LXXXVIII: Happy . . .

This was our Christmas:

Can you find us?

And when we finally got out of the tree:

Wasn't me.

Later in the week, Jim attempted yet another escape, but they were only going back down to the Embarcadero. Again. They ate at Mijita . . .

Then went on to the Exploratorium, where She climbed into what's known as a Utica crib and scared children walking through (they thought she was a dummy . . . and then she moved).

To think we might have left her . . . And Jim . . .
Such are missed opportunities in life.

She kept him under guard because of the crowds; otherwise, he'd have had the perfect chance to make his getaway. But outside he did manage to climb to the top of a suspension bridge:

Staying on top, on the other hand . . .

He seems to be having difficulty staying on his feet these days. In any case, back in Her bag he went. Which is still better than the children having got hold of him. (That's the little one in the red hoodie; it was a near thing.)

For New Year's Eve they went to a movie.

No, this one's not out yet.

Then we stayed in for the remainder of the night, eating sushi and . . .

After having champagne, the beanbag chairs began to look comfortable.

What? We weren't the only ones covered in streamers.

And today, to start the year? A lovely walk in the local hills.

Though I'm not sure if She's blurry or it's just my eyesight. Hrm.

Tomorrow we're off to something called Half Moon Bay. More to come.