Okay, so on Saturdays I teach acting classes for teens and kids at the McCarty Talent Agency here in town. (Way better than last time - when I was a human potty at a far lesser agency.) This last weekend started a new 8 week session and this particular class was for the kids and their parents - basically a run down on the ins and outs of the agency and the professional acting business. As they were filing out, one of the moms turned to me and said, "I love your blog. My only complaint is that you don't post enough."I guess I have officially arrived. I’ve met a stranger who reads my blog AND I’ve gotten hate mail. Totally cool.
Mom at class, and anyone else who cares, I apologize for not posting enough for the past while. I need three assistants to help me run my life with all I have going on - one of them could certainly blog regularly. But, alas, there is only me. I vow to do better.
And so, just for you acting-class-Mom-who-reads-my-blog, for no reason whatsoever, a totally random post about… pie.
Ah, pie. I love pie. On my Facebook profile it says: Full Time Single Mom, Maker of Books and Films and Happy Things, Die Hard Smart-Ass, Likes pie. This has led to several men that I don’t know sending me the same message: “So, what kind of pie do you like?” Roughly translated this actually means: “So, what do you look like naked?” Online flirting? Not interested.
But I do like pie. A lot. One would think that my favorite would be chocolate but chocolate cream pie is just a big fat tease. Unless it is made of fudge and Oreos I prefer fruit pies. The tangier the better. I just Googled “types of pie” and the first one my eyes landed on was Steak and Liver Pie. Mental note: never eat a pie made in England.
As a teenager I always wanted to go to a movie with a whole pie and a fork and just chow down. This I vow to do the very next time a movie is released with Johnny Depp not looking like a gay clown, The Rock not in a tutu, or Gerard Butler not with that woman he knocked up that isn’t me.
How can you not love pie? You can have your finger in too many of them, they are in the sky and they are humble. You can be nice as, easy as and sweet as – what would I call my daughter if not Sweetie Pie?
Best of all, if anyone tells me again to be as American as apple pie I have a valid reason to kick them in the shin and yell, “Shut your pie hole!” (which, by the way, tops the awesome response list - right alongside, “Shut up, dill hole!”)
I leave you with a poem:
But I, when I undress me
Each night, upon my knees
Will ask the Lord to bless me
With apple-pie and cheese.
In the name of Marie Calendar. Amen.
4 comments:
Funny! I love the MyStoopidSpace post. I don't know why but "I don't red" made me laugh til' I cried. BTW, I love pie too!
This love of yours must have never "registered" in my brain, silly me. I happen to be "famous" for my banana cream pie. Want some?
I also love pie. I don't love fruit pie. It's all about crust for me.
I really love random. I am the acting class mom and totally understand the "too busy to post" lifestyle. Thanks for thinking of me and posting anyway.
It's all about the banana cream pie that my great aunt Thora Walker often made. "Aunt Thora" as she was known to everyone, lived in the "toolies" between Syracuse and Hooper, Utah but technically she was in our stake and on Fast Sundays when I was a wee Deacon of a toeheaded Mormon boy, I always made sure I got the Fast Offering collection route that went to Aunt Thora's house.
Even as a kid I suffered from severe bipolar depression and not eating for 24 hours once a month was an excruciating ordeal that usually ended with me feeling suicidal. Aunt Thora, bless her heart, knew it was really hard on me, so when I showed up to collect her Fast Offerings, there was always a freshly-baked banana cream pie waiting for me on her formica-and-chrome Depression era kitchen table.
There was just one catch. To "earn" my piece of pie, the month before she had given me a "missionary scripture" to learn. When I returned, I had to recite it and the passage reference back to her perfectly, and then the pie was all mine!
The very first scripture she had me learn was Ephesians 2:19-20 - "Now therefore ye are no more strangers and foreigners but fellow citizens with the Saints of the household of God, and are built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Jesus Christ himself as the chief cornerstone." Almost 40 years later, and I still haven't forgotten it. Wow.
Despite Aunt Thora's sly indoctrination methods, I didn't care one bit. Because it was all about the reward. Her crusts were buttery, Criscoey, flakey perfection. And she didn't overdo the bananas, as many often tend to do. Just a few slices scattered in the bottom and then the most delicious, cool creamy vanilla custard poured on top, a few more sliced bananas on the top. And then the whip cream. And not just any whip cream. My grandpa (Thora's brother-in-law) ran a dairy farm. She got her milk and cream from him. So this was dairy cream that had been in a cow less than 48 hours earlier. Whipped and sugared to fluffy apotheosis. The first bite was always the best. The tight hungry stomach growled in anger and then...one sweet forkful later...oh my. It was like an orgasm times God.
But beyond the pie (and that's a LOT!) I'll always be grateful to Aunt Thora for having me memorize that scripture.
Post-Mormonism, it's still an important scripture to me. Growing up Gay in the LDS church, I felt the failure of its promise deeply. I was a stranger and foreigner and never once felt even vaguely welcomed as a fellow Saint. So I left to seek that place, that community, where I would be welcomed extravagantly - a pilgrim who finds home at last.
And what a journey it's been!
Post a Comment