Something's Missing

To get the most out of this post, please click on track 68.  (oops, I mean track 69.  But track 68 works too.)


Yesterday, while I was driving my kids around, John Mayer came on the radio and spoke to me.

I always tune in when John Mayer speaks to me because he's the one who told me about my abandonment issues when he instructed fathers to be good to their daughters.

And he's the one who told me to say what I need to say.

And he's the one who told me my body's a wonderland.

Today he told me Something's Missing and he's right. Something IS missing!

But what is it?

The temple?

YES. Grieving over here, peeps. Lot's of darkness and emptiness and nakedness right outside my dining room window where the Hawaii temple used to sit and watch over me.

But something else is missing . . .

Food? YES. That's why I'm on my way to Costco right now and won't be able to introduce you to the rest of my smarty-pants class until later.

But something else is missing . . .

My husband? My twins? Half my family?

YES! YES! YES! My husband is missing. And my twins are missing too. Half of my family is on the Big Island right now, which is why I've been able to read every blog on my side bar lately.

And which is also why yesterday I did yoga, chatted with Funny Farmer, gave my son a neck massage, painted my toenails, stayed up till midnight, permed my hair . . .

(Okay I didn't perm my hair.)

Loneliness is a bugger, that's all I'm saying.

Do you get me?

I know you do. I've been feeling vibes that I'm not the only one who understands the L word and the D word.

But I have the solution. The magic cure, if you will. And believe me this works on every single ailment whether it starts with a D or an L or an ADD or a PTS or a CTR or an FHE or a BBQ.

Plus you can use it as a household cleaner too (at least that's what Lo says).

Are you ready for the secret to sanity, serenity, focus, peace, prosperity, joy?

You'll find out . . . after this commercial break. (Isn't Ryan Seacrest annoying! In a cute way.)

Water + Mozart

That's it. It's that easy. Half a gallon of water and a pound of Mozart.

SHAKE WELL before using.

God created Mozart on the 8th day then sent him to earth as the 4th witness.

Upon his departure God said to Mozart, "Please give everyone a hug from me while you're down there!"

So if you need a hug from God . . .

Look to it, peeps!


And if you want to see the cutest pictures of Sandi (Kute Kasey's mom) check out this beautiful tribute here on KK's blog.

And some of you noticed that Wolfgang stopped by yesterday.

Remember Wolfgang, my Austrian student who laughed in my face every time I mentioned my blog and who now has not one, but two tremendous blogs of his own?

He's also the student who felt someone should push Jean ValJean down the stairs at the end of Les Mis so as not to prolong the agony. (I personally think someone should push Marius down the stairs, but whatever. )

After seeing my rock star classes Wolfgang is feeling a little insecure about his place in my heart so I am having a contest with my students called:

I-double-dog-dare-you-to-try-to-steal-my-heart-from-Wolfgang!

(Is anyone really worthy?)

Stay tuned for the finalists and the voting polls.

My Early a.m. Rock Stars!

Okay, where was I before I got all self-reflective over whoppers and crock pots and rated R movies?

Oh, yes, I was cleaning my house, (which means I was doing sudoku).

Do you have any idea what it's like to do a dozen sudoku puzzles in a row when you should be scrubbing toilets? I've never tripped out on LSD but I imagine this is about as close as you can get to blowing your mind. I kid you not, the right side of your brain starts tweaking and for a split second you feel like you're on the verge of solving all the mysteries of the universe.

You should try it sometime when you get bored.


But where was I before I was tweaking out on sudoku?


Oh, yes, I was going to introduce you to my early morning class.

WARNING: they're smart and they're beautiful and they're talented. And they've got sass--a bit to much sass if you ask me--but that's how smart, beautiful, talented people roll.

FTR, deep down I think of them all as ROCK STARS (even though they're annoying).

Do you want to see what a bunch of annoying rock stars look like?

The most annoying thing about SBT people is that they can get mouthy. And pokey. They're always poking me in the eye.

Especially after I defended Twilight when they said it the worst movie ever.

Alls I said was, "I liked it!" and "that vampire was smokin' hot!" and WOW, did they go off on me. I was blind for a week.

Apparently SBT people don't love smokin' hot vampires.

Especially this dude:

This is Benjamin Buttars, but I call him Benjamin Button because he looks younger and younger every time I see him.

And this is April.

Benjamin Button and April are in love. At least they pretend to be. And then sometimes they pretend not to be. It's very perplexing. They laugh in my face whenever I get confused about it.

This is Bobby--my Ellen Hopkins book dealer.


He says they don't just laugh in my face, they also laugh behind my back because Benjamin Button and April aren't even going out anymore.

But think about it, you don't have to be going out to be in love. And mark my words, they're in love. I may be dumb, but I've got eyes.

That's what I'm tualkin' about!


This is Kyle.



I call him Kyle Kyle and not because he's so nice you have to say his name twice. His mom should have named him Mary Mary because he's quite contrary. Not only does he hate smokin' hot vampire movies, he thinks everything I ask him to read or write or do is superfluous miscellany. We seriously get into fist fights after class all the time because he feels the need to remind me he already PASSED out of this class in P.R.O.V.O. and he's only taking it again to be a thorn in my side.


