Amy Writes

I think, the older I get, the more I remember. Taking the clothes out of the washer, I remember that I have been meaning to clean that little rubber seal thing for like 3 months. Putting the clothes into the dryer, I remember that I need to sweep the area in front of the dryer where the used dryer sheets seem to go to die. Heading back into the kitchen, I pass the shelf where we keep the soda and remember that we need more diet coke, and then remember that I would like a diet coke right now. I open the fridge to look for a diet coke and remember that I need to come up with a dinner plan. Digging through the freezer for meat, I remember that I froze those strawberries from last week and was meaning to have a smoothie this morning. Reaching for the blender I remember that someone asked me for a drink - did I ever do that? I don't remember, but both children are otherwise occupied so everything must be fine. Although, I do remember something about asking them to clean their rooms...

As I've said before, my mind tends to wander a bit on Sunday mornings. It wanders to the store, it wanders to the calendar, it wanders to the mismatched paint colors above the east door. Sometimes it wanders to scripture unrelated to the message - I consider that some kind of victory, although I'm not sure it's a point in my favor, since it's still evidence that could be used against me, should someone be peeking over my shoulder. Anyway, one Sunday this summer, my mind wandered to the Aerosmith concert we were planning to "attend" the next night. I noticed that I was starting to feel giddy, which started me thinking: Why am I 187 times more excited about that concert than about being here this morning? Why can I already feel it in my bones? What is it about the prospect of Steven Tyler screaming on stage that excites me more than being here, worshiping my Creator? So, as I followed my mind on this little sojourn, I came to a couple of possibilities, but I...

You probably know by now that I'm a music lovin ' girl. An aficionado of the concert event. A live performance snob. My many years of arena shows have been fulfilling. Not in a Jesus-replacing kind of way, but in a "talent like this is evidence of God" and "emotional response this powerful is evidence of a soul" kind of way. Regardless of who is onstage singing about what, and what they did before or after the show, I have that kind of affirming experience. Now, you know how I feel about Billy, and the decision I made regarding his last tour. We've been through that. And you know how I feel about Third Day, and how I got way up there on my high horse about their ticket prices at their last show here. I'm becoming far more protective of my live music budget in my old age, which makes these upcoming decisions kind of difficult. So I seek your advice. First, you should know that I am in possession of a very hot ticket for the end of May. VERY hot. An...

I will say it. I'm not afraid. Ready? I am a fan of Change. Every now and then I discover this about myself - that I have this unsatisfied wanderlust. I love to mix things up. I want, need, crave... change. I want to rearrange furniture. Throw everything out and start over. Move. I want to eat different foods and read different books and reinvent myself as an athlete...a writer...a crafter...a chef. I want my philosophies to shift, I want my climates to evolve. I want to meet new people, visit new places, try kitesurfing. And if I try kitesurfing, it would be okay if I were to break both legs, because then my life would change, and I would get to try all new ways of doing things. I didn't vote for Change. At least, I didn't vote for the one who claimed Change as a platform. My guy would have changed things too, but he couldn't say it as well the one who changed the course of our history today. But still, I found myself goofy with excitement for Inauguration Day, because...

CoolMum & Dad have been posting about music lately - and it's had me stumbling down melody lane. Everyone loves a good list, right? Top 5 movies of all time, top 5 restaurants in town, top 5 rock ballads...oooh, rock ballads... The cool 'rents posted about their favorite love songs, complete with videos! But because my brain doesn't seem to work like other people's, my imaginary list-making turned into a blog. I seem unable to just make a list, without wondering WHY my list is the way it is. Por ejemplo, why is it that my favorite sing-a-long songs all tell some kind of story? I don't seem to opt for the love songs or the party songs. No, I crank it up for Don McLean's American Pie and Meatloaf's (yes, I said Meatloaf) Paradise by the Dashboard Light . At the top of my lungs, I sing along with Neil Diamond telling the story of Brother Love and his Travelin' Salvation Show. (Hallelujah!) And Billy Joel...well, he just gets his own list, but my favor...

