Heptadecagon

Tim and I moved here in August 2003.  We did not know much about the area, but our real estate agent said, "This house is great, and so is the neighborhood."  I love the house, despite its many issues.  But the neighborhood, well, Frances was spot-on about that. Those first days here were tedious and long.  I didn't know anyone and I had two 20 month old children to handle.  It was easier, in some ways, because we had so much new space.  On the other hand, I missed my family and friends. I tried to fill our days with outside play and local parks, anything that saved me from dwelling on the fact that I missed my family.  When we frolicked in the front yard, we'd often see our neighbor, Mrs. S, with her dog.  She'd stop on her way out for a walk, let the kids pet her dog, chat with us, and then head on her way. Sometimes, Mrs. S would invite the kids in to her house, and we'd trek to the basement to check out her old toys.  We found some remote controlled ca

If there is one thing this writing workshop has taught me, it would be that I love adverbs.  In fact, I love them dearly.  Get it? I always knew that I was a flowery writer:  I'd use several adjectives to describe the nouns, and then move on to many adverbs for the verbs.  And of course, I'd try to say whatever I just said, one more time.  In fact sometimes, I'd simply belabor the point all in the name of description.  I don't know why I did/do.  The whole approach is fine for venues such as this, where posts are pretty short and the entire setup lacks formality.  But apparently, when you write a piece that you hope to get published, you should go back and check said piece for unwanted words.  You must strike the adverbs in order to move forward. I am not sure I am completely on board with that idea.  I like knowing that someone told me something brusquely , or that the child padded lightly down the hallway.  I guess someone could retort something and the child coul

You will have to excuse my few days of silence.  My mind continues to reel from the loss of Ferdinand. I have kept myself busy this week:  we've gone to several stores, volunteered at school, and met with a friend at the local Panera.  I find that if I don't have the time to think about my little friend, I don't. And then, the need arises to go into the basement.  I flick the light on.  My muscles tense; my brain shivers.  I slowly tread down the stairs.  On autopilot, my eyes survey the scene, expecting to find messes.  I am disappointed when I find nothing but cleanliness.  I feel like a leftover: unexciting and worn out. He is not coming back.   He is not coming back.   I repeat this to myself daily.  I had this same problem when my dog Holly died. I was 10, and the morning of September 20, Holly sprinted out the front door as we prepared to get in the car for carpool.  A car, by all means traveling too fast, and a dog on the loose, are almost never good together

Six o'clock came too early this morning.  I had gone to bed late, and slept fitfully all night.  Aaron had come in sometime in the night; he slid beneath the sheets and scooted his little body next to mine.  He was looking for warmth, while I craved coolness.  When the alarm rang, I internally groaned and hauled myself out of bed. In the kitchen was the Grim Reaper. "I have been waiting," he said, and adjusted the dark hood that covered his head.  "Today is the day."  His voice was much smoother than I ever imagined.  Its tone persuaded me that yes, today was indeed going to be the day. "What if I am not ready?  What if we are not ready?" I asked him. "Being prepared has nothing to do with my visit," he explained.  "The time has come, and therefore, so have I." I looked down at the cats who purred at my feet.  Two brothers, litter mates, who up until now had shared every experience in their 12 years.  Ferdinand glanced up

Some of you don't know this, but I entered a writing contest.  It was one of those spur of the moment ideas. The notice in the paper grabbed my attention, I wrote the story, and entered. And, I didn't win. I didn't really think that I would win, but sure, it would have been nice.  But I can tell you this:  I did not deserve to win the prize.  Based on what I have already learned in just two weeks of my creative writing workshop, my story might have been good, but it wasn't great.  I read the winner's entry, and while it did not blow me away, I could see the merits in the writing.  The story showed much more than mine did (I tend to be a teller ) and it had a finesse that comes from many years of writing.  In fact, when I looked at the bio of the winner, he is a published author.  Well, that made me feel a lot better! The whole experience makes me think that this particular contest could make things better for folk like me by having subcategories.  I can envision

It was fourth and fifth grade field day today.  Melina and I watched milled around for a while, and then watched one event in which the girls participated.  By then, it was too hot and Melina was tired, so we left.  I heard from the kids that a good time was had by all, and that they are looking forward to it again next year!

