Amy Writes

Well, I made it 8 of 31 days. And you know what? I am totally ok with that. I've written before about how I have a hard time sticking to personal goals. I don't even make New Year's resolutions. I know I won't make it past January 3. Diet plans. Exercise plans. Reading plans. School projects, charts to fill out, etc... I start them all. I just can't seem to be bothered with finishing them. Last year, I trained for and ran a half-marathon . It was a huge accomplishment. I collected a medal. I wrote about what it felt like to start and finish something for the first time in years. And then I spent months nursing a bum hip. Early this year, I signed up to do it again - to chase that feeling of accomplishment. But eventually it became obvious to me that ALL I was doing was chasing that feeling of accomplishment, and I was likely to do it at the expense of my physical health, so I bailed. I like walking. I'd like to be able to do it for a number of years hencef

Today is my birthday, and I am off, celebrating in real life! But as I considered how to celebrate here, I decided to flash back to a day that I really, really liked. Without realizing it, we'd been waiting fourteen years for this near perfect day. The year we got married, a band that was special to us began a tradition that would intrigue us for more than a decade. A music festival at sea, with some of our favorite performers, sailing annually. The Rock Boat. Isn't this a lovely spot for a little show? For thirteen years of powerful lineups we would consider joining them, and each year we would decide against it and say bon voyage as the ship set sail. We were too practical for something so whimsical; we almost always had no money, or a newborn, or a nursing infant, or a house closing or a trip planned with friends before the new dates were released. But one night last year, we pulled up the website and without too much discussion or debate, booked a non-refundable

When I committed to this project last week, I knew I was being impulsive. But liking people was on my heart, so it's what I jumped at. I could easily list 31 people that I felt needed to know...I'd just work my way through my own family and get into the mid-20s... But what I didn't consider was confidentiality. It's one thing to write "Brother," or "Sister." I have one of each. Can't mix 'em up. But I am about to dive into a matrix of nephews, nieces and in laws that, without using names, is likely to confuse even me. And then if I start in on friends? Well, it's going to start sounding like a litany of unspoken praise reports. "Ive got this friend..." So because this challenge is primarily about me typing something for 31-days, I'm going to go back to the drawing board, and maybe figure out how to tell some of these stories in a different way. Speaking of doing something a different way - remember that sister I wr

Being the middle child has its drawbacks - largely in the "Oh yeah! There's a middle child!" category. We are the quiet ones. The peacemakers. The "where did I leave that one?" kids. But being in the middle of the pack does have its benefits, the foremost being that the trail has been blazed by that trailblazing first born. My sister is my invaluable trailblazer. For decades now, I have followed in her footsteps and she has always been gracious enough to advise me on where to step and where not to step. Sometimes verbally. Sometimes by example. Sister, you are a faithful friend. A cheerleader. A rally-er of troops. You are an inspiring mother - giving, serving, planning, plotting. Your thoughtfulness is backed up by actions - you see needs and you meet them, end of story. You are an endless resource of emotional and physical support, not just to me but to anyone who needs you. You are a gifted leader and organizer. Your love for traditions, quality tim

It's Sunday night. It has been a full weekend and I'm just now sitting down to get my writing in for the day. I am tired. So instead of writing what I'd planned to write, I'm giving myself a bit of a pass from the personal, in favor of a list. Everyone likes lists, right? So, here it is. The definitive, authoritative, list of 5 things that I like this week, in no particular order, with limited editorial comment. 1. Melodime - Try them. You might like them. 2. Brant & Sherri's Podcast - Dear Brant: I like you and your awesomeness. Sincerely, Amy 3. Showing myself grace - I can't recommend this highly enough. You've gotta try it. 4. Reading books I've read before - In a fit of "I must find something comfortable to read and I CAN'T FIND MY COPY OF WHAT'S SO AMAZING ABOUT GRACE," I started Wuthering Heights again. It's kind of like What's So Amazing About Grace, but without any grace. Or hope. And in spite of i

Today, I was watching a football game with some friends, and a 16-year-old picture of my little brother flashed on the screen. It was just for a second, but my husband and I both spotted him and said something, which resulted in a minute or two of stopping, rewinding, playing again, screen grabbing. As a few of us were having fun with grabbing his mug off the tube, one good friend got hung up on a little detail: "I didn't know you had a brother!" Not, "I didn't know your brother played football," or "I didn't know he was a quarterback," - it was a full fledged denial of his very existence. Oops. I DO have a brother, and our lives are lived more or less on top of each other - sharing circles of people, but rarely the same circle. I assume, because we grew up here kind of as a pair, that everyone knows him...or at least knows about him. Turns out, I do have a brother, and I like him very much. Brother, I like you because you are true.

"I love that you get cold when it's 71 degrees out. I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich. I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."  - When Harry Met Sally Oh, Harry & Sally. It's my favorite romantic comedy of all time. The story is perfect. (Real, messy people!) The setting is perfect. (New York City!) The music is perfect. (Harry Connick, Jr.!) And this quote is so perfect, because life together isn't sustained by a feeling in

I would bet that most people, when beginning an essay about why they like their dad, don't consider including the words "world domination." But that's why I like my dad. I like you, Dad, because with you, nothing, including world domination, is out of the realm of possibility. I like that your crazy ideas can still surprise us and stretch us and get us thinking outside the box. I like the way you light up when people enter the room. I like how you make plans for play - with us, with the kids, with your friends. We've learned from all of that - what may look like a tennis ball and a shoe to most is, to you, all the equipment necessary for a limitless supply of endeavors to test your prowess in feats of strategy and skill. I like that because of you, because of the way you have always spoken to us and encouraged us to learn and read and grow, I can write sentences that include phrases like "a limitless supply of endeavors to test your prowess in feats o

Let's pretend this was posted Wednesday, okay? Thanks. Because, Wednesday, in addition to being the first day of October and the first day of this writing challenge, was also, a number of years ago, the first day of my mom's life. So it seemed like a good opportunity to spend some time telling my mom why I like her. But I missed it. Mom, I like you because I don't think you'll care that this is a day late. I like that you're laid back like that. (At least it's earlier than your real present!) Mom, I like you because whenever humanly possible, you are smiling. You not only tolerate us and all of our mood swings, difficulties and take-over-the-world tendencies, you are the hub of the wheel and your dedication to gathering the 20 of us together as often as possible is establishing a legacy of family togetherness that will endure. I like that when my friends run into you around town they a) know who you are, and b) make a point to tell me how sweet you ar

So. Here's the thing. I've been off facebook for a little while now, and through a series of other circumstances, emotional events, conflicts and other regular life stuff, I have been knocked off my footing a little bit. Nothing terrible. Just off a bit. Uneasy. Insecure.  As it turns out, facebook, while doing its part to pile on the insecurities, also served up an adoring audience of thumbs-up giving friends, who virtually validated me every day. But now that I've left the auditorium... "26 people like this!" is no longer countering the cries of "I DON'T LIKE SWEET POTATOES." "Do you know what it's like shopping with three chimpanzees?" ... no one cares. There's no little comment box that pops up above my head when I voice something hilarious - just crickets. Uncomfortable silence. God loves me, I know. But I'm not sure he laughs at my jokes. And he definitely doesn't eat my sweet potatoes. Over the last