While perusing the church bulletin this morning, I noticed an announcement about an upcoming Senior Adults' retreat. It was actually called an "Enclave," which I am assuming is another word for "Retreat," because it's being held at a retreat center. I wonder if they use a different word because that demographic has generally reached the phase in life where they spend most of their time retreating, and need to do more enclaving? Anyway, I took particular notice of the ad because my Presbyterian grandmother attends the Senior Adult "Baptist Bible Study" at my church. But she never refers to it as my church. I mean, she will never say, "I was up at your church today." It is always: "I was up at the Baptist church today..." I don't understand, but I'm guessing it comes from a long ago time when there were two churches in town: Baptist and Presbyterian. There is a point to this little blog. And here it is. The announcement g...

After further thought on the matter, I am re-tooling Christmas. I don't know about you, but when our girls were born, we lit candles, encouraged everyone around to speak softly and asked them to spend time in "quiet reflection" about what life was like before the baby. Some may say births are cause for celebration, aptly greeted with high pitched squeals, hearty pats on the back, balloons, cigars and champagne, but not us. We are Christians. "Quiet reflection" is the spiritual way to handle everything. Take, for example, our birthdays. Instead of a "party," we host a "celebration." We invite everyone to a sterile, neutrally decorated room (the more it looks like a sanctuary, the better), make them all face forward in relatively uncomfortable bench seating and slap a hymnal in their hands. We love the enthusiasm with which they drone on, blankly singing verse after verse after verse. We're sure they're not concentrating on the lyrics t...

All good blogs have a theme. I want a theme. You have heard it said: "Good writers write what they know." I know...not much. Let's make a list. All quandaries can be solved with a good list. Things I know: 1. Trivia. In abundance. 2. Billy Joel lyrics. (and plenty of other lyrics, but mostly Billy Joel.) 3. My way around 3 "hometowns." 4. Disney, blindfolded. 5. How to read and play music. 6. Preschoolers. I also understand that writers can be inspired by things they love. Everything I love already has its own blog. Wait, unless...is there a blog devoted to the practice of reciting Billy Joel lyrics while driving around my hometown blindfolded? Help, I need suggestions.

James Woods is brilliant. I have very little interest in his show. It's just another crime drama. In fact, before last night, I couldn't tell you definitively when Shark was on. However, when I see a preview, I feel compelled to watch it. I will stay up late. I will be disappointed if I realize I've missed it. Last night I figured out why: I love to watch James Woods work. He is mesmerizingly good at what he does. Trance-inducing. Lackey-inspiring. Have you seen him do his thing? So natural, so subtle. Perfect delivery. Incomparable timing. With the exception of watching a lot of media over the years, I have very few credentials that allow me to critique the acting chops of Mr. Woods. I don't know if his technique is good, or where he studied, or if he'd hold his own as King Lear. All I need to know is that when he's on screen, I can't take my eyes off him because I don't want to miss something brilliant. I'm really glad he's not in a theater som...

I made up a new word! As you may know, I have a hard time paying attention during the service these days. I really do try, but when there are sermon notes calling me to play "fill in the blanks," I just can't help myself. It's like a churchy Mad Lib. Who can resist? Truthfully, I haven't allowed myself to get into making up funny answers - because, being my own biggest fan, I fear I will crack myself up and get to uncontrollable giggling and that, in my 30 years of maturity, is really what I concentrate my efforts to avoid each week. No, I honestly try to come up with the right answers before Pastor gets to them. I'm pretty good. Sometimes he throws a surprise in there for me, but most of the time, if I land on the right alliteration (all 'C's', for example) then I'm golden. Today, however, was not one of those days. He was all over the place. But, I was confident that I'd nailed the third blank: "Loneliness can deepen your ________....