Sometimes it starts feeling like work.
Due to some actor's schedules I'm rehearsing evenings, which I haven't done in awhile.
Kicks your ass around 8:30, I'm here to tell you.
I've been getting up early lately, that old man syndrome of leaping out of bed with the sunrise, shaking your fist at the world and shouting in a creaky old quavery voice:
"I'm still alive, you bastards! Another day!"
And there's plenty of Clancy Productions bidness to get done (we're selling T-shirts now) and prepping for Overlord in Edinburgh and I'm writing like a bastard, but just about when I'm ready to settle on the couch with the wife and the Bunny and enjoy some fine televised programming, it's time to go to work.
Rehearsals are going swimmingly.
It's an underwater ballet, did I mention that? Very radical.
No, so far we're rolling. Really, really great script and an excellent cast.
Enjoying the hell out of it. That part that I can stay awake for.
Busy day today. Meetings and then a check-up with Dr. Bessey, he of the magic hands.
We'll get a professional take on how Spitfire's healing.
I think she's doing swimmingly.
Twelve laps a day, to be exact.