Today should have been a disaster, as experience would predict.
Sweet baby boy spent the night whimpering and heaving, as his insides tried to make their way to the outside. And while sleep evaded us, bodily fluids certainly did not. Gross, I know. Poor Judah didn't know what was happening, but I did. And I knew my 9 am test at work was going to be a bear on only a few hours of sleep.
I had planned to nap when I got home, but the viruses mocked me from the commode. They sang tunes of victory from the water faucets, and the thought of crawling into bed with them tonight was enough motivation to grab the bleach and go to war. Honestly, I am quite sure its too late, and the little devils are raising their flag of conquest somewhere in my GI tract. My boy, bless his heart, offered gentle kisses all day. And on the cheek wouldn't do. He wanted pucker action. How could I refuse?
The sunshine showed up on our doorstep like an old friend beckoning one to the front porch for lemonade and a hearty laugh. We, germ saturated and sleep deprived, answered her call, and she, in turn, honored our company by infusing energy as we soaked in her healing rays.
Though hours earlier on my commute to and from work, my heart cried out to the Lord - oh, how the city suffocates the life right out of me. Concrete blocks and parking lots for miles on end leak their gray right into my heart; "Lord, I need GREEN!" I begged. A conversation, a prayer, and an appropriate read, and something inside inhaled deeply of crisp, sweet life. I felt the blood returning and my heart dared to come alive in small ways. But ways that awaken in me a worship only I can offer.
You would not believe what an apron, an open window, and a rolling pin will do for this girl. Add in a few fresh cut wildflowers (though it is much too early for this), and you have just served me up a slice of heaven - complete with whipped cream (the real kind).
Its been too long since a pie - from pile of flour transformed to bubbling wonder - has beckoned from the oven, releasing aromas of home, delight, belonging.
So long, in fact, I've lost my favorite crust recipe. But I remembered the secret ingredient and located a substitute recipe that included it.
Raspberries and strawberries are plentiful in my fridge, so Razzlberry Crumble Pie it was.
I popped freshly rinsed berries in my mouth as I cooked. One for the pie, one for me. And as I bit into plump juicy flesh, I saw it:
I let out a scream any city girl would be proud of. Though I hale from the land of rolling hills whose acres of pasture saturate the air with the distinct aroma of fresh manure whenever it rains, I still don't like creepy crawly things. Never have. Never will. Not wanting to harm an innocent (albeit incriminatingly creepy) creature made my God, I attempted to transport the worm outside atop a butter knife. Belle informed me this was no worm at all, but a caterpillar. Whatever it was, it attempted to leap to its death right off the end of my knife and hit the floor next to my bare feet. Try as I may, I could not get that worm back on my knife to finish the deed. So I did what any responsible mother would do: I asked my four year old daughter to pick it up and take it outside. She's a good girl.
I have to admit at this point in the process I felt a little guilty to be placing such perfectly ripe, oozing-with-antioxidant super-berries into an oven - doused with sugar and heading to their death. But it was too late to turn back.
And out from the oven emerged a very validating afternoon's work. And a peace offering of sorts to my husband, who arrived home the night before to a very disappointing supper (apparently baked beets with Gorgonzola cheese activate his gag reflex...who knew!).
Now this post has been graphic, but this is life. So I might as well just say what I'm thinking. I sure hope this pie tastes as good coming up as it did going down, because I have a feeling Aron and I have a date with the commode come 2 am. I cautioned Aron at supper that perhaps we shouldn't eat too much this evening - knowing what is likely to come. I burst out laughing with his reply, "Oh man, I'd better chew really well. A nice pureed consistency. The chunks hurt coming up."
I can't believe I shared that with you. I may be deleting that later when I'm not so tired, and I reread it and wonder what in the world I was thinking. But for now, I still find it amusing enough to share.
As real as it gets,
*Post publication note:
My date with destiny did indeed come - at 1:27 am, and in the interest of full disclosure, I no longer find my little pie humor all that funny. Let's hope I get the kid friendly version of this bug, cause I hear the adult one is way worse. Blech.