My Real Life

January 4, 2016

Hope Springs Eternal

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

2015 passed and I made a list of things I wanted to accomplish in that year.

For the most part, I think I was fairly successful.

There’s a lot of talk about not making resolutions, and part of me thinks that maybe I should just throw in the towel and not make any.

I mean, who has ever made a resolution, or a list of resolutions, and kept them all?

Is making resolutions the epitome of setting yourself up for failure?

I don’t know.

I think resolutions and goals and wishes show hope.

And isn’t that really what we all need?

A little hope?

So, for 2016, I’ve got some hope.

Hope that the world will be better than it was last year.

That people will treat each other with more kindness and respect.

That we can heal.

I also hope that I can be better.

I have hope that I will make good choices.

I have hope that I will be patient.

I have hope that I will be a person I want my children to grow up to emulate.

Those are my big hopes for 2016.

On a smaller front…

  1. I hope to make time for myself this year. In 2015, I rejoined both my handbell and my singing choir as an effort to regain some much needed time doing something that was just for me. And then hockey changed nights and suddenly, I had to bring Tiny and Monkey Boy with me to handbells, and couldn’t stay to sing. That’s being a Mom and having responsibilities, and I am 100% aware of that. However… whether it’s getting a sitter on choir nights or carving out thirty minutes a day to exercise, I need to commit to myself.
  2. I hope to bulk up our bank. I always have goals to save money or to make money, but the bottom line is, in 2016, I want to be successful with our finances. We have four kids to eventually put through college, and places we want to go and things we want to see. This is the year I hope to pay more attention to the little things and stop the leaks before they happen. There’s a lot of stuff around here, as well. Stuff that I think someone else might be happy to have, and so I plan to sell and donate many, many things.
  3. I hope to write. Somewhere, something. Just write. Publishing would be amazing, but I love to write, and I want to get back to that. Writing for the love of it.
  4. I hope to be the change I want to see in the world. I tell my own children and my students countless times per day that we should be as kind as possible as often as possible. In 2016, I hope to be a living example of this. I think I do a good job of this, but we can always do better. We have to do better.

And, so there you have it.

And, with any luck, hopes turn into reality and we all have a good year.

January 3, 2016

15 Wishes – Checking In

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 10:50 am

2015 has come to a close and I had set some goals for myself, and it’s time to reflect and see how I did.

However, I will say that, no matter how many of these things I have accomplished, it was a tough year for many people, myself included, and the fact that we all survived it is good enough for me.

  1. Take the family to DisneyWorld. Didn’t happen. We watched many friends take their families, and, quite frankly, I just don’t know how to find the time or the money to get 6 people to Disney or Universal. Sounds like an excuse, but it’s the truth.
  2. Participate in at least one random act of kindness per week.  There may have been a week or two when I missed the boat on this one, but I think, for the most part, I was able to succeed here.
  3. Exercise at least twice a week.  Some weeks, yes. Some weeks, no. I actually just checked the MyFitnessPal app and I’ve gained 10 pounds in the last year, but I have a feeling that has more to do with my eating than my exercise.
  4. Watch less tv.  I may have succeeded here. I did cut back on a lot of the shows I watch. However, I still watch a lot of tv. And I stream a lot. But, I like to be entertained, whether it is movies, tv or books.
  5. Make $1,000 by selling on eBay, consignment, etc.  Maybe $100, but it wasn’t even close to $1,000.
  6. Blog at least once a month.  I came close. I did. And some months, I blogged more than once. However, some months were empty, here on the blog. I had more than 12 posts for the year, so the average is once a month, but we all know that’s not really the same.
  7. Read 50 books (and keep track!)  I actually read 60 books in 2016. That makes me very happy. They weren’t all deep and thought-provoking, but they kept me entertained.
  8. Really go through my closet and be ruthless with getting rid of what I don’t wear.  I did this, but there is more work to do.
  9. Play piano at least once a week. I did this and loved it. This was a great goal for myself. It makes me very happy.
  10. Write in my journal more often.   I am looking in my journal right now, and I can see that I wrote in my journal twice this year. So, I’m going to count this one as a miss.
  11. Get published, again.   Can’t get published if you don’t write. And I didn’t.  So, no.
  12. Re-edit my novel.  It didn’t happen.
  13. Shred and pare down all of our files. Did it. Feel great about it.
  14. Entertain more. Um, yeah, no. I did not do this. I love to have people here, and I had a candle party, a work party, and hosted Christmas, but for 2015, that’s it.
  15. Be kinder to myself. I don’t know. Part of me thinks I did this, but part of me thinks I didn’t. Probably the part of myself that is too hard on myself is the part that thinks I failed.

