No Harrowing Adventure

I am, as the Old Biddies said back in the day, stove up this morning. 

Third Daughter, who lives away from home, has mono.  She works as a barista on weekends and someone's stirrer, cup, or sneeze passed the virus to her.  Just after I was done working last night, we phone chatted. O how miserable she looked.  I just wanted to snatch her home!  That's not quite doable since Youngest Daughter has compromised immune system and we don't have an isolation chamber.  Why, o why, didn't I look for that in a dwelling when we were stumbling from run down house to out of our price range grandeur and everything in between?!  So, listening to her tell us what she didn't have, and how she can't go out in public without a mask and gloves and scare people, not to mention the energy she doesn't have, and the work she'll be missing so she's afraid to spend any money [told mostly in sign language because her throat is so raw] ... we decided to gather an apocalyptic care package and take it to her. 

Eldest Son, Youngest Daughter, and I did a mini road trip after he got off work at 10 p.m. 

Post Picture Funk Solution

You go to bed, hours later than usual, buzzing with the high of a picture at the point of only fine details to add.  It's a restless sleep.  You have nightmares of a pencil rebellion - hundreds of colors walking off the job, demanding better hours and fairer usage - grateful when the alarm goes off despite the fact your eyes are red and your pupils are still somewhat blown out.  Still, when you manage to focus, the picture isn't horrible and the pencils, ThankGawdAlmighty, are exactly where you left them, all present and accounted for!

A mug of coffee will get you jump started, the day will be long but the weariness worth it; all the things you tell yourself does not dent that feeling of being blue deviled by the crash.  I don't know how real artists do it, over and over, confronting this low after the effervescent buzz of creation! No wonder historically; starving and ridiculed, artists struggled so often against the label nutz. They sure didn't have the ease of flip a switch lighting, flush toilets, pre-made canvas, readily available papers and supplies - No amazon two day delivery. Yet, our museums are full, our history is thick, and our souls fed by those intrepid, dedicated artists that still give us wonders to behold in their works.  I am humbled and awed but definitely wishing they'd left a note or two behind about how they crawled out of the Post Picture Funk.

from The Calligrapher's Colouring Book by Renee Chin

What I Did - And Didn't Do - For Summer Vacation

Natter, gabble, nonsense, stuff, blah blah blah

Coming as soon as I can import my fat file without blowing a hole in the space time continuum.

Until then .... pretty image to gaze at (click to see the larger image by Thomas Ender Blick Vom Nussberg)