One of my favorite things about Thanksgiving break is that, despite all the Christmas trees going up and red bows slowly covering everything in sight, really, there's just food and family to enjoy. The kids are home, practices are cancelled, Trey's got some vacation, and we're just loving circling the wagons and spending some sweet, sweet time together.
Mercy Street held it's annual Community Potluck on Saturday afternoon complete with a covered dish bonanza and the highly anticipated pie contest.
The pie to beat was last year's champion, the Banana Caramel Cream which, was made by someone with some serious culinary talent.
Anyway, Sadie was undaunted and whipped together a little homemade Apple Pie with caramel drizzled over the top.
You probably can't tell from the photo but she was kinda proud. And wouldn't you know it, she won first place!
Now, I know what the skeptics out there are saying - sure she won, look how stinkin' cute she is and all. But, I'm here to tell you, it's totally anonymous with real judges and who don't know who baked what. Totally legit, people!
Now, on another more somber note, I need to tell you, I almost died yesterday. I really want to say this without sounding totally over-the-top. It'll be hard for me...here goes...
I was almost killed by unkindness. And sass. And, people, this news is going to shock you. SHOCK.
I was driving down the road which I drive down about, oh, seven days a week, when another car came into my lane and rubbed against mine. Now, before you start getting all worked-up-like, jumping out of your seat and picking up a pitchfork to chase down the offender, everyone was fine. Actually, I drive a fairly old Suburban and I had just a little scratch but, of course, you gotta pull over because it's the law and all.
And, it was in the actual pulling over that all my troubles began. First, the gentleman driving the car seemed to think it was my fault even though it clearly wasn't and Graham was sitting next to me and watched the guy come into my lane and hit me. But, it gets worse. Oh, so much worse.
He called me "Lady" twice. And not in the nice 18th Century aristocracy way but more in the, you're an idiot and I'm going to demean you with my words way.
Then, he called me "Honey". With a sneer.
Now, there is one person who calls me Honey and it's certainly not him. And, I'm pretty sure my husband doesn't say it with a sneer. It may be said with some frustration from time to time because I'm running late or forgot to wash his favorite shirt but, never with the condescension that was rolling off this man's tongue.
I'm not proud but, instead of worrying about the condition of his soul, I was simply more curious about what his momma might say if she heard him speak to someone like that.
It was when the police came, though, that the other shoe dropped. The officer explained that no, this man indeed, wasn't from around these parts.
He was from the west coast and was in town driving for (insert giddy policeman giggle) Larry Hagman who had been sitting in the passenger seat the whole time.
"You know, J.R. EWING?"
May I say at this point that I did not have my full cute on yesterday. Not even close. It was bad. I was coming home from dropping off a friend of Graham's. I barely had on shoes. Why do I think I can leave the house without at least some mascara and gloss? WHY?
Even still, a little part of my bubble burst. Although I was only seven when Dallas premiered and my parents wouldn't let me watch it because of the smut, I KNOW J.R. And, surely, the J.R. Ewing that I know and loved would have seen his driver acting all out of sorts, sauntered confidently around the front of his (barely damaged) car in a polyester suit and cowboy boots, and said something clever about oil and handshakes, and "let's just let the insurance companies duke this one out". Then he would have winked at me.
Instead he sat quietly in the car - probably updating his Facebook status with questions like, 'where can I get the best street tacos in Dallas', while I had to deal with his driver who was all rude and kept calling me "Lady" and saying it was my fault when it wasn't.
And I could have told him where to get the best tacos so really, I got the last laugh.
Did I mention Sadie baked a pie? How 'bout we leave it on that sweet note.