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2003-04-09 - 10:16 p.m. You really get cookies It's not just a kindergarten thing. When you do a good job, there really are cookies. My program exec made cookies. That means the big important muckety-muck who's in charge of my project's governing program made cookies. Snickerdoodles, chocolate cherry flowers, lemon puffs, and - my favorites - mini chocolate cupcakes stuffed with cream cheese and tiny chocolate chips. Hundreds of cookies. I love my job. 933 pages in 2.5 days. We are all frazzled from two days, beginning at 8 am, ending at 7 pm, continually presenting and defending our work. This makes us all a little punchy. We have this stack of reference material called the SDO bible. Actually, there's two versions ... A small comment and my fearless leader, John, and I were off and running. We spent twenty minutes whispering, casting our entire design team as various historical church figures. Yeah, Dave is so definitely Martin Luther. So, does Mike's restless need to follow his own dogma make him Henry VIII? We giggled until we had to quit. I am so glad Dave's presentation is over. He's been a pacing mess since last Friday, and he's driving the rest of us spare. In desperation, they asked me to distract him by chatting him up about sports. (Somewhere Roland just snorted, cause I can barely correlate team name to applicable sport. I have a vague idea that it's baseball season cause it's spring.) Unable to contribute in the suggested area, I gave him something else to fear by pointing out I was in charge of collecting pictures for our 'going out of business/about to reorganize' party. And, I knew where his bachelorette party pictures were. Bad hat, glowing smiley boxers, lascivious pastry. I don't think that helped. As usual, he did an amazing job. As usual, he sat down in the chair and hyperventilated afterward. I was terrible. You were fine. You�re just saying that. No, you were great. You�re lying to make the feel better. When, exactly, have I ever been less than blunt with you? Pause. Well. No, you�re just saying that. I threw up my hands and sent someone else to talk to him. Roland, having watched me go through four outfits this morning, says it�s revenge for the Does this make me look fat? ritual. I spent the entire day sitting next to my management, who ended the day by staring at me and saying I can never tell when you�re being sarcastic. Ha, says I, That�s part of my inherent charm. Don�t worry. There�s only one person on this project I�m close to decking and it�s not you. [One of my teammates oozes redneck charm. He means well. He doesn�t even realize he�s being a misogynistic ass. I�m currently the favored in the �who punches him first� betting pool.] The structure supporting the propulsion tanks has been dubbed the elephant stand. Buy me a drink and I�ll sketch it out for you. Two days down. Three days to go. Unfortunately, I missed a Roxbury planning meeting (sadness) for our upcoming event. But, when the meeting doesn't end until 7 pm, there's just no way. Ah, well. My life will be back in balance after this week. Oh, my diary style? Holistic raconteur. Or, as Nia puts it You are just bone-deep weird. � � Scribble to Theo previous - next �