I have a crush.

I have a crush on someone besides my husband.

It’s another man.

I say that lest you think I have a crush on a loaf of manchego cheese or a steaming cup of coffee, for which I’m equally likely to develop inappropriate feelings.

The man to which I refer haunts my dreams.

He’s hot, yet approachable.

He’s always, always doing the right thing.

He’s good with children.  And old people.  And a wrench.

And he has a killer accent.

Seriously, people.  I think Disney was out to seduce moms when they created Handy Manny.

It’s not right, Disney.  Not right at all.

I had a Handy Manny crush years ago.  My littles would watch him with his optimistic “we can fix it right!” slogan, and I would sigh, eat bon bons, and daydream.

Oh, Manny.  You’re just so handy.

I thought my Manny crush was gone along with cleaning bottles, wiping baby butts, and rolling up the soaker hoses that were my breasts.  But the crush came back with a roar this week, and I was helpless in its wake.

Maybe it’s because our van transmission couldn’t hold his liquor and spewed his guts all over the road.

Van = dead.

Maybe it’s because our microwave beeps and lights up and keeps time… but doesn’t heat anything anymore.  I know, because I tried to warm my coffee three times before I broke down in a puddle caffeine-deprived angst, beat my head on my counter-top, and wailed, “Why? Why does the universe HATE ME?” not unlike Nellie from Little House on the Prairie.  It wasn’t pretty, folks.  Not pretty at all.

Microwave = dead.

Maybe it’s because our oven doesn’t heat on the first try… or because I’m still using an ice pick in place of a button to turn it on.

Oven = on life support.

Or maybe I shouldn’t say any of this since I have a husband that, believe it or not, I try to not drive away, screaming, to Mexico.  (Take me with you, Greg!)

So, I told Greg about my latest Mann-fatuation.  I felt it was only fair, before he finds the photo of Manny I cut out and hid in my top dresser drawer.

Greg’s response?  “If I ever meet him, he has a problem…. right after I put him to work on our oven.”

Annnndddd… snap!  Just like that, my crushing reverted firmly into the husband zone.  That Greg; he still knows how to woo me after all these years.

Oven?  Microwave?  Are you guys listening?  ‘Cause that is HOT!



P.S. Don’t forget to enter the random drawing giveaway!  Send me a Back to School photo by 10:00pm (PDST) on Thursday, September 14th.  Winner announced Friday!

ABOUT BETH WOOLSEY I'm a writer. And a mess. And mouthy, brave, and strong. I believe we all belong to each other. I believe in the long way 'round. And I believe, always, in grace in the grime and wonder in the wild of a life lived off course from what was, once, a perfectly good plan.
  1. […] Garlic Oven Fries were baking away in my oven last night.  (The oven I start with an ice pick.  That oven.)  And I’d just finished finely shredding a head of cabbage for a batch of […]

  2. Oh, Lord-what Karrie said, EXACTLY.
    I have a list for Manny, too. My husband {finally} “fixed” our screen door last week, only to have it be un-fixed the following day. Why me, why ME, universe? ( Mine is more like Nancy Kerrigan, upon getting whacked in the knees.)

    1. HA! I could COMPLETELY hear the Nancy Kerrigan voice!

  3. pps: your cheese comes in a loaf??? (okay, I’ll stop now… goodnight!)

    1. WHAT? Your cheese DOESN’T come in a loaf?? It’s probably some kind of fancy European cheese that comes in a wheel, isn’t it? You Europeans and your fancy wheeling cheeses.

      In ‘merica, our cheese comes in loaves. Our bread comes in loaves. Our cake comes in loaves. And other stuff comes in loaves… as in… “Doooode. I just dropped a LOAF.” Sorry. I didn’t start it; I just report it.

  4. On a completely different note: just noticed the ‘raising kids to be self-sufficient enough to pay for their own counseling’ at the top of the homepage! Has that been there long? Funny! (and a motto I could totally copy as my own 😉 )
    Secondly: what the heck does ‘welcome to my Erma Bombeck’ mean????

    1. Carina, you have the eyes of a hawk! Nice work. I finally put our parenting mantra/motto/verse on the top banner.
      Secondly, I fixed that… it’s “Erma-Bombeck-style.”

  5. Wilmer apparently says ‘you know’ a lot…


    oh well, still a cutie 🙂

    1. You found him! What did you think of Mr. Manny?!

  6. okay, let’s try that again, shall we?

    So I really MUST be losing my touch, because the only ‘thing’ that sounded familiar to me whilst (ha 🙂 ) reading the above was ‘Wilmer Valderama’… (I actually got a little thing going for Fez 😉 ) What to do? What to do? I’m thinking: youtube here I come!

  7. Since this sounds like confession time…I have a little thing for Fireman Sam. And it doesn’t hurt that he TOTALLY reminds me of John Krasinski. In fire turnouts. Mmmmmm…

    1. Miriam, you were totally the one that got me laughing SO HARD I thought I was going to have to learn to live a life without oxygen.

      Fireman Sam. Ah. Hoo. Too fabulous.

  8. I have a crush too. But I think it’s more on Wilmer Valderamma’s voice than Handy Manny himself. Darn those cute spanish boys and their cute spanish accents!

    Did I just say that?

    1. Mmmm! Can’t say I disagree, Sally. (Can’t admit I agree, either. ;))

  9. Best line EVER: rolling up the soaker hoses that were my breasts* ROFL!!!!

    1. Hehe. Thanks, Karrie. Takes a mama who’s had ’em to find that funny. I had a guy friend who was all, “I just don’t get it when you write stuff like that.” Um, yeah. I know.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.