I know not all of you care about how I fare at my writer's workshop, but enough of you do.  So I'll try to report each week, if I have the time. I went under the gun last night, so to speak.  I had my story critiqued by 5 other people and I lived to tell about it.  In fact, I was energized by the experience, and I wanted to come home and make changes.  Unfortunately, I did not have the time to do so.  Either way, I took enough notes and worked a bit on it today so that I pulled some of those changes to the forefront of my mind.  I need to find a good block of time just to think about what the people said, in order to figure out where my story is going.  Their suggestions could pull things one way or another, and to be honest, I don't know which direction I'd like to go. I'd love to go on about the moderator, but I am too tired to do so.  But I will say that she is fantastic.  It is a cool thing, for lack of a better description, to have a published and well-read

Don't let that title scare you, FRN.  I promise to keep the math to the minimum. Melina and I go each week to the first grade to participate in math centers.  She and I run a station for the kids, and we tackle one concept at a time with small groups.  We've seen time, money, 2 digit addition, subtraction, and many other concepts come through since we started helping out in November of last year.  Usually, Melina sits quietly and munches on her snack, or lies down on my knee with her animal in hand.  Sometimes she comes dressed in costumes, i.e. Batman, Princess, Unicorn, so oftentimes I need to keep the first graders focused on the task at hand. Well, this week, someone was looking out for us.  Melina decided she wanted to be dressed as a chef, complete with chef hat.  We had an apron, but no hat.  No problem!  We fashioned a mighty nice chef hat out of construction paper and a white plastic grocery bag.  She entered the school, confident that she looked like a chef, and s

Back in 2008, I signed up for a Facebook account, mostly so I could keep up with friends and family. (I've probably said this before, and since I have swiss cheese for a memory these days, I might have actually blogged about this whole thing before.  Consider yourself warned.)  I don't do a whole lot of posting on FB, but I do check up on people regularly.  For the most part, I enjoy finding out what happens to the people on my friends list.  Afterall, they are ON the friends list. However, there will always be the few people that, in retrospect, you wonder what you were thinking when you accepted their friend request.  (I know you know the type.)  I don't have much time today, and I really try not to complain too much, but I thought I would mention the top things people do on FB that drive me bonkers. People repeatedly brag about their children.  One time successes are cool.  I don't need to hear about every time your child was better than mine. (This does not inc

Talia saw the surgeon on Friday.  The man deftly and swiftly pulled out the earring back from her lobe, without the use of any medication.  He had swabbed the area with Betadyne and swathed his hands in gloves before touching her, of course.  He made it look easy.  I said, "Boy, did I really need to come in here?  Why couldn't I do that at home?"  He looked at me kindly and said, "Oh, you did all the work when you messed with it."  He might have been trying to make me feel better, and that is fine.  The surgeon did go on to say that he has had to put several patients under general anesthesia to get out earrings, they were so far embedded in the lobe.  Yikes! *** Ferdinand has had several blood glucose readings that are promising.  That should be good news.  However, his legs are very weak, and his bowel and bladder problems continue.  Tim and I know that the time has come.  We just need to decide whether we want to do it before school is out or after.  ***

I know that all of you are just waiting to hear how my first night of the writing workshop went.  In an effort to not disappoint the few readers I have, I will report. Well, I survived.  It actually wasn't that hard, mostly because we did not have our writing critiqued last night.  The first session was a "let's get to know each other" session, as well as a "let's set the ground rules" session.  I am so grateful that the author running the workshop does it that way.  I certainly don't rush into anything (well except for actually signing up for the workshop) so it made me feel at ease from the onset. Next week, the stage is set for me, as I am the first author who will be critiqued.  I actually volunteered to go first, mostly because I want to keep working on my piece.  My motives were selfish -- I admit it.  But being selfish here seems like it won't be too bad for everyone else. I will go into more specifics next week, but I will say that

I left Zoe and Talia home today while the rest of us dropped off two of Aaron's friends at their house.  When I walked back into our home, it was 5 pm.  I wanted to finish getting dinner ready, and find the time to eat that dinner.  No sooner had I set foot into the kitchen when Zoe said to me, "Mom, don't freak out." I have learned over the last 38 years that freaking out never gets me anywhere.  But I have to say, when one of my 10 year old kids says that to me, AND I have just left them home alone, I get a little nervous. "Mom," Zoe continued, "I need you to come with me upstairs." So many things started to dance through my head as I stood in the kitchen:  broken mirrors, windows, or closets; broken bones and beds; indoor bee hives or hornets' nest; bat family living in the attic.  Thankfully, Zoe didn't make me wait long. "Talia needs help with her earring.  She has a problem," Zoe quietly said to me.  "Oh,"

