I am inspired today by a recent photo my nephew Drew. 


Why is it that every artistic endeavor has that moment of hand-to-forehead exhaustion/frustration/what/why/how am I doing this?  Usually we keep it hidden in small rehearsal rooms or on treadmills or in bottles of beer but sometimes it is stamped on our faces in slimly blue paint.  Drew reminds me that anything worth really delving into is worth that moment of exasperation and how lucky am I to be in the mess of it all.