He’s watching the Superbowl.

I’m typing in here for a few minutes. As I dropped a kiss on his forehead and headed back to the computer, I grinned and said, “I’m married to you. I don’t have to watch the game. Of course, it’s not the Packers.”

I did watch the halftime show and thought it was much better than last year’s, my qualified appreciation for Madonna notwithstanding. At least she kept all her clothes on, and she sang two of the handful of her songs that I like and love to dance to.

I went over to the duplex after church. The oven is clean. The fridge is clean. The shower stall is clean, and I have goosed the bathroom floor with enough 409 to make the final installment of I’m-outta-here a breeze tomorrow night. (As I did not get my nails done yesterday, I’m killing two stones with one bird.)

I have a new calling at church. I am elated. Will share the details after I’m sustained next week.

I broke one of my four-inch DP’s while knitting at church today. I took a baby sock to work on, because the ruana is getting unwieldy. I stood to let someone into our row before sacrament meeting, and I felt the needle snap between my fingers. (Given the chance, I’d still stand to let them sit down with us. I can buy more knitting needles. And will, most likely next weekend. This is one of my relatively new KnitPicks Harmony DP’s, and I’m not crazy about the points on the teensier sizes, although I love my larger Harmony’s like you wouldn’t believe.

Let the record show that with great attention and a generous scoop of patience, it is possible to make progress on a baby sock using three whole needles and two half-needles. Just in case you were wondering.

I’m heading back out to the living room to flirt with my husband, which is even more fun than knitting, watching the Superbowl commercials, or eating raw sugar cookie dough.