Time For Pie

When I started this blog and wrote the blurb off to the right hand side there, I predicted that I would "mostly just write about food" but running posts have dramatically overshadowed baking posts--who'd have guessed?

So, it's time for a post about Pie, which will neatly encompass both subjects.

On a side note, James, who is customarily greeted by his Aunt Helen with "Who's my pumpkin pie?!", will frequently, out of the blue, with a big smile on his face, just say "Pie." for no apparent reason.  It's just this thing he does.  And yet, he's not much of a pie eater....odd.

Baking Pie
The kids recently helped me make an apple pie.  What's funny is that they'd all rather bake it than eat it, and they'd rather prepare it than bake it.  In other words, the great attraction isn't so much "baking with mommy" as it is "cranking the apple peeler-corer-slicer, making a mess, and fighting over the measuring spoons".  But I'm still going to say that they love baking with mommy.  Anyway...here's some proof that fun was had and a pie was created (not sure why the pix came out orangey...). 

I popped the raw pie in the chest freezer and ran away with Alan for the weekend (see my post on Greatness) and Mary pulled it out and baked it in time for our return.  Yummm!

Running for Pie
Go here (but don't forget to come back afterwards) and read Emilie's post about Turkey Trek 2010, aka "the Race for Pie".  The Marks-Soule-Donahey clan will be there in full force--join us if you are so inclined!
Turkey Trek 2009 was supposed to be my first race ever.  Emilie's facebook invitation a year ago was the catalyst that finally started me running.  Sure, I'd been reading her blog for a while, marveling at her running accomplishments, and getting overly emotional about her marathon adventure. And Yes, on accasion I'd heard "you should take up running" from her, from Jenn, from my husband....  But I had always scoffed and said "I don't think so" with a look on my face that said "Me? run?? you're crazy!"  And then Emilie sent that little facebook invitation.  I don't remember exactly what (if any) personal note she included, but what I heard was "You can do this. You should do this. This is fun. Come join us..."  like a siren from the sea.  And I said to myself  "Four miles.  I can walk four miles." And very quietly, just to myself, I said "and maybe I could learn to run by then."  And that same day I started Hal Higdon's 30/30 program on the rec center track.  But apparently, what the gods heard was "Oh YEAH!  I can WALK that! And I'm gonna RUN, too. It'll be EASY!"  and they cried "HUBRIS!" the way residents of Salem used to cry "WITCH!" and tossed a lightning bolt at my ankle during zumba class so I could not, in fact, walk four miles on Thanksgiving morning.  So last year, I showed up anyway, with my air-caste and my canned goods and my camera and my mom (who was there to make sure I didn't do something foolish) and we gave the group a good send-off and then I went home and finished my cleaning and baking (yes, including a pie) and hosted Thanksgiving dinner, none of which was particularly gentle on the ankle.  We got someone to take a picture of the St. John's moms who were present and Jenn put it on a travel mug for me and I cherish it, even though it reminds me that I didn't do the run.

me, April, Emilie, Jenn, Anne-Marie

I think it was knowing that feeling even on such a small scale that drove me to do the Half even though I was ill-prepared and miserable with shingles.  So I'm really excited for this year, for a new picture, (although we'll all miss you, Jenn!) and for this wonderful incentive to have all my preparations done before Thanksgiving so I can really enjoy the whole day...from morning run until evening pie.