My mom has a somewhat partial opinion of me, I think. It happens when you're the favorite, you know. She admires my knitting, my sewing even my family. And my pie crusts. She thinks I have perfect pie crusts. I called her today and told her they were ugly. She wouldn't listen. I know she imagines me with perfectly golden, flaky crusts. She's got some imagination, that mom of mine.
Here's the truth. I was going to say in black and white, but it's a color photo but somehow that doesn't have the same ring to it. I think that phrase was actually meant more for print and not photos anyway. I digress...
Sorry to spoil your image of the perfect daughter, mom but my pie crusts - they are ugly.
But we don't care because they'll soon be filled with the most wonderful banana cream pie (from scratch!) as soon as my husband gets back from the grocery store. I need more flour. My mom and I decided together corn starch probably wouldn't work. On another day, possibly. But you don't mess around with Thanksgiving Day Pie. Not in our house, anyway.
The beer. It cools.
The games. They wait.
To be continued. . .