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.


It's the wee, bitty things.

Yes, Sauce is in a mellow kind of mood. Marvin Gaye on the radio's helping nicely. I'm happy about the little things today.

Like having a cat on your desk, begging to be adored, and stopping at nothing till you pet him.

Like the sun, finally shining after a weekend of torrential rain, and the grass turning that beautiful shade of bright green.

Like finding out that today's Queerjoe's Birthday!

Like getting an email in the middle of the day from a certain someone you had almost written off, and finding out he's finally got email access at home.

Like dreading going to a meeting you don't have the slightest interest in, and finding out you don't have to go.

Like not breaking your neck in your favorite Carmen Miranda platform wooden sandals with the cutouts in them, because despite how they make your stumpy little legs look, they do not impart swan-like grace.

Like discovering that your Evil beastie likes your very first knitting project (a huge, misshapen, basketweave afghan (that you never finished!), knitted on gigunda needles with SIX strands of lavender heather yarn held together)

Like knowing that you've got the BEST birthday present ever for your mom, and knowing that she'll never guess it, because she knows you hate having your picture taken, and your brother is notoriously uncooperative.

Like not being angry at yourself anymore for weighing one pound more than you did at your annual, because you don't actually know what you weighed when you started working out. (And remembering that being pissed off at yourself isn't going to accomplish anything except make you want to eat a bacon cheeseburger and an order of fries for spite.)

Like going home and searching the classified ads in earnest, because you're finally a bit more calm about wanting to leave this job. It's not for spite, or the money, it's for what makes the most sense for you.

Of course, I'll probably go home and find out that someone has crapped on my front doorstep, shot the dog, abducted the cats, and switched my voter registration to Republican. But for now, I'm in a serene kind of mood.

Now, I need to go join the Chamber of Commerce, so I can see Big Dog Clinton at the annual dinner. (And, as someone pointed out, I used to have "Monica Hair". And yes, I would.) Hope y'all are enjoying your little things too.


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