It's Coming

 

Probably breaking one of the condo rules here, I’ve just snuck to the woods where I’ve unloaded – to the likely ecstasy of woodland creatures – all the peelings from the apple pie.

Today is pie day, not to be confused with Pi day on March 14, when math lovers celebrate that magical number. I’ve cranked out two, a pecan and an apple, to bring to my sweet daughter’s tomorrow. This hardly counts as work – I’m not even making my own crust as I used to do. An apple pie is fairly labor-intensive, all that peeling and slicing, but you could have a lobotomy and still turn out a tasty pecan pie.

          This is nothing compared to my Thanksgiving days of old. For most of my married life, I was the destination for the holiday, and of course the numbers grew as the family did, my kids and their kids, in-laws, and in-law kids, not to mention the portion that came and stayed with us for several days.

And all this while I was working full-time. In years past, by now the table would be set, beds readied, house kinda clean, and pies waiting on the cold porch. Then today (after the half-day of teaching) the rubber would really hit the road. No wonder I had to suppress a giggle the other day in the grocery store at all the people frantically loading their carts with squash and poring over shopping lists.