rolls from Tobie's in Hinckley isn't one of them. While this is a relatively simple mission, it amplified many of our weaknesses: our ineffective mode of couple communication, Chad's lack of understanding of the importance others place on food, my irrational irritation at receiving food recommendations for northern Minnesota, my penchant for mixing up the names of things, and my fear of excessive morning calories. These rolls make me nervous So a simple and very reasonable request to pick up Tobie's caramel rolls for the two middle school girls on our retreat started with Chad picking up caramel rolls from Lund's the night before we left for the retreat. Chad...

Even though I haven't been that hard hit by the news of Prince's death, I'm going to jump on the glittery purple bandwagon of rhapsodizing about his death. I don't have an exciting story to tell of seeing Prince in concert or running into him at a club. My Prince memories are just humble stories of how his work intersects with my life.  The first moment that leaps to mind involves watching "Purple Rain" at the slumber party to celebrate my 15th birthday. (Yes, we actually had to rent a VCR for this special occasion). Of course the sex scene between Prince and Apollonia made quite an impression (if not a fully understood one) on the young Amy.  My friend Jennifer mentioned this movie viewing recently and remembers my mom watching the movie with us and saying something like, "Now girls cover your eyes" during that sexy bit. I like to think my mom said this in a "LOL, I'm being a 'bad' parental figure right now, wink, wink" way ...

Some words just sound awesome together, and I think "casino kimono" is such a pairing. It's aesthetically pleasing, fun to say, and intriguing. I think I'll have to add it to my list of possible band names. A casino kimono is also an awesome thing to own. I didn't even know such an item existed a week ago, but since I became the proud owner of one, I've worn it at least three times. I've worn it to feel dramatic at the Dreamland Arts performances of our play "An Inconvenient Squirrel," and to work to help me feel more productive and positive. I even wore it to church to spruce up my mood and my comfy-yet-drab "I have shingles and feel sorry for myself" ensemble.   Easy to wear, difficult to capture via selfie I'll admit that I obtained my casino kimono in an ironic spirit. Last week I went on a little getaway with my BFF's Sandy and Wanda to the casino in Hinckley and I wanted a funny memento of the experience. Through t...

"My favorite thing about running is drinking afterwards." I shared this nugget of wisdom this morning with Chad while we were running the Hot Dash 10 Mile. Actually, it was one of the few things I said during the slightly  more than an hour and a half (yeah I'm a little sensitive about our time but more on that later) we spent running because I was too out of breath to talk. Is it ironic, or carefully planned strategy on Chad's part, that we were participating in "couple-time" and I couldn't really speak? Today's Hot Dash is the longest race that Chad and I have run together and that's an amazing, and I dare I say, romantic feat. (See my previous post about we haven't  been able to run together:  http://peppersprout.blogspot.com/2015/02/another-holiday-milestone-chad-and-i.html ).  I've always found running with someone else and matching their pace tricky, and it's especially challenging when the runners are of widely varying abil...

I get rather snippy about the stereotypes people have about librarians. I admit that it's the "positive" stereotypes that bother me the most. I don't mind so much when people assume we are dour bun-sporting "shushers," (I just wish I knew how to successfully put my hair up in a really awesome bun) but the assumption that we librarians just naturally know things bugs me. On the contrary, our superpower is we know how to look that sh*t up, AND aren't afraid to use the Google if that's the best answer avenue. It also really annoys me if folks think we just spend our days reading. Okay, most librarians probably do really like reading, but that's not actually, unfortunately, what we get paid to do. That's enough venting for now. Instead, I want to embrace how precious reading has been during my life. Not only is February "I Love to Read Month," but I've been inspired by a co-worker who recently posted a question on our work blog ...

A month has passed since it happened, and it's time for me to admit a deep, dark secret: I accidentally fell off the vegetarian* wagon at Christmas. "Accidentally?" you may ask, with a skeptical tone. What happened, did I conveniently "forget" that I don't eat meat and have some bacon? Mistake my father-in-law's oh-so-tasty-looking venison sausage for melba toast? No to both scenarios, and once you learn what I transgressed with I think you will believe it was sincerely an accident. I ate dog food. (I'll let you, as we liberals often say, sit with that for a moment). What?! Did I pass out on the kitchen floor next to the dog food dish and start sleep-eating with the first thing I could reach? No, again I'm going to dash an entertaining possibility with the rather bland truth. I was snacking on treats off the breakfast bar and simply ate some kibble that was in a dish on the counter. The lights were low, I'd had some bourbon, and I ...