Heptadecagon

The kids are on spring break this week, and I'd say that so far, the week has been brought to you by the letter V. For VIRUS. G would work, too...for GERM. Because all six of us are either in the recovery stages of or suffering from some bad bug that decided to sweep through our house. The plague, it is not. And it's not the worst germ we've had in this house, but after a winter full of so many different viruses--one about every six weeks, if you can believe that--I'm really done. And ready for spring. Thankfully, today, the windows are open and I'm hoping to exchange the dull, germ-filled air with some healthy, warm, springtime freshness. And I'm grateful that we don't suffer from allergies, or we'd be starting over from the beginning. Aa-a-choo!

I LOVE books. If you cannot tell that by now, methinks you have not been paying attention. The only thing I love more than books is my family. I think. (Just kidding.) One of the things I love about books is how I can be captured by the words. I can be reeled into the story, or the feeling, or the image on a page. I can be taken in and seriously spend some time there, wherever there is. And when I do that, I find that other people think the same way...that the words I like and want to treasure have been treasured by someone else. Such is this quote: But we do wake, each of us, to find things have gone differently. The love we thought had killed us has not killed us after all, and the dream we had for ourselves has shifted elsewhere, like a planet our starship is set for; we have but to lift our heads and right ourselves, move toward it once again and start the day. We will not get there in our lifetime, and some would say: What's the point? A journey to stars that no one will

No, I wasn't born today. I was simply messing around and thought is was somewhat amusing. Do I know anyone born on this day? I don't know. Maybe by next March 29 I will have figured it out.

We acquired a new addition to the house today. A much-needed new addition, I might add. If you've been to my house recently, you'll admit that I could stand to vacuum a bit more. It's not that I wasn't vacuuming, it's that the vacuum wasn't picking the dirt up. Anyway, here he is, in all his red glory. It will be nice to have lint-free carpets and floors again. By the looks of this photo, though, I'm thinking we need to consider decluttering bookshelves, too.

Friday posts seem to find me at times. I'm usually tying up the ends of a long week, wondering how I can possibly find the time and energy to put my fingers to the keyboard, and then, I stumble across things that make me go, Hmmm . When that happens, I don't have to write. Just cut and paste and acknowledge. And I think today's little picture is worth so much at this point in my life. Can you say the same? Original picture can be found at: https://instagram.com/hustlegrindco/

If someone asked you why you cooked each day, what would you say? I'd say that I cook so we can eat. That's the answer, plain and simple. Most of the time, I don't enjoy cooking. But if I don't cook, I'll have four hungry children on my hands, and someone would call social services on me. So what I normally cook--relatively healthy menus--are largely unimaginative recipes meant to fill our bellies and leave enough leftovers so I don't have to cook the next day. (See, there is a method to my madness.) Every once in a while, though, I cook because I want to. Say, for a birthday. Well today is one of those days. Dear old Timmy turns 44. Where did the time go? And since he never complains about my cooking (or lack thereof), I decided to make one of the meals he enjoys. It's a party for the palate, aptly named Fiesta Casserole, and found between the pages of Maryana Vollstedt's The Big Book of Casseroles . Ingredients: 1 Tbsp oil 1 yellow onion, choppe

If there's one thing this writing journey has taught me, it's to find the silver lining in any rejection. And with the most recent rejection, it was easy to find that silver lining. This is what the letter said: Hi Christina, Thanks so much for the kind words! It’s always nice to hear. : ) You have some great things in your concept here, but unfortunately the voice to me feels more middle grade than young adult. Though unfortunately I’m not able to move forward with it at this time, thanks again for the opportunity to consider this project. I wish you the very best as you find it the perfect home! Warmly, K Why am I actually pleased by this rejection? Because I sent K the YA version of Beyond the Trees, but--prior to sending it--I was certain that the story needed to be categorized as middle grade. K confirmed that notion with a simple, specific statement, and if I feel like querying any other agents--at this point, I'm pretty much done with pursuin

She calls them every week now, whether or not she has any news to share. Because if she doesn't, they wonder what she's up to and why she hasn't called in so long. No matter that she usually speaks to them more often than once a week. Time moves in different circles for them. One day flows into the next. Tomorrow could be next week for all they know. She wonders how each individual minute passes for them... The line continues to ring as she skillfully holds the phone between her shoulder and ear and chops the cucumbers for a dinner salad. The automated voice attenuates the last ring: The party you are trying to reach is unavailable. Please leave a message after the tone . She's heard those words before, many times. But in that singular moment, with the sun streaming into her eyes and the paring knife poised over the cucumber, a realization washes over her. The party you are trying to reach is unavailable . She drops the knife to the cutting board, and grips the phon

