Thursday, November 10, 2011


I confess, I am a wanna-be pie baker. For some reason that comes across as a great personal flaw when played over in my head, I cannot seem to motivate myself in the direction of actually baking a pie though. (I’ve tried in the past, but I lose interest when rolling.)
Yet, I simply have this nagging feeling that, if I were an expert pie baker, the type who can fill two flaky crusts with flavors so outstanding they melt in your mouth, all while heating the kitchen and sending out wafting smells of goodness into the neighborhood, I would somehow be a better person.
Maybe it is my desire to lure people in with my special, magical powers, of which I feel largely incapable of honing truthfully—so I envision baking a pie to be a good tool for that. Still, I only want to pretend to bake the pies. Sigh. The act turns out to be unappealing when actually performed. Maybe I just haven’t found my flavor yet.
The other day, I had a distinct and visceral memory of Samantha on Bewitched, the 1960’s television show about a good witch with powers she only used when absolutely necessary (every show!). She wiggled her nose right out of a predicament and right into the best solution every time. Oh how I desired to have those powers in that moment. I would’ve wiggled up a pie.
Maybe therein lies my problem, I am a product of being born on the cusp of the 1950’s coming to a close, and the 1960’s taking hold, an extremely split-off time for pie bakers in our culture, I would imagine. So part of me wants to be the pie baking “Hazel”, who always pleased the Baxter’s, or better, the mother with a smart sweater and terrific kitten heels who at least helped Hazel by attending the market with her to select the apples! Or maybe I want to be, Carol Brady, who was busy on the PTO but still had Alice bake those pies.
But the other part wants to be a rebel mom and declare, “Down with all pie!”  (Pie is a nutritional disaster by today’s terms anyway.) Honestly, if I was forced to choose which of those types I would really rather be, it would lean toward the fringe clad woman, standing up for a cause. Maybe this is great way to hone my powers.
No, this isn’t entirely true, because sitting on the edge of constant change never really allows one to sit with what is. But, what if “what is”, is just this woman who really doesn’t want to bake a pie (and who is allergic to gluten anyway!) and really just wants to be in the forest hiking with her dog? Well, there is only one way to find out…