Why Mondays should not happen

950 am: Dentist appt. No big deal. BUT, i burned the roof of my mouth last Thursday and it still hurts and is swollen. The dental tech, however, is convinced that i have something stuck in my gums, so she proceeds to poke and scrape away at the inflamed area for 10 minutes. Then she wraps up with: "Oh, I guess it IS just swollen because of the burn." Thanks lady.

11am: Arrive home. Throw the keys on the counter, kick off my shoes and walk into my office. Am confronted with THE BLUE SCREEN OF DEATH. I reboot. Yep, it's still there. I look up the error code on Clairey's netbook. My worst fears are confirmed. It basically says that my laptop is fubar and to burn it now. I call IT and he tells me the same thing. I F11 and have to go back to factory settings. Apparently, this laptop didn't come with Office, because now i have no Word, no Excel, etc. Not to mention that now my Adobe Professional and Photoshop are gone, too.

12-5pm: Stumble through three meetings wherein i'm supposed to be discussing some of my jobs. Little bit hard, now that they are no longer available on my computer. I'm pretty sure i sound like a complete, bumbling fool. Not to mention that in the last meeting--the most important meeting--the meeting in which my children are home from school and i have to ask them to not beat the piss out of each other for at least THIRTY minutes, goes awry because not only do they NOT listen, they REALLY don't listen, and our call is interrupted with the piercing screams of children.

530pm: Jenna, practicing piano in the front room, looks at the ceiling and says, "What's that?" Oh, it's a leak. A BIG. FREAKING. LEAK.

This Monday rivals all others.

Think beyond the label

It's about damn time that a company was innovative and creative enough to come up with marketing that not only encourages companies to hire people with disabilities, but was able to do so in a funny, yet non-demeaning way.

Think beyond the label commerical

I encourage EVERYONE to visit this site and THINK BEYOND THE LABEL. While you're there, send an e-card--they're freakin' fabulous.

Amazing company? Wirestone.

p.s. This was not a paid advertisement.

Okay...kind of. They DO send me a paycheck every 2 weeks....

Special kisses

The girls and I each have special kisses that we do when they go to bed. They both start out the same way: with two kisses. Then they divert from each other.

Jenna: *kiss* *kiss* "woo! woo!" --then make claws with your hands and growl.

Yes, I know. The kid STILL loves "the four big cats."

Clairey's, however, has always just been *kis* *kiss* "woo! woo!" That was always enough for her. Not, apparently, anymore. Last night, I was informed of a change in the system.

Me and Clairey: *kiss* *kiss* "woo! woo!"

Clairey: "Mom, I have a new kiss."

Me: "No, you can't change up the kiss. This is how we've always done it."

Clairey: "No, it goes like this now: *kiss* *kiss* 'woo! woo! jazz hands! [making jazz hands]."

Me: "Um...jazz hands?"

Clairey: [looking at me like i'm a moron] "Yes. Jazz hands."

Me: "Okaaaaaaay."

Me and Clairey: *kiss* *kiss* "woo! woo! Jazz hands!" [except, I don't actually SAY 'jazz hands'--i just make them.]

Clairey: "NO. You have to SAY 'jazz hands.' But don't say it loud--kind of whisper it."

So, for all of you that are wondering, the proper kiss is now: *kiss* *kiss* "woo! woo! jazz handssssss!" [make jazz hands and whisper it theatrically.]

A book is in the works

I've come to the conclusion that i'm going to, eventually, force myself to publish the "Entire Works of Clairey"--if not for the general population, then at least for my amusement. I could flip through the tome each night, having a hearty chuckle at her expense, whilst enjoying a fine cup of chammomile. A new addition to "Chapter 12: The Part Where Clairey Informs Me That I Don't Have a REAL Job," would be thus:

[driving to Jenna's piano lesson]

Clairey: Mom, I wish Ms. Dot was still a babysitter.
[note: Ms. Dot watched each of the girls from the age of 8 weeks until they started school, respectively]
Mom: Well, even if she did, you wouldn't be going there, since you go to school.
Clairey: Wellll, if you'd GET A JOB, I COULD go there.
Mom: I DO have a job.
Clairey: No, a REAL job--where you have to go to an OFFICE.


So, note to all of you who work from home: You don't count, and neither does your job. So Clairey spits on you--ptew! Ptew!!

She'll be appreciate one day, when she realizes that my non-job supplies her shoe habit.