Heptadecagon

(Will be back soon.)

I had "The Talk" with Aaron yesterday. Just like with the girls , he knew some things about the care and keeping of his body, and a large number of the right anatomical parts. He'd even heard of the sperm and the egg, although his idea of sperm came from an episode of The Simpsons that Tim allowed him to watch, which meant that all sperm (in Aaron's mind) come with a face like Homer's. (Go, Tim. One of your greatest parenting moments. Glad that viewing The Simpsons didn't constitute our child's entire education on sex.) Aaron had been asking quite a bit about how a baby was made, and considering he's in fourth grade, I thought it was high time I told him. To be quite truthful, I had planned on telling him over the summer, but each time he asked, Melina was around. And she just doesn't need to know those details yet. Aaron took in the information well, if you can call a blush that erupted over his entire body as taking it well. His smile grew bi...

Every wrinkle that scurries across the landscape of my face, can be traced back to a pathway of memories, some beautiful and others not. None of which I care to forget.

If you are irritated by every rub, how will you be polished? ~Rumi

She stood at the back of the old, wooden chapel, shivering from the cool breeze that snaked through the loose front doors. The day had dawned bright and a little too cold for her tastes, yet nothing problematic. And it didn't matter of course--she was anxious to be done with the day. To get everything over. To finally be married instead of getting married someday . And, she was ready. She had been ready for a long time. The music filtered through the double doors that separated the narthex from the nave. She imagined the faces of her friends and family--sitting quietly in the oak pews--and smiled. It was going to be a good day. No, make that a great one. To her left, stood her dad. He cut a fine figure in his gray tuxedo and freesia boutonniere. His right leg tapped a staccato beat and his fingers drummed against each other as he accessed her, indicating he was nervous. Why? She thought. He had no reason to be nervous. Not this time. She looked into his eyes, where she thought s...

Scrub, scrub, scrub. My fingers press against the lemon-scented disinfecting wipe in an attempt to take away the gunk at the bottom of the bathroom sink. I know that the wipe is better for taking away germs and not the detritus of the fairies who live inside my house. But the wipe is handy and available-- like a one-night stand-- and so I press my fingers again, with more force this time, and push the quilted white paper around the plug at the bottom of the sink. It picks up small bits and pieces of whatever lays there, but never the entire smudge. I stop my hand from moving and peer into the sink. My nose is close to the faucet and I hear the single plink of a leftover drop of water as it falls. I lean in closer, thinking (always thinking)-- I've performed this action now for several days. The same one, over and over, and over again. The grime leaves for a moment, but with constant use, it's back again, as if nothing will change its mind. But maybe it...

We've lived here since August of 2003. Way back then, we had only two little toddlers running around (with hopes for more) and I had visions of working full-time in my head. But when we moved, things changed. I realized that I needed to get acclimated to our new surroundings, and I wanted to get the girls through the transition as well. Plus, I really didn't want to have the kids in day care full-time. So I poked around and found my current part-time teaching gig at the local community college. Each quarter or semester since then (not counting summers or the few brief breaks I've taken) you'll find me behind the podium spouting talk about the sodium-potassium pump, the appendicular skeleton, or how the hormones actually work. As you know, within the last couple of years, however, I've realized that I want to make a change. From teaching to writing. So far, I've combined the two pretty successfully. (I won't say completely successfully until I've got a ...