Boring personal stuff.

I'm still tired from the trip, even though I've been home and lazy for 3 days. My eyes are puffy again, I'm pretty sure from the smoke in the air -- somewhere some sage is burning.

My family is in town for Dad's memorial, and we had dinner last night. I avoided the beer and wine, even though everyone else was drinking it. That was hard, let me tell you.

When I was in California, my once removed in-law, Dan, asked me if I thought alcohol depressed me. That got me thinking. Drinking itself if fine. I'm a cheerful drunk, mostly, and when I drink less, I just get more talkative. So that's all O.K. (Though I tend to fall asleep faster these days; which brings about the other problem, that it disrupts my sleep overall.)

No the problem has always come a couple of days later -- I feel off, on edge, more easily upset.

So is that depression? I never thought of it that way, but it certainly fits the bill.

I told Linda that I thought alcohol used to be a stress reliever for me, that I often felt like I had insights, epiphanies even. And that it boosted my creativity often.

None of those really seem to happen anymore, for whatever reason.

Meanwhile, it looks like I lost about a pound on the week I was gone. Not great, but better than gaining.

I have to do my comic orders today, sandwiched between family visits. My brother Mike arrives tomorrow night, and will stay with us for a few days.

All this is why I kind of put writing on the backburner. September will be the time to get serious again. Tackle the novel with another rewrite, doodle with the Epic fantasy.

Summers nearing the end, and I'm somewhat looking forward to getting back to routine.