I summoned all of my multiple personalities for an emergency meeting of my mind.

Unfortunately, those dissociative identities look like the 1977 cast of The Love Boat. So I gathered the crew, and addressed our latest life drama.

"People, as I think you are no doubt by now aware, the deadline is upon us," I began.

"NO! I thought we had another week!" Shouted my Captain Stubing.

"No, we have another week until our cruise to Cabo, but we only have until tomorrow to complete the second-grader's book report."

"Aw, heck, we can do that in between conga lines--it's second grade! How hard can it be? Who's up for Mai Tais on the Lido deck," said Isaac, my mental bartender.

Julie, our Cruise Director, made another suggestion. "Let's wait until Zsa Zsa or Jamie Farr guest star, we'll have plenty of time then. Those storylines are always real sleepers." Glancing at her cursed clipboard, she then announced she was going to gather the passengers for a luau.

"There's no time for that now! Crew, I need you to focus. We need a book, paper, pencils, a period costume of our subject, five items that represent our famous American, a clever container in which to hold those, related baked goods for a class of 25, a pot of coffee and a pack of cigarettes. Now move!"

"But you don't smoke. And you shouldn't," protested Doc.

"I'm thinking after 10 pages with a handwriting-phobic 7 year-old, I just might need to start."

Isaac poured me a pina colada in a coconut shell. "I hear you, Diva. But isn't this technically Gopher's job?"

Gopher perked up from the shuffleboard game he was playing. "Hey, I resent that. I am not just a gopher, I'm the ship's Yeoman-Purser."

"No one even knows what a Yeomen-Purser is," Doc said.

"Right now it means the guy who collects the selected bibliography on Milton Hershey. Get moving!" I shouted.

My mind's crew scattered in several different directions. Gopher went ashore to collect the several hundred dollars worth of supplies. Julie called over the ship's loud speaker for any passenger that knew how to sew a Mennonite/Candy tycoon costume from the early 1900's. Isaac started to concoct chocolate martinis, but then thought better of it and made chocolate milk instead. Doc feebly wiped our brows, until he became distracted by the cocktail waitress bringing over Isaac's chocolate milk shooters.

My son and I holed up in our cabin getting it done. We set a course for adventure through Pennsylvania and our minds on a new romance of Hershey Kisses. We laughed, we cried. We read together, we did our Kit-Kat taste research. We fashioned a shoe box into a large candy bar to hold our artifacts. With the exception of the actual writing out of the 8 paragraphs with the most obscure facts about Milton Hershey (that can only be described as a shipwreck when legible penmanship is demanded from my son) we kind of had a good time.

This morning, when he left for school to give his oral report, Matthew said, "Mom, did you know that Milton had a ticket for the Titanic but couldn't go at the last minute?"

I smiled. "Make sure you share that fact with your class today," I called out the door after him.

It just might help to explain why he's wearing a sailor suit and 1970's white short shorts.

Note to selves: Keep Stubing on the bridge and away from wardrobe.

©2008 Tracey Henry

Divamail me while I'm ashore! Divamail@Suburbandiva.com. Sign up for free newsletters and offers at Suburbandiva.com!