Spicy roasted potatoes
Kitchen rule: if you put Frank’s Red Hot on something, it’s going to taste like hot wings. And that’s not a bad thing.
Breakfast. It’s what’s for dinner.
Reunion. His head leaning hug is my favorite.
Someone is pretty happy that all his people are back in their proper places.
A fine welcome home.
Having lunch with my new friend Igor. His daddies couldn’t have picked a better girl to sit by. I’m in major dog withdrawal.
Ok people. Feeding the seagulls is cute and all…until they decide to attack.
Soaking in the last moments before I return to sleet and snow.
Wallace is staying at Jasper’s this weekend. I miss his fuzzy face.
After siting at the bar at this fancy pants Miami restaurant for a couple of hours, I sent M a text saying that people, on the whole, are horrid. Then I wanted to make sure it was the precise word I was after. It was.
Headed to dinner at Michael Mina 74 in my new chain mail necklace.
I have realized my clothes are nowhere near slutty enough for this town.