So, I guess you win some, you lose some, and when I look at this list, I see things that I want to carry through to next year. I don’t know what is coming in 2016, just like, in a million years, I couldn’t have guessed what was going to happen in 2015. Life throws you curveballs. All you can do is keep your head held high.

December 22, 2015

For the Kids, For Us All

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
Tags: , , , ,

I have four kids.

As a result, over the past 14 and a half years, I have seen A LOT of kids movies.

Probably way more than my share.

But, if I’m honest, kids movies aren’t something that were new to me once Monkey Girl arrived.

In college, I actually had a subscription to Columbia House Video Service, and the movies that I ordered, every month, were Disney.

I believe I owned all of the Disney movies on VHS at one point, and I was probably 25 years old at the time.

So, saying that the movies are related to my kids is probably not being entirely honest.

I remember how I felt when I watched them all.

I couldn’t get enough of The Little Mermaid, and I could recite every word of Aladdin.

And Nemo?

Forget it.

Even the earliest Disney movies sucked me in.

I used to shudder at the evil queen in Snow White time and time again, and sing along with Aurora in Sleeping Beauty.

But, there seems to be a difference in the movies that are produced “for children” these days.

I loved those older (and I’m using a broad time span in the term older, here) kids movies, but the movies today…

I love them more.

Yes, there is certainly the digital quality aspect, but when the Lion King came out, we all marveled at the visual wonder it produced, because, for it’s time, it was amazing.

It’s the creative way that these films are no longer films for children, and they leave us thinking about them far after the screen has faded to black.


In 2012, Disney released Wreck It Ralph and I was mesmerized.


The creativity in that film is beyond anything I could ever hope to have.

I watched, entranced, as video game characters left their games at night and gathered together to party, participate in support groups, and used a surge protector as Grand Central Station, and electric cords as a means to travel from world to world.

The worlds created in the games danced in my brain for months, and the plot?

The desire of Vanellope to be accepted was familiar to the remnants of my teenage self, and Ralph’s quest to be good resonated in my home with a boy who struggled to behave, and whispered the words from the movie in a small plea, as he snuggled in his bed one night, long after we had seen the film.

“I don’t have to be the bad guy, right Mom?”


Frozen made me weep from the first preview we saw.


Frozen was definitely more of a traditional Disney film, but oh, how it grabbed me.

The story of the sisters, to the sister-less me, made me yearn for a sibling, and the music…

Idina Menzel and Kristen Bell were the perfect choices for those songs.

I cried through the entire movie.

I have seen it at least 100 times since the first time and I love it more every single time.


And then came Inside Out.


You want to talk creative?

The way the film created a visualization for the brain and memories, and the personification of the emotions.

Beyond my wildest imagination.

The islands of personality.

Long term memory.

Core memories.

Commercial jingles that get stuck in your head.

Growing up.

The importance of sadness.

I can’t even begin to describe how I feel about this film.

And, again, it has captured the brain of a boy who is uncomfortable with emotion, does not want to discuss sadness or fear, and struggles to hold it all together, at times.

I would be underestimating if I said that he references the movie only once a day, and every time he does, it is with a question or a personal note.

“Remember when Sadness was touching the happy memories and making them sad? That totally happens sometimes.”

