Next stop: "Chic"ness

You know who thinks I should keep making myself some jewelry? Kristen Robinson.

I won her "Industrial Chic" project booklet giveaway! I groveled shamelessly in her blog's comment section and was handsomely rewarded. Either that or she thinks I really should make more of an effort than throwing a charm onto a chain.

The pretty chain mesh and pearls necklace? NOT the one I made.

Plus The Boy promised me a necklace for my birthday. I've hinted quite clearly (which is to say, told The Husband) that the two of them should follow some of the guidelines in the book. Thank you, Kristen!

Scenes from a street fair

Why yes, Mommy, I would like to go to the U District Street Fair.

 Fuzzy hats, stencil art...

We might meet one of the Artfest instructors!

You know what's really fun? Watching your kids try to figure out a performance artist.

I'm just happy the Rapture was postponed long enough for one more art fair.

In which I fail to kill my brother

It's official:

My brother has turned into my father.

Until now, he and my sister-in-law have never come to visit me in Increasingly Diverseville. Not when The Husband and I were newlyweds, not when my first niece could've flown with them for free -- or when the second one could've flown for free... I'm not bitter. No, really, not bitter at all.

But now all is forgiven. My sister-in-law made sure to schedule some time with us when they came up to Portland for a convention. So we did the touristy stuff, starting with a ferry ride.

You try matching the strides of a six-foot-tall auntie...

... and a six-four uncle. See how well you do.

I thought someday I would take a photo like this of my dad and The Boy. But my father died a month before The Boy's first birthday. This weekend, I saw my father in the way my brother now leans into his shoulder and peers over his glasses. (And cusses, when he thinks the kids are out of earshot.)

It breaks my heart and comforts me all at once.