Figuring out what I wanna be when I grow up.
Oop..I AM grown up...

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

I Am A Suck-Ass Homemaker

There!  That's the last of them--now every dish in the kitchen is polished and sparkling and isn't that wonderful--wait, what the f*ck am I doing?!?

I am, once again, in the wrong vocation.  I hate housekeeping.  It bores the tits off me.  I get no satisfaction out of washing the dishes 2 or 3 times a day, or folding clean, crisp laundry.  Yeah, I dig the fresh clean scent, but you might as well be slowly pulling my fingernails off, one finger at a time.  It's like torture. 

Even though I live with a kid on the spectrum, who NEEDS to have his life as scheduled as possible, I HATE scheduling myself.  It makes me feel caged-in, trapped.  I like to do things HAPHAZARDLY.  That's how I garden. That's how I do laundry.  That's how I organize things. 

I don't have a regular schedule for dinners:  there's no FISH ON FRIDAYS, CHICKEN ON MONDAYS, CASSEROLE ON TUESDAYS, VEGETARIAN WEDNESDAYS.  I just pull something out of my ass most days of the week.  Some days the meal is masterful, and other days it's kraft dinner with broccoli.  And then other days, it's a cheddar and mushroom omelette with homemade hollandaise sauce.  Yummy. 

Sometimes there are proper meat and potato meals, and a lot of times there are EXPERIMENTS.  Often there is grumbling at 5:30 pm that I'm "GOING ON STRIKE" as I am frantically whipping some crap together while the kids are whining "WHERE'S DINNERRRRRRRRRR......" from the other room. 


I kinda have a grocery day now.  I sorta have a roundabout laundry day..but oh wait...Wednesday has come and gone, and all the sorted piles are still on my bedroom floor.  So much for the sort-of Wednesday laundry day. 

There are days when suddenly I get a whiff of the kids and realise I should have given them baths the night before, but my god--who can take the fighting???

There are clean clothes EVERYWHERE in this house.  They need to be put away.  There are clean sheets downstairs on the dryer.  They've been there about two weeks now. 

So yeah, I kinda stink at this job.  I should technically be fired.  I gripe a lot.  Sometimes I shout that I'm putting a "TIPS" jar in the kitchen because I'm UNDERAPPRECIATED, DAMN IT!  Sometimes I whine; "where's MY Christmas bonus?!?!" 

I have a lousy attitude...

I'm not very organized...
I show up late for work nearly every day...

but, I hug my kids a lot, and continuously bolster their confidence, and sometimes...SOMETIMES I even shape lunches on the plate to look like smiley faces. 

So, it's not all bad, right?

Tell me:  what kind of homemaker or worker are you?  Do you have a good attitude, and do everything you're supposed to, or do you find yourself daydreaming, or sneaking in a little facebook time at your little desk, or thinking of your next blog post?  You can tell me.  We're all friends here.   

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Convos With My Sister

Recently a family member who is slim enough was told he should lose 20 pounds.  Here is the convo that ensued:

Me:  20 pounds.  That's stupid.
Aimee:  Yeah, because nothing's worse than the too-skinny old man!

Me:  That's right.  From this point on, we no longer worry about being slim because we are holding on to our RESERVES.
Aimee:  our reserves?

Me:  yeah, because what we tell the CANCER is; "HERE--YOU EAT THIS FAT!"

then, for a few minutes we prove our RESERVES theory right (in our minds) by discussing people who were very thin at the onset of cancer, who are now, sadly, in the "check-out room" (check-out room = palliative care room).

Me: but, we don't need to worry, because you've FLIPPED THE SWITCH, right?
Aim:  er....yeah...right.

Me:  okay, what does THE SWITCH ROOM look like?

Aim:'s a big room with a--

Me:  WRONG.  You have FAILED to FLIP THE SWITCH.  The room is actually a very quiet, never used hallway.  It maybe has a closet at the end where useless things, like old TV's, are stored.  NOBODY ever goes down it.  It has your basic office carpeting on the floor, and fluorescent lights on the ceiling.  All you hear is the 'hrrrrm' of the fluorescent lights.

The SWITCH is large.  You need two hands to switch it to OFF.  Then, you put a plexi-glass blox over top and drill it into place.  Then, you put a METAL box over that and drill into place.

(note: I am a massive cancer-phobe, so the hallway with THE SWITCH in it is the mental image I have concocted in my brain because I have decided that F*CK THAT--I'm NEVER getting cancer)Aim:  can you watch TV in that hallway?

Me:  no!
Aim:  hang out?  Maybe read a book?  Some comfortable chairs?

Me:  NO!  Your only job is to check on the SWITCH; make sure your boxes are still securely in place.
Aim:  how often do I have to check on it?  Every day?

Me:  if you need to at first, until you are confident that it's NOT moving, and then, just occasionally.
Aim:  but can't I hang out in there?  I wanna hang out in there--it sounds relaxing.

Me:  I think you're making a mockery of THE SWITCH.
Aim:  ha ha ha....oooookaaaay.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Jack's Art 3!

