Special Sauce

A mish-mash of twisted thoughts from a fevered ego. Updated when the spirit moves me, contents vary and may have settled during shipping. Do not open towards eyes. Caution: Ingestion of Special Sauce may cause hair loss, halitosis, and a burning sensation while urinating.


Maybe it's not so bad...

Ok, so I don't have heat in the office at all. (Unless you count the highly ineffectual space heater, which I don't.) I tried to work today with the aforementioned highly ineffectual space heater, and lasted exactly one and one half hours before I could no longer feel my feet. So I went home to work, and it took me nearly all day to get warmed back up. (Because our furnace isn't workin' so swell either.)

On the upside, I let the bosslady know that even when I do get my computer back, there's no way I can work out there until the heat's fixed. She called today, and said I can take Thurs/Fri off, while she's out of town and they're fixing the heater! Whee! I'd have happily stayed home and worked still, but I'll just as happily stay home and nest and read. Maybe I'll even spend the music gift card Odie (official brother of Special Sauce) and Pappa Sauce got me. Wheee!

Note: It's not a good idea to read a book about people freezing to death on the prairie, in the middle of horrendous blizzards, when you're trying to warm up.

G. Monkey called me tonight. Apparently she's officially the head of the Journal committee for the Little Nonprofit that Could (make me want to claw out my own eyes). She has enlisted John, the graphic design god responsible for the last issue, and a guy named Monty (a design demi-god) to help out, and asked if I wanted to participate too. After extracting a promise that I'd never have to deal directly with FBD, I agreed. I know John and Monkey have big plans for this journal (which is truly a piece of art, and not at all stuffy) including seeing it marketed in a broader geographic area, soliciting better advertising, and eventually taking it not just quarterly, but national. If it gets to that point, it will indeed be a powerhouse... and will need staff. Paid staff.

Sheesh, if I could get paid, and actually make a living, working on something as beautiful and rewarding as the journal, I'd probably crap myself with glee.

Of course, with my luck, it will collapse under the heavy hand of FBD, who will veto every suggestion, and naysay/mismanage it into oblivion.

And yes, I'm probably stupid getting involved with this again, but honestly, the Journal was the best part of the job (which you didn't hear a whole lot about, because it didn't give me anything to bitch about). It's something to look forward to, at least. Maybe.


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