Heptadecagon

As I'm sure most of you know, I'm a big proponent of homework. Not a lot of homework, but the right homework. I think a teacher can assign a very well-thought out assignment that doesn't take too long for a child to finish, and I truly believe that homework, if done at least a couple of times a week, can help the child master skills. This goes for math and grammar especially, at least in my opinion. Well my opinion goes against what many people--including some people at my kids' elementary school--believe. Which means the girls skated through grades 1 through 5 with minimal homework. Then, they hit middle school, where things got a bit harder, and now, they are in high school. For the most part, school isn't too bad, with the exception of math. I know, right? The subject Tim loves, the subject I have learned to appreciate, is the subject giving the girls the most trouble. I'm actually not sure why, except that they don't LOVE math. And therefore, I wonde

I walk into the kitchen after dropping the girls off at school. Melina stands near the kitchen counter, her eyes brimming with tears as she fights to keep it all together. "What's the matter?" I ask her. I have to wonder what the heck could have gone wrong in the six minutes I've been gone. Right before I left, she'd been happily reading her book. "I don't like this part of my shirt." She reaches inside her T-shirt and pulls on the back of the appliqu é . "It's scratching me." "Okay, well, you can leave it like that or you can go change your shirt." I feel like spitting my words. The cat had me up early. I'm too tired to deal with a this issue today. "But I like this shirt." She blinks away a few tears. "I know, but I can't do anything about it now. Either wear it or don't. You need to get to school." I don't roll my eyes, even though I'm tempted, because I don't want Mel

I'm posting this as a reminder to myself and to others what happened yesterday, February 24, 2017. It begins with a review of the First Amendment from the U. S. Constitution. Amendment I Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances. (Source: https://www.law.cornell.edu/constitution/first_amendment) Screen shot of the NYT article . Information was corroborated by other trustworthy outlets. The article, written by Michael M. Grynbaum, was brief. It stated, "Journalists from The New York Times and two other news organizations were prohibited from attending a briefing by President Trump’s press secretary on Friday . . ." It went on to reveal that "Aides to Mr. Spicer allowed in reporters from only a handpicked group of news organiza

What would you do for your child? What wouldn't you do? Can you answer that question? Can you find the line--the one you wouldn't cross? On first glance, I'd say that I'd do anything for my child. Even kill, if I had to, provided I was defending my child and the case warranted those actions. I'd also give my life for any one of those children if I had to: I'd rush into an ocean and save them; I'd push them out of the way of a speeding car; I'd do anything I had to do in order to keep them on this side of the living. And each day, I perform the smaller (much smaller, thankfully) tasks that indicate how much I love them: I pick up the toys that I certainly didn't leave on the floor; I buy the shampoo they prefer; I help with their homework and make sure they have bacon on their birthdays. I do these things, selflessly, because I love my children. That's all there is to it. When I was a child, I wondered, often, if there was something my mothe

The other night, on a mere whim, I decided to try and make crispy chicken strips for the kids. They love that form of chicken, and even though we'd eaten out a few days before, I thought that a homemade version might still be somewhat okay for the arteries. So I looked up how to make chicken strips and found this recipe by The Pioneer Woman. Since I made a few changes to what she did, I'll let you know what worked for me. Ingredients: 8 chicken tenderloins Buttermilk (or make buttermilk using 1 cup milk and 1 T vinegar) 1-½ cup flour ½ teaspoon salt, a bit of garlic salt, cayenne, Italian seasoning, black pepper Canola oil Instructions: 1. Put the chicken strips in a bowl and cover with buttermilk for 15 to 20 minutes (longer is okay). 2. In a separate bowl combine 1 ½ cups flour and the seasonings and mix together well. Then add ¼ to ½ cup of buttermilk into the flour mixture and stir gently with a fork. 3. Heat 1 inch (I used less) of oil in a large skillet ov

I picked up a couple of books on the recommendation of a person I know, mainly because--I think this is so--this person I know knows the author. (Can you follow that?) The books are in our local library, so it was easy to head over, pick up the books, and check them out. The author's books are not the sort I would write, and while I do agree that the books are well-written (at least the two I've read), I have one major problem with them: All the characters speak and think in the same manner. You might wonder what I mean by that. It's not like we give a different dialect to each person, at least I don't. But sometimes, a character can speak in a manner unique to that person. The same goes for thoughts. And I thought that's what was happening when one of the main characters spoke and thought without using subjects and sometimes just in phrases. But then I realized that most of the characters spoke or thought in this way. What do I mean? Let me give you some ex

