You know those farm eggs I’m always talking about? Meet the chickens.
Every time I check my phone it’s all ones. This has been going on for years now. Hit it three times today. Freaky.
Road trip necessity.
Cocktail-ing at Bar Argos
Wallace has found his lounge spot. He loves a nice Brooklyn getaway.
Ithaca is pretty nice so far.
Picnic with Jasper.
The sky is on fire in NYC tonight.
Glad someone got a shot of this. I could tell it was spectacular but my vantage point was poor.
I wonder if our neighbors ever get tired of seeing us on this stoop? Our next apartment has to have proper outdoor space.
Just when he couldn’t get any sadder, Wallace discovers that his god-sisters Lucy and Cocoa have like a bazillion more toys than he does.
What’s worse than the cone of shame? When your mama furthers the humiliation by posting your picture on the Internet.
(He’s eating his tail. It’s not pretty.)