Heptadecagon

It's finally happened. I'm ready to take a Facebook hiatus. (If you're reading this, it's probably not because of anything that you did. I rarely write a post relating to something that my faithful followers did unless that something is positive.) Knowing that I don't have a Smartphone or texting capability, this hiatus should come as no surprise to a few of you. I'm the sort that doesn't like to be accessible at all times, nor do I need to know everything. And sadly, I'm just done with knowing everything . I don't need to know how unbelievably talented you and your family are. I don't need to know that you're at the bar and grill with your bestie. I don't need to know that the entire school year, which hasn't gone well for you, has nothing to do with any shortcomings you and your kids have and everything to do with the shortcomings that everyone else has. I don't even need to know what song you are listening to right now. Becau

My bones just dissolved...I'm a whoopee cushion. ~ Melina I love to roller skate in the summer. But I like to roller skate at Skate World, too. Did they have roller skates when you were a kid, mom? ~Melina Life is good in the summer. ~Aaron Summer is my most important reminder of why I don't homeschool. ~Chris

I love Writer's Digest . Truly, I do. And no, I wasn't paid to say that, although if the magazine wanted to pay me to say it, I would. But seriously, into my inbox each day comes something from Writer's Digest, and most of the time, it's useful. What arrived today? A post on 5 Tips for Hitting Bestseller Lists . Now, as you know, I just want to publish my damn books -- I don't really care about hitting the bestseller lists. But I thought I'd read the article anyway, as maybe it was written by my buddy, Brian Klems . So I clicked on the link, but then realized that alas, the article was not written by him. I read the article anyway, that's how enamored I am with Writer's Digest. According to the author, Gretchen Crary, here's what you can do . I don't plan on posting the article here because, of course, you can just click on the link (duh!). Plus, there are only four things to consider, as listed by Gretchen. Not five. I'm guessing that

Yesterday was it -- the kids' last day of school for the 2013-2014 school year. It's hard to believe the year is over already, but on the other hand, I'm ready. Sort of. We'll see what the summer brings. Wish me luck! All four kids (obviously) The rising seventh graders!

Is it stealing? Is it not? I sit here, scratching my head at the name. Something that seems so similar to the one put together by my pal, my friend, my sister, so to speak. What constitutes intellectual property? Does anyone know? Can anyone explain? Of course, I know what the definition is, and really we never had anything copyrighted. But by golly, it's not right. You don't walk up to someone and say, Hey, I like what you said. And I think we'll take that and run with it and come up with something quite like yours, so much that you can't help but notice thankyouverymuch. At least I wouldn't do that. Because you don't want to bite the hand that feeds you now, do you? Well this hand and the hands of my sisters, might not be feeding you any longer.

Third night in a row that I'm carting beer cans and bottles to a recycling bin. Tara, I'm sure, would say this weekend has been a success. With good friends like these, I think I'd agree with her.

The thing I like least about summer vacation is the role I have to play: short order cook. I've talked about this before, and I'm not here to lament the situation. But as I gathered the ingredients for Melina's lunch today, I was reminded that as of next Wednesday, I'll be making lunch for four, not one. Such is life. I was also reminded of a short story I wrote. The one that got the ball rolling way back in 2012. (It seems like so much longer than just two short years.) The one that I never shared with most people. The story didn't win a prize (nor was it written well enough to do so), and since I haven't done anything to make it any better, it will never win a prize. So I thought, why not share it here? Feel free to read it, laugh at it, correct it's errors, or print it out and use it as toilet paper. You get the gist. Short Order Cook The Danube Diner is the place to be on Friday nights. That’s when I’m there, cookin’ up my specialties. Who am

We had yet another momentous occasion  here in our house today. Melina decided it was her turn to donate her hair. Fifteen and a half inches were taken off and are currently waiting to be shipped to Locks of Love. Here's the proof:

121. Open doors. (This can be metaphorical or literal, whichever way you'd prefer to look at it. In my current frame of mind, after having heard a resounding NO from the agent to whom I pitched, I'm thinking that I'll take the literal use of the word.) 122. The crinkle of 1000 thread count sheets. 123. The feel of sweat as it trickles down your back after a good, hard run. 123. Flowering heads of bevans geraniums. 124. Ruthann, Cindy, Traci, and Jen. 125. A hum of creative energy that courses through the body with every blog post (regardless of how cheesy or mundane the post may be). 126. The smell of barbeque (emphasis on smell ). 127. Unconditional love. 128. Correct grammar usage (I don't claim to always speak or write correctly, though.). 129. Daisies. 130. Portmanteaus that appear out of nowhere, like anomelty (anomaly and novelty).

