Man, when I leave this blog for too long after a trip I lose all the trip juice and don’t post all the awesomeness that occurred on said trip.

I need to rectify that.

I was in New Orleans for Jazz Fest. I ate a Cochon de Lait po-boy every day, I walked to the fairgrounds and back (something new, and those seven miles made me feel better about all the po-boys), reunited for a “Hello!” with Wild Bill from HOB days, got to spend some quality time with my sister and Daniel (we have to vacation to actually see each other) and had a couple of pretty stellar meals (including one at Bacchanal). All in all, awesome. And long overdue.

Dave Rodrigue took this.

And then I sleeplessly came back at a ridiculous time in the morning (for a 6:15 a.m. flight that was really 6:55 a.m., oops) and went to work and then improv class at the Hideout. (I signed up for a four-week elective class.)

Which … is different. Very different from Coldtowne. I can see where people from their respective schools of training have their loyalties. Coldtowne is definitely New Orleans. Hideout is definitely Austin. There are wonderful, amazing things about them both, but much like vampires, I prefer mine from the bayou.

Did I mention my improv teacher from my last session (Level Two) was in an essential elective class that I attended over the last couple of weeks? It was really incredible to play scenes with him and see how he interacts on stage in that medium, as opposed off-stage coaching and seeing him perform with his troupes. All of which he excels at. I’m also fairly certain a teacher hasn’t had this kind of creative influence on me since Steve Wilson back at Texas State. Teacher crush? Totally.*

Tuesday starts Level Three. Almost half-way there. I miss playing with my classmates from last class session and I’m curious to see who’s going to come back. They say attrition is normal and you whittle down players as you move from Level One through Level Six. I really, really want Harvey Wallbanger (our future troupe name) to stick together, but that’s the Army-brat “Don’t leave!” in me talking silly.

I have STACKS of magazines piling up unread. Ingredients for baking about to go off if they’re not baked soon. So much laundry to do. (Laundry, laundry every day.) One social media plan to expand upon for work and one for freelance. Thank-you notes to send. Treme, Game of Thrones and The Office to catch up on the DVR. And research to research and writing to write for an essay I’ve got banging around in my brain. About my brain. Imagine that.

* I’m married, not dead. Jeez.