As I’m about to board a plane to LA, I get an email I’d been dreading. It puts me in a foul mood throughout Soutwest’s cattle-call. So much that I refuse to give up my first-row aisle seat for a late-arriving paraplegic. I feel like a selfish asshole but am in no condition for another hit so soon.

I don’t fly often but each time I do I’m reminded of what an unpleasant experience it is. All I want is an aisle seat near the front so I don’t have to sit sideways and can escape ASAP.

Luckily, Sherwood Anderson’s Winesburg, Ohio sucks me in enough to forget about my frustrations for a few hours. It is the next book I’m designing and illustrating.

I don’t have any strong feelings about LA one way or the other. This is a family visit, so I’m grateful it’s not the usual Boston. This is what I like about LA best.

I take a look at the mural I painted January. Seems like the California sun hasn’t killed it yet.

My niece is double the age I saw her last. She’ll be walking soon. She’s rapidly becoming a person.

I meet up with Bruce for a late lunch. We were supposed to meet in January but the fires prevented it. We talk for a couple hours. It’s often jarring to meet someone I’ve corresponded with intensively in person for the first time. But there’s little awkwardness between us. It’s easy, which is a relief.

This is his local diner. The waitress flirts with him relentlessly. After she leaves, he tells me he smelled liquor on her breath.

K asks for a drawing of the Creature from the Black Lagoon for a tattoo, so I spend my free time drawing him from various angles. He’s a looker without doubt.