The ferrets are: sniffing around, swiping dog food (I let thme get away with a few pieces this morning to thrill their little souls)
Weather: gray
"Annegret Pooflinger? Are you *the* Annegret Pooflinger?"
""How many could there be?" Gregg muttered.
I turned to the kid, squinting, waiting for the joke. None came. The kid looked actually admiring. I shrugged. "Omigod. THat book you wrote, the one with the boy who rescues that old woman on the ship and she teaches him how to knit the magic? Can you do that?"
THinking. THinking. "Well, I don't like ships all that much..."
"No, I mean, teach me to knit! I can do the magic myself."
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