Drawings 40 and 41.

Another horrible picture of more *totally awesome* drawings.


In defense of the hideousness of my tulip, I'd like to mention that I hate tulips. As much as you can hate a flower. They're just always all "I bet we can sprout and bloom before any of you other slow-poke flowers this spring! Just like last year and every year since we were genetically altered to do so!* Ha ha!" Geez. No, I prefer more humble flora who take their time. Like moss roses. Specifically orange.


There are a lot of different kinds of gold medals, so mine is just as valid as any. I chose to use this one as a comparison because I thought it funny that for some reason, even though the image is clearly a likeness of the Dalai Lama, I thought it was Michael Caine at first.




*I don't know that they've been genetically altered. Hasn't everything?

Is it that time of year already?

August (the month) is more than half over and the stores have fully merchandised their back-to-school supplies. August (the baby) is six weeks old and has changed a lot since he was born. I shant go into a litany of his isn't-my-baby-amazing developmental feats, but I will remark simply that it's fascinating to think of how much he'll change in yet another month. Kids will be making use of their newly sharpened number twos and my baby will be smiling and probably potty trained and I'm sure I'll be dusting off my long underwear as the temperature begins to dip below 60 degrees.


I'm reflecting on this because the coming cooler seasons conjure the image of knitting and watching the latest television programming and snuggling under a blanket. Whether or not this vision of coziness is attainable with a small being under foot, I'm feeling like making plans for all the knits I'd like to make.


True, I have not picked up any knitting in the last two months. But I do want to get moving on August's giraffe and maybe I'll make him a little pilot hat. At the very least I'd like to spend hours and hours on Ravelry searching for and saving patterns for sweaters and toys and socks and all kinds of assorted goodies that I'll never get to - but, like knitting in front of our gas fireplace with the TV on and a mug of cocoa beside me, it's nice to think about.

Also nice to think about: greenness. Trees and grass and all the lovely green things of summer are still here and I love it. Strange to think about: if you live in the southern hemisphere Christmas is in the summer.

Drawings 37-39.

I don't have a lot to say about these other than that my submarine is far superior to real submarines.

I'm opening a doggie spa. $75/hour doggie massage.

Drawings 34-36.

Get ready for more drawings; they're the easiest creative thing to get done around here, unless you count bouncing your entire body around to sooth a baby while also bending over so as not to spill a third cup of dog food all over the floor, because both creatures are ravenous but only one needs to complete its morning routine of going directly outside after eating lest it poop on said floor. Don't judge me for feeding the dog before the child; you wouldn't want to clean up the waste of two dependents either.

So. Somehow I found it easier to take pictures of the next several installments rather than scan them, which resulted in poor images. I guess I was going to be uploading pictures anyways and the drawings might actually look *better* this way, all fuzzy and washed out.


That dude is surprisingly happy for not having his head in the clouds so much as being hanged by the clouds.


Yeah, that's a balloon.


Ahhh, real art.*




Honestly? I actually think this is a decent pencil drawing of something TOTALLY UN-DRAWABLE.




* I wish I could credit the artist but I can't because, as you know, I get all these comparison photos from Google Images and this photo is linked to someone else's blog and it's not credited there. Soooo, I'm passing the buck. Take THAT journalism school!

One month.