Amy Writes

I managed to sneak out for some girl time on Tuesday night. What a treat it was to have dinner with some girlfriends and take in a movie. A musical, nonetheless! A cheesy musical, in which actors who don't specialize in musical theater were cast in order to sell tickets. Arrrghh... Surely there are 427 more age- and voice-appropriate actors waiting tables on Broadway. Meryl and Pierce are brilliant, but not in this. Anyway, silly though the movie may have been, I am still looking forward to seeing the show live in the spring, and it still managed to elicit crocodile tears from me at one point. Check out these lyrics, and imagine the damage they do to the emotional well-being of a mom about to send her baby to kindergarten. Brutal. These 5 minutes quite unfairly blindsided me. "Slipping Through my Fingers" DONNA: Schoolbag in hand She leaves home in the early morning Waving goodbye With an absent-minded smile I watch her go With a surge of that well-known sadness And I ha

1. Something I will always regret: NOT figuring out a way to get to the Last Play at Shea. I'm one tiny little half-of-a-degree of separation from the blasted manager of the New York Yankees. One phone call could have elicited a concert experience beyond my wildest dreams. WHY DID I BALK?!?! 2. Something I am a little sad about: Moving the baby out of the crib and into her big girl bed tonight. Sniff, sniff. *sigh* 3. Something I am puzzled by: Why could I not use my "$5 off school supplies" Target coupon on school uniforms? Why do uniforms not count as school supplies? What else could I be using these drab polyester wares for? Am I not supplying the closet for school readiness? I should have fought that one a little harder. 4. Something that made me happy: Visiting another church this weekend. Turns out, there ARE people who are doing the things we talk about. And Brant Hansen spoke. Bonus! 5. Something I am planning to do this week: Start my book. Is it a good or a bad

Billy is playing the Last Play at Shea . This weekend. Billy. Shea Stadium. New York. I would like to go. No one has offered me tickets yet. Or lodging. Or airfare . Time is running out. I am starting to think I haven't made myself clear. Look, it's easy. I can take the train.

I'm not a scientist, but I have a theory that one of the reasons why I so infrequently feel well-rested in the morning is because I have some crazy dreams. In my dreams, I am working harder than I do when I am awake. They frequently involve heated arguments or high speed chases or other emotionally and physically strenuous activity. Por ejemplo: yesterday morning I woke with plenty of time to make it to the gym for an early workout. It was my plan. I hopped in the car, made a wrong turn (it was early), but managed to get in a workout. And then I woke up. Seriously. I DREAMED that I went to the gym. Have you ever been mad at yourself for dreaming something instead of actually doing it? And last night - maybe inspired by some cool chat fodder, my REM carried me and some friends to Broadway, where we were trying to take in a show, but instead were led downstairs to some kind of basement theater (which turned out actually to be a rooftop) in which Bill Cosby and Felicia Rashaad were p

It had been three years since I'd sat across the desk from the emergency room registration person. I have yet to have any kind of real emergency - I've just not followed regular hospital hours. But no matter what's the matter, there's something dramatic about walking through those double doors after dark, and waiting in the empty lobby while a fuzzy TV drones on as background noise. I was there for a polysomnogram, a "sleep study" ordered by my doctor who took one look inside my nose and asked, "Can you breathe?" (I thought I could...) While poking my sinuses with a strong, bony finger she asked follow up questions in her brusque Eastern European accent. "Do you feel rested ven you vake up?" "Could you fall asleep in the middle of the day if someone vould let you?" She asked as if it was a bad thing...and she scribbled out a prescription for a sleep study. So I left my family and checked into the hospital for my overnight test on

Because I'm a good wife to this guy , I'll play along. :) Top 5 trendy fashions/gadgets/etc. I fell prey to: (See my previous blog about experiences over stuff - I missed out on a lot of the fads because I was too busy visiting Civil War battlefields and going to NFL games. Needless to say, I wasn't the cool kid.) 1. Precious Moments Figurines 2. keds 3. Debbie Gibson vests and hats 4. Andre Agassi tennis stuff - Just Do It T-shirts, Prince TriComp racquet 5. Christian T-shirts Top 5 trendy* fashions/Gadgets/etc. you want NOW: 1. Kitchen counters and cabinets that aren't from the 70s 2. Hurricane/Impact sliding glass doors. 3. Slate tile on porch floor 4. Heavy duty porch screening 5. Steel entry door *OK, not exactly fitting the description. But, if i'm going to dream...

TWO - FOUR - SIX - OH - ONE!!!! (Excuse me. I had a little Broadway to belt out before starting this one.) The Setup: It's happened again. I was sitting on the floor near a box of videotapes my mom has been deliberating about for more than a year, when out of the corner of my eye I spied a stylized French flag held by the waifish little girl. My eyes locked in, my mind started singing and my hand reached to grab the best. video. ever. The Warm Fuzzy: Les Miserables The History: To my benefit, my parents taught us to value experiences over stuff. So, by the time I was in the sixth grade, I had had more "experiences" than most of my peers. I had traveled fairly extensively. I was an accomplished pianist. I was a snow skiing Floridian. And by the sixth grade, I had seen at least 4 Broadway shows - before we had our own theater, and before Rosie and Regis made Broadway cool again. I was already a showtune geek - able to sing the entire book of Big River (among others) from o

Yesterday my 3 year old got out of the water because her fingers were "frinkled." Today she didn't like it when the "Fire Bus blew its whistle."

I'm staring at this blank screen with a head full of thoughts, but none of them willing to organize themselves and dive into cyberspace. It seems like everyone I know (or kind of know) has cool stuff going on. The Crazy Disciple is prepping to move to Paris. The Cool Parents are in the midst of job and life changes. HipMama is just so...hip. Sublimidad has a new baby at home (and that baby is sooooo cute!) Brad and Mandi are at youth camp. I believe I have at least 7 pregnant friends - none of them bloggers, so no links here. Even Brant Hansen has so much going on that he's too busy to blog. I don't really have a point here, other than that I feel more alive when there are big happenings in our lives. I don't sit still well, and the foreseeable future has a lot of sitting still. Maybe it's vacation reentry catching up a little late. Or maybe I need to come up with something to stir up the waters a bit. Oh, but this is kind of exciting. This morning I made some

The setup: It catches my eye from across the room, begging for my attention. One shiny quarter would be all it takes to bring it to life - but I am Mom. I am the 30-year-old responsible for these other little beings. If I allow myself to get immersed in its flashy, bell-ringing world...I am shirking my duty. Or am I? Maybe, instead, I would be instilling in them an appreciation for the things of old. Teaching them a valuable life skill. Or maybe I would be the mom who ignores her kids in the game room. Either way, just a glimpse of one sends me into warm-fuzzyland. The Warm Fuzzy: Pinball Games The History: For 28 summers now, my family has vacationed in the same lazy little beach town. In the same building. Many times in the same condo in the same building in the same lazy little beach town. Little has changed over 28 years, but some of the changes have been heartbreaking. Beach erosion. Restaurant closures. The conversion of our seedy, beachfront gameroom into a monstrous, tacky t-