In October 1987 I made a Key Lime Pie. Then I took the pie for a ride. It spent the night in the car and in the morning, with a satisfied little smile, I turned the uncut pie over and with a snap dropped it from the pie plate into the trashcan in the garage. There! That'll show him!
I remember the date because I remember the report of a California earthquake was on television. I know there was another, larger quake in October 1989 but I'm pretty certain this was 1987. My mind and memory work like that sometimes. But I digress.
Paul's absolute favorite dessert is pie. I'm not sure he ever met a dessert he didn't like but pie is the favorite. And I think key lime is pretty close to the top. So with much love and care that particular day I made a key lime pie. He was impressed when it came out of the oven and sat cooling on the rack.
Then the fight started. About what? Who knows! Not a clue. I was mad enough though that I grabbed my keys and headed for the car. I got into the car and thought..."oh no, I'm not leaving the pie for him to enjoy while I'm mad." Back into the house, I took the pie out to the car and left.
I drove around aimlessly for a little while but wasn't ready to go home yet so I stopped to see friends. After watching the reports of the quake for a while, I went home. No resolution to the argument, just silence which the next day slowly went away.
Still feeling like I had to make some statement, in the morning I went out to the garage, grabbed the pie and WHAM into the trash. With a smug little smile I went back into the house, washed the pie plate and put it away. It was as if the pie never existed.
Of course the fight was over nothing, aren't most? A day or two later.......
Paul: "Whatever happened to the key lime pie?"
Me: "I threw it away"
Paul: "That was clever"
Me: "I thought so"
I didn't make another key lime pie for nearly 20 years. I really don't bake that often which was why the first pie was such a momentous occasion.
Yesterday at the grocery store in the 'slightly used' produce section as my mother calls it, they had apples. Eight to a package, in great shape, they were only $1.50. I bought some and a Pillsbury Pie Crust. Once again, thinking he would be surprised and pleased, I lovingly made a pie.
Paul came in later, tired and a little cranky, after cutting down a tree for next winter's firewood. After a couple cross words, I said "Don't give me any crap or the pie goes for a ride."