“Joy just tried too hard. She didn’t understand that all the emotions are important. Right?”

“Wasn’t it funny when the teenage boys brain just went on full alert when he saw a girl?”


Kids movies are no longer just for kids, and they are definitely no longer just for entertainment.

These major blockbusters are meant to touch us and meant to make us think, and they do.

Oh, they do.

I still love my “big people movies,” as Tiny calls them, but if I want a good case of the feels…

It’s gonna be a kids film every time.


October 17, 2015


It’s hard for me to fathom, but it is time for my 25th class reunion.

I know, I know…

How is it possible that I have been out of high school for 25 years?

However, it’s true.

Reunions fill me with a feeling of glee.

Not because I’ll get to see my high school BFF’s, because Kim, Erin, Michaela and I talk on a fairly regular basis to begin with.

And, none of them are coming to this one.


But, because a reunion is my high school yearbook come to life.


Our high school had all the cliques that were rampant in the movies I loved to watch in the ’80’s.

There were jocks and geeks and prom queens and druggies and every other type of kid you can imagine.

My high school was incredibly diverse and so, for the most part, there was a small group for everyone.


I loved high school.

I really did.

But, not because I was in the middle of it all, soaking in every second of experience that high school had to offer.

Truth be told…

I was a background kid.

My friends had large groups of friends, but my group was small.

I was friendly to people, and people were friendly to me, but I wasn’t getting invited to any parties, and no one was thinking of nominating me for anything when yearbook superlative time came around.

And that was fine with me.

I had my girls and other than that, I preferred to just watch it all unfold around me.


I don’t love a reunion to reconnect with people I haven’t heard from in years.

The truth is, I probably know what most of the people who will show up had for dinner last night, thanks to Facebook.

Actually, when you think about it, Facebook makes the whole idea of the reunion a bit outdated to begin with.

The people who want to stay in touch do, and the people who don’t? Well, they generally aren’t on social media sites and probably won’t show up at the reunion.

If they even know about the reunion, since they aren’t on Facebook.

See how that works?

And, if the last reunion was any indication, most of the people there won’t know who I am anyway.

I can’t tell you the number of people Real Man had to introduce me to.

“Hey…aren’t you going to introduce me to your wife?”

“Um, it’s Amy. Amy Lawrence? She graduated with us.”

“Oh, sorry…I can’t place you.”

And, while I have aged, I don’t look different enough that I’m unrecognizable.

But, you gotta be in it to win it, and I was definitely not in it.

Background person.

No, I go to the reunions because for a people watcher like me, it’s exactly like the days when I would sit on a bench in the atrium and watch the crowd go by.

They may not know me, but I know them, because while they were busy talking and laughing and fighting and posing, I was taking it all in.


This is not to say that I’ll be sitting in a corner, speaking to no one.

As an adult, living in the town in which I grew up, I have become friends with many of the people that I didn’t know well in high school, and some of them will be there.

Others, I didn’t know at all, but we’ve through Facebook, and I am looking forward to seeing them in person after only really getting to know them across fiber optic cables and miles and miles of land.

Because, as an adult, the nonsense of high school slips away, and the person who you thought was so much better than you and that you would never be able to be friends with, turns out to be facing the same struggles, and is every bit as human and fragile as you.


So, yeah, I’m going to the reunion, and while people may not remember who I was, I’m excited for them to meet who I’ve become.

October 14, 2015

On Call

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

Real Man and I went to the movies, the other day.

While we were there, right before the previews, I realized I had to run to the ladies room.

While I was in there, I happened to overhear the woman in the stall next to me conducting a business meeting.

In the bathroom.

Sitting down.

We both emerged from our stalls at the same time, and as I washed my hands, she finished her call.

She hung up, moved forward to the sink, looked at me and shrugged her shoulders and held up her phone.

“Always on call, these days. Right?”

I smiled and nodded, and felt the weight of my own phone, in my back pocket, but I couldn’t help but wonder…

Does the amazing technology we have, today, mean that we can never, truly leave work?


