But I digress...

I didn't exercise today, unless making homemade applesauce counts, which I think it should. What started out as a small project turned out to be a much longer ordeal than I had intended. I thought I would be done by early afternoon, afterall "Survivor" was on tonight. (OK so this blogging idea may have distracted me temporarily from a few reality shows as intended, but come on, "Survivor" is the big one! Well, that and "The Amazing Race" which I have to admit I've been watching as well. Ok Ok, so I caught the finale last night of "Project Runway" too. But I digress...)

Everything was on track for being done on time with my applesauce: I washed all the apples of their mosquito-killing pesticides that came on my TRF apples thanks to the TRF city workers, I laid out all the dishes I would need for working with as well as the storing of the completed product, I had my apples in two large kettles with the water starting to heat up and I had my mom's ricer which was specially delivered with loving care. What I didn't have and didn't discover until the apples were all ready on the stove was the pestol for the ricer. This was a pretty key tool to the whole process and not just any other kitchen gadget would work in its place. So it all came to a screeching halt. Literally. I mean, I was literally screeching.

So I turned off the stove, locked up the house and walked down to the local hardware store which has been known to carry old-world kitchen supplies (like lefse sticks and rolling pin covers). I had hoped that since they carried these traditional scandinavian utensils, and since my mother was 100% swedish, that the ricer must therefore be scandinavian, and therefore the hardware store would carry the pestol. My reasoning failed me. They did not have the pestol and furthermore had no idea what I was talking about. In fact, I have no idea what I'm talking about. I'm calling it a pestol, but I have no idea what it's really called. I was going to call it the wooden thingamajigee but I was worried about the spelling. How do you spell that anyway? Thingamejegie? Thingamajigy? But once again I digress...

So there I was with the apples partially warmed on the stove (yes I turned the stove off when I walked up to the store...or walked down to the store...I've never been really good with directional terms like that) my kitchen all set up and my schedule all set and it was all shot to...well fill in the blank because I have to be careful since I might have students read this. Anyhoo...

So I did what any good scandinavian would do in distress...I called my mother and did what any good Lutheran would do...made her feel guilty for not including the wooden doohickey (who makes up these terms anyway? Doohickey? It doesn't make any sense. I guess it's not supposed to [see now I just ended my sentence with a preposition, which you're not supposed to do. I have a friend...well really a friend of a friend...who jokingly would add a pronoun to the end of any sentence left with a dangling preposition or participle. And not just any pronoun. She'd add the prounoun sh*thead. Which just made it sound funny not mean. So it would go something like, "what do you think we should do then?" and she'd add sh*thead and we'd all laugh. But I digress...])

Anyway, my mother brings the stirstickey over to Diane who brings it back to Little Falls but it is now 6:00 pm and the apples have cooled, so I have to start all over. Well, I don't have to wash them all over again. I just have to boil them and boiling them takse time. But now my show is coming on, so I have to set up a sheet on my living room floor so I have a work area that I can use for mashing the apples through the ricer without making a mess (afterall the house is on the market so I have to try and keep it clean). Each commercial break I would take my ricer and the bowl of applesauce and go back to the kitchen, dump the applesauce into a bigger bowl (because the ricer only goes over a littlier bowl so I had to go back and forth several times) empty the unusable leftovers from inside the ricer into the garbage can, go back to the stove and scoop in some new apples into the ricer, wait for it to drain, put the ricer back over the small bowl and head back into the living room. Only to have to do the whole thing over again at the next commercial break.

So you see, making applesauce should count as exercise.