You're not working. Run some errands.

DH needs a glucose meter. And he has a shirt at the dry-cleaners. I need to stick a short-story in the mail for a local contest and with the new postage rates, that means a trip to the post office. As long as I'm out, and about and burning gas, we can use some milk. From there, it's just a short hop to a LYS and a selection of yarn to knit my SIL, Arleen a sweater. My bro bought her a gorgeous new silver, onyx and turquoise necklace, so I'm thinking something is shades of turquoise to show it off. Something to flatter her ultra petite, skinny little shape. Hmmmm. . . Isn't it wonderful how everything leads to knitting?

The tank top is pinned up on the blocking board. I hope to be able to wear it to Stephanie McPhee's book signing at Powell's Books tomorrow night. I'll be the one in the saucy little hat, just starting a black and orange sock, and braying with glee like a jackass in alfalfa.

Meanwhile, Blogger refuses to do pictures. Bad Blogger!