I killed the apple corer

It ends here.

No Martha Stewart am I.

A local radio station had a call-in contest to come up with a new Olympic sport just for housewives.

Yeah yeah, I'm well aware that I work outside of the home. But I'm a wife, and I live in a house, so I think I should qualify for this game.

Someone mentioned "speed-cleaning the house for company that calls and says they will be there in 10 minutes." I would most definitely lose that one. There is no such thing as speed-cleaning with me. First, I need to mix up my chemical-free cleanser made from baking soda, lemon juice, and flaxseeds. Just kidding on the flaxseeds. But I'm looking into it.

Then I need to sort through mail, school papers, and paper bags of junk cute little heart-themed trinkets from Valentine's Day that the kids brought home from school.

And vacuum? Why, certainly not. I received two robot vacuums for Christmas. Best. Christmas. present. ever. Ugh, why did I resort to using that "put a period after every word to sound more intelligent than I am" faddish tactic? My past English professors would have surely frowned upon that.

So what I'm trying to say here is that I am an OCD cleaner (meaning that I spend tons of time picking through specific areas but not looking at the whole of the mess), and I would definitely take last place.

Instead, I propose that the first Olympic event for housewives should be apple-coring. No wives who have been successful at creating issue-free meals are allowed to participate.

The rules are that you have to use an old, blunt, slippery-handled corer like I did today. You have to make a clean cut through the apple and get the seeds on the first try. You must wear abdominal padding just in case the corer unexpectedly turns against you.

Here are today's results:

Apple #1: Couldn't get corer out of apple. Placed apple on floor with foot as a brace to remove. Success. Apple moved to compost pile.

Apple #2: Corer in with a heave and a hernia. Only half the seeds removed. Secondary gadget (knife) introduced to competition. Two points deducted.

Apple #3: Corer once again stuck in apple. No amount of twisting and turning would pull it out. Corer turned upside down and pounded on the cutting board with the apple suspended in air. No give. Right side up apple again and handle yanked repeatedly. "Ping" sound heard as I was left with the wooden handle in my hand and the impaled apple on the floor rolling in cat hair. Where was the robot vacuum when I needed it?

I lost the corer, but I did manage to make four tasty Granny Smith baked apples, all while endangering life and limb. But well worth it.

A clean core=a broken corer. Success? Yes! I get to invest in a new one that actually works!

And for another cheap laugh on my blog, I will now explore the intricacies of how spellcheck has tried to screw-up my writing (I can already hear the echoes of "You're blaming spellcheck? Woman, you do that very well by yourself!" I guess I've been reading too many angry blog comments on other blogs lately.).

We'll call this "spellcheck madlibs," a new feature. Woohoo, exciting.

Spellcheck for flaxseeds came up with:

flambeed

flatbeds

hayseeds

Let's fill those words into the sentence for today:

1. First, I need to mix up my chemical-free cleanser made from baking soda, lemon juice, and flambeed. And what, you ask, is flambeed? It means "(of food) served in flaming liquor, esp. brandy." House cleaning paste served in flaming liquor? Hmmm...that might make the chores a little exciting, if I don't burn the house down.

2. First, I need to mix up my chemical-free cleanser made from baking soda, lemon juice, and flatbeds. i.e. flatbeds to cart the rampant crap out.

3. First, I need to mix up my chemical-free cleanser made from baking soda, lemon juice, and hayseeds. "Clean and grow food for your domestic beasts simultaneously."

I love words. Aren't they great?