Rest is Weird

Resting is weird.
I should say - attempting rest is weird.
It fought brain off last night.
Today I "crashed" from 10:30 in morning to 12:30 PM. 
Guilt started sneaking in - as I had plans for this "off" day.
Still do - but truncated.
So Guilt is knocking at skull.
"Hey, I'm Guilt. I want in. Now."
I'm playing jazz - Loud - to push both Guilt and Tinnitus away - even for whatever time Jazz is up to the job.

Took enough photos to inspire many hours of art. From fluffy grey bunnehs to hard sparkling tubas.

But the house needs cleaning and the brain need Something. I just don't know what yet. A purpose of the Fair was to find purpose and use for life. Baby steps of scribbled thoughts were forced from Sharpie Marker, but no BIG LIFE THINGS.  I am not a good muddler. But today holds more muddling.

And, also, drawing for the residents at Croixdale. I will accomplish a thing. Or two.

The potential Black Swallowtails have both coccooned. Waiting time. Perhaps I need to follow their lead. Time to metaphorically munch some dill.

Fare-thee-well,
Sue

This weekend finds us in Edina, MN at the Centennial Lakes art festival. No I can't recall its real name at the moment. I hope I am awake by then. Toodles!

120 posts. 
80 to go!