Is it too late to do a picture a day thing?

Because yesterday it was 52 degrees and I ran three glorious miles. Today, it’s hovering around 12 degrees and the snow won’t stop. I wish I would have taken a picture of what it was like yesterday.
Oh well, hindsight.
Today I feel like cuddling under my electric blanket with hot coffee by my side and The Sopranos on my HBOGO. But, as always, I feel the need to earn it. I submitted some stories, queried another agent and worked on this:

A blanket repair.
My sister is a massage therapist and does lovely work, and we decided to do a little exchanging. In this case, I received a free massage, and all I had to do was repair a blanket I gave to her over fifteen years ago.
There were little rips and tears here and there, but nothing overwhelming. I threw some Francis Albert on the Pandora and went to town.
And then, I saw this:

One of the squares was made of yarn from my first ever knitted sweater.
If you know anything about me, you know I learned to crochet from my late, lamented Grandma Lollie, probably around the age of five or six. And I crocheted for many, many years. I didn’t learn to knit until I was in my twenties, and the first project I made was a sweater, knitted during a several week class at The Yarn Barn in Lawrence, KS. (That name…I know, right?)
This got the memory machine going. I love to crochet blankets out of leftover yarn from various projects. We have several around the house, and I’ve made blankets for my parents and siblings and various friends.

The top blanket is my first ever crocheted blanket.

Our bed.

More semi-successful blankets.
The best part is grabbing one, settling in, and upon glancing down, remembering where I originally used the yarn. Especially on days like today, where all I want to do is follow the cat’s lead and crawl onto one and take a nap.
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PS On my blog yesterday I misspelled a word and it’s still haunting me. The worst part is, when others make the same mistake, I laugh and cajole and otherwise hold it against them, all the while questioning their basic intelligence.
For shame.