Monday, June 6, 2011

I Prefer Pie to a Knuckle Sandwich

Lately, when I wake up in the morning I do two things: I reach to my right and grab a water bottle, remove the cap and drink about half of it. Then, I open my eye. Yes, one eye. Both would be too much. I linger in this semiconscious state for about two minutes, lying on my bed with one eye open until I have adjusted to the idea of waking up enough to open the other eye.

This morning, the one eye routine lasted a little longer than usual. I also discovered that I had slept through the night wearing one, large pearl earring. It's match lay on the floor. Apparently I was really tired last night... it was a rough one.

There are approximately four hundred and thirty-nine reasons to make pie.

I usually bake pie because I am happy.

Last night I was not.

Last night I was angry. I was hair-flipping, temper tantrum throwing, chucking-a-vase-at-the-wall pissed off. I do not own a vase and, luckily, have enough self control to not throw a fit.

I used to throw temper tantrums when I was a little girl. Bad ones. We are talking tantrums of myth. My mother said I did this because I was passionate. I love her for making my behavior sound far better than it actually was.

When I was a baby, and in a "moment of passion," the only way my dad could get me to calm down was to wrap me tightly in a blanket and walk me around the block. Maybe it was the fresh air or the blanket or a combination of the two, but whatever it was, it worked.

Rage seems like an appropriate reason to make an apple pie. The other day I was contemplating making this very treat. I was bored, a perfectly valid reason for pie-baking. But I am glad I resisted the urge (ahem, was too lazy). I left the apples in their paper bag, the flour in the cupboard, and pushed the cutting board against the wall.

Last night I needed these things. I needed to smash shortening into flour with my hands, to chop apples more roughly than they deserved it. I needed to beat up some dough with a rolling pin.

Did this make me feel better? Yes. Was it delicious? Yes. Am I returned to my relative calm? Not so much, but a slice of pie and a small distraction are a good place to start.

When I woke up this morning, tentatively opening one eye, I was testing the waters. The magic of the pie had worn off slightly, the effects of the day before are more profound. But my water bottle is right where it should be, next to my missing earring, and it looks like a sundress-worthy day. Ok, I guess I can open my other eye now.

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