...and then YOU say "He is risen indeed."

My dear, dear mother and sisters flew out to Long Beach for Easter weekend, bless 'em, bless 'em.

For some reason, though, the sun rarely saw fit to shine. It was frustrating: no, really, guys, I swear, Southern California really is beautiful when... er... you're not... here.... uh.

Nonetheless, it was great to see them. Didn't plan anything spectacular, just did a bit of visiting. A little shopping at IKEA, a little touring around Hollywood, a little eating out, a little church, a little Easter ham.

But you forget things when you live on the other side of the country. Well, maybe not forget, but... Hooah, do my sisters ever hee-ave thee-at midwest ee-accent. Did they always talk that way? Is that how I sound to people here in California? (It must not be far off... a co-worker did an impression of me recently and I apparently sound like a character straight outta Fargo... "Ah, geez. I'll never get these designs finished in time, y'know. Ah, geez.")

Easter was a fine little time. We went to church at Revolution Church in Long Beach. It was fine, I suppose. I shouldn't be surprised if we find ourselves visiting again. The down side, though, was it felt like a high school youth group. Between the interpretive mime-dance, the "hardcore-edgy" literature, the electric guitars and the pastor that managed to squeeze in one too many MTV references... I dunno. At least they're trying to break the stuffy-mold, but this church went so far the other way that it came off as a bit desperate.

Invited an old high school friend of sister Lauren's down for Easter dinner, as she and her husband happen to live up in Culver City (which is a scant 30-40 minute drive from Long Beach). Nice folks. Josh (the husband) is an actor and he's actually doing pretty well up there in the land of glitz and glam. As it turns out, we both know Ben Bays (small Hollyworld, I guess).

All in all, a good visit with the family. No major developments to report, but I would like to get home for a visit later in the Summer.
...


So, I placed third in a pseudo-essay contest. Don't get excited, though, because the contest involved writing a short description on "Why I'm a Loser." The winners (or losers, apparently) get a free collected edition of a comic book series called, appropriately, The Losers.

I'd heard some good reviews on the series, so I decided, what the heck, I'll send 'em the Jay Leno story. I embellished it enough to make myself sound extra-loser-ish and... well, I got some free comics out of it, I guess.

I'm afraid I'm not going to post a link to the contest or the winning entries because, speaking honestly, it's the most depressing collection of stories I think I've ever read and, trust me, you don't need the grief. Suffice it to say that the humiliation/benefits of my Tonight Show fiasco continue to roll in.
...


Well, it's official. I'm a full-time company man. Not only that, but I'm way exhausted. Phew. I'd nearly forgotten what a full-time week felt like. My new 7:30-5:30 schedule doesn't exactly help matters, either. For some reason, my energy was much more boundless when I was permitted to do client work unshaven and in my underwear two days a week.

(If you're a client reading this, don't worry, I'm kidding. I'd never do serious work in my underwear.)

(If you're a friend or family member reading this, you probably know me well enough to know that, alas, I'm not kidding.)

(If you're a client, forget you read that last parenthetical comment.)