Hi again.

In the last month I've learned that after art and voiceover work, mowing lawns is my third-favorite thing-I-can-do-to-make-money. It's also great exercise. I'm not sure why I never did it when I was in the typical "Hey Mrs. Jones, can I mow your lawn for $10?" age range. It was probably something along the lines of my mom not trusting me with a lawnmower.

I should be drawing now.

A Day in a Line and Choir

My mom decided to leave me at AC Moore for an hour while she had lunch with my sister, and I found a doodle journal that actually had doodle activity suggestions in it instead of just being a bunch of blank pages with a fancy cover that charged you more than a regular sketchbook. One of the pages challenged artists-in-training to draw out the events of an entire day without lifting your writing implement of choice from your paper. Aside from my crappy cars it turned out pretty cool looking, even if it was a crummy day and a nice testament to why lactose-intolerant people shouldn't eat pizza if they're going to be working all day.

Last night was my brother's choir concert. My dad ditched so I went with my grandmother. What I wasn't told was that the concert was to be combined with the elementary school choir concerts this time. Which meant that 1) They'd sound lousier than usual, and 2) Happy Harley would be there.

Happy Harley--unlike the last Harley I crossed paths with, this Harley was...not a small horse, first of all, and probably wouldn't appreciate being painted green. She was an elementary school music teacher in every essence of the word. Short and perpetually smiling, with musical knowledge ranging from "Don't wanna be your Valentine," "Suzy Snowflake," and "Plant a Little Watermelon On My Grave" to "When Witches were Waltzing" and "Swimming, Swimming, Into the Swimming Pool." Her hair was always teased and poofed into a fro about triple the size of Ronald McDonald's.

I managed to spot her again on the stage. As of 2011, the poof had been flattened somewhat and she'd essentially turned into a shrively brunette version of Mother Gothel from Tangled. Like this, with the same buggy eyes and goofy grin put on a real person.

Don't worry. Afterward I didn't do anything that would've put me in detention. Through sheer force of preadolescent apathy I completely bypassed her choir and only had to deal with Happy Harley and her sloppy air instrumentalist act. I didn't wind up in choir at all until 7th grade. What a lucky break!

The concert was long and about what you'd expect from a concert that included 4th-6th graders and a first-year middle school director.

Alright, here's the real plan...

Draw every single day, as much as possible, and get back up to scratch.

Post an update whenever Dad's not home to hog the scanner.

Yesterday my brother made confirmation, and must have wanted me to be there pretty badly or something. My mom doesn't usually want me around her church (which actually isn't hers anymore, so that may be part of the reason I was actually instructed to show up). I've got a reflexive habit of turning into Simon Cowell whenever there's anything resembling a choir, among other things, that must embarrass her in front of her friends. The choir was pretty terrible, probably in the running for the worst I'd heard in my lifetime, which didn't make it any better for my mom. It's usually a bad sign when your choir's trying to sing in unison and winding up in off-again-on-again five-part harmony instead.

I had been to one other confirmation before about ten years ago--it was for one of my best friends, and one of the priests taught me how to make a paper airplane, but I found a better one later.

Ten points to anyone who can spot Monty.

Afterward we all shipped out to get some Chinese. Luke and I got Peking Duck and everyone else had a free-for-all. Someone ordered a Pu Pu platter, and that came with a fire pot in the middle.

She didn't send me even one. -__- If I weren't allergic to half the stuff in the dish I'd go back and order one for myself just to draw the fire. The one on the top right is not mine. :P

What I love most about rivers is you can't sketch the same river twice. :P

This may very well be the worst hair day I've had this year yet, but my kitchen smells like bacon, John Williams is blasting for the entire neighborhood to hear, and it's finally warm enough to run out and sketch like mad, so I DON'T CARE! >:]

Yesterday my dad hogged the computer with the scanner. Also, I was being lazy, so I made up for it today by zooming through five pages of that sketchbook that fell onto the highway when Lauren and I helped Courtney move (and got run over by at least one car.) After that it just stopped scanning well. And my dad's scanner's no Epson-whatever-SCAD-had, for sure.

The dog's name is Asia. She's the wimpiest dog in the world, thankfully, and because of that she never does anything regrettable like trying to jump on me or bark at me. I don't know what kind of dog she is. I'm not even completely sure she's female and am banking on hearsay alone, but I figured most of the people reading this probably like dogs and might be interested in knowing.