My writing workshop starts this Wednesday.  THIS WEDNESDAY!  Already Wednesday is one of the busiest days of my week, but I thought I'd be a glutton for punishment and just throw another activity into the mix.  As long as I breathe, I will survive. But here is the email I received this weekend: Hello all, We have a FABULOUS group assembled for our workshop. We also have a waiting list…so now is the time to declare your intentions by paying for the class if you haven't already. Thanks! This is gonna be fun. We start this Wednesday May 9th from 6:30-8:30. We meet in the conference room in the X. I'll have a $10 gift card for each of you. Feel free to bring any other food or drink, too. We'll be informal and relaxed! Every workshop participant is going to be workshopped twice during the 5 weeks, each time being given 40 minutes. We will NOT be workshopping any participant's work at the first class, but will be covering ground of the workshopping prot

A couple of days ago, a friend of mine called to ask me something. Friend:  I hate to ask, but I need a favor. Me:  Okay, go ahead. Friend:  Really, it is an imposition. Me:  I won't know until you tell me. Friend:  Can you guys watch the guinea pig this weekend? Me:  Of course! I kept the news to myself for a bit, knowing that the kids would be thrilled.  So I thought I'd let them know the good news when it came time for asking them to go to bed.  The girls are notorious for stalling at bedtime.  They give us one more smooch, ask us a pretty big question, or just admit that they aren't tired.  What should take 10 minutes inevitably takes 30. Me:  Guess who we are going to babysit this weekend? Tim:  Cousin 1? Me:  No.  [Tim visibly relaxes.] Twins: Cousin 2? Me: No. [Tim visibly relaxes more.] Twins:  Who? Me: Madame Fluff. Tim:  Who? The girls giggled and went ballistic; they were off their rockers with joy.  I told them we wouldn't do any babysi

I happen to be the type of person who, aside from using a computer, manages to eschew almost every other form of technology out there.  Part of that has to do with being mostly a SAHM.  Right now, I don't need too much technology.  I know where the kids are and I know where I am.  I use the computer to write the blog or write some stories or put together lectures, and I use the tablet if I need to check email quickly.  I don't watch much television, we don't have any electronic games, i.e. Wii or Xbox, and our cell phone really is used only for when we travel (or when we need to use up the minutes we put on there when we traveled.) Personally, if I am not doing things for the kids or the house, you can find me doing one of four things:  running, sleeping, reading, or writing, none of which require much more than electricity. I also happen to be married to a man who, even though he says he eschews forms of technology, manages to bring things into the house that then catc

The CSA box started up again in March.  We've been happy getting a bunch of produce that we love and some that the kids don't.  It doesn't matter that some of it is deemed inedible by the kids, as Tim and I will eat most vegetables.  The greens have been plentiful and we use them in salads or stir-fries.  We can hide different sorts of greens in salads, a favorite of our children.  But I have not told them I am sneaking different greens into the mix. We've also been getting a lot of cabbage.  Up until yesterday, I'd chop it and throw it in the stir-fry.  But I thought I'd like to try something else. And since we roast a ton of other vegetables, I figured I'd try roasted cabbage. The cabbage was awesome, and tasted great as a cold snack a couple of minutes ago.  I simply cut the head of cabbage into wedges (take out the stem, of course), brushed a bit of olive oil on the sides, sprinkled some salt and pepper on the wedges, and stuck them in the oven.  Voi

You might have heard me say that I think Melina will end up in Hollywood or on Broadway. She tends to drift toward the dramatic side of things, and often acts out movies she has seen or books we have read.  Her expressions and gestures sometimes seem over the top, but in her head, she is being downright serious. Well Melina had her first taste of the stage this past weekend, and let us just say, it did not go so well.  I should mention that at 1 pm on Friday, Melina started exhibiting signs of a cold.  Her eyes watered, she was sniffling, and she just wanted to lie on the couch.  I am not kidding when I say that the virus hit quickly; if I had had any warning, I'd have called my parents to let them know, and would have given them the opportunity to bail on coming down for the weekend. Melina didn't sleep that well on Friday night, but she said she still wanted to go to her ballet recital.  Since she had no fever, and Grandma and Grandpa were here to watch, we went ahead w