I’m trying to get back into regular routines–like blogging, exercising, brushing my teeth–since my last big comics project ended. This is some pretty Sisyphean shit ’cause right now it’s party time in White River Junction. School’s out forever, the weather is glorious, the trees still have that special springtime yellowy shimmer and pop. We’ve been grilling like crazy, and I’ve been cooking again (after a month of instant noodles) and catching up on grownup paperwork stuff that I’d ignored while I was in the drawing frenzy.

At any rate, here’s one of those sketchbook pages I promised last week. It was drawn in the car on the way down to MoCCA Fest, after a particularly paranoid walk through the White River Stinkeye.

Spring break is winding down, and various deadlines are looming. I’m having the trouble of trying to take it easy, and at the same time get things done. One major problem, as always, is to not hate myself for taking it easy. Or, on the other hand, to stop dragging me heels and freakin’ accomplish something already! Ah, me. I’ve been listening to Moby Dick while I get things done, and Ishmael says “Ah, me,” like, a lot. I’ve been reading Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World (Murakami) while I take it easy, and those sentences are so short and direct! Why can’t I ever write a short sentence? Perhaps its time that this train of self loathing left the station.

Here are some trees, which haven’t yet realized that its spring:

Well, I guess I slipped. If you’re wondering what I’ve been up to, it’s basically been this:

Yes, that’s right, it’s spring break time at the Center for Cartoon Studies! I’m waystid! Not too long ago, I wrote about my boy Steve Ditko and his Objectivist obsession, Mr. A. I’m afraid it’s a little, uh…verbose, but if you like Steve D, you might like it.

What else, what else? Gabby returned to the green mountains on my feast day, and wrote all about it, and it was too much fun. We all miss him very much in Vermont, especially Yours-Truly, as a quick troll through his comments will attest. Speaking of missing people, this delightful episode was immediately followed by my own return to the swamps of Connecticut. My co-writer-for-life, Caitlin, met me at my parents’ house, and we had delicious food and cookies and beers, and it was lovely. We rubbed elbows with my dear old friends Danielle and Chad, and spent most of the weekend just sitting on the porch. Danielle and her family were mourning her grandfather, Dick Shand, and we all went to his simple, sweet funeral, surrounded by his family and friends, in a church that must have been plucked from Western Ireland and plopped down in the Hudson Valley. I think maybe the whole town of Pearl River was transplanted from those emerald shores. And now I’m in good ol’ Brooklyn where spring showers are sprinkling the forsythia–forsooth! More friends and beers and fun times and celebrations of the return of Persephone from the Underworld are sure to follow.

Aaaaaanyhow, if this post hasn’t been vernal enough for you yet, what if we were to celebrate the return of sports I care about with this helmet decal I drew for my baby brother Jack, and for the Wooster Generals varsity LAX club.