Lunch Apple Take Two: You Didn't Do Right By Me

I should have gone with a standard apple like Fuji or Gala or even a (gasp) Golden Delicious. Instead, the big sign saying 'new apple' and the cutsie name 'Red Prince' were all I could see when I went to the store to buy more apples.

Soft spot free apples. Crisp yummy apples.

Well, Red Prince is soft spot free. It is crisp. It is way too much like my dreaded nemesis, Red Delicious, to be even close to a good apple.

I hate Red Delicious. They are the apples every school puts on your lunch tray, they come in 10 pound bags for $2 and they are disgusting. If they were the only apple I ever tried, I'd say I hate apples.

I should have been clued in that Red Prince can trace his roots to Red Delicious, by the obvious Red in their names, and when I think back, I'm pretty sure the sign said something about that too, but never in my wildest dreams would I think I'd bite into an apple that is WORSE than a Red Delicious.

Yes, my friends, my lunch apple do over was worse than the soft spot apple that made me gag a little.

So.....Orange, step up. You are my lunch time fruit today!

Lunch Apple, You Done Me Wrong

Yesterday’s apple was mealy and soft. Not good at all.

This morning, I carefully pressed on the apple I picked up, testing it’s crisp pop sound. Sounds good.

Take a bite at lunch…OMG….softer and nastier than yesterday’s apple!

What on earth? I tested it! It popped!

Turn it to the other side and there is the crisp yumminess. Half this apple is awful. Half is good.

Lunch Apple, you have been very deceiving, playing at trickery. I do not approve.

Just for that, your last two apple brothers will languish in the fruit bowl until someone else in my family unsuspectingly takes one. I'm done with you.

I'm going to buy new apples tonight. New and crisp and hopefully delicious.

We'll see at tomorrow's lunch if this is actually a huge apple conspiracy, set up to make me think I'm going to have a bite of goodness, when the apple is anything but....

The way today's lunch apple went, I'm not sure a conspiracy theory is too far fetched.

Is A Dining Room Table Just For Eating At?

Or is it really the perfect place, the only place in the whole house actually, to store all the odds and ends of life?

Or is that just our family?

A few weeks ago, my husband recognized that my frustration actually had a practical solution. I was tired of clearing the table off in the morning and by evening, it was covered with things again. He said to the kids, "Kids, I'm making a Dad Decision. We are not going to let the table get messy like this. We will keep it cleared off."

And God Bless Him, he tried to do it! But I'm not sure that is even possible to do. Ever.

It's not just the kids, so don't say 'when the kids move out, you're table will be clutter free'......because currently sitting on the table:

two dirty plates from last nights dessert

coffee cup half full of coffee and cream

a stack of napkins brought to the table last night for dinner

a stale cracker

a stuffed dog that is not a dog toy but was used as one yesterday (it's not sure it wants to live)

a truck parts catalog

a cell phone with a very low battery life

a stack of PTSA papers

a land line phone in desperate need of finding its base

a purse turned into a lunch bag, complete with yesterday's lunch

and some junk mail that needs recycling......

Only four of those things can be laid at our children's feet. The majority, I am sad to say, belongs to me.

It's a good thing I like to eat my breakfast in front of the computer! I don't have to deal with the table until later.

My Breakfast Desire = My Level Of Insanity

Yesterday, at the grocery store, I saw a box of Cream of Wheat and immediately wanted it. My mouth was watering and I remembered how much I loved that hot cereal. I was never an oatmeal fan. Never. But a few weeks ago I had "Irish" Oatmeal, which was okay, but it's consistency was that of cream of wheat.

If I want a smooth hot cereal, I want Cream of Wheat!

So I bought it. I thought about it last night as I watched TV. I announced to the family that it was the thing I've been most looking forward to in my life, after the births of my kids and marrying my husband.

Everyone looked at me like I was nuts. Maybe I am. Who knows?

I made it this morning, two servings. For my first bowl, I added a spinkle of brown sugar and that was it. Heavenly.And my second bowl was not even a bowl. I ate it right out of the pan. After it was cold. Nothing added to it. Just me and the pan and a spoon. And The Pooper jumping around me, since she was positive I would share something that was so good I ate it standing in the middle of the kitchen.

I'm pretty sure now there is no question whether I am nuts or not....

Definitely not.

The Tale Of The Exercise Pants

I am pretty faithful to exercise five days a week. I do it first thing in the morning, before I've even had my cup of coffee. I just know the longer I go into my day, the less likely I am to actually get moving. Plus, that first cup of coffee is like a carrot dangling on a string: I'd do anything to get to it!

This week has been spring break, and I took off work to be with the kids. So already I am in holiday sleeping in mind set. That doesn't really jive with The Pooper (my daughter's puppy) but I'm still thinking of rest and relaxation.

Still, exercised Monday morning. Walked miles and miles in Seattle on Tuesday. Wednesday...well I just didn't feel like it. I still have more days in the week to go, to make up my five day goal. I don't feel bad. I'll do it the next day. But on Thursday I can't find my pants.

I have two pairs of black comfy exercise pants. I love them dearly. One because it has pockets and one because it is so comfy. My husband hates them and refers to them as my pirate pants, but you know what? I love the pants so much I've willingly embraced that name and refer to them as my pirate pants.

So not finding my pants on Thursday is a big deal. I need them to exercise! I find them in the laundry and remember, duh, just the day before when I'd skipped my workout, I thought it would be the perfect day to wash my pants. Unfortunately, I forgot. Okay, I can walk the dogs. I don't need my lovely pirate pants to walk the dogs.

It is pouring down rain. Okay. Not going to walk the dogs. I will just have that cup of coffee and wash my pants. Sure, I'll miss working out in the morning, but there is a chance (a slim one) that I will do it in the evening.

Evening rolls around I realize I'd carried my load of dark clothes out to the laundry room, and that was as far as it got. Well, I probably wasn't going to exercise anyway. I really wanted to reheat some coffee, grab a couple of unfortunate fortune cookies and watch reruns of Bones with my son. But I will put those clothes in the wash, and then the dryer while I'd doing that.

Forward to this wet Saturday morning. I'm up at 6:20 with a The Pooper, who as her nick-name implies, has pooped. And apparently rolled in it. She needs a bath ASAP. I bathe her, get my coffee going, and go to get my pants out of the dryer.

Oh, wait. That's right. I was too busy reading a book my son's girlfriend loaned to my daughter and both girls raved about, to remember the wet clothes in the dryer.

By now, I've had to wash a poop puppy, at 6:30 on a Saturday morning, and I can smell my coffee perking and it smells so good....

What's a girl to do? Sit down and wait for the coffee to finish and blog about why her exercise pants are wet in the wash and that means she can't possibly exercise today either.

Did I mention how wet it is outside? Torrential!