The natives in TicTac, apparently, are getting restless.

Jaymi: "Did my mom post a new *FootNotes* entry tonight?"
Joel: "Yeah ... but it's about her job and Franz again."
Jaymi: "Is that all she's ever going to write about?"
[translation: when is she gonna start writing about WEDDINGS again?]

Then there's my mother, who plaintively writes:

" ... You didn't say anything on the web page about experiencing rolling blackouts. Have you been affected? I know the TV up here listed San Francisco as being one of the troubled areas-what about Oakland and Alameda?"
[answer: nope, our power hasn't gone out yet ... but hope springs eternal.]

I am sorry about this. I realize that I've been a real one-note sonata lately ... and that it's all been nothing but Franz, Franz, Franz. Frankly, I doubt that the situation is going to improve much in the next few days, either. Until I've signed my name to a groovy new job offer -- either at the Totem Pole Company or elsewhere -- I'm afraid that I'm going to remain pretty narrowly (and boringly) focused.

I'm also facing the obstacle of limited writing-time, as I train the temp during the day and job-search at night. Again, this is temporary. Please don't give up on me just yet.

In the meantime ... the offer has landed. Here it is. If I take the new and improved *Upstairs Job* at the TPC, I would:

• Be working directly for Jim, easily the most user-friendly Testosterone Unit on the Totem Pole.
• Receive a respectable salary increase. We're not talking IBM-Thinkpad-Notebook-respectable  ...  more like, Paying-the credit-cards-off-by-Easter instead-of-Memorial-Day respectable -- but it's nothing to sneeze at.
• Be given my choice of available upstairs offices, including the infamous window office ... or even my own beloved little Isolation Booth back.
• Create my own job title. Right now I'm leaning towards "Über SecraTerri." What do you think?

I'm still holding fast to my "no decision until at least Friday" mandate. Franz was attending a seminar for the entire day, but he called in at noon to check on things. "Well?" he said, in his tight, sad little voice. "Are you leaving us?" I told him that I would have an answer for him by Monday at the latest.

And have I made any decision yet? Nope. I remain right where I've been all week: sitting squarely on the fence.

Once all of this job stuff has been settled, though, and everything morphs back into a regular routine  ...  whenever that may be  ...  I guarantee you I'll go right back to writing about wedding plans and weather updates and meatloaf recipes and infected ingrown toenails until you write and beg me to stop. I promise.

Have I ever lied to you before?