Amy Writes

I shuffled into the bedroom, carrying my enormous hospital water cup and climbed into the bed. Reaching for the remote, I pulled the covers up over my aching body. I was tired of TV, but my 4 days of miserable illness had drained so much life that all I could handle was idle channel surfing. It would just be a few minutes before Matt would be finished with his Bible Study and come back to keep me company. I met channel after channel of static, until it happened. The Warm Fuzzy. The remote fell from my hand as I settled back against the pillows and felt just a little bit better. It didn't matter that I own the DVD of the concert I'd stumbled across. Billy was on TV, and it made me happy. So, I thought I'd write about it. I may have mentioned my "affinity" for Billy Joel before. But I don't think I've ever explored just what it is about The Piano Man that elicits such a reaction in a girl 30 years his younger. Here we go. When I was growing up, Billy was h...

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...

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-...

It's a source of comfort. Something you have a hard time putting down. Maybe it puts a smile on your face. Maybe it makes you want to call a friend. Maybe it makes you feel like a kid again. It's that thing that you have to take one last look at before putting away, or recite in your head for the zillionth time before falling asleep. Whatever it is, you know the feeling. Its presence in your life at that moment fills you with nostalgia, sentiment, peace. It's a little reminder that indeed, everything is - or will be - okay. It's a Wednesday Warm Fuzzy! It would seem that I have a long list of warm fuzzy triggers, and I am choosing to share them with all five of my faithful readers. Tune in on Wednesdays for the next installment! I would love for you to join in! Share yours! Here is today's experience, the one that inspired my new tradition. The Setup: So today, I'm standing in the Christian bookstore and it happens. My eyes lock in on a book, my hands reach for ...