A slice of Humble Pie

I am a good cook. My mom taught me to cook and you know what they say when you learn from the best...actually I don't know what they say but let me assure you, I am pretty darn good.

A lot of my self esteem is wrapped up in this. Sometimes it is hard for me to think I am a good mother or creative or organized; all things I strive for. But I do know that I can feed my family well. I show my family I love them through food. I think that is something else I learned from my mother.

About four years ago we celebrated Thanksgiving with my family and my mom let me make all the pie crusts. It was a right of passage for me. She was letting me take the reigns. No one else has ever been given that much trust.
________________________________________________
A few months ago some friends of ours invited us over for dinner. They served us a wonderful meal and even made homemade apple pie for dessert. Blaine loved the apple pie. He said so. In fact, he said so about five times while he was licking his plate clean. (My plate did not get licked clean, no where near. But Blaine would have offered to lick it clean.) He even comented about how much he liked her pie as we were leaving their house to which she(Mrs. Apple) obliviously, sweetly but obliviously, offered to teach me how to make her apple pie since my husband loved it so much. Deep breath, deep breath.

Does any one else see where this is going?

It quickly became a joking/sore spot with me. I claimed I was never going to make apple pie again if Blaine didn't like mine as much as Mrs. Apple's pie. Then it grew to I was never going to make pie again. The next time Blaine positively commented on something I made for dinner, I didn't believe him. I thought he was just trying to make me feel good.

I started planning my Thanksgiving meal. We are hosting a large group and I was assigning food to everyone. I wanted to make the pies. I wanted to show I could do it. I started planning how I could make different types, use different recipes and then he would have to like one of them better than Mrs. Apple's, right? Then I got a more wicked plan brewing. What if everyone brought a pie, and I could somehow get Mrs. Apple to contribute one (even though she was going to The States for Thanksgiving) and then we could have a blind taste-test. I could come up with a system, rate each aspect of the pie; the crust, tartness, the flavor, the appearance, etc. I could make little score cards for everyone. And in the end, surely everyone would pick mine as the best and all would be right with the world again.

Wow, evil plotting is exhausting.

I calmed down a little and realized I wouldn't make any pies. Let them eat cake! Just kidding. But what is Thanksgiving truly without Blaine straining a hamstring during the turkey bowl and me making apple pie? So I decided I would make one and we would just eat it the day before with our family. I even made the kids stop talking about it and decided I wouldn't bring it up any more and I would forget it ever happened. I could almost see myself laughing at it in 25 years.

Yesterday, I talked to Mrs. Apple and found out their trip had been canceled. I invited her and her husband to our Thanksgiving celebration. She offered to bring an apple pie because she knows how much my husband likes hers.

Oh, It's on sista!

I told Blaine Mr. and Mrs. Fuji Apple were coming, and what she said, and how it made me feel. He said he was sorry. I said, "Sorry for what you said and for liking her pie better than mine?" He replied, "No, sorry you got offended."

I called my mom on the way to the store, armed with my shopping list of tart baking apples. I thought she would laugh at me for the troubles I layed at her feet but she didn't. She sympathized. And then she said, "You know what this feeling is don't you? It's called pride."

I know, I know, I know!!! And I was doing so good until I had it thrown back in my face. Ok not good but I was dealing with it...I had begun to deal with it...I was seeing that I was going to deal with it sometime very soon.

I didn't buy any apples, just sweet potatoes, and butter and pecans, lots and lots of pecans.

Never would I have guessed that I would be doing a lot of praying about pie but I have. And the chip on my shoulder is getting smaller each time.

And this Thanksgiving, I will graciously accept Mrs. Apple's pie into my home, thank her for bringing it, and cut my husband an extra large piece of it because I know it will make him happy.

I, for one, will not be making an apple pie this year.

Blaine's favorite pie is pecan pie anyways!

Priesthood Party

The boys in my family would always go out for ice cream after attending the Priesthood Session of Conference. My mom started making it a special night for us girls that got to stay at home. Since being married I haven't lived near my mom or any of my sisters so I decided to make my own fun. For several years I have tried to invite someone over while my husband was away and treat myself to a little something special.

This year I hosted a party for 25 of my friends (and 15 of their kids). It was another push-me-out-of-my-comfort-zone-so-I-can-grow moments.

Let me preface this a little.

I called almost each person myself and had to speak in Spanish. I begged Blaine to call but he said I needed the practice. I hid in the closet and had to give myself a pep talk each time before I called someone. You should have seen me acting like a shy boy trying to ask someone on a date. It is hard enough to speak to them at church but to speak over the phone is ten times harder. In Guatemala, people do not just have parties to hang out and have fun. There have been plenty over the top birthday parties with 150 of my closest friends and family to celebrate a 1 year old's birthday party, but nothing like this. After talking to one lady, I told her I was hosting this get-together during the evening when our husbands were going to be gone. She asked me, "why?" I nicely said because it gives me an excuse to make some really good food (and eat it!) Does there have to be more of a reason than that?

For the first forty-five minutes, no one ate anything. I asked one lady why not and she told me everyone is shy to get up and be the first. I announced I was American and not shy about eating at all. Everyone followed suit. There was so much yummy stuff, I went back for fifths! (what? we had small plates!)

We played the Candy Bar Game at the end. (I had bought about 20 candy bars and set them in the middle of the room. You roll two dice. If you get doubles, you get to pick a candy bar. Once they are all gone, you start stealing them from other people.) I couldn't find a Symphony-the usual favorite. Strangely, everyone fought over the Skittles. I thought that was hilarious.

On a side note: When it was Dora's turn to take candy from someone, she felt so awkward that she wouldn't get up and take it from anyone. We had to stop the game and MAKE her pick something. Shortly after that I found her in the kitchen doing the dishes! She didn't not feel comfortable being one of the ladies.

Once again-no pictures. My camera broke that night. I guess you won't be able to see the adorable name tags I made for everyone. I copied the idea from my talented friend Valerie.