As we begin our trip up the Eastern seaboard, I’m wondering why this tour wasn’t routed in reverse, hitting tropical paradises like Detroit and Toronto in mid October, when hypothermia’s only mostly likely, and victory lapping around Arizona at the same time we’re currently scheduled to freeze to death in Minneapolis. It’s not even that cold in NYC, by delusional, New York Football Giants fan standards, but given I spent the better part of a week complaining about Florida, I suppose this is the karmic pendulum swinging back into balance.

A good friend describes touring as “nearly glamorous,” which is the most perfect summation of anything ever, and in this spirit, honoring our Secaucus NJ tradition of dining at Buffalo Wild Wings and making a bee line for the hotel lobby bathroom makes me inordinately happy. Spirits are high, and the tour’s doing well (thank you!), but I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open as I’m writing this and haven’t been acknowledging how depleted I am. Time, I think, to read a little more, drink a little less, and spend a few more mornings staring out the front lounge window, daydreaming about home cooked meals, my hopefully someday Golden Retriever, and the uncountable stars in an unspoiled Hawaiian sky.