Heptadecagon

Need I say more?

I have never been a wearer of sunglasses. I don't particularly like how they look on me, or how they feel up against the bridge of my nose, and since I usually try to stay out of the sun, I've been known to use that as an excuse for not wearing sunglasses. But a while back, the optometrist informed me that I should be wearing shades regularly, especially when I run. So yesterday, when the kids and I headed to Walgreens to pick up new swim goggles, I looked at the selection of sunglasses. Some were pricey, others were not. I simply wanted a pair that didn't look too awful and that felt pretty good. I didn't really care about the fashion statement I would make. Thus, I came home with a very dark pair that passed muster with me and the kids; the frames are purple and black (quite cool to them), comfortable and retro (quite cool to me). I slipped the pair on this morning when I went out for a short 3.5 mile run. My usual route was now shrouded in darkness, and I had tro

This is it. The kids have been out for roughly less than a week and the day is upon us. The weather has turned upwards, the sun will shine today, and yes, the pool WILL be open. I have no excuse not to go and 4 kids that are begging to do so. So this is it. The day I drag out the swimsuit from the depths of my drawer, shake out the dust, and pull it kicking and screaming over my body. I think it goes without saying that most women in the continental United States would have the same feelings I do today. (I say the US because I think there are probably countries out there, especially those without constant inundations from the media, where the women have healthier  and less distorted body images than we do here. I don't have data to back it up, but I wouldn't be surprised to find out that the hunch is indeed a fact.) It's not that I, and women like me, can't appreciate ourselves. In my case, the legs that are able to run many times a week, the arms that at one point we

Try as I might to stay positive, sometimes it's hard not to complain, like when your kids are out of school and you need to have a clean house so the appraisers can come by and you're hosting book club too, but then you get this headache that seems to stem from either seasonal allergies or a slight cold that came out of nowhere and your ears are popping, your nose is running, and your brain feels foggy and all you want to do is crawl into bed and not come out until everything is better. Yeah, today was one of those days.

21. Snuggling with any one of my kids. 22. The 10 minutes of quiet I get when Tim takes everyone out for slushies. 23. Fuzzy pink slippers. 24. Pineapple and mango slices on a hot summer day. 25. The smell of snow. 26. Thinking of the trees behind my old backyard in Troy. 27. Memories of Carmela. 28. Hydrangeas. 29. Orange slices (real ones, not the fake candy). 30. The nuzzle of a dog's nose into your hand.

I woke up this morning and realized (again) that today is the first day of summer vacation. How does this happen every year? I know it's coming, but every time, I get smacked in the face with it, like I had absolutely no clue the school year would be ending. And now comes the real test: can I do it? Can my kids and I coexist for another summer peacefully? Can they amuse themselves most of the time so that I can get something done aside from cook and laundry duty? The answer remains to be seen. Wish me luck, as I have a whole list of items I'd like to accomplish before the start of school rolls around in August.

I've been doing a lot of sitting lately. I mean, I can't stand and write; it would be too difficult to balance the computer. So my bum and I have been meeting on the dining room chair, and now, I'm suffering the consequences. Yes, I'm going to admit it, I have irritated a hemorrhoid and let me say this, boy, can these guys hurt! Because, of course, they are boys. There are so many bad jokes I can insert here, but I simply don't have the time. Speaking of which, tomorrow is the last day of school for the kids. Another pain in the bum, as my alone time will be nill. So don't expect much from me by way of words this summer vacation. I promise to check in from time to time.

I just bribed a child, an action I try to avoid. "Zoe," I said. "Go jump on the trampoline with Melina and I'll consider Claire's." Zoe, who up until this point did not want to jump on the trampoline at all, quickly changed course. "Come on, Melina!" she said and walked out the door. Not my best parenting moment. But I now have a bit of time to check my email and I guess I better look online for Claire's hours (the accessory store). I never said I'd take her, right? Just that I'd consider it.

11. Sharpened number 2 pencils against a piece of college ruled paper. 12. The feel of my favorite mug as my fingers wrap around it. 13. The worn out copy of Bridge to Terabithia that sits on our bookshelves. 14. Bookshelves that are filled to the brim. 15. The smell of an old library book. 16. Crocuses that peek out in the spring, even when covered by a blanket of snow. 17. Stucchi's Raspberry Cheesecake frozen yogurt. 18. Click-clack of old typewriter keys. 19. Taking out old things you've written and seeing how much progress you've made. 20. Mrs. Cox (for those of you that know her, I don't even need to say more, do I?)

Have you ever read the book, Reasons to be Happy by Katrina Kittle? The book is considered juvenile fiction/Independent reader, and due to the subject matter, is suitable for ages 12 and up. The premise (right from the inside of the book): "Eighth-grader Hannah Carlisle feels unattractive compared to her movie star parents and cliquish Beverly HIlls classmates, and when her mother's cancer worsens and her father starts drinking heavily, Hannah's grief and anger turn into bulimia, which only her aunt, a documentary filmmaker, understands." I read the book last year, and thought it would be a great one for the girls' book club to select, when we, the parents, thought the subject matter was appropriate. In short, the girls will be entering middle school; we've decided to let them read the book and discuss it. In the meantime, the kids have taken it upon themselves to write up their own reasons to be happy. Which leads me to think that we should all write up

Last year...I entered a local short story contest and had high hopes with my entry, but received nothing. It was apparent afterward why that was the case. Last month...on a complete whim, I entered the same contest. This year...I felt that my writing had gotten better, but my expectations were low. This morning...I received an email stating that I had won honorable mention. Woo-hoo!

