The Problem with Pie

How was your thanksgiving?
Mine was quite lovely. Despite being away from family, I had a very good one. I actually lucked out and got TWO thanksgiving dinners to choose from. The second one I mostly gorged myself on pie. My own pie. I made my first pecan and pumpkin pies the night before. A few dilemmas arose. Firstly, there was zero pumpkin at the grocery store. Not canned, not in normal pumpkin form, nada. So I got yams instead. In China, we always made yam pie because the there were either no pumpkins or the pumpkins available were not worth trying to use. You cannot tell the difference in flavor. The pumpkin pie bakes at 425* for 15 minutes and then you lower the temp to 350* and add the pecan pie. Soooo...I got the time down. But not the temp. 15 minutes passed and I added the pecan pie. But I forgot to lower the temp. When I finally realized what I had done (an entire bake time later) I almost had a heart attack. As I said before, this was my FIRST pumpkin and pecan pie ever. I've done apple and some berry pies but these were new for me. And to add to that, I was the only person bringing pies to my first destination. So I was pretty freaked about ruining thanksgiving by burning the pies. And on top of that the pumpkin wasn't even pumpkin! I'm such a fraud!! However, as it turned out, they were only slightly browned and tasted perfectly fine. I was very, very relieved. (And no one could tell it wasn't pumpkin. Score.)
I started off Thanksgiving at Stacey's house. On my way, I took a wrong turn (or two or three) and got all turned around but it worked out perfectly because John called to wish me a happy thanksgiving and we got to chat for a bit while I de-lost myself. Dinner at Stacey's was great. I found myself not missing having thanksgiving with my family at all. Granted, I missed my FAMILY. But the food was about the same. That was one of my fears. That everything would taste WRONG. Cuz I've had that happen before and it's always very sad when you're expecting things to taste a certain way and they don't. Stephanie and I were making the same paths that day. We both started at Stacey's and then afterward, headed to Lindsey's. Hardly anyone had room for pie at Stacey's so I brought them over to Lindsey's and we were able to polish off a good portion of both pies and I got several compliments which made me happy. I met a few new friends including Lindsey's mom who was a doll. In the words of my mom whilst quoting 'Onions in the Stew,' "Gosh you're a doll, Mrs. McDonald." Don't ask. It's 1. an inside joke and 2. a long story.
I realized something while at Lindsey's. I feel like I unintentionally take over every conversation. Not in the way it sounds. But my life story just seems to do that naturally. I really don't mean to. I try to dumb it down as much as I can to ease the delivery of information...but it always just changes the entire dynamic of the conversation. For example:
"So where is everyone from?"
"Baltimore."
"Texas."
"Uhh...well sort of Washington state but I grew up in China."
"OMG CHINA? What was that like? Do you speak Chinese? How long were you there? Are your parents still there? Military or...? Oh MISSIONARY? Wow! What was THAT like?"
Or another example:
"So how did you all meet your husbands?"
"Oh we went to college together."
"It was a blind date."
"My friends introduced us."
"Eharmony.com."
"OMG, Eharmony.com?! That is so cool! How did that work? Did you get to be in a commercial? Was it as reliable as it makes it sound? Did you talk long before meeting? Was it weird? Omg!!"
Sigh...I mean...I enjoy telling my stories. Don't get me wrong. I just sometimes wonder if the rest of the room is rolling their eyes or shooting daggers into my back with their eyes. I'm sure someone who hangs around me a lot must find it somewhat humorous as I steadily meet wave after wave of new people and get the same reactions. Although each wave has different little accents to their reactions. The military boys concentrate on the language and the communism while the wives and normal people concentrate on what growing up there must have been like and I'm sure envision me in a grass hut somewhere, barefoot in a bunch of rice fields. With WiFi.
Back to thanksgiving. So yes. It was good. Very good. I called my family to wish them a happy thanksgiving and ended the evening happily eating MORE pie and watching Ugly Betty.
How about you?