One of the things I tell my students, and their parents, is to email me their questions any time.

I always have my phone on me, and I’ll get back to them very soon.

I do this, because if they are working on something at home, and they encounter an issue, I want to help them get it resolved, and answer their question, rather than have them stop the work and not have it done.

I don’t have it with me during dinner.

I don’t bring it with me when I’m playing outside with the kids.

It’s not out when we are doing something as a family.

However, I check it soon thereafter, and do respond as soon as I get the questions.

In some ways, it feels no different than how I often spend the weekend grading papers.

In other ways, it’s invasive.

But, for me, it’s a choice.

I don’t have to respond after hours or on the weekend.

I want to.

But, for so many people, that phone…

It’s not a lifeline.

It’s a tether.

A leash.

A way for a boss to assign just one more case for you to work on and have ready for Monday morning.

A way to make sure that even when you are home, your mind is on work and the things that you have to complete.

My neck feels tense just thinking about it.

I mentioned in a previous blog post that I’ve been rewatching Sex in the City.

In the show, Miranda is a lawyer.

In the later seasons of the show, she is very conflicted about the amount of time that she spends at the office, and then the amount of work she has to bring home.

Every time I see her struggle, I think, “Thank goodness she didn’t live in the time of smart phones!”

You know, because she’s a real person.

I think about all the people that I see, nose in phone, everywhere I go, and I know that all those people aren’t on Facebook or Instagram all the time.

A lot of them are working.

And then I wonder…what are the jobs that don’t require you to be in contact like that?

Do sanitation workers have to respond to emails about the new trucks that they are using to pick up the trash on Monday morning?

Does my mailman have to respond to a group email that he receives on a Saturday afternoon about a meeting that they are having before running their routes on Monday morning?

I don’t know.

What I do know is that the blending of work and home time isn’t a healthy piece of progress in society, and we need to be careful that we don’t wind up working all the time.

October 9, 2015

It’s Not a Tumor

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

A few weeks ago, I woke up and found a strange lump on my clavicle.

Well, not on my clavicle, but above my clavicle, at the base of my neck, a bit to the side.

And, it wasn’t just a little lump.

It was a big one.

I apologize for the visual, but the best way I can describe it is that it was like someone put a breast implant on top of my shoulders.

Weird, right?

It didn’t hurt, but it was unnerving.

And embarrassing.

It wasn’t yet sweater weather, but I started wearing a sweater to work to cover it up.

And then, after two days, I went to the school nurse.

She was stumped, and called the FastER in town, and put me on the phone with the doctor there.

He, too, was stumped and wanted me to come in for a closer look.

So, I went.

He poked and prodded, brought in another doctor to check it out, and in the end, put his hand on my shoulder and said “Well, you are just strange!”

I could have told him that without the $10 copay.

He was no closer to knowing what was up, so he ordered bloodwork and told me, if it hadn’t cleared up in two days, to call the local imaging center for a CT scan.

Two days later, not only hadn’t it cleared up, it had gotten bigger, so I called and scheduled the CT scan.

The next day, I got a call that the bloodwork came back and was clean.

So, hurdle one, cleared.


The next week, I went for the scan.

It was a CT scan with contrast.

They hadn’t been sure that they were going to do the contrast because of my shellfish allergy.

They had me bring my inhaler, take Benadryl, and were prepared for disaster.

That really set me at ease.

The woman warned me, beforehand, exactly what it was going to feel like when the IV fluid was going in.

She said it was going to be hot, and then I’d feel flushed and hot from the chin to “the groin” and I’d feel like I had peed in my pants.

“The dye can’t actually make you urinate, but you will definitely think you did.”

Sounded lovely.

“The most important thing,” she told me, “Is that you don’t move. Not even a fraction of an inch.”


I lay back in the machine and closed my eyes, and the table began to move me through slowly.

From the other room, she pushed the button that began the IV.

