Deep in the Heart of the Waffle.

The motel we're at has a waffle machine that let's us know where we are. The continental breakfast is so funny. There's a gallon of milk in the sink sitting on an inch of ice. Waffles, bread, and squirtable jam and butter. And coffee.

No fruit. No juice.

Hey, it's Texas.

The enchiladas I had today from Tito's were insanely good. And rich. I'm glad the walk from Jumpstart Performance Space to the Motel is long. And I started doing an 8-minute Pilates DVD to keep me fit despite all this touring.

Fitness baby.

Right now I'm watching this special on CNN about how we've been in Iraq for five years now. When it's over, I plan to watch the extras for tonight's episode of Flavor of Love 3 online.

I guess I like my cocktails an equal mix of horror to fluff. "Flurror" I shall call it.

"I'll have a Flurror on the rocks. Well, make that on Iraq."

Today in rehearsal my director was talking about how people are so tired of Bush bashing. I am too. I was like an angry ex-girlfriend, but now, after a lot of time, I'm ready to move on to my new hotter and more hopeful boyfriend Obama. It seemed pretty lame about a year ago to get mad at Bush anymore and high time to just move on with it.

So we started to really look at the show and started hacking away at entire sections. Not because they were "Bush Bashing" sections, but because we wanted to challenge ourselves to find more meaning in the same amount of time. More hope perhaps?

Three years later, this show is still an evolving monster that begs more and more questions.

Have we turned over every rock? Have we tried everything? Have we looked at this story deeply enough?

Because even when you have the answer, there are always more questions. And then, there are always more answers.