34 days.
4127 miles.
4 safe houses.
3 rental cars.
3 shows.
52,495 conversations.
195 hours in a 10x10 box.
3 casting contests.
5 rivers.
1 lost shooting head.
1 sushi party.
1 luau.
47 cubic yards of snow shoveled.
It's been a hazy 5 weeks, but we're finally back at the Neil Creek Estate with no trips on the horizon...which is a good thing, because the ocean of work that filled up our dance card while we were gone is in imminent danger of gettin' all tsunami on our ass.
Video to edit, flies to tie, forms to fill out, receipts to turn in, apologies to be sent, hazy nights to be recollected...
Nose-to-the-grindstone time. We gotta make sure the runway is clear for May, 'cause we got a Mexican date with a hot chick, a margarita, a panga, and a sexy roosterfish somewhere south of La Paz that we gotta get to.
Randomness from the last few weeks-
Doppelgangër, leanin' into his second of the day.
Cap'n Ron, with his "yes, they WILL eat that tiny thing" fish.
Sushi, anyone?
Normally, we're fairly humble and respectful around
Creek Woman...but not when she steals lines that we
spent HOURS dialin' in.
The Silveynator, gettin' some footage of Doppelgangër's first of two.
The infamous Chinese Mexican in his native habitat.
Rest, recoup...not for awhile. We got some work to do between now and the next play-date. Doesn't mean we won't be replaying the last few weeks' worth of footage over and over in the cinema of the mind about 82 times a day...
It's what keeps us going.
