Adoption paperwork gets its own shelf. // George gets a haircut. Bernie, not pictured, feeling shorn scorn. // Ken gets a bandaged knee after a large golden doodle runs broadside into his ACL. (Wishing I could’ve seen that, too.) The aftermath swelling and purple topography not stopping him from measuring the deck for a guest-house-slash-cigar-room-slash-how-many-man-rooms-doest-thou-need? // Leaving my dirty laundry out again. // The squinkies have resurfaced! The squinkies have resfurfaced! Finally found in a secret pocket in the bottom of the old diaper bag after a six month hiatus, and we all did a kitchen jig before promptly building them a proper home in an urban forest.