So I suppose I shouldn't post about how the cat may be finally ready to do me in and then not post for several days. The cat is out of the cone and seems to be leaving her leg alone, so all is well.

The big news, besides the lack of catriciede -- wait, that would be killing a cat, and I meant her failing to kill me -- feline homicide? -- ok. Let me start over.

The big news is that my sister Amy has gotten engaged. Congratulations, Amy and David. I've only met David once, but I liked him from the start. Plus, he continued being interested in Amy even after she let TWMAN&N run rampant around his apartment while she was babysitting them one night, so he's obviously not faint of heart. He's survived dinner with my parents and sisters, and even a couple of travel experiences with Amy, and if that didn't scare him off, nothing will. The one confusing thing -- he's this brilliant Wharton professor with brain cells that are positively fizzing with intelligence, and yet he's decided to marry into our lot anyway. Go figure.

I kid, of course -- David, I'm thrilled you'll be joining us, and Amy, I'm so happy for you. I'm even happier that you're acknowledging the inherent superiority of Chicago when you abandon your precious little Philly for a real city to go wedding shopping. Take that, little miss "I hate Chicago, and Philly's so great, and everyone should move here, and by the way I need to use your guest room for a week two or three times a year so I can go to all the cool boutiques and stuff they just don't have in Philly." Nyah.

Congratulations also to Pamela and Fred for their new twins, who, in keeping with the extreme-sports New Zealand lifestyle of their parents, decided to make an entrance:

They were scheduled for eviction on the 20th, but the boys decided that a middle of the night, high-speed ambulance ride to the hospital 2 hours away would be much more fun than an elective C-section.

Good luck, Pamela, and, as my mother says to everyone I know who has twins, "Tell her I'm sorry."

Other news: My quasi-running is on hold for the moment as I seem to have strained my groin. Does this lead to tales of wild debauchery and all-night escapades? Hah -- I wish. I pulled it running, and not even after Legolas or Johnny Depp or the guys from Supernatural. Most disappointing. It even hurts a bit when I walk, so the whole power-walking thing is out for now.

I've tried to substitute biking and swimming, so we'll see how that goes. I rode my bike to a doctor's appointment downtown, which I haven't done for a while. I'd forgotten how much of a difference wind resistance makes. It took me about 50 minutes to get 10 miles (although there were traffic lights and other annoyances in there) and I was pretty worn out when I got to the office. I took the lakeshore path home -- a longer ride, but damn, it's pretty. It's been at least five years since I rode along that path, and it's such a stunningly beautiful feature of the city. It helps that I was riding home at 3 p.m., so I missed most of the post-work heaving mass of people. It was a gorgeous breezy 70-degree day, and people were taking what was probably their last chance to lay out on the beach or run around in shorts. I even saw a swimmer in the lake, probably someone practicing for a triathalon. I took more time than I needed going home, just because it was so overwhelmingly pleasant to be out there in the sun, by the lake, the trees rustling and the waves shushing up against the shore, or pounding against the limestone blocks that line parts of the shore. I love this city. Even when the weather gets downright biblical, we have these things to hold onto -- the promise of the lake in the sun, the breeze on the path, riding along through the cherry blossoms or the falling leaves. There's nothing like it.