For me, travel = no sleep. Maybe 4 hours a night, if I’m lucky. I just don’t sleep well except in my own bed. So, after 10 days in Chicago and Austin followed by two evenings of photo editing deep into the night, I came home determined to rest tonight. It isn’t happening. I’m being forced to admit I’m just not very good at closing my eyes. When I allow, my dreams are vivid, colorful, adventurous – I could sell tickets. But the images I conjure in the waking dream that is my life keep me so much more engaged, inspired, and entertained. It must be the drugs, you say? Nah, who needs drugs when I have a camera, beeswax, oil paint, a blow torch and a little imagination?