I did something to my right leg or hip, I can't decide if it's just a really sore lower back from my chair at the office being all wrong, and from using the laptop in bed, or what. For a while I was panicking and had convinced myself I'd dislocated my hip – well, really my leg, but, you know. But since I can walk and ibuprofen takes away the pain, and all the things that should bend, do, I think I just managed to sleep wrong, and seriously strain some muscles. I'm blaming my dogs, because everytime I move in my sleep, they move, so that they're not only pinning me under the covers, but pressed as close to me as possible, with incessant subtle nudging.

Anyway, because of that, I haven't felt very active this weekend, and it's nice just to hang around my house and read and rest and watch movies with Fuzzy.

We ventured out to Il Fornaio for Thanksgiving, because neither of us was in the mood for people, and it was lovely, as always. They took longer than expected to deliver our dinner, so my second glass of pinot grigio was free, which is never a bad thing. My turkey is better, of course, or at least…my recipe is different, but the yams were great, and the butternut squash and grilled pear soup was fabulous, and I broke tradition and had fennel-infused custard with a bitter chocolate mousse topping for dessert. Fuzzy wouldn't even taste it, and made his “Eww fennel” face. I can understand people not liking things, but it irks me when people decide they don't like things before they taste them.

Anyway, yesterday we both slept most of the day, then I got up and made meatloaf, and peas and squash. I love squash, and I've been trying to cook at home more since we moved. I like cooking, really, but I don't have TIME very often, so I'm thinking of hiring a personal chef to come and make a couple of weeks of dinners that we can just reheat. After all, if I'm willing to pay people to feed my dogs, shouldn't I be willing to do this. I thought about taking a day, probably after we get back from France, and cooking a ton of stuff ahead, too.

Today, we slept late. I still feel guilty when I sleep past ten. I grew up being told, “After ten AM the day is wasted,” and that tape still plays in my head sometimes. It's related to the condition that prevents me from ever enjoying television before 5 PM. We roused ourselves, finally, to go to the postoffice so I could mail a book to someone, except that the paper with their address fell out at home, so I had them weigh the package and stamp it, and I'll send it from work on Monday. Then we went to OSH and bought timers for our Christmas lights, for general use, and for the lamps in the house, for while we're away, and then, because we had passes to Camera Seven that expired today, we saw The Emperor's Club, which I expected to be a total ripoff of Dead Poet's Society, but wasn't quite. It's worth seeing, at any rate. After that, we made the requisite trip to Barnes and Noble, where I spent too much money, but $50 of it was for French cd's, because my French is limited to dance steps and food terms.

We wrapped up the evening with a trip to Blockbuster and Starbucks. We rented MIB2, Someone Like You, and Life Or Something Like It, at the first, and bought The Importance of Being Ernest, and I released a BookCrossing.com book at the second. (I released another BookCrossing.com book at Camera Seven, also).

And now, we're home, and I'm about to go watch a movie in the bedroom and fold laundry, and Fuzzy's playing some very loud game on the PS2.

Tomorrow, we'll hit the craft show, maybe, if I think I can walk that much.

Ibuprofen and hot baths are my friends.