Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 33 years old.

I’m too tired to write any more, about anything. The past six months or so have been all about Red Bat Photography and endless work. Every day I see more signs of exhaustion on my face and in the way my mind skitters from one topic to the next like a hamster on amphetamines.

Which is why I’m so surprised when I wake up still excited about whatever I happen to be working on. I don’t think I’ve ever worked this hard on anything without becoming thoroughly sick of it. But with photography, there’s always more to learn, and the more skilled I get, the more interesting it becomes. It’s not just the artistic aspect that I enjoy- the business part is fun, too. I wasn’t expecting that when I started this gig.

The human relations angle is the most fascinating of all: how people react to being in front of the camera, how they respond to seeing photographs of themselves, and the many, varied purposes they find for the images we create together.

But dang, it’s a lot of work.

I relax by spending time with ever-more-beloved-nephew Jasper, who has four teeth now and will celebrate his first birthday next month. Joye took this picture of the two of us last week. The hand you see belongs to Steve. That red thing is a voice-distorting megaphone, not that Jasper’s voice needs amplification. He’s known for his high-decibel squawking.

After several years of intense grieving, it has felt good to take a break from constant reflection and simply do things. But I miss writing. I miss daydreaming, too. I hope I’ll get a chance to do both again before too long.