It worked for me...

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My friends, what you've all been waiting for.

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Where is Mister Rogers When You Need Him?

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It has been said that I am easily amused. Little things fascinate me. I like to know how things work. I like factory tours and behind-the-scenes stuff and those specials on Discovery Channel. I was definitely brought up this way: I remember my brother telling me about a conversation he'd recently had about "Jet Puffed Marshmallows." Topics covered were: What does "Jet-Puffed" mean? How big-a-jet are we talkin? What keeps the marshmallows from exploding when "jet puffed"? Several weeks ago, the girls and I caught an episode of the rarely aired Mister Rogers' Neighborhood. In that one episode, the inimitable Mr. R shed light on two very interesting processes when he visited a sleeping bag factory and a dollmaker's workshop. Have you ever thought about how a sleeping bag is assembled? Me neither, but now I know, and I am a better person for it. So here are a few jobs I would like to shadow for a day (or watch Mister Rogers shadow them), because ev...
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The Plan

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I mentioned in my last post that I had told a lot of people "my plan." In fact, I don't know if I've ever spoken as recklessly as I have in the last week. Somehow, I have worked it into every conversation, posted it on facebook and, obviously, am blogging for the "world" to read. I'm used to saying things like "when I fit into the rest of my wardrobe..." or "I'm trying to eat better." Sometimes I'll publicly deliberate between a salad and a cheeseburger. I'll complain or commiserate with girlfriends and throw a number out there - "there's just this extra 20 pounds..." but this week has seen the new, honest, vulnerable (and reckless) Amy. "I'm going to lose 15 pounds in 2 months," I've heard myself blurt out to anyone within earshot. It's an approximation, but girlfriends, their husbands, family, and everyone on the internet is now privy to my struggle. The immediate follow-up question, I...
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Ask me what I did last night.

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A few of us have been wrestling a little bit lately with what it means to live in the grace of God. What does it mean to live fully covered by the Gospel? To embrace the freedom Christ secured for us on the cross? For me, last night, it meant big hair and hard rock. See, over the summer, I'd started to get a little self-conscious about my holiness. I was part of a study at church that consisted of mainly older, wiser, more conservative and traditional women. While I still felt largely like a voice of dissent - a raging postmodern compared to this crowd - there was a certain feeling starting to set in. An old nemesis. I can't believe I didn't recognize it, as we' spent so much time together in the past. Guilt. Guilt that I wasn't the teetotaling, perfect homemaking, gentle-speaking mother that I was being mentored to be in this class. I used my powers of wit and sarcasm to mask and suppress it, but with each chapter and interaction the guilt seeped deeper...wit...
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