A liter of wine and some deep breathing...

and I may recover from the stress of the day. My stress started when I rose at 5 and checked my email at, oh, 5:15 - Girlchild needed me to email her brother's itinerary because she had misplaced her cellphone. She has no house phone, none of us do. Okay, so that's not a huge deal, she'll be at the airport to pick him up.

My stress kicked into overdrive when my son called me from OIA a few minutes before his flight was to leave, to tell me that They did not let him on the plane. Though he was there early, had no baggage and duly waited in line, they closed boarding a half hour before the flight was to leave. He was of course absolutely bugshit and so was I. Let me explain: this is not a "real" plane, this is a flying minivan to Tallahassee. I have flown on these little commuter jobs probably 20-30 times and have skidded up to the counter gasping for breath at the last possible moment more than once, and always got on board. He was in plenty of time, had no baggage and he was past security at that point, he had gone through the "count your dental fillings" and ID check process, his shoes did not ring any alarms, and he made it all the way to the gate and was not allowed to board, because the FIVE clerks behind the counter could not process the EIGHT people in line timely enough to get him on the plane. Let's remember, he was past security, had no baggage but an empty puppy carrier, and was getting on a one hour flying minivan flight. Whoops, sorry, we close the boarding a half hour before the flight is scheduled to leave. That's just demented - I've done the mad run to this very gate to catch flights at the last minute at least a dozen times without a problem. It can't be explained by security precautions, it can't be explained, period. Delta, which runs this little pissant commuter service, deserves to go bankrupt. And rot in hell.

Girlchild's phone: Still Missing. Can't call her, emailed her from the office and told her what was going on. She was of course stressed to the eyeballs too. We came up with a few fall back and punt scenarios to rescue the move. Boy was put on standby on a MUCH later flight, which shot the hell out of the entire day. Girl was to conduct a retracing-steps search for her phone and if she didn't find one, go BUY a replacement - her phone is 2 years old and due to be put out of its misery anyway.

Oh, and in the midst of all this, I was in the middle of a business lunch thing. "Excuse me, crisis management...."

Oh, and we were asked if Boss did anything nice for me for "Administrative Assistants Day." He was astoundingly quick in his reply, that since I'm not an AA and I don't work for him, we work together, we don't do that. But there ya go again, the Secretarialization of Catherine.... It's so endlessly degrading. A few hours after that we were analyzing a case in which a minor sort of architect might be a potential party and I pointed out that they nearly always have contracts limiting their liability to their fees unless someone is smart enough to catch it, and I'm betting in this case they weren't - a construction law factoid I know from years of handling problems like this one...if Boss ever knew that factoid he'd forgotten it. He looked at me and said, "And yet you get asked how you celebrated Secretaries' Day. God, that is so wrong." Yeah, really. Then, for my next feat, I explained the driver's license effect on the jury pool in one sentence Buffy the Blonde Paralegal could grasp. That was classic - one of the wise old trial lawyer guys gave her a very professorial lecture on the effect of the change from a jury pool of registered voters to a jury pool drawn from drivers' licenses, and I could SEE her eyes glaze over. I translated it for her later: "When we went from registered voters to anybody with a pulse and a driver's license, the jury pool suddenly got a lot more algae in it." She burst out laughing and said "See, I can totally understand that! When he tells me stuff I just don't get it. I need to ask YOU these things first."

But Golly Gee, Boss was told he was a bad, thoughtless Boss because he didn't get me any bath beads or shit on Secretaries'Day. Just shoot me. Just shoot both of us, we need to get out of this place.

Girl found her phone. Boy made the later flight. They are on their way to pick up the truck even as I type. I am on I think my third glass of wine and my left eye isn't twitching nearly as fast now. I'm going to go work on the mistake rib scarf, which considering my wine intake, may have even more mistakes in it if I'm not careful. I LOVE this scarf, it will be very hard to give it away, but I take comfort in the thought that it will go to someone on the other side of the world who will appreciate it, and that I am going to be on the prowl for the loveliest of handpainted loveliness at MDS&W.

And I take even more comfort in the fact that I stopped at the grocery store on my way home last night, bought a Lotto ticket on impulse, and won $75, which is going into the MD money. Whooweee!