Rowing and Scrabble and Pie, Oh My!

I bought a food processor Sunday, and I baked a perfect apple pie Sunday night. Hooray for Val’s crust! (And Cuisinart!)

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The boy and I went white water rafting on the middle Youghiogheny on Saturday. We rented a two-person raft called a ducky because I thought it would be more fun for us to feel like we were on our own little adventure, despite the fact that we were on a guided tour with a large group. The bulk of the party was a Pakistani family reunion filled with dads and uncles who were gallantly concerned about my obvious single mom-ness. Another group was comprised of three young Asian couples who apparently had trouble with English. They were oblivious to the guides’ instructions and spent the afternoon drifting about and shouting at one another and/or giggling. Who knew the Laurel Highlands embraced such diversity?

So back to the rafting: We popped into our little raft and started rowing like pros. Teddy loved acting all manly and calling out directions: “Hard right!” “Hard left!” The weather was gorgeous and the water was clear and cold—every time I got splashed I thought “tonic”, but not like a healing potion-type tonic. I thought of the bracing mettle of gin and tonic. It was weird, but exhilarating.

And then I realized that the “rapids” were really more like “tepids” because we haven’t had much rain. The river was slow and peaceful: Lovely if you’re drinking beer on a pontoon boat, but not so nice when you’re expecting to spend the afternoon in Nature’s amusement park. I spent four hours rowing. And rowing. And rowing. Teddy got tired after a while, of course, so he kicked back and soaked up the sun, trailing his fingers in the water. I kept rowing. Ted hopped out of the raft and swam around for a while. I rowed. You get the picture.

My arms were so tired that I couldn’t lift my nephew that evening. (Stupidly, I kept thinking, “I just flew in from the coast, and boy are my arms tired!”) I don’t think I could have lifted a gallon of milk, yet I was barely sore at all when I woke up Sunday. I had that pleasant feeling of knowing I’d exerted myself, but that was it. My peasant ancestry makes itself apparent—I’m hardy! :-)

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I spent the day Sunday catching up on house work and laundry and grocery shopping and pie baking, and then had a picnic yesterday with some people from school, whom I beat soundly at Scrabble. Is it rude to beat your guests at games, even if you’ve fed them steaks, baked potatoes, salad and homemade apple pie?