One person's craziness is another person's reality. ~ Tim Burton

Having used Twitter successfully (or not) for a few months now, I find that I'm more fascinated by the Twitter follower's own description than I am of what they said. Here are some of the more intriguing (or not) Twitter descriptions I've found lately. @The_Kingsolver: Depauw and Arizona University Grad, Mother of Two, Extremely Successful Author. That description comes from Barbara Kingsolver. Why yes, she is an extremely successful author. Her writing is rich with biology and nature and she uses a large and frothy vocabulary which, apparently, doesn't include the word, humble. @cbmysteries: Responsible for the Cue Ball Mysteries and some truly awful poetry. Cindy Blackburn can lay claim to that description. And while I have not read a piece from Ms. Blackburn, the fact that she writes awful poetry will not deter me. In fact, I might ask her to share that awful poetry and we can compare our losses. @kierstenwhite: Hi! I'm a New York Times bestselling YA au

long run saturday does more for my psyche than freud could ever hope

Craigslist is awesome. Except when it's not. We've used Craigslist multiple times in the past, and we've never had problems. We've sold things, and we've marked items as free. So either the internet trolls have become stupid, or we've just been lucky up until now. In either case, when someone posts a CURB ALERT under the FREE section of Craigslist, complete with the ADDRESS at which the household furnishings can be found, please do not do either of the following: 1. Ask how much that person is charging. 2. Ask what the address of the house is. If you live far away and don't want to come all the way out to see if the items are still available, you can contact me. If you live far away and aren't sure of the dimensions, you can contact me. But otherwise, it's a CURB ALERT, dammit. The stuff is FREE. Even if you're not sure you can use it because it might not be exactly as you expected, you might be able to SELL it on Craigslist. Just take it

The poem Zoe wrote back in December was not accepted by the literary magazine to which she sent it. And because she doesn't want to submit it anywhere else (I was thinking maybe a magazine geared toward children, or one that regularly accepts submissions from children), I'm sharing it here. Melina By Zoe Long, flowing hair Still in her snowman pajamas. But then, all of a sudden, she appears in a white dress with sparkles and pearls and a ribbon at the back to tie. With a shiny crown, a fairy wand with a little fluff of feathers (just to make it a pretty wand), and white high heels, a little bit big for her. But it doesn’t matter, she tells me what to do. Because she is The Queen and I am the princess who wears jeans and converse. With my long hair in a normal way and no tiara. Then, she changes from one Queen to another. Into a mermaid, into The Queen of the Ocean, and I am still the princess but Princess of the Ocean. I

This is the story of how naked came to dinner, which, as you can imagine, is just another night in our slightly crazy household. "Argh," Talia said, as her baked beans fell from her spoon, onto her capri pants. "I spilled my beans. Onto my pants." She quickly picked up the errant beans with her fingers, popped them into her mouth, and shot me a sheepish glance. I looked at her. I could feel the daggers shooting from my eyes so I tried to rein them in. But the thought of doing more laundry practically made me gag. I'd just done some "spring cleaning," which included washing everything in everyone's bedrooms, even the drapes.  I swallowed my food and put down my fork. "You know, I just did all that laundry. For crying out loud, I'm going to ask you all to eat dinner naked from now on." The words had barely left my lips when Aaron's eyes opened up real wide. "Oh really? Okay then." Within seconds, Aaron and Melina

And all I can think about is whether or not vodka ice cream is available. If it is, sign me up for delivery, in large quantities. Enough to last through the summer and then some.

My sincere apologies to Anna Nalick; and for one of my dearest feline friends, Lucy... 4 AM and he whines now I'm really awake, And I realize again that its such a mistake, That I love him. Evening just isn't his season. Yeah he walks through the doors, so accusing my eyes Like I have any right at all to criticize, Silly girl. He's a cat, not what you say, a demon. Cause you can't close the doors, he'd be very unstable His life's like an hourglass, tipped on the table He'll whine all he wants and wake you each night. So ladle the brew in the cup And breathe...just breathe Oh breathe, just breathe July he'll turn 15, without the one we miss He looks up at me, life should be better than this By his whine you can tell he's been down for a bit But, my word, it's so beautiful when the cat sits, Wanna hold him. Maybe I'll just write about it. Cause you can't close the doors, he'd be very unstable His life's like a

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

A long run on a rainy Saturday in May, recharges my soul. And makes me grateful, so extremely grateful. Because despite the rain, at least it's not snow.

