On Sunday, Matthew and I biked down to the Horiman Museum to take in some jellyfish. Much to Matthew's chagrin, there are indeed pots at this museum, as well as jellyfish.
(If anyone has any suggestions in favour of museums that have no pots in them, please, please send them my way. I'm determined to show Matthew not all museums have pots in them, but have been largely unsuccessful thus far.) The jellyfish were spectacular, however. I could have stayed watching them for hours.
I'd rather hoped I'd be able to take some pictures of the Julia socks, which I finished well over a month ago, but it was spotty and dark when we finally emerged and that's no way to show off such a subtle pattern in such awesomely plum yarn.
Good times nonetheless.
ALSO: Thank you so much to everyone who emailed me 'Get Thee To A Doctor, Fool' after grumbling about sciatica-esque pains in my leg. I haven't made an appointment yet, which is dumb, I know, but I have started getting some actual exercise -- such as this bike ride up and down Forest Hill -- and that has done wonders. I've been running most mornings and cycling and since then have only had the very occasional twinge on those days I've done nothing but move from my bedroom in the morning to my desk and stayed there working till dinner. If it persists, even after a few more weeks of regular exercise, I will absolutely go to a doctor. However, at the moment regular exercise seems to be working its magic. If I'm right, all this means is that I'm going to be stuck forced to be physically healthy by getting daily exercise for the rest of my life. And that I can live with.