The Dummy Waxes Romantical

So grateful my mom is flying across the ocean to see me today. If she weren't coming then my oven would not be clean right now, and neither would my windows or my garage or my fridge.

Thanks, Mom. You're my inspiration.

Oh, and happy 20th anniversary honey bunches of oats! If we hadn't tied the knot on March 16th 20 years ago we wouldn't be celebrating our 20th anniversary today.

(Isn't life ironic?)

Hey, do you guys mind covering your ears for a sec? I'd like a moment alone with my hub.

Hi Sweetie, remember how bored we were on our honeymoon because we were in Manti and there was no T.V. in our room? And remember how you whispered in my ear in your dreamiest voice, "I wonder what we'll be doing on this day 20 years from now . . . "

And how I whispered back in my cutie-pie voice, "well if we're not divorced, you'll probably be scrubbing toilets in our rented town home while I'm doing sudoku. And then we'll probably be frantically stashing our extra crap into suitcases so we can shove it under our beds before my mom comes to visit."

And remember how you whispered back in your lucky-charm voice, "and we'll probably be up all night listening to our son cough and wheeze until we have to give him a nebulizer treatment."

And how I whispered back in my cream-o-wheat voice, "you silly goose, you don't even know what a nebulizer is yet?"

Did we call it or what?

High five, babe. And thanks for being so romantic even when we're just frantically shoving our extra crap under our bed and giving our son nebulizer treatments.

Jack Johnson's got nothin' on you. Well, besides a successful music career. Oh, and the Curious George thing. But your dance moves can trump his any day. And I bet you'd look better in a van down by the river.

Lub you!

Mahalo for the privacy, peeps! Tomorrow I PINKY PROMISE, as Gad as my witness, I will reveal the name and face of my favorite student as well as more finalists in my I-double-dog-dare-you-to-steal-my-heart-from-Wolfgang contest.

This message brought to you by the universe

I've had something too much on my mind as of late. More and more often it creeps up and startles me like a swift kick in the pants. But usually it lingers vaguely in the back of my brain like a nagging toothache.

It's my vacuum bag.

My vacuum bag is full to overflowing and needs to be replaced.

Every time I make a TO DO list I write BUY NEW VACUUM BAGS! But I never actually buy them, I just think about buying them.

I started putting post-it notes all over my house--on my fridge, my bathroom mirror, under the kitchen sink, inside the rice cooker.

BUY NEW VACUUM BAGS!

I even cut out early from a girl day with Martha and Swirl so I could buy new vacuum bags. But did I buy them? Nope. I couldn't even remember what brand of vacuum I own so I went to Abargios to listen to George Michael and drink Mountain Dew instead.

But I really needed new vacuum bags because my mom is coming on Monday!

Did you hear me, peeps? I said my mom is coming on Monday!

So a few days ago I got on-line and shopped until I dropped, but do you know how much it costs to ship Y shaped Hoover vacuum bags to the middle of the pacific ocean?

$19.99.

No thank you, I will just keep sweeping my floors!

My mom offered to help. "I can run down to the Hoover store and bring you some vacuum bags when I come," she said. "I've been trying to think of something to get for your birthday anyway."

It was tempting because I've been wanting vacuum bags for my birthday, but I finally finally finally found some in the very first place I looked.

Hallelujah for Sears!

When I got home I opened the cupboard above the dryer where I keep my vacuum bags and time slowed way down. I blinked. I rubbed my eyes. I blinked again. I closed the cupboard door and opened it again. Closed. Opened.

I laughed. I cried. I almost died.

Stacked neatly right where the vacuum bags are supposed to be was a pile of . . . vacuum bags.

There's a moral here, peeps. There's a definite moral here: Don't waste time listening to George Michael and wishing for things you already have.

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P.S. Remember last week's crock pot message from the universe? Well, I was hauling Martha's basketball snacks out of my van when my first counselor drove by and yelled, "Hey, I read your blog. I've got your crock pot!" Of course I stuck my leg out and tripped her van. (Was that spiteful?)

Sometimes my life is just like the movie Castaway.
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P.S. My husband is back now, btw, and I have a raging headache.

It's not just because of the constant yakety yak yak in my ear every time I sit down to blog my brains out.

It's also because of all the presents he brought back from the Big Island for our 20th wedding anniversary--shortbread cookies dipped in chocolate. Jelly beans dipped in chocolate, a huge bag of chocolate covered macademia nuts, a huge bag of dirty laundry, more choc covered mac nuts, more strep throat, and a hotel and resorts shower cap that you can only get in Hawaii, Fiji and Tahiti.

Oh, and a pair of hungry eyes. (You'd think he'd never seen a 41 year old in a pair of flannel jammies before!)

Guess what I got him?

A visit from my mom. (Isn't the 2oth the MIL anniversary?) Do you think I should dip her in chocolate before I bring her home from the airport?

Made With Love

So my next door neighbor, Martha was off-island this week, but the day before she left she came banging on me door.

"Hey, dummy," she said in her cutest voice, "I'm supposed to do basketball snacks this week, but I won't be here so can YOU do it? No worries if you can't, but remember all those times I let your kids take tennis lessons for free?"

"Martha, you know I hate doing snacks!"

"Remember all the times I brought you pasta salad?"

"Martha, I really really hate doing snacks."

"Remember those magic skimmer shorts I bought you from Kohls.com? The ones you were wearing the night you met Jack Johnson?"

