I caught Arlene mid-complaint about having her picture taken. Ice-cream man edge to this vintage jacket and tough boots that you can only see the top of. I was out and about, thoroughly swaddled, but no one else was -- too cold.
Proof positive that I've hit a milestone -- I saw a forsythia wreath on a front door, all cheery and yellow, and even as I realized it must be faux, I was in love with it. I'm at the age where fabric flowers seem not only acceptable, but desirable.
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