I got a job. A real, honest-to-goodness grownup job. It's not 9-5 by any means, but it's steady, full-time, permanent, carries benefits, and pays actual money. And, despite my medical disqualification from military service, I get to wear a uniform.
Next Monday, I start work for Boy Scouts of America. I'm a Professional Scouter, helping to administer the Cadillac of American youth programs.
As a result, all Jackalope Pursuivant operations are moving to Visalia, California this weekend. Yes, I'm leaving my beloved home state and moving back to the land of my birth. This is all being done on very short notice as, you'll notice, I spent last week in Manhattan at the Republican National Convention. I only got the official job offer last Tuesday, and didn't get home until last Saturday night, so I get to arrange a move to a place I've been exactly once, in the space of a week.
So, I get to start watching California politics, and being represented by one of the worst Senate delgations in the country. Lucky me!
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