Amy Writes

A local insurance company has a marquee outside its building that usually has sayings like "Merry CHRISTmas" and "Pray for our Troops." So, you can imagine my confusion when I read today's inspirational message: "Good things come to he who hustles while he waits."

50 questions. 15 seconds each. Approximately 10 minutes of "I'm not as smart as I think I am." I would say that I knew 50% of the Jeopardy Online Test answers with confidence. First book of the New Testament? Happen to be studying that one in BSF right now. Politician who played bass guitar on The Tonight Show in January? Thank you, David Kuo , for posting the clips! Tim Gunn hosts what show? Never seen it, but I know the answer! I knew about Barry Bonds' asterisk, the capital of North Dakota and well, a few other things that I can't remember right now. A very intimidating timer ticked away while I read, processed and then, if necessary, Googled the answers. (It's an internet test! What do they expect?) Google helped me learn - in time - that Fidelio was the only opera Beethoven composed. I think that's the only answer I actually made it back in time with. Now, here's the thing. My reading leads me to believe that the test doesn't really mean anyt

Jeopardy! Online test is tonight. Great scott! I'm a little nervous. But as Matt reminded me last night, if I don't know everything now, I'm never gonna know everything. And I have determined that I am never going to know my British royalty. Wish me luck!

As you probably know by now, we don't have cable. This is only a problem when The Gators are playing on ESPN, and when the State of the Union Address is taking up 9 of our 15 channels - leaving me with Gossip Girl, Bruce Willis en espanol, TBN and something about penguins. It's not that I don't care about the state of the union. I'd just rather read about it, without counting applause. Oh, but there's a scowling Hilary making zero attempt to look interested, and Obama sitting next to Ed, refusing to participate. Dick Cheney, sitting behind the prez, is fun to watch also. He always looks like he's missing his favorite shows, too. And there's a guy just flat out laughing at some inside joke, and there's a guy who seems to be sleeping. Maybe this is good TV, after all. P.S. When, when will W. learn to pronounce "nuclear"?

A generous donation provided the local megachurch with the money to replace their trees. I'm really, really glad I'm not on a church staff.

Dear Mr. Morning Radio Host, How dare you, Mr. Morning Radio Host , while thinking out loud on air, suggest that we all turn around and give our tax refund checks to Compassion International? It's an economic stimulus package! Didn't you think of that? How will sending our money to poor people out of the country stimulate the US economy? Huh? That's just an un-American suggestion! You are proposing that we send our economy into further tumult, just to satisfy your whim of feeding orphans! If we don't use our money to consume more stuff, or go on little vacations or invest wisely, then, well, the package will be all for naught, and we will all be guilty of treason, or something. What are you trying to do? Save the world or something? Start a movement? You are a danger to this economy, sir. Sincerely, Amy Wright, who is thinking that there may be something to this, and will soon be investigating ways to encourage people to do it, provided the Senate approves the plan.

While driving in the area of our neighborhood megachurch this week, I made a startling discovery. Behind the wall of massive shade megatrees that have lined the megaparking lot for the last few decades, there is an impressive, imposing megastructure. But on this particular day, the megastructure was particularly megasparkly. The megasparkliness caused me to take notice of something. Or, rather, I noticed the absence of something. NO MORE MEGATREES! I had an unobstructed, megaview of the megachurch. Strangely, the loss of the megatrees hit me harder than the news of the recent loss of the church's megapastor. First, they were big shade trees, filtering the light radiating from the shiny white walls of the church building. Now everything in the area sort of reflects the building. It's like driving through a tanning bed. I always hate to see good trees go, especially without obvious reason, like, Hurricane Wilma. Second, they were sentimental trees. I'd stood under those tree

Mrs. Allyson: Slaughterhouse Five. Isn't that an awful name? Ren: Yeah, it's a classic. Slaughterhouse Five? It's a classic . Mrs. Allyson: Maybe in ANOTHER town it's a classic. Ren: In ANY town . My only knowledge of this book was from Footloose, where Kevin Bacon's character names Slaughterhouse Five as a classic - much to the surprise of the indignant, book burning townsfolk. So when the library was out of Wodehouse, I scanned the nearby shelves for something on the "to-read" list and picked up Vonnegut. For a self-described "anti-war" book it was, I thought, pretty apolitical - as apolitical as being anti-war can be, I suppose. I enjoyed Vonnegut's style and was interested in the flashback/flashforward/what's real/what's imagined timeline of protagonist Billy Pilgrim's experience. It was gruesome and gory and crude and bizarre at times, but so is war. Overall, I found Slaughterhouse Five an unpreachy, thought-provoking tale of

But today, I saw a guy riding a cooler. Not this guy, but a guy. Riding a cooler. With a motor. He was riding a cooler with a motor, and handles and wheels and stuff. Best news of the day: You can have one too ! (photo: CC ninjapoodles, March 2007)

Three small girls sleep peacefully in my home right now. One is gently swinging - awaking periodically to whimper or snort or sneeze, but returning to slumber, tucked snugly under satiny pink flowers. Another is likely crescent shaped, spooning her Cabbage Patch Angel Baby, thumb securely wedged between tiny teeth. The third is sprawled across a tiny bed, suffering a consequence for 90 minutes of battle with mom. Probably sweaty, probably sticky, bound to appear in my periphery at any minute. I, however, am awake. The phone is not ringing. There is no one online to talk to. My inbox is not chirping. I've caught up on small group reading, on blog reading, on pleasure reading. The house is generally clean, though there are projects I could tackle...but surely not finish, and surely not without waking a tiny human. Not 2 hours ago I was at the end of my rope, having done fierce battle with a strong-willed child who doesn't understand that "yelling at the top of your voice&quo

