I'm head-over-heels for my new tote bag. Can you say 'arm candy'?!
One of my neighbors is a secret gardener.
Across the East River lies a magical land called Manhattan, where cartons of orange juice cost at least $2.50 (according to the man who charged me $1.75 for a tiny carton of orange juice in Brooklyn).
If you must go to that overpriced borough, take the East River Ferry. That way you can get a closer look at the Williamsburg Bridge.
Speaking of Williamsburg, this guy's been driving around. Score one for subtle advertising.
Tasha's style is having no trouble with the winter-spring transition.
Meanwhile, I'm trying my darndest to delude myself into believing I can pull off tennis shoes.
That’s all for now. Cross your fingers that I get to see a podiatrist soon, so I can go back to wearing tennis shoes only when I want to wear tennis shoes (i.e. never!).