It’s about time we had a pie on this blog! Right? I’m not sure why the universe hands me so much more cake than pie, but hopefully this ratio will shift, come Thanksgiving-time.
Sorry for not posting this in the AFTERNOON. (Not that you care.) Yesterday was a whirlwind. Whoop, there it went. I had a very long day and conked out on my bed mid-IM. (Sorry, everybody I fell asleep on. It’s not you– it’s me!) (Haha, upon rereading– I didn’t LITERALLY fall asleep ON them.) (So I claim…)
I’m notorious amongst everyone I’ve ever lived with for being a sort of Energizer Bunny– I’m up and I’m going and I’m going and I’m going. And when I reach the point of exhaustion (er, to extend the metaphor– when my batteries run out), I fall asleep wherever I am. Couch, bed, floor… as Bea would say, DONE. (Also: sorry, Bea– you were an ignored-IM victim.)
But usually when this happens, I wake up around 3am and put myself to sleep properly. So I just started to do that… and realized that it was 5:45am. And my alarm was 15 minutes away from ringing. But luckily I’m awake. Just disoriented about what time it is.
So I’m on a clock to do this entry fast and go to the gym! Ready, break!
Generally my version of apple pie is a Trader Joe’s Apple Walks into a Bar, crumbled into some vanilla yogurt or Cool Whip. So real, actual apple pie is like… whoa, decadence.
See the picture of the pie up above? That late afternoon light was so serendipitously gorgeous. Looks like an old-fashioned vision of a pie cooling in some country kitchen. I think the lattice crust adds to the going-back-in-time feeling. LATTICE! That takes old-fashioned talent.
(After we cut into the pie, everybody went, “Oh no, we didn’t take a picture of it!” I was like… puh-leeze. Of course I took one.)
Said pie was baked by co-worker Daphne, on the occasion of TWO writer birthdays. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THEM! (When somebody else has a birthday, it frees me from being the birthday person anymore. Whew! Duties over.) (There weren’t any birthday person duties.)
The pie contained both Fuji and Granny Smith apples (if I recall correctly), sliced thinner than I’ve ever seen in an apple pie. And they tasted great, so it totally worked out. (Sadly my picture isn’t clear enough to see the skillfulness of the slices.) (Is skillfulness a word? Spell check seems to think so.) (Gimme a break. It’s 6am.)
Also– I didn’t even realize why he was using the microwave until hours later (I’m slow on the uptake), but I suspect Benevolent Boss Man gave his slice a quick little heat-up. Amazing idea– that’s why they pay him the big bucks. (But it was good cold. No complaints!)
Finally, a “something a la something” caption that is not a result of caption mental-block. (That’s my go-to when I’m stuck.)
Okay, now that I’ve eaten that pie/looked at it again, I really must hit the gymborino. Since my birthday miracle I have been able to do back bends every day– EXCEPT in my actual yoga class. My arms were pooped out. Figures.
The pie went like hotcakes (or like… pie). Not so much that purple ice cream cake– I’m still actively resisting it, as it lurks in the office freezer.
Until we snack again… (Oh my gosh, how did I not think of that before? Might replace xoxo…) (And if you want to add some spice, try sexoxo.) (Just thought of that one a few days ago… no no, stop thanking me, I’m blushing now.)