Tender is about as fashionable and alive as her watercolor prints. She sports pastel colors, has a magical flair in her character, and comes across as being more fairy-like than human. It should be quite a positive treat to step into her extraordinary world for a few hours and spend the afternoon with her; it won’t be boring.
Heading to Tender’s cozy abode, a Tudor the size of a thimble, as she deems it, leaving early because of the snow and ice on the roads, winter at full throttle in an unending January storm, I’m stopped at the red light at Fields and Baye. There’s a Stop-N-Gas to my left. A figure in the icy storm stands on the sidewalk, catches my eye: Army jacket, jeans, brown hunting boots, no hat. The light changes to green but I don’t proceed forward. No one’s behind me. I simply
