Thursday, November 26, 2009

Pie. Not the math kind.

Pie. I made the Thanksgiving pie. That was my assignment: make pie. How could I screw that up? Well, it was easy. And to do it in such an ironic and oh-so-fitting way? I must share with all of you.

I started out with the crust. Do you know that I am TERRIFIED of pie crust? Yep. I'll make bread, cake, cookies...even CREAM PUFFS for 200, but don't make me make pie crust. See, I never really learned from the master, my Grandma Mickey. She made pies that people travelled across the state of Alaska to eat. Her crust could make you cry. She never taught me that skill. Instead, she taught me to make cake. This is pretty ironic when you consider that she was the worst cake baker in town--she hated to make them because they always fell or cracked or were heavy or dry or--you get the picture. But she adored me and I adored cake, so the summer I wanted to learn to bake, she made a cake every day with me so I could learn to make cake. I make darn good cake. But I never learned from her how to make pie crust.

When I married Matthew, I discovered that his mom, Marilyn makes amazing crust. She has generously tried to teach me to make pie. However, she cooks like her son. Perfectly. Meticulously. And she can make pie and I am still scared and it is WAY easier to just let her make it. But she wasn't here last night and that was my assignment: make pie.

Now, other years, when I've been making everything else, I've taken the low road and bought frozen pie crust--hey, I'm human! But, since this was all I was suppose to do, and I would never dream of serving "fake" pie after my husband's amazing gourmet meal, I made pie crust. Long story short on the crust: yummy, but really very ugly. Buttery, flaky, crispy--ugly as sin.

To fill my lovely crust, I decided to make pecan--and chickened out. I was too tired after a day of pre-Thanksgiving crafts with 36 3rd graders, recovering from my birthday and cleaning for my arriving in-laws. So, we went with pumpkin and chocolate cream pie. Not just any ordinary chocolate cream pie--scratch double chocolate chocolate pudding and fresh whipped cream chocolate cream pie. Yum. I prebaked the crust and whipped up our favorite chocolate pudding. As "easy as pie". Pie number 1 done.

On to pumpkin. Now a little background on pumpkin. We have a standing family story about pumpkin pie that goes back to when I took Matthew home for the first time to Alaska. For some odd reason, my mother asked him to make a pumpkin pie while we were there. Unfortunately, we didn't have all the ingredients as listed on the recipe. For those of you who know my husband, you know that means: major issues. My hubby is stickler for recipe following. He and my mother had their first "fight" as he told her she couldn't tell him how to cook and she proceeded to make the pie filling and dump it in his finished crust. Unfortunately, the turmoil meant that she didn't quite get all the ingredients in the filling and the result: sugarless pumpkin pie. Not so tasty.

So, given a little background, I'm sure your avid little imagination can see where my foggy tired brain lapsed last night. After joking with Matthew: "Should I put sugar in it?" I somehow failed to put the sugar in. Yep, you guessed it. Sugarless pumpkin pie. Two of them. YUCK! Thank HEAVENS for the chocolate cream pie. And the fact that none of us were hungry--we'd all eaten way too much of Matthew's amazing dinner!

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Got Church?

I love going to Church...Sundays are the best days--for the most part. I love them when I am busy doing the Lord's work and being with the Lord's children. In college, at one point, I would get up early, go take Uncle Delbert to church, go home, go to my ward, stay after for choir, go home, eat, have a little nap, visiting teach, be visiting taught/home taught or feed some one, go to a meeting or fireside and collapse in bed exhausted. It was one of the busiest days of the week for me. In fact, I always wondered how people had time to shop on Sundays--I am always too busy.

Now my Sundays are crazy still. And sometimes, peace is not found in abundance and at the end of the day, I wish I could have a do-over. I am working on that. It helps if I am uber-prepared and get myself ready first, turn on church music and try to focus on staying calm. Today was a good one. The kids were excited about their program, so were so anxious to get ready and look nice (they even let us comb their hair, which is a BIG step for them!) Bella even was okay with one of the 2 choices I offered. Grandma Susie was ready early and even the almost flat tire on the van didn't stop the driving machine that is Dad from getting us there on time. Hey, we sat in the cushioned pews--albeit on two of them, but we weren't in the gym!

The kids program was amazing. Orion told us all how he knows that Daddy loves him because he plays games with him and "nuggles" him at night. Matthew asked me if that was 5-year old blackmail for getting more of same in the future. Xavier shared the talk he gave at his friend's baptism this summer without a hitch--he spoke clearly and looked up at the audience. He was sincere and I was so proud. Then, he and 4 other friends sang a quartet. My boy can sing! He was on pitch (thanks Dad for that gene) and loud (thanks Mom for that gene) and he did great. Orion also kept the whole congregation from nodding off with his facial expressions. He was very involved in everything that the speakers were saying--listening intently and nodding...and grinning like crazy. I'd say Jim Carrey has competition in the future. Bella was a little put out to be left sitting with us and showed this for the rest of the day, but she'll get her turn someday.

As always, the kids headed to primary and I began the rounds of doing the Sunday business--Family History is a busy calling, who knew? And all those people we only see once a week. One of the hardest parts of living here is being 20 minutes from the church and up to 40 minutes from lots of the other members (not so far, but in the day-to-day craziness enough to keep us from getting together) is that we don't see each other, so we have to catch up on Sundays. I see that as part of my calling as a Mormon woman--don't you? Matthew, he moans and heads to the car. Me, it takes 20 minutes to get out the door and I probably have to run back in for one more quick chat. Then it is home to a ringing phone of appointments, calls and feeding of the urchins. We eat eggs and hashbrowns. Fast, filling and not too big of mess. Then everyone is off to "relax"...zzzzzzz if we are lucky. Usually reading, games and some creative play or crafting. Busy day? Yep. Add in a Stake meeting or a visiting teaching or home teaching appointment and craziness ensues...and my nap disappears.

I had high hopes as a youth that my Sundays would always be calm oasises (oasii?) of joy. We'd awake to the Mo-Tab early and pray, watch a conference talk and then walk (yes, I said "walk") to our ward house where all six (delusional child that I was) of my children would sit in matching (yes, matching) outfits and be perfect angels for all of Sacrament meeting. No activities needed. They would bask in the Spirit without a coloring book in sight. Maybe a journal for recording their deep insights. Yeah, not happening...I go to church armed with three kinds of treats, two bags of coloring books, activities and at least twelve toys. And yes, they still want to play with something out of my purse or Daddy's pocket. But occasionally they listen--and when learning occurs, I am reminded of why we are there. Xavier had to make a tough decision about keeping the Sabbath day holy a few weeks ago. He heard a story in Sacrament meeting about this very principle--and the miracle came. He made a good choice. Score one for persistence!

I find myself wondering how the pioneers got any rest at all on the Sabbath--they still had to tend the animals, water the crops, make the food (ummm, no frozen hashbrowns for them or eggs in a nice container in the fridge) and somehow get to church. But I know that like me, they found great joy in their Sunday routine of being with those other Children of God. Those special friends who shared their beliefs, the cares, the hopes and their dreams. Me too. And even on those Sundays when the alter-egos of my children take over (Zaviar the wicked, Stinkita, and Orion the Insane) and it is chaos and we are late and we sit in the gym, I am buoyed up by my faith and my attendance in God's House.