Quiet Weekend

I like a quiet weekend, but it doesn't give me much to blog about.

We hung out with the Hegemony, as usual, Friday night. Babysat for them on Saturday so they could go see Prometheus. Spent Sunday mostly at home, running errands, dorking on our computers, and reading.

Penny and I got haircuts Saturday morning. (Nothing exciting; just trims and I got my color refreshed -- it's about two steps redder this time around, and I'm still trying to decide if I like it.)

I tried a new recipe for Sunday's dinner -- bacon-wrapped hamburger patties -- that was very well-received by the whole family. I hereby formally and publicly kowtow to KT for linking me to this list, because I've been completely bored with everything in my usual repertoire, and it's hard to come by meals that a) are mostly healthy; b) everyone in the family is willing to eat; and c) can be prepared in a reasonable amount of time. That list is meal-planning gold.

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After spending all last week feeling proud of myself for actually getting up when the alarm went off and going downstairs and exercising, I managed to twist my knee Saturday night. How, you ask? By performing the stupidly simple task of bending over from a sitting position to try to pick something up off the floor. Which is even more embarrassing than the time I ended up on crutches after a game of Frisbee -- at least that was an activity. And of course it was the good knee, not the one that's been sort of mildly dodgy for months.

All day Sunday, it twinged every time I straightened it -- you know, like you do when you stand up or walk? -- despite my popping Aleve like candy.

This morning when I woke up, I gingerly straightened my leg, waiting for the pain, and there was none. Oh, awesome, I thought. I guess it just needed some good rest. Maybe I can do some exercise after all. I got up (still no pain!) and went into the bathroom, pondering which of my 15-minute routines would stress the knee least (because I'm not dumb)... and when I sat on the toilet, my knee all but shrieked in protest. Yesterday it was straightening that was bad; today, apparently bending is verboten.

So no exercise for me and my knee this morning. Dammit.

(I swear, between my knees and my back, I'm about to say, "Fuck it, I'm just destined to be fat," and go out and buy a bunch of mumus so I can stop freaking out whenever I outgrow another pair of pants.)