Another day another day. Well, except for the part where the new story got underway. Those are good days, any day with writing in it is a good day. It's the rest of the things around it that, while always a little different, also have their chance to feel like a grind. The change in the day gig proceeds apace, assuming you allow me to define pace generously.

It goes well, just in a manner best described as piecewise continuous. Meaning, little steps. Which ain't half bad. I've had worse gigs, that's for sure. In this case, I'm hip deep in new systems new schedules new problems, the vast majority minor. Oh, and the travel, but for now I just have the notion that I'm swimming in place because there's a bit of overhead in learning the ropes.

This year, marching season has arrived a bit more comfortably. We're not carrying around any feelings of getting run over by a truck. Though that'll probably change when we load everyone up for the first game, which just happens to be an away gig. On a Friday. At rush hour. Oh, frabjous joy.

Could be worse, there's at least one stadium we have had occasion to visit where there's always a question of whether bits and pieces associated with the show will make it into the place, or whether we all get to stop and take everything apart. The entry was, shall we say, not designed to be accomodating for anyone or thing much taller than a hobbit. That's an adventure, hearing the game announcer behind you as everyone starts to wonder whether we're going to get the kids on the field for halftime or not...