Today was Assistants Day, or the Artist Formerly Known as Secretary's Day Before We Decided That Was Rude. Katie called it National Flunky Day, but I don't listen to her. Much. I took Katie out to lunch today, however, because it was a tiny itty bitty way to thank her for everything she does for me. Folks, this woman doesn't do what she does because I pay her scads of money. *pauses for the hysterical bitter laughter coming from East Alton* Believe me. The money ain't good. If I were Laurell K. Hamilton, Katie would be on salary with health care and all the trimmings. But at the moment, my cash flow barely covers our expenses, much less the kind of money that makes it a real attractive job. In the lean weeks between shows, payment is frequently in the form of baked goods. And yet Katie Yates hauls her ass halfway across the Midwest and back for me, spends weekend after weekend strapped into a corset and shilling my stuff to men (and not a few women) trying look down her...