Dear Abby

So I tossed and turned all night long after posting my dilemma.

I pondered my life from front to back.  Then I got bored and fell asleep.  

In my dreams I was on a magical journey.  There was a yellow brick road and a harmonica playing Somewhere Over the Rainbow.  

SUDDENLY the Dragon Warrior appeared to me and handed me a scroll.  When I opened it Jack Black popped out with a pair of chop sticks .  He was wearing stretchy pants and carrying a guitar. He smiled at me and said,  "My life is guooooood.  I get to wake up every morning at 5 a.m. and make soup for the orphans." 

"But you don't want to make soup for the orphans," I said.  "You want to be a wrestler."

"Yes," he said.  "And I want to be a rock star!  And I want to be a kung fu warrior!  But I don't want to make soup.  And I don't want to make noodles."  

And then he did a few karate chop spins before resting his steady gaze on me.  "And you don't want to teach history." 

Then he winked at me and told me to stick it to the man. 

SUDDENLY he turned into Kevin Costner, and he said, "If you blog it, they will come," after which he chucked a baseball at my face.

But Rocky Balboa grabbed the baseball in mid flight, just as it was about to break my nose, and he shook his fist and yelled, "I'm a fighter! That's what I'm made of!" Then he turned to me and shook his fist again and yelled, "You're a writer! That's what you're made of!"  

And Yoda was there, and Dear Abby, and they were boxing and singing "The Eye of the Tiger" and John Mayer was singing, "Say What You Need to Say!"   

Then everything went quiet and fell away.  And it was dark.  And I was alone.  

Except I wasn't alone.  Jackie Robinson was there too.  And he had a gift for me.  

"Is this my ancient Chinese secret ingredient?"  I asked.  

"No," he smiled, with a twinkle in his eye.  "It's your present." 

I opened it and blinked in amazement.  It was a glittery jar of rubber cement.     

"Is this magic glue?"  I asked?  

"That's up to you," he said.  And then he gathered me up in his arms and he was so strong and kind and comforting and he smelled like Old Spice. 

"Some people dance," he said.  "Some people get struck by lightening.  Some people teach history."  Then he paused.  "And some people blog." 

It seemed so profound.  

When I woke up my eyes were hideously swollen, but my heart was happy.  

And I called the head of the History Department and I told him how flattered I was that he thought of me and that I loved the free books, which I didn't feel I deserved since I haven't taught a history class for 2 years. 

Then I told him that one of the things I learned from teaching History for 5 years and from traveling to Fiji and New Zealand and Mexico is that bribery is illegal in some countries.  

 (I jest, people!  I jest!)

Long story short.  I guess I'm a girl who cain say no.  I respectfully declined his request.  

I'm a writer.  That's what I'm made of.  As Gad as my witness, I must follow my yellow brick road, come helk or highwater.

 

Mahalo for reminding me of that.  

And look out Dear Abby!  Here I come!