I felt it creeping up my arm, but it was freezing, and not even a little warm, like she had said.

I figured this was it.

The end.

I was having a reaction to the contrast, and that was why I was feeling it as cold instead of hot.

That my body was beginning to shut down.

To paralyze.

I was turning to stone.

And then…I began to flush.

My face felt hot and sweaty, and it traveled down my body until…

Oh no.

She was wrong.

I was the exception to the rule, and the dye had made me pee.

All over the table.

I was mortified.

I lay there in a pool of my own urine, and tried to figure out how to extricate myself from the situation with grace and just a little bit of dignity.

But, I never moved.

Finally, the table slid back out of the machine, and she came in.

“All done!”

I sat up, ready to explain what had happened, when I realized, I was dry.

And all the weird sensations were gone.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Great,” I responded. “I barely noticed a thing.”


Fast forward a few days, and I get a call from the doctor.

“So, the results are in,” he says. “Everything is clear. There doesn’t appear to be anything there.”

“Wow! That’s great!” I say. “So, um, what the heck is going on?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he said.

“Hey!” I said. “I have an idea… maybe it’s bunched muscles or something? I recently started working out with kettle bells, and it works different muscles than usual, and it’s possible, right?”

There was silence on the other end of the phone.

“Right?” I asked, again, a little more desperately this time.

He hesitated, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it could possibly be.

Not cancer…the bloodwork was clear.

Not a cyst…the CT was clear.

So, what was it that he was so terrified to tell me?

What could it be that had him, a trained doctor, trying to find the words to say?


He cleared his throat and spoke softly.

“Actually…I think it’s just…fat.”

Now it was my turn to be silent.

Finally, I mustered an “Excuse me?”

“I think it might be a new pocket of fat.”

I thanked him and hung up and sat there, at my desk, incredulous.

Grateful, believe me.

Very grateful that it wasn’t cancer or anything dangerous or anything that would require surgery.


I was dumbfounded.


On top of my freaking shoulders?

I no longer have to just worry about my butt, my thighs, and my belly.

Now, I need to worry about collecting fat on top of my shoulders?

And so, if you need me, I’ll be doing bench presses in the basement so I don’t wind up having to wear a turtleneck bathing suit next summer.

But, hey, maybe if it’s migrating from other parts of my body,  I’ll fit into skinny jeans sooner than I’d hoped!

October 5, 2015

Tall Drink of Water

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

Monkey Girl has always been tall.

In nursery school, she was always the tallest kid in her class.

In elementary school, she towered over the boys.

By middle school, some of the girls had caught up, and by the end of 8th grade, the boys had generally caught up, and her friend group included some supermodel tall young ladies, and she was no longer walking around, hunched over, trying to appear as though she wasn’t the Big Bird to the Bert and Ernie’s of her peer group.

But, I will never forget those early years.

Because she was tall, everyone expected her to behave like an older child.

In stores, if she was acting two, when she actually was two, people would look and shake their heads, because they would assume she was four.

When I would pick her up from nursery school, they would say “Well, she was sucking her thumb again. We talked to her again and are trying to figure out a reward system to help her stop.”

I’d say “I’m fine with her sucking her thumb. She’s three.”

And they’d smile at me and say “She has to grow up sometime, Amy.”

I’d smile back and say “Yes. Some day. But not when she’s three.”

And when she was five and she was ready…

She stopped.


Well, now I’ve got another tall one.

And he’s only gonna get taller.

But, right now, he’s only 11, (and he’d kill me if he ever heard me say this), 11 is little.

I’ll say it again…when you are 11, you are a little kid.

Granted, 11 today is different than 11 when we were kids, but at the end of the day, they are still pretty new to life and need to be treated as such.

And that’s hard to remember when you are eye to eye with the person you are trying to teach a life lesson to.

I curb the impulse to say “Knock it off and act your age” because he usually is acting his age.

He just looks like a 15 year old behaving like an 11 year old.