Full disclosure: I hauled this out of the draft bin because I thought it was funny. The baby referenced in the last paragraph is now two years old. Dreams are funny. Many nights, I dream about high school. I'm not sure why this is the case. That time of my life certainly wasn't my favorite of all times. I met some nice kids. I met some not-nice kids. I went to a school in a small town with a small-town mentality. I had some great teachers and some not great teachers. The story isn't exciting, and so I will never write a book about it. No one would read it. (Oh wait. No one besides my friends are reading my books right now anyway, right?) But why do I dream about people from high school? I'm in contact with pretty much one (yes one!) person from that wretched place, and I hear from a few more via Facebook, but I do not think about these people on a regular basis. So why do my dreams? Maybe, unbeknownst to me, I hold onto residual teen angst. And maybe, my subconsciou

Each semester, I tell the students to ask questions if they have them. The more they question me, the more I understand if they comprehend the material or not. I've even gone so far as to say to a class, "If you don't understand a concept, but you're not sure what question to ask, still contact me. I can probably help." Of course I can help: I'M THE PERSON WHO WRITES THE EXAMS FOR THE COURSE. I'm also really qualified to be teaching the class, and that's not being a braggart, it's stating a fact. Finally, the other night, I received this email: "I am having a hard time understanding F=P/R and P=HR x SV x R. I understand how you get to that equation, but what I don't understand is how those all regulate blood pressure. I'm not really sure how to ask a question." Aha! So they do listen to me at times! Well, to be quite honest, talking about blood flow (F), blood pressure (P or more accurately ΔP), and resistance (R) is a dif

Last week, I registered the twins for a driving class. A DRIVING CLASS. I just need time to buckle up and slow down. Don't you?

The other day at the library, Melina and I happened upon a book that looked very interesting. Melina is a history lover, and we're always looking for books that might be appropriate for her young eyes. In the juvenile section, we found  The Plot to Kill Hitler: Dietrich Bonhoeffer: Pastor, Spy, Unlikely Hero , by Patricia McCormick. Before Melina could even begin to look at the book, both Aaron and I had devoured it--me within about an hour. The author researched Bonhoeffer's life and used primary sources in many instances to get details correct. Forty pages into the book, I found myself clutching my throat. A letter* that Bonhoeffer, a German citizen, had sent home when he was traveling to the United States made me tear up and realize that here in the United States, some things never change. The separation of whites from blacks in the southern states really does make a rather shameful impression. In railways that separation extends to even the tiniest details. I found that

Social media is an interesting beast. I have friends on Facebook who claim to have 5000 or more friends. Are each and every one of those people actually people they've met? Furthermore, do they care about each and every one? Of course, I'm probably being a hypocrite. I have people in my friends' list who I guess shouldn't be there. People I knew back in high school or elementary school, those who I really don't keep up with on a daily or even monthly basis. Hell, some of the people on the list don't pop up regularly enough on my feed to keep me interested. I can't really even say when I last interacted with them. I probably should let them go, I guess. But unfriending someone is also an interesting beast, if you ask me. Because unfriending someone effectively cuts them out of your social media life and says to them, "I don't like you enough to keep you in my very large acquaintance circle." I can also think of a few other things unfriending

In case you weren't aware, email marketing works. How do I know? Because yesterday, as I was editing a piece of someone else's fiction, I checked my email. There, in my promotions folder, I found an email from CVS . It said: Valentine's Day is here! Need a last-minute gift or two? Hurry in store -- we've got just what you need. Up until that moment, I had no plans to get any of the family members a gift for Valentine's Day. But no sooner had I read the email and there I was, checking my watch to see what time it was and wondering if I had spare time to run out to CVS. Twenty minutes later, I came home, less money in my pocket and this load in my hands. I'm a sucker and I know it. (But in reality, I just really love my kids.)

Every morning of the week, I eat toasted oats for breakfast. In fact, if I have a choice of a large breakfast, complete with eggs, toast, potatoes, and fruit, I will choose the bowl of toasted oats. I much prefer a smaller breakfast, and would rather eat the larger meal at lunchtime. What I've learned over the last year, though, is that I'm more particular about my toasted oats than I originally thought. As in, I apparently won't eat just any toasted oats. So what happened? I know you're dying to know... A week or two ago, when I was at Meijer, I remembered that we were getting low on toasted oats. (It's not that I have anything against Cheerios, per se--they are tasty--but they are also expensive. Of course, all cold cereal is a little pricey when you compare it to other foods, but I digress.) I made my way to the cereal aisle, grabbed a box of the store brand toasted oats, and eventually made my way home. When it came time to open the package and eat th

Sometimes you just need to talk about something—not to get sympathy or help, but just to kill its power by allowing the truth of things to hit the air. ~Karen Salmansohn