"Okay, I'll do it!" I said, "but I won't like it."

See in Hawaii snack is code for full-on meal--pizza, chicken, chili and rice, bentos, musibi, prime rib, coconut shrimp, etc.

When the dreaded day came I was in a dilemma. I knew I couldn't pretend to forget like I usually do, but I was so busy doing Facebook quizzes that I didn't really have time to shop, let alone cook, so I decided on bologna.

I was going to do bologna parmesian, but I've been out of mozzarella cheese since early 1990 so I had to settle for bologna sandwiches.

My son wrinkled his nose and shook his head, but I didn't let that stop me.

My bread was frozen, but I didn't let that stop me.

My 5 gallon jug of mayo was at it's wits end, but I didn't let that stop me.

I'm a nose to the grindstone kind of girl and even though I was literally up-to-my-elbows in mayo and had to spread that frozen bread with my fingers I wasn't going to let Martha down.

As for the accessories, I can be very creative/resourceful, in a waste not/want not sort of way--lerned that from my MIL, so I ventured to the deepest corners of my cupboards and the darkest recesses of my fridge. BINGO! Amazing the treasures I found--an old bag of flaming hot crunchy cheetos from our Superbowl party, a package of left over soda crackers from my super ferry adventure, a few sprigs of brocolli that survived the flood in my crisper drawer, some bread crumbs, a can of bean with bacon soup, a box of raisens . . .

It was a plethora of potpourri. A smorgasborg surprise.

And I'm nothing if not thoughtful, which means I whipped out a permanent marker and gave credit where credit was due by writing on each brown bag in my best handwriting:


Made With Love by Martha



Thanks Auntie Martha!

(That's what they said.)


(Speaking of made with love: Check out the latest entry on The Magic Quilt. It will give you tingles.)


P.S. Wanna know what I think of Facebook quizzes?

Two words: Stu. Pid.


I took the how dumb are you quiz and it told me:

you have the normal amount of dumbness..congratulations !!

Who writes those dumb quizzes anyway?

Benjamin Buttars and Wolfgang

Nevada, this one's for you, girlfriend:

Nevada wasn't the only one who noted that my student, Benjamin Buttars would make a better glittery vampire than Edward. (I added the glittery part because BB despises glittery vampires.)

If you look closely at his face you can see it shimmering.

(he he he)

Imagine me breaking out into an evil mad scientist laugh as I made BB's face sparkle against his will.

I never noticed it before, but Nevada has a point.

If you look closely you can almost imagine Benjamin Buttars sitting in class being repelled by the scent of true love.

Look at him struggling to resist his conflicting impulses. Should he turn and run from love? Or should he take a bite out of it?

But who does he love? Is it the lovely Jasmine seated next to him? She is muy muy bonita, afterall.


No! It is the lovely April sitting across from him. (Sorry Jasmine. Blondes really do have more fun, trust me.)

Now scroll back and watch him struggle.

He he he

(I should have been an evil mad scientist instead of an evil mad English teacher.)

What will Benjamin Buttars do? Can he control himself for love?


Nope.


But will he and April still live happily ever after?


Or will Jacob come between them?

(That dude's name isn't really Jacob, it's Justin.)

Real life is an awful lot like movie life if you ask me.

And guess what else Benjamin Buttars is in real life?

A ROCK STAR!

He's got a band and he's going to share his music with us. But first you'll have to sleep over in my comment box waiting for the ticket booth to open. (Didn't I tell you guys my students were V.I.P.'s?)

And here's one more weird Benjamin Buttars story with a Wolfgang twist:

Next week BB is going to New York for a journalism conference so I'm like, "you oughta go see Les Miserables on Broadway since we'll be reading it next month."

And you know what he says to me? He says, "I've seen Les Miserables on Broadway many times."

So I'm like, "Oh yea, well I bet you haven't seen it more times than me. I've seen it six times! TOP THAT Benjamin Button!"

And you know what he says to me? He says, "Oh yea, well I played Jean Val Jean during my summer stock theater days. TOP THAT Dummy!"

Guess what popped into my head as soon as he said that?

Wolfgang.

I had a vision of Wolfgang pushing Jean Val Jean down the stairs. Isn't it weird how life plays itself out backwards and upside down and sideways?

Do you think Wolfgang was foreshadowing his own Benjamin Buttars envy?

Just in case, I hereby declare Benjamin Buttars ineligible to compete in the I-double-dog-dare-you-to-steal-my-heart-from-Wolfgang-contest.

It wouldn't be fair to put a tremendous Austrian up against a summer stock Jean Val Jean/glittery vampire/rock star.

No doubt Wolfgang would push him down the stairs.

So do you want to see the first finalist in the contest?

It was a tough choice.

I was going to pick Kyle Kyle, but he fell asleep.

And then I was going to choose Emma because she wears tie dye and because she was born with a tooth in her mouth, which has gotta be some kind of omen, don't you think? But Emma is almost as mouthy as Kyle. The first thing she says every day when I walk into class is "Can we cancel class? Can we? Can we? Can we? Huh? Huh? Huh? Can we go home? Huh? Can we NOT take this quiz? Can we NOT do this assignment?"

So I've decided the first finalist will be Raphael. He used to be a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle and he's a French beat boxer. (I'm hoping French beat boxing is more romantic than Americn beat boxing because boxing isn't my favorite violent sport.)