I woke up with soreness in my abs. You know that type of pain, the good kind that means you did something right the day before. In my case it was an insane Core class I went to yesterday morning. I probably only did 45% of what we were asked but boy did I feel the burn every time I laughed today.
Tomorrow (or today I guess since it's past midnight) is my dad's birthday and I'm trying to help him celebrate it in a way that would suit him, which would be best described as low-key, intimate, and loaded with desserts. I have been planning on getting him an apple pie for his birthday for about a year now at Tartine, this wonderful bakery near my work. Their sour cherry tarts, real turkey sandwiches (with cranberry mayo), and bumbleberry pies are my favourites. Apple pie à la mode is probably my dad's favourite dessert--strange since he's Italian and/or could also choose from a gazillion other desserts--so this was not an arbitrary purchase on my behalf.
I don't know how I did it but I managed to lug a yoga mat, pie, gym bag, and shoulder bag down five big city blocks, and then carry all of the above minus yoga mat (thanks to a cubby-hole spot that opened up in the changeroom, finally!) down three more blocks onto a packed bus, squished onto one seat, and then walk seven minutes uphill to arrive home. I was exhausted but happy to deliver an unbroken pie. Mission completed.
April 9th is the birthday of my dear soulmate Miranda, aka Smeek. We celebrated her birthday last week with dinner and I celebrated on her behalf today with a slice of maple cream apple pie (bumbleberry is better). HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SMEEKY! Or should I say happy belated birthday. I will call you again soon.
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