Almost four years ago now, FRN wrote to me: In my next life, I'm coming back as Melina. Can I get an amen? Of course, she can get an amen from me. In fact, she can get a resounding AMEN . I love all of my children, but if I had to come back as any one of them, I'd pick her. Does that sound bad? It might. There's no doubt that I would love to have Aaron's way with numbers and ability to create anything from cardboard. I'd also be willing to experience Talia's melodious voice and aptitude for writing and drawing. And Zoe? Well, she also has a wonderful singing voice and ability to stand her ground, plus she's also a good writer. Each of my children possesses qualities that I can identify and appreciate. And if I get to come back, I could probably do pretty well as each of them. But Melina? Well, she's just another set of Legos all together. We've talked about this trait of hers before. The moments she stands before the mirror and likes what she s

I bought flowers for her, an ebullient bunch of lilies and pachysandra and daisies. All whites and blues and yellows, the colors she tells me she loves. "They remind me of the sun and the water, of my favorite beach," she says. The one where she grew up. She tells me this each time I see her. She also pulls me in close, wraps her soft arms around my shoulders and whispers into my ear. "It's always good to see you." Her eyes crinkle inward, and her lips curve upwards. and the hug, long and slow, is the type that engulfs you, makes you feel special. You think you might be one of the chosen, the special few who breach the wall. Those lilies and pachysandra and daisies still sit, waiting, on my windowsill. Gathering dust, losing life, wilting in the weak winter sun. The loss is hers, really.

My latest question: How many members of Congress who have school-age children actually utilize public schools? And the related question: How many members of Congress who have children actually utilized public schools when their children were of age? If you have those answers, let me know. Thank you.

I try to avoid making blanket statements and generalizations in my everyday writing. But I've found that some generalizations ring true, and sometimes, I say what I think sans filter. You and I both know, of course, that if you say what you think, at least one person with a differing point of view will have something else to say back. That's okay with me: I like discussions. On the other hand, if the other people don't want to discuss, and instead want to argue, you've just gotten yourself into a bit of a pickle. Hence my penchant to avoid blanket statements and generalizations. Well, I made a mistake several weeks ago and said something that I think is true (from my experience) but that I admit, could have been worded in a better way. What I'd written was: "My read on the Republican viewpoint: Every life is precious but every life isn't precious enough to ensure healthcare for everyone." I went on to also write, "(And now I'm done political

She knows when she looks back on the moment later, she'll laugh. But now, as she watches her mom walk up and down the stairs and then watches her dad do the same thing, looks of confusion filling each of their faces, neither one convinced that the jacket in her hand is really her mother's, she realizes just how bad her parents' minds have become. How and when did the trajectory turn south? Hadn't she been there, most of the days, to help them with the mundane activities? Hadn't she been shuttling them to this appointment and that, finding the time to fit in trips to the grocery store and the library and church? Maybe she'd been too close to see anything, but she really figured she'd have more time than this to make changes in her life. To make changes in their lives. "Mom! This isn't my coat." She shakes the garment, trying to transfer her frustration from her own body to this inanimate object. "This isn't a coat that any of us hav

A viewpoint from one of the teenagers in my family... by Zoe

I cannot tell you how many of my friends talk to me about people being uninformed these days. Despite the plethora of news via social media and other technology, people tend not to read anymore. Instead, they look at a headline, make a rash judgment, and share the news wihtout actually having read the actual article they are promoting or condemning. And really, I see this behavior from left leaners, centrists, right wingers, and everyone else. I've even done it myself once or twice, but I learned long ago that being uninformed or misinformed is a state I'd rather not inhabit. So I try my best not to do it. Well, the other day, I found a very disturbing headline attached to a post I read on--where else?--Facebook. And my first inclination was to yell out, "I don't think so!" But my second thought was to click on the article and see what it had to say. So, I did just that. Screen shot of the post. Come to find out, a little video was attached, along with a

A year ago, or maybe two, I signed up to receive emails from Lunchbox Love . Yesterday was day 24 of the 2017 Family Kindness Challenge. The thought for the day? I thought for a couple of moments because many times we do spend a lot of time preaching kindness to others, but it's so important to be kind to yourself. And being kind to yourself means recognizing all the characteristics about yourself that you like. So, the question was, could I even find five things I like about myself? I thought some more and decided that I didn't want to list something physical like, "the color of my eyes." Instead, I wanted to jot down non-physical characteristics. And let me tell you, the task is harder than you might think. I challenge you to try it. Five Things I Like About Myself 1. My inordinate amount of common sense. 2. My ability to empathize. 3. My listening skills. 4. My diplomacy. 5. My patience. I looked back over this list, by the way, and I guess I can