BIG DISCLAIMER. IF YOU DON'T WANT TO HEAR WORDS THAT DEAL WITH SEX AND ANATOMY, LEAVE NOW. Thank you. I'm in the midst of reading a manuscript for one of my writing group buddies. The book is an action-adventure with a romance thrown in, and that description will have to suffice, because I don't want to give anything away. But here's the thing. My writer friend is trying make sure that any intimate moments involved will read true to life. On the last read-through, the intimate moment happened too quickly; the people involved kissed, he put his you know what you know where, and then bang, it was done. "Where's the foreplay?" one lady asked. "You need to give more details. Not Fifty Shades details, but details nonetheless," another person added. Even my prudish self nodded in assent. Well, yesterday, I finally made it to the intimate moments part of this manuscript, and to be honest, my friend dealt with the matter more eloquently than I e

I'd like to think that I could come up with a super post for this day, but alas, it has been a busy weekend, and nothing profound and awe inspiring springs to mind. In fact, because of the cool air, I'd like to take a cup of tea and a really engaging book to bed right now, and it is only 7:40 pm. But plenty of other people have spent time and energy revering good old mom, and since I've been into posting quotes lately, I'm taking the lazy way out. So here's to all you moms out there. Hope you had a super day! A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie. -Tenneva Jordan She never quite leaves her children at home, even when she doesn't take them along. -Margaret Culkin Banning Any mother could perform the jobs of several air traffic controllers with ease. -Lisa Alther Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world a mother's love is not. -James Jo

It took me long enough, but I have finally figured something out. I prefer plot-driven stories to character-driven stories. Now that I've learned this about myself, I won't bother whining any more about the fact that some of the books people fawn over don't wet my whistle. Chances are, they are character-driven novels. I can rest easy now, thank you very much.

I just found out that an old friend lost her mother last night. Words are never enough to express sorrow, but sometimes, a simple thought or prayer can help.  This one is dedicated to T and her family. May her mother rest easy and may the loved ones left behind find peace in the many memories they've collected along the way. Serenity is finding peace and freedom while in Life's storms, not peace and freedom from Life's storms.....and realizing it's not always about surviving Life's storms but more about learning how to dance in the rain. Unknown

"I never forget you, Mom," she said. "I never forget you either, Melina," I answered. Her brown eyes peered into mine, the dim light of the setting sun illuminating the skin above her soft eyebrows. She puckered her lips together and placed a light kiss on my nose before turning her body over and sighing. I, in turn, blinked away a tear. Never . What a word; what a concept. Never is something that Melina really doesn't understand. A word rarely (dare I say never?) used in our house because of its finality. But Melina chose the present tense, so she is correct in her assessment. I never forget her. I never forget to pick out the clothes she likes; I never forget to retrieve her from preschool; I never forget how she loves cucumbers but dislikes pickles; I never forget the simple laugh that floats from her mouth as she spins like a ballerina in our living room. I'd like to be able to say that forgetting her will never happen. But because she can'

In no particular order: My twin daughters are bright, but I think they have the same problem with standardized tests that I do. Aaron, however, does not.  Melina is prone to drama. That, I knew. But I didn't know she'd cry if I did not follow her instructions for outfitting myself to the letter. Despite Melina's flair for fashion, she hasn't figured out that gold sequins on a dress do not match with silver gems on the shoes (see above). I don't like homework. I say that as if I once used to like homeowork. I'm a nerd, so maybe I did; I really can't remember. But I'm essentially taking two writing mini-courses right now, and I can't quite find the time to do my own homework. Everything else takes precedence around here, which makes sense. You think I can farm homework out? I also don't like to spend money. We are entertaining the idea of overhauling our kitchen. The counters and floor are crumbling, the appliances need to be replaced, and t

My ability to write has waned as of late. I haven't had the time nor the inspiration to sit and bring forth anything creative from my mind. I might be a bit busier, I might be more tired, but I truly think my lack of writing stems from the fact that I haven't been with my writing group for a while. We took a field trip one week instead of work-shopping our pieces, and then we had a 5 week month (we only meet on the 1st and 3rd Mondays of the month). In short, it has been too long since we've been together. Nothing like placing the blame on someone else for my inability to find my muse, you know? *Wink, wink*

Let me remind myself of the first verse to the Serenity Prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr. God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, The courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference. I'm not in a 12 step program. I simply felt the need to chant that to myself as I ran today and thought a brief reminder might be good for everyone.

I've discovered something about the books I've read recently. There are two major categories I can place these books into: those I find that I can relate to, and those that are deep and profound. I'd like to say that the two categories overlap, as shown in the Venn diagram below; that the books I'm finding are snuggled tightly in the arms of both of those qualities, and that I walk away from the books with a sense of purpose and meaning every time because the story told was one I could relate to. Unfortunately, that is not the case. I won't mention titles, but the few deeper books I've picked up lately have not included story lines or characters to which I can relate, thus finishing the books, which I have heard are deeply profound, has been impossible. So of course, I have a question. Do I want to write a book that is relatable or profound? If I can't find the space where that yellow star resides (I think John Green has found that spot, by the way),

Today is one of those days where the line The Universe is conspiring against me sprang to mind. Not against me per se, but against a certain set of folks who might be coming to visit this weekend. Why do I say that? Because I do believe that Melina has come down with a mild cold. And germs seem only to linger at our house a few days before someone comes to visit. Sometimes the germs spread (for a nasty case, think about our Thanksgiving trip of last year), sometimes they don't. However, I choose not to think so negatively, that the universe would point its fingers at a few people and try to make their life miserable. Instead, I choose to go with the more positive point of view when I quote Paolo Coelho and say, When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it . Which makes me think that if the same thing occurs each time, perhaps the universe is trying to help teach a lesson about something, and maybe we all need to perk up and listen with our e