Age is not a license to act like an idiot, but it definitely is a reason why silly can sometimes be okay.


I dropped him off at a 6th grade social tonight.

He walked in among the other kid; head and shoulders above them all.

I whispered in his ear, before he ran ahead of me “Make good choices,” and I think he probably will.

But he looked so grown up with his hair gel and size one million sneakers, and in my head, I finished my thought “…and if you don’t…let the adults remember that even though you look big, you are just a little kid.”


So, if I was going to wrap up this post in a neat, little bow, I guess I’d do it by reminding you not to judge a little, tiny book by it’s great, big cover.


Being a teacher and a parent, the one thing I always make sure to remember is that all of my students are someone’s babies.

Even the ones that I have to physically look up to.

October 1, 2015

The Faithful

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
Tags: , ,

So, Francis came to town earlier this week.

Pope Francis, that is.

And, everywhere he went, he was surrounded by “the faithful.”

Throngs of people, hoping for a glimpse, a wave, a touch.

I watched the crowds on tv and couldn’t help but wonder to myself…

Are they all really faithful?


I’ve been very up front about my relationship with organized religion.

To say it is conflicted would be an understatement.

But, as I said, I am up front about it.

I certainly don’t pretend to be one thing while secretly believing something else.

Or believing nothing at all.

I have no idea what I believe, and I’m the first to admit it.

Faith is not something that comes easy to me.

Circumstances throughout my life have taught me some hard lessons, and one of those lessons is, you gotta see it to believe it, and, unfortunately, even then, it’s best not to trust it completely.

So, I’m a hard sell.

I don’t buy the argument that you have to be religious in order to be a good person.

You know the one. It says: if you aren’t working toward an eternal reward, or following an ancient set of rules of behavior, you must not be a good person, because why else would you want to do unto others?

I call B.S. on that one, because I want to be a good person because I think we’ve only got one shot at this thing, and being as kind as you can, as often as you can is the best way to make sure you leave this world a better place than it was when you got here.

But, I digress…


So, I was looking at the crowd, and I was wondering about other crowds.

Crowds in the synagogue on Saturday night or the church on Sunday morning.

How many people who go to church are true believers?


My father’s mother was a believer.

You wanna talk faith?

That woman had it oozing out of her pores.

My father’s father?

I think he might have just been along for the ride.

He dutifully went to church with her, every Sunday.

Heck, he even became the church sexton, and cleaned that place from top to bottom.

But, I’m not sure that he really believed.

I think he was kinda going through the motions…

Doing what he had been told was the right thing to do since he was a child.

And I know he’s not the only one.


I go to church.

I go on Sunday and I sing in the choir and I play the handbells and I enjoy it.

I like the community of church.

I like the sameness of it.

I’m a church traditionalist, I guess you could say.

For a non-maybe-I-don’t-really-know-believer, I was ridiculously upset when they updated our hymnal to make the songs more modern and pc.

I am one of the bloodiest of the bleeding heart liberals, and feminism is my middle name, but I am more than A-OK with singing “Good Christian Men, Rejoice” and just won’t sing it as “Good Christian Friends, Rejoice.”

If I’m honest, though, I don’t feel like I’m necessarily hearing “the Word.”

The message is great, and often stays with me throughout the week, but I have been blessed (or just lucky?) to go to a church that has had many, many years of great writers and speakers from the pulpit.

But, it can’t just be me, right?

There have to be other people out there who are there, but aren’t really “there.”

People who drank the Kool Aid, but are thinking it tastes more like Hi-C?


Someone said to me, once, it’s really brave of you to just be so out there with your doubts.

I disagree.

I kinda feel like my not-knowing is the coward’s way out.

Because the real courage?

The real going out on a limb and hanging by your fingertips?

That’s faith.

Believing in something…really believing in something…way down deep in your soul…that you can’t prove is real.

I just can’t help but wonder if there are way fewer of the brave out there than we all guess, and how many people are just putting on a good show.

September 28, 2015

Sex in the City

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am

I never watched Sex in the City when it was on.

