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Therapy and sanity for ordinary parents of special kids.

Bye, Bye, Miss American Homemade Pie

By Gina (Tall Goofy One)

Gina’s personal recipe for Thanksgiving success — purchased items.

Thanksgiving! LFG!!!

There’s so much I love about you!  The time with extended family…football on TV…and of course, the chance to throw caution and Weight Watcher’s points to the wind, and gobble up whatever treat is laid before me (I’m like Pacman without the quarters).

Thanksgiving would be perfect for me, if not for one thing – the pressure.

Not the pressure of putting on my pants the day after; I’m used to that. It’s that damn pressure to bake or prepare something special. You see, unlike a lot of women, I’m not much of a cook or baker (or candlestick maker). And “feeding” my baking blues are Facebook and Instagram, which are flooded with photos of the delicious pies or desserts my “perfect” friends have prepared. 

I know, I know,  I shouldn’t compare myself to others. Plus, I bring other things to the table – like the ice cubes I usually contribute to every Thanksgiving meal. [Not to brag, but in 30 years of preparing them, not one family member has ever complained or given me a bad Yelp review.] 

My wise father always tells me that if you’re unhappy with something, you have the power to change it. So this year, I decided to heed is advice by making a startling announcement to my sister, the host of our family gathering.

“Pat, this year I choose to make ice cubes AND a blueberry pie!”

My husband was shocked. “Gina, I’m not sure. The last time you attempted to bake on Thanksgiving you ended up in the Emergency Room.”

“Mike, that and my 12-stitches are in the past. I can do this! The only thing standing in the way of me and baking a blueberry pie is me.”

That’s what I thought, until I went to the grocery store and came upon a big display of blueberry pies standing in front of me. I picked one up, and was amazed by how perfect and round it looked. I couldn’t help but wonder about the time, effort, mess, data charges, and health risk it would cost me to duplicate that pie. I was forced to undergo some painful self reflection:

What would be the harm in purchasing the pie? 

Would making the pie make me a nicer person or improve my already slim chances of making it to Heaven?

Was I really after the pie or the online adoration for making it?

My decision was made. I placed the pie in my wagon and took off to checkout, but not before swinging by and purchasing a bag of ice cubes. 

I was so proud of my decision that I decided to join the ranks and share my pie and ice cubes for the social world to see. 


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