Every Thursday finds me hovering over my Gmail account, waiting for someone to send me the notecard that lets me know that they're in for tomorrow. Gmail auto-updates, so even as I'm writing this post I'm still watching my mail like a hawk, ready to swoop down on a fresh registration.
Any minute now...
Some weeks it all comes in a flood, others it's like watching for a pot to boil. It can get pretty maddening sometimes.
I like to let Karine know who's in so far at around the 24-hour mark before the event (that's 7:00 my time). I've never asked, but I assume that's when she starts booking the matches. I'm usually not a part of that process.
But I need those names. Gotta have 'em. Names mean that we've got a show tomorrow. Names mean that I don't start mindlessly stressing and pacing up and down the aisle of the bookmobile. I like names. Names are good.
Feed me names!
(Bill E., I know you're reading this. Restrain yourself.)