This is the look Kyle gives me whenever I ask him to do something.

Kyle Kyle is so contrary that one time I had to put on my red cape and stretchy pants and use my Eagle Powers on him in front of the whole class.

In my defense, I warned him first.

I said "Kyle Kyle, if you don't stop asking me why or Is this really necessary? . . .

and if you don't stop telling the class a good wife should shave her legs every day . . .

and if you don't stop telling me that you DON'T LOVE Tim O'Brien and The Things They Carried . . .

and if you don't stop telling me that blogging is lam-o . . .

I swear, young man, I'm going to put on my stretchy pants and smack you around!"

But he didn't listen.


(And I thought Wolfgang was bad.)

So now I'm making Kyle read Tim O'Brien until he shouts "I LOVE IT!"

That's what my husband would have done.

My husband is the best I-LOVE-IT-Motivational-Speaker ever. He really should live in a van down by the river because he is even better than Chris Farley at tricking you into loving things you thought you hated. (But that's a whole-nother post).

Speaking of whole-nother posts . . . this post is pooping me out. I've gotsta go take a nap.

Can I introduce you to the rest of my rock star class in my next post?

Okay, one more. I'll end with my favorite students.

J/K. Teachers don't play favorites.

But if I was going to play favorites . . .



Okay, these guys aren't actually in my class, but they would definitely be my favorites if they were.

If the shoe fits . . .

I hope you don't think I'm blogging right now. I'm actually still on break so I can clean my house before my mom's arrival, but she doesn't come for a week, which means I've mostly been doing sadoku puzzles instead of scrubbing toilets, so I'm dropping by to give you a message from the universe.

Accept the good.

And if the shoe fits, wear it. (Or in my case, if the pot fits, cook in it.)

You'll never believe where I got this message. From Burger King.

Am I the only one who leaves Burger King smiling and asking for a job application? Not to flip burgers, but to write food descriptions on the wrappers.

Today I started giggling at the frypod for calling me Captain Deepthoughts, but before I knew it I was in tears--real salty/sweet tears.

It was because my twelve year old son was asking everyone who they would choose to meet if they were allowed to meet one person in real life. Everyone was naming really important people like Jesus and Gandhi and Michael Jordan.

Then my son said, "I would choose to meet your dad."

Suddenly I felt a tremendous sense of loss.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I spent my Saturday night alone cleaning, grading, doing sadoku and watching The Things They Lost in the Fire. (what can I say, I'm a multi-tasker).

What a beautiful movie, except for the ending, which was really the middle.

Don't you hate it when movies end in media res?

Don't you hate it when anything ends in media res? Especially love.

When I get rich and famous I'm going to buy a chocolate haupio pie for everyone who has lost love in media res.

Surprisingly the movie The Things They Lost in the Fire isn't about a fire. It isn't even about the things they lost in the fire. There was a fire before the movie begins, and they did lose things in that fire, but things are replacable, so they make a list of what they lost and then thank God they didn't lose each other.

But then the movie starts and they lose each other.

The main character is killed while saving a battered woman, leaving his little family broken.

While his family grieves, his best friend, who is a heroin addict struggles to get sober.

It's fantastic and subtle and poignant how they inadvertantly help and support each other through the grieving process. It was so lovely that it made me think about how when we lose one thing we always gain something else (eventually).

My creative writing teacher taught me that if you want to make a point, say it three times. So this is the point I heard 3 times:

Accept the good with the bad. Reality will make you accept the bad, but you have the choice to accept the good.

Last year I lost my crockpot during an Enrichment meeting. I ended up getting half of it back. The crock part, but the pot was never recovered.

Then last week, over a year later, my twins and I went to Savers and right before my very eyes was a ceramic pot that was missing the crock.

What are the chances?

It wasn't MY ceramic pot, but I paid $7 and guess what? It FIT!

What's that saying again? If the shoe fits, wear it!

If you can't use the pot you love, use the pot the universe sends you?

And believe me, the universe will send you a new pot-- pinky promise!


LY everyone!

My Secret Identity

Did anyone see Funny Farmer's blog? She found this magical psychic who can tell you your secret identity. For FREE!

All you have to do is punch in your full name and within an instant you'll know exactly who you truly are.

I'm a believer in magical psychics, so I tried it.

It turns out I'm a FPB (Famed Porn Brat), which I never would have guessed in a million years because I'm so not a brat. 

My MIL is an XRLA (X-Rated, Looney Armpit), which I've suspected for years.

I'm not even going to tell you my husband's secret identity because it uses the word napalm in conjunction with that stinky word I loath (which starts with an f and rhymes with art.)

Unfortunately I received a crushing blow when I typed in The Crash Test Dummy. Apparently I'm a curse word (and not a charming curse word or a pleasant piece of profantity).

I am the CDAH (Crummiest Dirty Swear-word Head).

I will totally understand if you don't want to be associated with the crummiest dirty swear-word head anymore.


Click here to find out who you truly are.


P.S. I'm taking the weekend off to clean my house (MY MOMMY IS COMING). I will introduce you to my morning class on Monday since I can't see them clearly right now--they're always poking me in the eye, bless their rotten little hearts.