I feel like we haven't had a really good conversation here in a while, and I'm not entirely sure why. Could be that I've been busy (saying those words is an understatement), or that my longing to write has waned (saying those words is also an understatement). Plus, I try really hard not to convert every moment of my life into writing. No one needs to read about everything we do out here. (Like last week, we had one kid at the doctor for a hearing aid, one kid at the doctor for spots, and one kid at the doctor for an ankle injury. The last kid didn't go to the doctor, but he did get a cut on his foot that I contemplated heading to the doctor for stitches. I could also inform you of all the other, mundane tidbits, but that would bore you more than what you just read, right?) So when I have these jags, I wonder if the realization of my dream is ever going to happen, and if the contemplation of the dream--just having the dream at the back of my head--is enough. Am I simpl

If that ain't a story prompt, then I'm no writer. Thanks, Barbie. (Perhaps I'll eventually fill in the rest of this post with whatever comes of that prompt. Stay tuned...)

"The person who completes your life is not so much the person who shares all the years of your existence, but rather the person who made your life worth living, no matter how long or short a time you were given to spend with them." ~Susan Meissner, A Fall of Marigolds

Last night, we held the first Plot Sisters meeting since having our friend, Traci, move away. She might have moved many miles to the west, but we have no plans on dissolving the writing group or the friendship. Our solution for our bi-monthly meetings? Here you have it: She's even sitting in her usual spot, at the head of the conference table. Write on!

In my current anatomy and physiology class, we've gotten to one of my favorite chapters: nerve. This chapter is one of the most difficult to understand because it's the first chapter I require the students to really synthesize the information and apply what they learn. We're not just memorizing anatomical structures...you need to know the physiological mechanisms and everything that can go with them. Having said that, I ease them into the unit. We cover the anatomy of a neuron (it's like a representative cell, which we covered in Chapter 3), including all of its special parts. You see, not all cells have dendrites, axons, axon endings, and myelin sheaths. I've unearthed a very simple picture of a neuron and shared it below (courtesy http://the-works.net/tag/the-neuron-diagram).   The one detail that is not visible on the picture above is that the entire structure is surrounded by a plasma membrane. All cells have plasma membranes. They are phospholipid bilaye

This edition of TMHYRF is inspired by reading. No kidding. I do a lot of that, right? But I read mostly books. Good books, bad books, classic books, YA books, even some middle-grade books. And I know how hard it is to write a book, so I try to keep my complaints to a minimum. Unless the book is poorly written. And that quality--really bad writing--seems to stop me on the internet, too. I mean, if you're writing for your own personal blog, I'm not going to talk about whether or not your prose is tight, if you have used proper punctuation, or if you've employed active verbs instead of passive verbs. (If I did cite you for those infractions, I'd be such a hypocrite: over half of the drivel you read here is chock full of errors in so many ways.) But if you're writing an article for a national outlet? I don't know say, a rather large online entity such as Slate for example? Well, I think you should be a good writer, meaning you should carefully choose your nouns,

Dear Agent, I know you've heard enough from me, so I'll keep this message short and sweet. Please do not advertise that you "will respond in a timely fashion to every query" unless you plan on following through with those words. And I don't think that six months time (or more) would be considered a "timely fashion" by anyone I know. (I mean, if my children arrived six months late...You see where I'm going?) Furthermore, if you don't plan on responding at all, I can respect that decision. But change your submission guidelines to include a phrase stating, "while all submissions will be read, only those that we feel strongly about will be responded to." I appreciate your time and effort, and can only hope that my simple letter will spur you to look again at your website. (And yes, I checked my spam folder. Thank you.) Sincerely, CMC

Dear Student, Much like the last student letter I wrote, this one has been a long time coming. I've watched you enter class each day, dragging your overloaded bag behind you. You usually have a soda in your other hand and a quick grin on your face. You sit right in the front corner, near my podium, and you pay so much attention to what I say, that I always hope the words will sit right in your head. I pray that when you nod your head up and down, you are doing so because you comprehend what I'm saying. But as I found out today, when I spoke to you at great length, it is clear that you do not understand anything . At least when it comes to Anatomy and Physiology. So unlike last semester, when I lamented the presence of a student because that student never even bothered to try, I lament now that I have to say this to you: I think you need to go. As much as I enjoy having you in my class and answering your questions and as much as I want to help you understand the intricacies

