The Ballad Of The Blueberry Pie

Blueberry pie and I go way back....

When I was a kid, my mother, little brother and I lived with my grandparents for about 5 years. Not a very good period in our lives, but we had a roof over our heads, and food on the dinner table every night...all was well, except for this one wrinkle, we never, ever got dessert...

yes, I said never. ever. got. dessert.

Let the weeping begin...

And one of my first memories as a child was going out to dinner with my grandparents to the Elks Club. A big deal since it was a rarity to go out for dinner. But it became an utterly ginormous big deal when we were told...

"yes, tonight you may have dessert."

As I was lifted back into my chair after having fainted, I noticed this little folded card on the table by the salt and pepper shakers. How this mouth-watering vision had earlier escaped my eyes, I'll never really know. But there it was. Teasing me. Taunting me. Sticking it's blue tongue out at me and sing-songing, "nanny-nanny boo-boo!" What was this cardboard vision of sugar, you ask?

The Blueberry Pie Special. Ala-mode.
wait, I'm feeling faint again...

So with much glee, I ordered my first piece of blueberry pie. And we've had a love/love relationship ever since...

I love to eat it. And it loves to make me fat.

And so for that reason only, I don't eat blueberry pie anymore. I avert my eyes from it on my menu when we go out to dinner. I walked quickly past the frozen pie section at the Winn-Dixie when I'm shopping. I drive fast by diners, truck stops, and Denny's. I avoid blueberry pie at all cost during the whole year.

Except during Christmas.

I have blueberry pie during the Christmas holidays. I enjoy a piece or two during the holidays and then when New Year's rolls around, I'm done with blueberry pie for another year.

Except this year...

I baked a blueberry pie on Tuesday afternoon (frozen one, I got lazy this year) and then left the house to run some errands. And when I returned home a couple of hours later...

no pie left.

I don't what came over me. I went from the kitchen to the each room in the house, looking for the tell-tale signs of blueberry pie consumption...dirty plates and forks, blueberry stained paper napkins, half-empty glasses of milk. I was like a crazed animal, searching room to room. I wanted answers, I wanted justice, I wanted to know WHO ATE ALL THE BLUEBERRY PIE!?!?

It took some time, but I finally got my answer. And my heart broke when I learned the truth. I didn't want to believe it. My beloved children had scarfed down the entire blueberry pie while I was gone. They ate the whole pie. Not a berry left. Not a crust crumb. Nothing.

I think I even cried myself to sleep that night.

But the next morning I awoke, made my apologizes to the family for my bizarre blueberry pie meltdown, and went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. And as I was pouring, I froze. Could it be? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Was I remembering correctly? I turned towards the refrigerator, opened the freezer door, and there it was. Another blueberry pie. I had completely forgotten the buy-one-get-one deal from the week before!

So, all is well with the world now, I got to eat a couple of pieces of blueberry pie, my new year can start pie-free and my children are almost able to sleep through night without waking up yelling, "no! it wasn't me!"

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