Have you ever run past a cemetery and hoped to find an open grave just your size? That pretty much sums up my 10-miler on Saturday morning. Three water stops and I still felt like I barely survived the 7 a.m. sweat bath.
I spent the afternoon cleaning our house for company, vacuuming our non-central air enhanced house and dashing around with a dust rag while Henry made a mess of the playroom. I felt like Sisyphus, but at least the mess wasn't dusty.
Then I made ice cream sandwiches. Behold the beauty:
This is them before I dipped them in melted chocolate.
I ran 10 miles in the sweltering heat. I cleaned my house in the sweltering heat. I deserve an ice cream sandwich. Or three.
I told my mother about the ice cream sandwiches of which I am so proud. Her response?
You know what Woody Allen says. "If it's not one thing, it's your mother."
When I was a teenager, hearing that response from her would have been enough for me to drop the pan in the trash with dramatic flourish and skip lunch for two years.
I'm not much more mature, but I am now my own person, so instead, this is what I did:
So to all the daughters out there, I have one thing to say:
Eat the sandwich.