I’ve been visiting my parents for the last several days.

They live 600 miles away. A two day drive when, like me, you have a bad back. My husband would drive straight through. Me, I spend a night in a hotel about halfway there.

This is the fist time I have ever been to their home in mountains. They had the house built over a decade ago. To me one undeveloped wooded plot of land is pretty much like any other one, but they insisted I needed to watch the home movies of the building of the house and the walking of the property lines. We spent 3 hours doing so yesterday. You would be proud. I didn’t yawn or fall asleep.

I did however hear buzzing in their walls.

Today’s the last day of my visit and then I drive back home via a friend’s house for mental decompression.

For some reason I thought I would be able to continue to work on my picture book art. All I have managed is a few daily doodles. My working process is so internal it looks like I am staring off into space. My parents take this to mean I am bored and need entertaining. Or conversation. Or food. Although I brought all my working supplies with me, I have not been able to sit long enough to focus my thoughts clearly on the images I want to move from my brain onto my papers.

Perhaps I should give up until I get home and have peaceful solitude again.

I feel like the sitting cat in my doodle above. I do believe my left eye is spinning in its socket as well.