Took a 4-1/2 hour meeting yesterday, which left me exhausted. The meeting was an initial script review for The Nazarene (which clocked in at 72 pages... woohoo!). The good news is, Moses really likes what I've written. The bad news is I think we have very different ideas about what this thing should be. He wants a Disney-style romp and I want a sophisticated drama with a little political intrigue. I think the issue is how we view the Christmas story. Over the years, I've developed a very different take on just about every story from the Bible. It's not a tame book. Even the birth of Jesus is filled with some pretty adult things like mass-infanticide and political maneuvering and terror and sex issues. When an angel came down and protected Daniel by putting all those lions to sleep... that's a kid's story. Christmas? Not so much.

And don't get me started on Easter.

Anyhow, Moses also showed me some resumes/headshots of some of the actors he's cast. ("This is so-and-so. She'll be playing Mary's mother. She's done a lot of soap opera work. This is whats-his-head. He'll be a member of the Magi. He's done some musical theater in New York. This guy will be Joseph's brother. His agent didn't send me his headshot, but he's FedExing it to me tomorrow.") Whenever I start hearing about real budgets and professional acting talent in the same context as something I've written, it makes me feel like the little guy who's just been invited to eat Thanksgiving with the adults. It's true what they say, though: fake it 'til you make it.
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Since my wife sometimes reads this blogger at work, I'd like to send a very special message out to her:

Honey, come home. Really. Please. You've been working way too hard and, frankly, you're far more appreciated here at home beside your faithful husband and your obnoxious cats. We miss you terribly. Come on.

I mean it. Come on.

-Jer

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We've been living in fear and horror for the past few weeks for one single reason and, frankly, it's hard to discuss without going white and shaky. The reason? You guessed it, my friend:

ANTS.

Ants have invaded our condo. They're crawling all over the desk on which this keyboard sits at this very moment. Ants in our bathrooms, our cats' food, our kitchen... I've even spied a few in our bed. I've started to dream about them. I've started formulating fantasies about inventors who concoct little explosive ant-pellets that, when swallowed, causes every ant in the world to spontaneously combust and then the whole planet gives each other high-fives and celebrates with beer and tacos.

ANTS!!!

Apparently, they're all over So-Cal right now because it's been an unusually hot summer, particularly the coastal regions where we live. Heat is like crack-cocaine to these little monsters and I've taken to holstering a can of bug-spray at my side, Quick Draw McGraw-style, and hosing everything that moves. As a result, our house is now also filled with ant carcasses, which is nearly as disturbing.