It’s a show that I came to in reruns, and in the later seasons.

So, I never really got to see the beginning of the show, the genesis of certain relationships, or the evolution of the characters.

I simply knew them, as they were, in the end, and I enjoyed watching.

I saw both movies, and at the end of the second one, decided that the stories had definitely run their course.

Amazon Prime recently announced that it had the entire season available for streaming, and I was in need of a new treadmill show, so I decided to watch from the beginning.

And, as much as I liked it before, I like it even more, now.

I’m even obsessing, a bit.

Obviously, it’s not for the faint of heart, and is over the top with the adult content, but what I like about the show is the friendship.

Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, and Samantha are friends.

Real friends.

And, while it bothers me immensely that they complain endlessly about not being able to find good men, and then when they do, these women are the ones who mess it up, at least they always have each other’s backs.

It reminds me, very much, of my friendship with Kim, Erin, and Michaela.

If we were all single and living in the city, that is.

However, even though we are all married, some of us with kids, some of us not, living hours away from each other, we’ve always got each other’s backs, and I think that is the heart of the show.

The relationships with the men are secondary.

But the relationship between the women takes center stage and I love it.

It’s a lot like why I love Buffy the Vampire slayer.

Yes, yes…I’m a fan of the supernatural, but it, too, is a show about friendship and that is the string that lasts through the entire show.

It even saves Willow’s mortal soul, at one point.

But, that’s an episode for another day.

I do, also, love that the women aren’t willing to settle.

They know what they want, and are willing to say goodbye to relationships that are “just okay” in order to find what they need, and what they deserve.

One of my favorite lines comes from the an episode in season two.

Carrie is leaving Mr. Big at his engagement party and she says (to us) “Maybe some women aren’t meant to be tamed. Maybe they need to run free until they find someone just as wild to run with.”

Love that line.

Not that I consider myself wild, but I understand the sentiment and, again, the idea that “it” is out there for everyone.

On another note, I will admit that the writer in me can’t help but love when Carrie whips out her laptop and starts typing her column.

I’d have loved to have been a columnist.

I used to write little newspaper columns all the time, when I was a kid.

So, it’s very satisfying to see her words appear across her screen as she writes, each episode.

People write the show off as shallow, as too much, and as nonsense.

I disagree.

I think there are some deep thoughts in there, and while I don’t think a lot of the behavior that is modeled would be anything I’d ever want my daughter to learn from, there are definitely lessons to be learned, and relationships to be observed and remembered.

September 21, 2015

Call Me Martha – Part 2

Filed under: Uncategorized — Amy @ 6:00 am
Tags: , , ,

A few days ago, I was on Facebook, and something delicious came up in my feed.

Bacon? Yes.

Tater Tots? Yes.

Cheddar Cheese? Yes.

I knew I needed to take another foray into the world of attempting to make recipes I’ve seen online.

But, when to make the recipe?

On a Sunday, for sure, because the only thing we love better than watching football on Sunday afternoons is the fall…

Is eating, what we call “football snacks.”

Every Sunday, we throw our, generally, good eating habits to the wind, and consume copious amounts of Tostitos with nacho cheese, pretzels, Doritos, Nachos, etc.

Then, we sit on the couch and cheer until we fall into a gluttonous coma.

Naturally, this would be a perfect addition to our autumn Sunday routine.

I rolled out the bacon:

image1 (1)

Popped in the tots and rolled:


Lined them all up on the foil-lined tray:


Baked at 400 degrees for 25 minutes:


Piled on some cheddar cheese:


Cooked for 5 more minutes:


And we were in heaven.

Monkey in the Middle, who is incredibly health conscious, said, “Oh…these look so bad for you.”

And proceeded to eat three of them.

So, success, and if you don’t care about the horrifying nutrition facts of these, or if you are willing to put them aside for a few minutes (because that’s as long as they actually lasted in our house) you gotta try this.

Satisfaction guaranteed.

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