Someone posted this quote on Facebook and the words made me say, "Oooh" out loud. I think this sentiment is a great Sunday reminder that sometimes, we need to move on. FYI: I nabbed this picture from this quote site , but you can find variations of the quote all over the internet. Which makes me wonder who wrote it in the first place?

http://www.physics.ucla.edu/k-6connection/pi,p%26p.htm Always. Even you non-math types have to admit that fact is just darn cool.

My mind roams all the time. I find myself thinking about odd things at odd times. The other day, I thought to myself, "I haven't played a good game of strip poker, ever." Odd, right? I was reading a book when that thought jumped into my mind, and it wasn't a smutty book, either. And if you're wondering...yes, I've played strip poker. But my cohorts and I layered ourselves up so much, I wouldn't really call the game fair. So today, as I was getting ready for work, I thought of an old Gary Larson cartoon. (Remember good old Gary? The creator of The Far Side ? I used to laugh and laugh at his cartoons in the paper. They--along with Calvin and Hobbes--were the only characters who coaxed a chortle out of me.) Anyway, this morning, right out of the blue, I thought of an old high school friend. And when I think of that old friend, I always think of this cartoon: Made me laugh way back in high school. Makes me laugh now. Happy Friday!

Back in November 2014, I went to the dermatologist to get a mole removed off my back. The mole ended up being "abnormal" but "nothing to worry about." At least that's what the nurse told me. But the pathology report--which I requested to have sent to me--said this: " There is proliferation of focally atypical melanocytes at the junction, singly and in nests that focally bridge between ridges. The underlying dermis shows fibroplasia and patchy lymphocytic infiltration. The dysplasia is moderate. The changes are occurring within a compound nevus. The lesion extends to a lateral margin. " I'm not a physician, but warning bells sounded because of two phrases: 1. atypical melanocytes, and 2. extends to a lateral margin. Anything involving melanocytes ignites the fear of melanoma inside of me, and the fact that the specimen wasn't all taken out? Well sign me up for an excision. The original mole measured 13 mm across. It was brown-black and ugly,

How's that title for an expletive? I love it, don't you!?! I plan on using that phrase from here on out. Scared out of my gourd? Sweet Bacon Crackers! Exasperated by the mess in the girls' room? Sweet Bacon Crackers! Amazed by the fact that Timmy remembered to empty the dish drainer without me asking him to do so? Sweet Bacon Crackers!! Okay, we're moving on... I said I wouldn't turn this blog into a recipe blog. AND I WON'T. But Tim forwarded a recipe to me that I knew FRN would like. And if you like bacon as much as FRN does, you might also enjoy the recipe . It looks simple, but tasty. (Okay, to be honest, it doesn't look tasty to me. But I agree with Tim that the kids would like it.) Ingredients 36 butter crackers (Keebler Club, Townhouse, or other sort) 12 slices of bacon, cut into thirds (see how math is involved here?) 3/4 cup packed light brown sugar How to make: 1. Preheat oven to 250 degrees F, and place tin foil onto two cookie she

Thirty-two minutes. About three miles. Two breaths in, one breath out. No lung pain, No twinge, no pull. Slow, slow, slow. Mixed with walking, I ran.

"Life turns on a dime. Sometimes towards us, but more often it spins away, flirting and flashing as it goes: so long, honey, it was good while it lasted, wasn't it?" Stephen King wrote those words in his novel, 11/22/63 , and I remember stopping at them when I read that book. I often sit and think about words as I read them; I reflect on them, turn them around in my brain, and see if I can apply them to my entire life. I did that with those words. For some reason, it probably took me a full five minutes to get past those sentences...they just stuck with me. And those words are what popped into my head this morning as I drove up Dixie Drive toward work. I'd just reached the point where Dixie turns into Patterson Boulevard. I was driving in the left lane, and to my left, a car drove almost parallel to me. He drove toward a stop sign that he was supposed to stop at before merging into my lane. Yes, HE WAS SUPPOSED TO STOP. And you know where this is going. THE CAR D

“I wrote a book. It sucked. I wrote nine more books. They sucked, too. Meanwhile, I read every single thing I could find on publishing and writing, went to conferences, joined professional organizations, hooked up with fellow writers in critique groups, and didn’t give up. Then I wrote one more book.” ― Beth Revis (Who is Beth Revis, you ask? I did, too. I had absolutely no idea, but I knew I liked the quote. Anyway, I looked her up , but I haven't read anything she's written. Yet.)

