One small, to go

If I teach my daughter anything, it's that there is no shame in diving to the depths of any dirty dumpster. Especially when it's as good as the "trash" that our former Captain so Americanly tossed out. Thanks to him, the landfill is that much higher than the nearest mountaintop. Alas, after our slimy Estoria came a-rippin' out she was confined to the dump, er, hospital with Papa for a few hours before she could get to the nearest dumpster, er, Mother. Daddy's milk also contains caffeine, so, unlike so many other concerned 'rents, we got her started on the black gold waaaay sooner than recommended (unless you talked to Tony.)

Pre-Hypno...

After just one (1) macchiato...

...and after one (1) sip of St*rbucks.

So there ya go...and Estoria has been really thinking it would be a good idea for Hypno to branch out into the cold and hollow former High Pro residence. Mainly just because they left that mural behind...and just so people will stop asking us what the funk happened to Highland Prospects, the owners were at a trade show and were mugged by some ultra-trendy/unneeded-but-I-am-totally-so-much-hipper-than-you/costs-more-than-you-can-believe fabric designers. That means they are gone and never coming back. A Dios.