Have you seen the headlines? The "You're Doing It Wrong" headlines? Like the one the other day, " 7 Ways You're Doing Laundry Wrong " on the Huffington Post? And there's a whole series on Slate , not to mention a humorous website .That last one is a comedy of errors: go to the site, view the pictures, and realize just how much common sense you might actually have. But the other articles, especially those published at Slate , are meant to tell you how to do things correctly. In the laundry article, we learn many things: about dark clothes, white jeans, kids clothes, and multiple other mistakes that happen every time we do laundry. With Slate's series, we can learn how to correctly wrap a burrito, how to make chocolate chip cookies, what ingredient is missing from your not-so-fabulous (even if you think they are) homemade bagels, that you should add potato to your cinnamon rolls (I'm going to try that recipe, I have to say), and that pie dough sh

I haven't spoken much about my new gig as Profiles co-editor for Literary Mama . I don't know why. I think it's simply because I'm busy learning: about the insides of the magazine, how to be a better editor, and what is best in terms of communicating with other editors who are around the world. I'm doing some editing and some writing for the magazine, and really, I don't need to tell you what it's like to sit behind a computer. Many of you do that on a daily basis. However, I had an interview scheduled with Katrina Kittle tonight, and I thought I'd share my experience. (Because somehow, I can make anything an experience.) If you don't know her, she is the author of five novels, all of which can be found at her site . She is also a huge supporter of the creative arts in and around the Miami Valley. She teaches writing, evaluates manuscripts, and takes part in theater productions as well as runs, reads, and gardens. I won't go into the intervie

At this time of the year, when the academic calendar comes to an end and we begin our transition into summer, schools begin to talk about many things, some of which effect many of our children. Did your child get straight As the entire year? If not, did he or she at least make it onto the honor roll? And how about his or her attendance? Did your child make it to every single day of class? And if your child did not achieve any of those, then why the hell not? Of course, our schools don't really phrase anything the way I did with that last sentence, but sometimes the sentiment is there and it comes from one of the other classmates. For example, this morning I was in the office of the middle school, signing in for volunteer duty. A group of kids was next to me, talking about whether or not they'd be going to the All-A breakfast, which is sponsored by the school. As I learned, some of the children will be going to the breakfast and some will not. Those kids who won't be goi

Back in January 2013, I spoke about a state I called the waiting place . At the time, this is how I defined it: For me, it is the the buffered mountainside, the comfort zone, or simply, the existing state. It is there that I can sit without really living, going about my business because I have to, but not truly enjoying what I am doing. Sometimes, that waiting place is fraught with anxiety, or I might experience plenty of emotions without really feeling any of them at all.  But the place is warm and comfortable. Things could be better or worse, but at least I know and understand all that rests inside the boundaries of the waiting place. But here I am, over a year later, enjoying what I'm doing, and I'm back to a point I could just as easily (and probably more appropriately) call my waiting place . I find that in addition to all the tasks I accomplish each day, I'm also waiting on so many aspects of my life: I'm waiting to hear back from Annie Bomke as to wheth

There are too many Mondays in a year. ~ Zoe

Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained. ~ Marie Curie

What started out as a saved blog post on Wednesday, turned into a 5,400 word short story yesterday. All from one conversation I had with a friend on Tuesday. How crazy is that? Now you'll never know which part came from my friend or how much I fictionalized the account (the whole thing, really) but I would like for you to know what the story is about and where you can read it. And so, I'm going to try and find it a home, somewhere more comfortable than right here at Heptadecagon. If no one bites, I might just bring it back here and post it for the world to read. It's no prizewinner, but it's a day's worth of work, and proof that (at least to me) I'm still making progress on my dream.

One of the kids' jobs is to set the table at dinnertime. It's not a large job, nor is it a complicated job, but strangely enough, four kids can make that job into a chore . For whatever reason, it's never been a simple task for them. And two nights ago, I'd had enough. I mean, how many times can you tell someone that you need plates and bowls and silverware? Do I have to remind everyone that a glass of water at mealtimes would be nice? (The kids aren't fans of milk, so thankfully, we don't have that extra complication.) Had my kids had their way, we'd all stuff our faces into a communal trough and wipe our mouths with our sleeves. And then let the dog clean up the plates. Well, it took over twelve years of having children present, but we've finally found a system. Here it is: The kids should set the table the same way, whether it is for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Each child has a duty, and is responsible for only that duty. Everyone clears the

Despite what many people think, country music can sometimes teach us a lesson. Or remind us of something we learned a long time ago, but needed to acknowledge again... (Take away what you will from this post.) "The Gambler" Written by Don Schlitz  Recorded by Kenny Rogers On a warm summer's eve On a train bound for nowhere I met up with the gambler We were both too tired to sleep So we took turns a-starin' Out the window at the darkness The boredom overtook us, he began to speak He said, "Son, I've made a life Out of readin' people's faces Knowin' what the cards were By the way they held their eyes So if you don't mind me sayin' I can see you're out of aces For a taste of your whiskey I'll give you some advice" So I handed him my bottle And he drank down my last swallow Then he bummed a cigarette And asked me for a light And the night got deathly quiet And his faced lost all expression He said