On the plus side, I am taking the opportunity to use longish car rides to break in a pair of my "I was the target market" Docs.

Hello, beloveds. (I had missed those shoes so much.)

The nightmare is over. The blanket is complete. One day, my fingers will forgive me.

I looked somewhat alien at that age. But I had that round C-section skull at least.

Cutieheads!!!!! Here's Jack with Rai, circa Christmas 2023.

He remains a shoulder warmer.

He's a kitty.

In happier news, the Silent D Corries that I got on closeout do fulfill most of my desire for a pair of Prada Monolith Oxfords. (Shoes that aren't Docs? In my collection? It's more likely than you think!)

Reasonably solid cup of decaf.

I hadn't actually planned on coming here for dinner, but our random drive took us ten minutes away from Twede's.

I tried to do the responsible thing and tell my besties that I needed an adult to tell me no re: these shoes when the seller made me an offer. Instead, they betrayed me, and I was enabled. What the hell do I wear with these?

As someone who crochets with pencil grip 95% of the time, I will never join the cult of Furls (team Clover), but I will admit they're pretty. (Pencil grip was hitting a painful spot on one finger, so I am knife gripping it at the moment and broke out the Furls.)