Gourmet Groundhogs ("How do you know they're gourmet?" "They're placed on lace doilies")

 Call it a sixth sense...but I can immediately tell when information is being deliberately kept from me. The 4th grade team had signed up for faculty meeting snacks and it turns out that our "school caterer" (and Reading Specialist) was going to be out of town. "How dare she..." my team fumed before turning to look at one another in horror..."Don't tell Amy." So secret plans of Tim Horton's donuts..."Should we get frosted, glazed or filled donuts," Kelly asked. "Let's go crazy and get a variety," advised Geri, glancing over her shoulder to make sure I was out of earshot.

The minute I found out that 4th grade team was solely responsible for February treats, I immediately began an exhaustive search of suitable snacks for our co-workers. "Oh no," Geri and Kelly groaned as I presented  dozens of options for their perusal. After a lot of yelling and crying, we decided to scrap the donuts and focus instead on a theme representing the holidays of February. Naturally, this would require the 4th grade team going out unnecessarily to lunch for a largely unsuccessful ingredient acquisition.

The week of the faculty meeting arrived. An inventory was made:  Eyeballs? Check. Brown mini- M & Ms laboriously sorted by Rachel? Check. Chocolate Teddy Grahams mercilessly slaughtered in a food processor and then heartlessly disregarded because they weren't as pretty as the silver sprinkles? Check. "You know...grades are due this week," Kelly remarked worriedly. "Get your priorities straight, Woman," I snapped, unwrapping sixty miniature Almond Joy candy bars.

Call it a sixth sense...but our friend Tyler can always tell when I'm in the middle of doing something stupid. I swear that, like a German Short-Haired Pointer, he stops, turns eyes heavenward, and then radars his way to ridiculousness. "What are you doing," he asked happily, addressing the candy-making assembly-line of unhappy women. I held up a groundhog for his inspection. "Geri thinks they look like Groucho Marx," I complained before admitting, "I'm actually afraid that they resemble Hitler." Tyler laughed. "So, if he sees his shadow does that mean World War II isn't over?"

Well...it was too late now. We were committed (pun intended). Kelly was at home whittling a million carrots and cucumbers into tiny heart shapes after wrestling cheese and pepperoni into a flag formation while her boyfriend systematically cut cherry tomatoes at a 45 degree angle to re-shape into hearts with toothpicks. Our groundhog faces were sliding to the side and Geri was having a nervous breakdown because she couldn't find raspberry sherbet for her "Love Potion" punch.

Carrying supplies, I made a million trips to the library while Kelly frantically stuffed woodchucks into their cupcake burrows. Tyler gallantly opened the door for me despite my snapping ungraciously at him every time. "You mean there's MORE," Dee gasped in surprise (or horror) as she and Pat cleaned off the top of a book shelf for me. They were more than happy, though, to help us adorn our display with themed books.

The line of ravenous educators began. "Oh! They're groundhogs," our friend Kathy exclaimed before lowering her voice, "At first, I thought it was a graveyard."

"I don't know how you guys do it," one treat-taker commented, balancing three blueberries on her spoon, "I just wouldn't have the time." Call it a sixth sense...Geri tackled me as I lunged across the line. "Well...we don't have the time either...we make the time," I hollered up from the carpet. "Remember Amy, two wrongs don't make a right, but three rights make a left," Geri said cheerfully, prying open my clenched fist to give me some chocolate. "I'm alright," I said, standing up to see my friends looking at me with concerned expressions, "Nobody worry 'bout me." I turned to my tormentor, "Why you got to gimme a fight? Can't you just let it be?"

"Whew! I'm glad that's over," Rachel sighed as we cleaned up. "Well, we really set the bar high," I smiled. "Is that why you make us do all this," Geri asked in disgust, "as a measurement of performance?" Surprised, I turned to her. "I don't measure myself off of other educators." "How do you measure yourself then," Kelly asked. I plucked the eyeball off a groundhog, popping it in my mouth before answering, "By height."