don’t let her tufts of flaxen and inky black, {and always beguiling} eyes ensnare and fool you.

this is what a criminal looks like.

and she knows it.

remember monday’s post where i confessed my mad, bordering on psychotic love for my new iris & ink sweater?

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apparently i’m not the only one who wanted in on the cozy, cashmere wool goodness.

yesterday morning the house was a bit too quiet for my fancy; no shelves collapsing, no tag around the christmas tree, and it had been hours since i heard a bark, howl or other bronx cheer at the neighborhood dogs and cats that brave to walk past our front windows.

instead i found my girl, quietly, ravaging my new sweater.


we’ve been at this carnival before.

her first criminal fashion caper involved another beloved sweater.

there was the time she tried to do her own laundry.

 then there was my favorite pillow.

who could forget the reese’s peanut butter cup debacle.

and, of course, my favorite her messiest: the nuts.


jones, mortified with his sister’s naughty behavior, did his best to console me as we surveyed the damage.

i’m all for a chichi broach, but not even the gaudiest of rhinestones will be able to cover up that fissure.

{notice the wicked assailant observing in the background.}


here you see me trying to look for new ways to wear my double sleeved, yet sleeveless new look.

and if you look closely in the background, my not-so-clever outlaw left remnants and evidence of another caper; this time it involved athletic wear and a sock.

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the disappointment is palpable in the house.

my little gangster is feeling the shame; she’s taken to bed and refuses any visitors.

we’re hoping her remorse lasts, at least, until the christmas gifts under the tree have been delivered and opened.

wishing you a crime-free wednesday m’loves.