Rec center desk lady looks at me like I have two heads and says, THE POOL IS CLOSED. Huh? What? The pool is closed? Why didn't you guys post a sign or something!
All was not lost, however, because I remembered that our rec center membership is good at a second location with a pool and gym, but we never go there and I had no idea of the pool schedule. Called goog411 and got the number, called rec center no. 2 and lo the gods smiled down upon us and it's open swim RIGHT NOW and, yahoo, here we come.
Got the girls to the pool with an hour to swim, hit the gym, and I just was not feeling the love for running today. (My toe hurts. My knee hurts. My hip feels weird. These socks are ugly. What's that tingle in my shin? I want ice cream. You get the idea.) So I dinked around on the treadmill for an hour, ended up doing 4.25 miles and then I realized, boy howdy, the Lazy Man Triathalon started today and I just did the first 4 miles of my 26-mile commitment! I accidentally started meeting my goal without even having to talk myself into it! Go figure.
Now all the little girls have gone home (Cheetah Girl party was deemed a huge success) and we are going to a small dinner party tonight. I am making my signature Sangria (ooh la la) and I have an apple pie to bake at the party (ooh la double la).
The parents of one of the Cheetah girl partiers came for drinks last night and arrived with three huge bags of apples from their apple tree. So this morning I made apple turnovers for breakfast, prepared the apple pie for baking later on and peeled, cored and sliced three gallon-sized freeer bags full of apples for future pies and turnovers and such. Tim made apple cider with the juicer (more on that below). And I still have two giant bags of apples left! All of that, and it got me through one bag. Sliced the shit out of my left index finger with the peeler, by the way, and it hurts like a mo fo.
Now that the smell of baking apple turnovers is gone, the smell of mystery cat turd is back. My house smells like cat shit. The litter box is clean and I have searched every nook and cranny and cannot find the poop. It's insane. I'm now looking under furniture that a cat could not possibly even get under, and cannot find the poop, but it's here somewhere, that much is obvious. This same cat has also started peeing on my hardwood floors and is basically on my nerves in many ways. I said something along the lines of going to the pound the other day, and Carlie had a nervous breakdown, cried herself to sleep, even though I assured her I was only joking (haha, isn't that funny? No, really, I don't mind that she's PEEING ON THE FLOOR. Really. It's all good.)
Back to the homemade apple juice. Tim gets out the juicer, we're cutting apples into quarters and throwing them in there and, um, something just ain't right. Oh, there's NO BLADE in the thing. Where the hell is the blade? Searched high and low, no blade to be found. Ended up putting the apples into the blender, making apple pulp, and then filtering the apple pulp through the bladless juicer. Have you ever heard of a more tedious process to get a damned glass of juice?
That's your little slice o' life from the O'B household today. How glamorous are we with our apple turnovers and cat turds and trips to the public pool at the rec center? Don't hate the players, hate the game.
Apple turnover photo courtesy of moi! How delish!