Well, in a few hours Joy and I will be heading back to Nevada for a few weeks of work. It'll quite possibly be her last trip that way for the next several months, as the weather will likely be too hot for her once the next scheduled run starts in mid-May, and the following scheduled run (all of August) will most certainly be too hot for her. So I guess I'd better get her there while she can enjoy it. It shouldn't be too much of a chore, with a leisurely drive to Bend tomorrow to her sister's place, followed by another leisurely drive to Sparks the next night. By 'leisurely' I mean eight hours a day, but if you've been a faithful reader you know what my travel habits, so eight hours would seem leisurely.
After this run of gigs I'll have a whole month to myself. I have a few leads, friends offering to scout around and find last-minute substitute gigs. A guitarist I used to work with flat-out offered me the drum chair in his blues band, claiming enough gigs to live off of, but while the offer has its merits, I just don't have enough information to even want to think about making a switch. And then there's the fact the guy offering me the gig is more a little flaky. I like the guy, but I know enough about him to not place implicit trust in him without explicit proof. But playing with a live band is always fun, and playing with a different band than the one that pays my bills is fun in a dirty sort of way, kind of like cheating on your spouse, just without the mess, the guilt, the unwanted pregnancies or the sexually-transmitted diseases. All the fun, none of the mess!
Why does it suddenly sound like an ad for diet soda?
Oh well. I hate diet soda. Talk to y'all later.
Oh by the way, hi Russ.