Amy Writes

As you probably know by now, we don't have cable. This is only a problem when The Gators are playing on ESPN, and when the State of the Union Address is taking up 9 of our 15 channels - leaving me with Gossip Girl, Bruce Willis en espanol, TBN and something about penguins. It's not that I don't care about the state of the union. I'd just rather read about it, without counting applause. Oh, but there's a scowling Hilary making zero attempt to look interested, and Obama sitting next to Ed, refusing to participate. Dick Cheney, sitting behind the prez, is fun to watch also. He always looks like he's missing his favorite shows, too. And there's a guy just flat out laughing at some inside joke, and there's a guy who seems to be sleeping. Maybe this is good TV, after all. P.S. When, when will W. learn to pronounce "nuclear"?

A generous donation provided the local megachurch with the money to replace their trees. I'm really, really glad I'm not on a church staff.

Dear Mr. Morning Radio Host, How dare you, Mr. Morning Radio Host , while thinking out loud on air, suggest that we all turn around and give our tax refund checks to Compassion International? It's an economic stimulus package! Didn't you think of that? How will sending our money to poor people out of the country stimulate the US economy? Huh? That's just an un-American suggestion! You are proposing that we send our economy into further tumult, just to satisfy your whim of feeding orphans! If we don't use our money to consume more stuff, or go on little vacations or invest wisely, then, well, the package will be all for naught, and we will all be guilty of treason, or something. What are you trying to do? Save the world or something? Start a movement? You are a danger to this economy, sir. Sincerely, Amy Wright, who is thinking that there may be something to this, and will soon be investigating ways to encourage people to do it, provided the Senate approves the plan.

While driving in the area of our neighborhood megachurch this week, I made a startling discovery. Behind the wall of massive shade megatrees that have lined the megaparking lot for the last few decades, there is an impressive, imposing megastructure. But on this particular day, the megastructure was particularly megasparkly. The megasparkliness caused me to take notice of something. Or, rather, I noticed the absence of something. NO MORE MEGATREES! I had an unobstructed, megaview of the megachurch. Strangely, the loss of the megatrees hit me harder than the news of the recent loss of the church's megapastor. First, they were big shade trees, filtering the light radiating from the shiny white walls of the church building. Now everything in the area sort of reflects the building. It's like driving through a tanning bed. I always hate to see good trees go, especially without obvious reason, like, Hurricane Wilma. Second, they were sentimental trees. I'd stood under those tree...

Really? LONDON (Reuters) - Bad news for Coco and Blinko -- children don't like clowns and even older kids are scared of them. The news that will no doubt have clowns shedding tears was revealed in a poll of youngsters by researchers from the University of Sheffield who were examining how to improve the decor of hospital children's wards. The study, reported in the Nursing Standard magazine, found all the 250 patients aged between four and 16 they quizzed disliked the use of clowns, with even the older ones finding them scary. "As adults we make assumptions about what works for children," said Penny Curtis, a senior lecturer in research at the university. "We found that clowns are universally disliked by children. Some found them quite frightening and unknowable." Huh. (Reporting by Michael Holden; Editing by Steve Addison)

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...