2003-04-23

My hair is starting to be extra curly and I�m at the point where I stick with it and let it become a modified shag or I tame it into something more summery.

I don�t have all the answers. The hippy wants me to fight authority and defy convention with lanky curly locks while the style maven thinks that reversed highlighted spikes would go really well with my unemployment wardrobe. Both hairstyles are supported by this months GQ. What�s a boy to do?

My trip homeward is going just swell. I earned kudos� and praise upon my arrival for programming my fathers Rover to open up the gate and the garage, thus banishing the bulky remotes to his glove box forever.

It�s amazing how two minutes reading the owners manual while he pumped gas can make one eligible for canonization.

I hung out with friends. I hung out with family. I had the best jerk Shrimp ever, and a bang up Irish Stout. I bought a �growler� of the stuff for my fathers Easter present. It looked cool next to the George Foreman Grille. I got a check. Both of us were happy.

Easter Brunch was passable. I drank too much but didn�t insert my foot in my mouth at any time. There were no harsh words either or really any passive aggressive munching. It was all light and airy as possible in 78 Degrees and a hell of a lot of humidity. I spoke to Sister and Mother. They were also having pleasant days. She and Husband had a photographer follow them taking black and white pictures of them walking the dog, playing ball with the dog, Husband rough housing with the dog while Sister sits at a picnic in the background. I can hardly wait to see them. It was a welcome distraction from Mass, which was read by my alcoholic cousin.

Time moves differently when on vacation. Or just visiting home. My father really wants me to move back and run his company with him. Or rather have me run his company so he can follow in the footsteps of most of the rest of his friends and find a trophy wife to bleed him dry. It�s tempting. And secretly, it�s my emergency plan. I don�t think I could take it however. Because it would be implied that I would have to take responsibility for all of my generation when the elders passed. There was talk of planning a family reunion for this summer, maybe having it out in San Francisco by where my Grandparents retired. I certainly hope not. I hate the thought of showing all those careless people around my home turf, or adopted turf. The trip thus far has been reminiscent of The Great Gatsby with all these self interested people taking advantage of the season to eat and drink for free. Or so it seems. I look forward to going home.

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