I've been thinking a lot about the beach lately. A LOT. My thoughts probably stem from the long, cold winter, and that I'm ready--really ready--to move on. So when I think of the beach, I think of a wonderful recipe that Tim brought home a few years back, which can also be found here . The dessert is easy, and best of all, a party for the taste buds. If you like sweet and salty, this one's for you. Bill Smith's Atlantic Beach Pie Crust: 1 1/2 sleeves of saltine crackers ( 60 crackers or 6 ounces) 1/2 cup unsalted butter, softened 3 tablespoons sugar Filling: 14 ounce can sweetened condensed milk 4 egg yolks 1/2 cup lemon or lime juice (can

On Thursdays, I volunteer in the first grade classroom with math centers. I did the same when Aaron was in first grade. At that time, Melina was three years old. She stepped into the role of helper and learned some math to boot. Now, I go into the classroom by myself, as my sidekick is a part of the class. Which means I have no one but myself to help against any crimes that might be committed by the first graders. Yesterday's incident was a perfect example of what I see on a weekly basis: Mrs. W split the class into small groups. One of those groups meandered my way. I began to spread out the materials the children would need for the activity. "Okay guys," I said. "Here are the dice." I placed a die onto the carpet for each pair of children, and then prepared to explain how to play the game. "Uh, Mrs. C. He just called you poopy-pants," a little spectacled first-grader said. "C said 'Ooookaaaaay Mrs. Poopy-pants!' when you handed out

What happened on this day? I have no idea. I just went back and looked at my blog and realized that a post here didn't occur. I thought I said I planned on blogging every day all year. Did I forget this day? Did it slip between the cracks? Did I live it all within another universe? NO IDEA AT ALL. Or, am I teasing you and just pretending that I missed this day, when really I wrote this post simply in an attempt to mess with you. You'll never know. What a story prompt...

They say there are many worlds. All around our own, packed tight as the cells of your heart. Each with its own logic, its own physics, moons, and stars. We cannot go there--we would not survive in most. But there are some, as I have seen, almost exactly like our own--like the fairy worlds my aunt used to tease us with. You make a wish, and another world is formed in which that wish comes true, though you may never see it. And in those other worlds, the places you love are there, the people you love are there. Perhaps in one of them, all rights are wronged and life is as you wish it. So what if you found the door? And what if you had the key? Because everyone knows this: That the impossible happens once to each of us. ~ Andrew Sean Greer , The Impossible Lives of Greta Wells

If I didn't know any better, I'd think that she walks around half-naked. But she's too modest to do that. I mean, we're talking about a person who really doesn't wear shorts--not even in summer--so the idea of going sans pants is ridiculous. Which means she must have at least a few pairs of trousers hanging in her closet. More than a few pairs, probably, considering how many times a year she shops for pants. And yet, at least for the last 20 years or so, she's always searching for those pants. "I need to head out and look for pants," she says, forking the last bits of egg into her mouth. "You don't say." Inside my mind, I reel. I roll my eyes and huff my breath, any number of gestures that exhibit my impatience, all unbeknownst to her since she's looking elswhere. "What do you need the pants for?" I wonder if she is scheduled to attend a function, or if she has accepted a job or a volunteer position. Any of those reasons

I've started on a new story entitled The Chocolate Garden. I have the entire story outlined, a map, if you will, of where I'd like it to go. I've already written the beginning, the end, and some of the middle. The book deals with a character who has Alzheimer's disease, so I've been doing some looking around, some searching for good information. What I found recently, thanks to Facebook no less, is this video . Check it out: (Video posted by David Shenk , who does a fantastic job simplifying this devastating disease.) I'm not actively going to work on this story (as I promised I wouldn't a few days ago) since I'm on my break. But when I find small tidbits like this video, I get excited again about the possibility of finishing another story. That excitement is a good feeling when you're staring at over a half a foot of snow.

There are days you run across a saying and find yourself nodding your head in agreement. This is one of those days. (You can find the picture below over here .)