I am in the office today printing off a report when the printer runs out of paper.  I walk to the office supply cabinet to grab another ream for my printer and notice that the mail has arrived.  Wondering if there’s anything for me, I sort the mail into the individual cubbies and grab out my lone piece.  I notice that the post office (again!) has mis-calculated the number of little blue comment cards in the bundle. (I received 1, their little sheet says I received 6.)  I show it to office manager extraordinaire and we have a little conversation regarding the best way to deal with the mistake after she assures me that, “Really, you don’t have to sort the mail. I’ll get to it,” which leads me to two conclusions, either, one, she doesn’t have anything to do or two, I stink at mail sorting and there’s been this little conversation going on about it throughout the office.  So, while she talks to the mail room about their contact at the post office, I decide to read the comments written on the card.  The comments make me giggle, though I’m sure that was not the intention of the writer, so I go to find Vicki to see if she thinks it’s as funny as I do.  I find her in the kitchen heating her lunch which reminds me, “I should heat up my lunch too before the microwave gets too busy.”  We laugh about the card as I walk back through the office, toss the card on my desk and grab my lunch out of the fridge.  On the way back to the kitchen (don’t ask why the fridge isn’t in the kitchen) OME (Office Manager Extraordinaire) tells me to bring the card and the invoice to the mailroom – they need it to bring back to the post office.  Right, we were working on the stupid comment card.  I stick my lunch in the microwave, walk back to my desk to get the card. 

In the mailroom, we spend an inordinate amount of time discussing whether the blue cards could have fallen off or did they just charge us wrong and what should be done?  I leave the whole deal with Mail Guy and walk back upstairs thinking that next time I’m not going to say anything because the 5 missing cards added up to a shortage of $2.97 whereas, the time OME, Mail Guy, & I have spent on it has totaled probably $50.00 in man power.  Walking back through the office I think that someone’s lunch smells really good. I’m almost back to my office before I remember that it’s my lunch! I get my lunch, plop down in my chair and go to grab the report off the printer when it occurs to me that I was going to the cabinet to get paper for the printer.

 Presenting.........Emma Alabama!

I have tried reely hard to be good this yere. For Christmas, I wold like Paper Mario or Mario Galaxy for the We, please.

Frum, Danny

For Christmas this year, I would  like a microphone and a wooden vanity.  Do you think your elfs could put the vanity together, so mommy won't have to?

Love, Emma

Normally, I 'help' in Emma's class on Fridays, however, because of the holiday, I went for my weekly dose of humbleness yesterday.  I stuffed homework folders, helped assemble turkeys made out of a cracker, a peppermint patty, a candy corn, and a caramel all glued together with chocolate frosting and then, after putting it off as long as possible, worked on the 12 foot long bulletin board.

In the hallway, there is a space above the coat hooks of about three feet which all the teachers use as a bulletin board to display completed work.  Ms. B, Emma's teacher, asked me last Friday if I could take down the old one and put up a new one. She explained that since she is expecting, she doesn't want to get up on the wobbly chair and lean over to pull staples.  After doing this yesterday, I am left trying to think what I could have done to make her punish me like this.

So, there I am, standing on this little chair in the hallway, stretching to reach the top corner of the 8 foot ceiling while using my elbow to prevent the rolled butcher paper from unraveling and thus creating a huge noise disturbing the surrounding classes and smacking the stapler hard enough to force a staple into the plaster. Then I have to inch the stapler down the wall, balance it on the little ledge above the coat hooks, use my right hand to hold the rolled sheet of butcher paper as high above my head as I can to prevent the top stapled portion from ripping out of the wall, step off the chair without it tipping, kick the chair down six inches then do all of that in reverse to get back up and put in another staple.

As I'm standing up there, repeating this process 24 times, I notice an awful lot of first graders coming out of Danny's class across the hall to get drinks of water.  They look up at me, smile, giggle and go back into the room.  Curious to see what has attracted the first graders attention in the hall, Danny's teacher comes out of the room as I get within the last four feet of the paper, just as it comes unraveled enveloping me as I attempt to staple.  I try to get out of it as gracefully as possible, not caring anymore how loud it is and step off the chair.  Mrs. S, Danny's teacher looks at the paper, looks at me, smiles mischieviously, and says, "It could be the wall that's crooked."

When Emma came home from school yesterday she announced, "Mommy, just so you know, my band broke up today."

"I'm sorry to hear that sweetheart," I say sympathetically,"Why did they break up?"

"I don't know, " she replied.

"Well, sometimes that just happens with bands.  Maybe someday you'll get back together and do a reunion show."

"What's a reunion show?" she asked.

"It's when you get back together when you're old and perform together again to make more money," I explain.

"Oh! Like when we're 30?" she replies.....