I read this again today, and it's just too good not to post: "If there lurks in most modern minds the notion that to desire our own good and earnestly to hope for the enjoyment of it is a bad thing, I submit that this notion has crept in from Kant and the Stoics and is no part of the Christian faith. Indeed, if we consider the unblushing promises of reward and the staggering nature of the rewards promised in the Gospels , it would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us , like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased ." From C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory

Really? LONDON (Reuters) - Bad news for Coco and Blinko -- children don't like clowns and even older kids are scared of them. The news that will no doubt have clowns shedding tears was revealed in a poll of youngsters by researchers from the University of Sheffield who were examining how to improve the decor of hospital children's wards. The study, reported in the Nursing Standard magazine, found all the 250 patients aged between four and 16 they quizzed disliked the use of clowns, with even the older ones finding them scary. "As adults we make assumptions about what works for children," said Penny Curtis, a senior lecturer in research at the university. "We found that clowns are universally disliked by children. Some found them quite frightening and unknowable." Huh. (Reporting by Michael Holden; Editing by Steve Addison)

A while ago, I saw this series of photos on David Kuo's blog . I didn't need the photo to slap me - every day, the pile of plastic bags in our garage larger than my oldest child convicts me about our plastic bag usage. We do recycle them - that is, we return them to the store and shove them in the green bin outside the door, who knows what happens after that - but still, we consume a lot of plastic. Consume, and then discard. We are responsible for the art on David's blog. So twice now, I have asked for paper bags for my dry groceries at Publix. Twice, I have had the same bagger. Twice, she has grumbled and muttered things under her breath. Twice, it has taken 50% longer to check out, because she has to play Tetris to get the dry goods into the bags. Then, twice, she has held up the whole process further because she has a theory about the order in which the bags must go into the cart. This girl used to talk to me. She had a lot to say. She'd ask about the kids, tell

About 117 times a day, I give my daughters the chance to choose to be obedient. There are various phrases that accompany these opportunities, things like "Make the right choice," "Be obedient," "When mommy asks you to do something, when are you supposed to do it?," and "Thank you for your obedience." Lately, because we have entered the exasperating stalling phase , I've added "Slow obedience is the same as disobedience." But every time I say it, I wince, because it's not my admonition to a 4-year-old that I hear, but the stern warning of the Holy Spirit in my own life. I wonder if God gets as huffy with me as I do with my kids when I send them to brush their teeth and enter the bathroom 15 minutes later to find them playing with bubbles in the sink, toothbrushes dry. Or if He mutters the words "slow obedience is the same as disobedience" like I do, when I hear the words, "not yet, mom," or "I'm COMIN

Ultimate Goal: Be a contestant on Jeopardy! One method: Visit the Brain Bus at a local racetrack. Spend all morning alone in a group of a thousand members of the Jeopardy! fan club, jockeying for a 10-question pre-test that qualifies you for...I don't know what. Optional: Bring kids and husband for company and added distraction. Bonus: Maybe get to meet the Clue Crew. Preferred (and chosen) method: In a moment of Brain Bus despair, check Jeopardy! website. Discover the announcement of rare online contestant search test. Determine that this is MUCH closer to the real thing than the Brain Bus. Register immediately. So, update your calendars, folks. Amy takes the Jeopardy! online exam at 8 pm on January 29. Stay tuned!

So, what would you do? I excel at Jeopardy! On good days, I can bang out entire categories while making dinner or setting the table at the same time. I know the tricks. I have that kind of brain. And I heart Alex. What geek hasn't entertained the idea of trying out? It's the only game show that requires any intellect. But I'm a big talker. If I had a dollar for every time I've said: "If Jeopardy ever does a contestant search here, I'm there," well, then, I wouldn't need to collect my winnings. So now, the Brain Bus rolls into town Saturday morning. First 1,000 brainiacs are guaranteed a pre-test. Ten questions and you're through the first round. I'm not sure what that means, but the truth is that now, I am terrified. What if I pass the pre-test, and then whatever other tests, and then find myself standing opposite Alex, asking for "Swords for $1000?" I believe the words "dismal failure" came out of mom's mouth when I ex

Huckabee's tax plan raises eyebrows among voters, economists This is a headline I read on yahoo!'s front page. Better yet, here's the lead: Republican presidential candidate Mike Huckabee's plan to eliminate all income taxes and replace them with a flat consumption tax has the support of martial arts guru Chuck Norris but few economic analysts. ---- Now, admittedly, I did not become a journalist, but I do hold a degree from one of the country's top J-schools. I can tell you, without a doubt in my mind, that had I turned in an article that began that way, the word "EDITORIALIZING" would have been written in red ink all over that sentence. And the "few economic analysts" he mentions? He quoted one analyst and mentioned that the "Bush administration" had some concerns. Apparently in journalist logic, that means that the rest of "the analysts" are opposed, as well. Other than Chuck Norris (who isn't even quoted) and Huckabee

I used to be the family's designated pancake maker. It wasn't because I was really good at it, it was just because I was better than anyone else at it. My pancake superiority peaked at "not burning all of them." I had this itty bitty round skillet pan, arguably only large enough for one small grilled cheese sandwich (its original purchase purpose). Itty bitty round skillet pan was large enough, then, for two silver dollar pancakes at a time, poured precisely. Poured un-precisely, they united in one, "8" shaped, impossible to flip monster, or separated into two amoebas gripping the lip of the pan for dear life. Why did my pancake pan have a lip, anyway? My slotted turner (the proper name for a pancake flipper) was mangled from years of improper use. Its thin edge had been burnt away and the nylon was shredding, and we would often find little black bits of plastic flavoring our flapjacks. After a morning of pancaking, the house would smell like an IHOP for a c