Because I’ve worn myself out

I wrote a post last night about how much I love writing.  It included little anecdotes about a fifth grade story on a hot air balloon race, a college professor who changed my life and how I waxed poetic on journal pages throughout the years growing up.  I even included little nuggets of interest like how my mom has just about every little school project I’ve ever done tucked away somewhere (as well as my first lock of hair and, for a long time, my baby teeth.  If you haven’t already mom, you can get rid of those.)

It might have been brilliant.  But it felt forced so I erased it.  Because it’s my blog and I can do that.  Ah!  The power of being in control!!!

I do really love writing, but this week I’ve worn myself out.  There are lots of projects in the works.  Good things.  Fun things.  But it’s tiresome.  And I’ve been researching and prepping for a temporary freelance gig that starts next week that I feel totally unprepared for.  And my brain is fried. Like an egg on a hot skillet.  Without the drugs.  Though I do get quite a buzz from the creative process.  See that?  Fragmented sentences.  A writing no-no. 

Fuh-RIED, my brain is.  Yes – I’m also channeling Yoda thanks to my kids.  Crazy, I am.

So I have nothing of real substance to offer today.  Obviously.  I’ll leave you with a few photos instead.  Because I hope to somehow redeem this runaway train of a post.  Ah!  A cliche.  Another writing no-no.  I need to stop.

The Moolah Shrine Circus: Landon didn't just hate the clowns - he practically undressed me trying to get away from them.

The face painting was nothing short of a work of art.

What do you do with a crabby Butterfly? (I'll give you a hint - it requires a warm blanket and a quiet, dark room).

My outfit yesterday. Why? Because it's finally warm enough, because I love cowboy boots, and because I can only pull this off for so much longer before it starts to get weird and I become an embarrassment to my kids...