Or maybe it’s as satisfied as pie. I’ve been feeling kind of over-tired and over-worked here at the end of my vacation week. It sure made me a lot happier to bake pie. It doesn’t really matter that the blueberry pie dripped and burned on the bottom of the oven – I can always run the oven cleaner later. Or that I pulled a little skin off the inside of my upper lip with the frozen spoon that I was using to test to see if the blueberry juices had thicked up sufficiently.
These pies are going to Bruce Renwick’s memorial in Burrows Park this afternoon – when we moved to Chicago in 1991, we had our going away party at Burrows. It was the closest park to the John & Al’s daycare, Magic Penny – so they had spent lots of time in that park. Bruce’s memorial is there because it’s near the Mendota Yacht Club, and they’re having a regatta in his honor. I’m just going for the lunch, after. And I’m sure that I won’t be pleased with how I look when I get dressed to go to the memorial, but it’ll be OK, because the pies will look better than I do <grin>.
