Heptadecagon

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...

Midnight, not a sound from the pavement. Has the moon lost her memory? She is smiling alone.  In the lamplight the withered leaves collect at my feet, and the wind, begins to moan. The music filtered to my ears as I sat and watched Zoe and Talia sing a version of Memory for their voice recital on Friday night. It was the first time their teacher had allowed them to hold a microphone right in their hands, close to their moving lips. It was the first time their angelic voices could really be heard. To be quite truthful, I could have listened to them sing all night. But as I sat in the choir room and heard the girls nail all the right notes (it's okay to be proud at times, right?), I was transported back to when I was a child, to when my mom would turn on the light rock station as we cleaned the house. To when she'd crank up that song, Memory , so loud that the speakers would vibrate and my chest resonated, and I could still hear the words over the drone of the vacuum clean...

As a teacher and a mother, I truly do subscribe to the notion that there's no silly question except the one not asked . I might not give the person the answer; I might ask (especially in terms of the kids) him or her to think through the problem and at least attempt to figure out the answer. But I encourage the questioning process. There is no better time for questions to arise than when I am home with the kids almost 24/7. Why aren't Golden Retrievers allowed in stores? When I was little, did I always take a nap? What does the word abdicate mean? Can I read this book? Have you seen my sunglasses? Where is Daddy and why haven't we seen him for almost two days? Do I have to? What's for dinner? Do you only need sugar, salt, and water to make a cake? Can I have some lemonade? Is the quark the smallest particle out there? And the granddaddy of them all: What is gay sex? Wonder if they figured that one out.

I tend to be a law abiding citizen, and when it comes to driving, I really try to keep in mind my safety as well as the safety of the other people on the road. Last fall, an incident happened that irked me at the time, but happened so quickly, I didn't have much time to react. Here's what happened. As I traveled south in our neighborhood, I approached a four-way stop. There were cars to my right and left, both of which had come to a stop first, so I waited my turn. The car to the right of me (traveling east) nudged ahead into the intersection, and turned left, which means she was now facing my direction. Or partly facing my direction. Because the driver had turned the wheel such that she was in my direct line and unless something happened quickly, she would hit me. "Are you kidding?" I yelled into the empty space. I quickly looked behind me, threw the car in reverse, and slowly moved the car, backwards, down the road in the direction from which I had just come...