(This blog has moved and is now located at http://www.thelumberjackswife.com)
The following post will be brought to you picture less.
For I have none.
On Wednesday night, I got my haircut. I told you all this on Wednesday morning and none of you seemed to notice. Therefore, I will not show you a picture of the new me. For all you know, I am now sporting a mullet.
While getting my haircut, I pleaded with my darling hairdresser-friend to please wax my eyebrows, seeing as how I have not had time to maintain the beasts since our move.
She did. And that was that.
After the haircut, I went to the grocery store to get some items to make some pies.
Yes, that’s right.
We were attending dinner at our friends’ house and I was in charge of dessert.
And who doesn’t like pie?
As I am checking out, the Checker Man stops what he is doing and gasps, “What happened to your eyes?!”
Checker Man: Oh.
Checker Man: So, Sweetie, are you expecting company? Look at all this fresh fruit! Bananas! Strawberries!
Me: Oh, I am just making some pies.
Checker Man: Get out! Do you mean to tell me there is a modern lady out there who actually cooks? You are amazing. Most women would just buy frozen pies!
Hmmm . . .
1. Can we not agree he was weird?
2. This was my first sign that I was not destined to make pies.
3. When I got in the car, I looked at my eyes. It looked like someone beat me. I think my sensitive-accutane skin did not appreciate the hot wax/ripping paper combo.
In order to get to the dinner on time, I needed to leave my house by 3:30. You see, we live out in the middle of NOWHERE, and I had to pick up my handsome Lumberjack, plus we had to run some errands before going to dinner.
So . . . 3:30 was my departure time.
I pulled my 2 refrigerated pie crusts out of the fridge.
Fact: Lumberjill cannot make her own pie crusts.
I get one into the pie pan, but the other rips. So, I smoosh it all into a ball and try to roll it out. It is not happening. Finally I get the crust to kind of spread around the pie pan and pop them into the oven.
One works. One completely fails.
Who messes up refrigerated pie crust?
This, my friends is a problem. I must make 2 pies, for then I won’t have enough. I don’t live close enough to a store, plus my boys are napping.
And Mommy Rule #1: Don’t interrupt naptime!
So, I had an epiphany.
I am 29, for the love of Pete. It is time I made a stupid pie crust. I start making the pudding for the chocolate cream pie and trying to find the recipe for a pie crust.
Here are all the events that happened in the course of about 20 minutes:
1) My boys got out of bed and were playing the piano.
2) I found a recipe for Pioneer Woman pie crust. But I was out of vinegar. Who is ever out of vinegar? Honestly.
3) I discovered I had been reading the wrong recipe for pie filling and had been creating banana cream instead of chocolate cream.
4) This is a problem because the other pie I was making was Fresh Strawberry and one of the people eating tonight does not eat bananas or strawberries.
5) Guess who is now making 3 pies?
6) Who makes 3 pies? Excessive, is it not?
7) The boys have gotten out of bed and are now playing puzzles.
8) I find a recipe in the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook for “Easy Oil Pastry” Easy! I like it!
9) It was a hideous excuse for a pie crust.
10) I am sweating. It is like 90 degrees and the oven has been at 450 for like ever now because I keep messing up pie crusts.
11) Threaten my boys again.
12) Summon my girls to come help me. I start Sweet Pea on slicing 4 pounds of strawberries and put Daisy Mae in charge of stirring the pie filling on the stove.
13) As I am separating the eggs, I kept getting confused and dumping the whites with the yolks and the yolks with the whites.
Oh, the humanity!
Throughout all of this, I just keep laughing and saying, “Mommy is so stupid!”
Finally, I manage to make two pie crusts that somewhat resemble pie crust. True, they do not reach the entire perimeter of the pie plate. True, there are holes int he bottoms from stretching. True, they look awful.
But can they contain a pie?
Yes. Yes, they can.
3pm. My sister calls.
Meagan: What’s up?
Me: Oh, I am just having pie drama.
Meagan: Pie drama? You make pie?
Me: Nope! Sure don’t. It’s not like its “my specialty.” It’s not like anyone cares if I bring pie. But I decided to make pie today.
Meagan: What kind?
Me: Chocolate Cream, Banana Cream, and Fresh Strawberry
Meagan: Dude. Why so many?
Me: I don’t know! It’s been a stressful day!
Meagan: I am sure no one would care if you picked up a pie from the store.
Me: I know, I know. I got to go.
It is now 3:30, my boys never went to bed, I am covered in flour, cornstarch, and berry jiz, and I have yet to figure out how I am transporting the pies that must chill for 3-6 hours.
I am brilliant, am I not?
I try to find the cooler. It is nowhere to be found. I call my husband. It is in the back of the camp trailer and I don’t know how to open the back of the trailer.
He has to talk me through it.
I try to find ice.
My husband, unbeknownst to me, used all the ice this morning for his lunch cooler.
I try to find things to transport these stupid pies.
I used a cake carrier, a canning pot, and a frying pan.
It is now 4:15. I look afright.
I take off my shorts and put on a jean skirt.
Feels too tight, which reminds me that I am supposed to be actually following Weight Watchers. Next, I put on some capris. They are funky at the bottom and need to be ironed.
There is no time for ironing!
So, I put the shorts back on and give each of my girls a wet washcloth and instruct them to “Wash Mommy.”
As Sweet Pea is scrubbing my bum, she looks at me and says, “Mommy? Why didn’t you just make cookies?”
Did it have to be that hard? We were 1 hour later than we originally planned.
So here is your mission if you choose to accept it:
TELL ME HOW TO MAKE A DECENT BLEEPITY-BLEEP PIE CRUST!
I apologize. I don’t really ever say anything bleepity-bleep. But, seriously.
Yesterday was a day.