This Sucks

Somehow I pulled or strained a muscle in my left knee (my "good" knee) last month and it's acting up. I try and give it good exercise at least a couple times a week but it insists on hurting. Right now it's really hurting, think I'll go take an Aleve... Now I just wait a half an hour or so and it'll feel a bit better. Maybe I'll see how it likes riding the bike later. The ortho doc said that bike riding is better for knees than walking, so I should give it a shot, don't you think? I hate hurting.

I got my wedding haircut this morning. It's the same as my regular haircut, it just has a bit more depending on it this next week. And I started amassing car snacks at the grocery. I've got a bag of baby carrots and bought a big, family-sized box of low-fat Wheat Thins. Now I want to buy some grapes, wash and stem them and zipper bag them so we'll have some healthy snacks for our long car rides next weekend. I was tempted by a bag of clementines, maybe I'll get those too. Can't have too many healthy treats for a long, boring ride. I am excited that this will be our first long car trip with Robert, the TomTom GPS. Durwood hasn't traveled with him so it should be a revelation and, with Robert and the AAA TripTiks, maybe I won't get us off on the "scenic route." (malcolm-speak for lost) Hm, I should probably think about make-up for the weekend too. I don't really wear the stuff anymore. I just end up wiping it off or feeling like I'm wearing a mask. It's suffocating. Uck. But I also don't want to end up looking like a blank space in the pictures so I'd better slap some on. Probably have to buy new because mine's so old and skanky.

March 26--Iran, Armlet. Hank was by himself on the side of the reef when he saw the sun glint off something nestled where the coral rose out of the sand. He figured it was another beer can or some other metal scrap but he investigated anyway. If no critter had built its home in or on whatever it was he'd get it off the reef. He'd spent a good portion of his dives that week picking up litter from the bottom. The pockets of his BC would be stuffed with plastic bags, torn fabric, frayed pieces of ropes, and all kinds of junk. The boat crew and the dive staff had stopped paying attention to the trash he brought up. He reached down and fanned the sand away. The sound of his breathing grew louder as the gold bracelet was uncovered. He looked around to see if any of the others were nearby as he lifted the heavy ornament from its resting place in the sand and tucked it into his pocket.

This is for my dad who always reminded us to be sure and pick up any gold doubloons when we were going diving in the Caribbean. Okay, Dad, here you go!
--Barbara