My son Jack, who turned 7 a few months ago, is a crazy artist.  He draws ALL THE TIME.  We go through tons and tons of paper.  I don't even want to talk about how many rejected drawings we have to recycle.  Seriously--the kid draws non-stop. 

Mostly he likes bands from the British Invasion, and classical music.  He draws orchestras quite frequently, and has been moving his way through various aspects therein.  He went through a lengthy violin phase, and currently he's "into" conductors.  When he's not drawing, he's conducting--with gusto-- using a large, wooden knitting needle his Nana turned into a conductor's baton for him. 

This is his favourite piece to conduct.  I've heard it approximately googleplex times:

Wilhelm Furtwangler Conducts Beethoven's 9th Symphony

A lot of his pictures are based on his imaginary band, "The Hho" (yeah, I know), which is comprised of Jack and some of his favourite stuffed toys.  Usually they are based on 1960's footage of his favourite British bands. 

You can see more of Jack's art here:

Jack's Art

Jack's Art 2!

Go on and have a look.  I insist!  Ha ha--that's what proud mothers do, right?

Here are some of the pics Jack has drawn over the summer.   I had to scan them in in secret because the little ARTISTE flips if I even touch his drawings.

Click on any picture for better detail.

The Wiggles (Jack STILL loves the Wiggles)

playing in the orchestra


Jack's band playing at the famous Cavern Club

conductor (unusual to see colour in his drawings)

conducting in a large hall


family portrait

Jack the conductor

Jack and Ella, playing "band"

Jack, again, conducting

closeup of the band as they make their way through the crowd

waiting for the curtain to rise

Leonard Bernstein, closeup hands

Leonard Bernstein

advertisement for The Hho's video "The Music In The Notes"

in the orchestra

"Great Conductors Of The Past 313 Richard Strauss"

scene from the 1965 Gerry And The Pacemakers movie "Ferry Cross The Mersey"

Jack's band

Jack's band, wearing sweaters, not suits

The Hho "Let's Go" album cover

"The Music In The Notes" VHS video

Thursday, August 25, 2011


Oh my god. 

It's even WORSE than I remember. that guy right at the beginning naked??? And, does anyone love the way they obviously spritzed Olivia with some water or oil to make her look all hot and bothered!

I was walking around doing my woman chores this morning, singing this song for some reason.  Maybe it's because I'm going crazy, and that's why my brain chooses to offer up these little gems at the most unexpected times. 

I said to Ella:  "I'm gonna go ask daddy if he'll LET ME HEAR HIS BODY TALK!" but she didn't get it.


Okay, since we're getting all physical and stuff, I also want to know if you remember THIS:


THAT is a shot from the TWENTY MINUTE WORKOUT.  Come ON!  You remember the Twenty Minute Workout, don't you?

There.  Now you share my pain. 
Okay, now I want to hear about it:  which one of you lovely people wore cheezy 80's workout fashion?  One of you wore a thin headband/sweatband thingy à la Olivia Newton John, and you didn't just wear it if you were working out--you wore it to look HAWT. 

Come on--tell me about your headband, or your mesh shirt with the body tank underneath.  I want to hear it!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011


That's Gary Larson's "The FAR SIDE," YO
incidentally...this cartoon hung in my kitchen for years.  Must un-earth it from a box in the basement...


I am officially DONE with doing KID-CENTRIC activities.  I don't want to do anything else for kids this summer!  You parents whose kids are already back in school?  Do me a favour:  DON'T DRINK ALL THE WHISKY YET!  WAIT FOR ME!  WAAAAAAAAAIT FOR MEEEEEEE!

Here is the deal-e-o:  today I was at McDonk's playland with Ella.  Friday I was at the mother-trucking beach with the kids.  Sunday I was at a waterpark with the kids.  I've been to the indoor playland.  I've been to the library, bored to tears as the kids played with the germ-coated library toys, or looked at the fountain in the adult section for so long I wanted to weep.  I've been to the splash pad.  I've been to the public pool.  I went for the ice-cream/petting zoo combo, and endured MUCHOS whining from the boy while I spent like TWO MINUTES enjoying the duck pond section (I love you ducks!  You're so cute and brainless and charming).  I went on the FAMILY VACATION.  We went to a carnival.  I rode on poop-my-pants scary waterslides.  I floated around in the human soup known as the wave pool for ages. 

But at Mcdick's playland pushed me over the edge.  Because people, it has been BUILDING.  All the while I have been saying this kind of bullsh*tty stuff to myself:

that was a fun day!
that was a nice outing!

well that was okay!

I have been DELUDED!  I have been trying to convince myself that all of these things have been FINE, JUST FINE, and all the while I have been stifling--NAY, TRAMPING DOWN my true identity:


Yes, I am a GROWNUP.  I am a GROWN-ASS-WOMAN.  I don't even like toys that much any longer.  I don't want to pretend your toy dog has to go to the vet's, and I don't want to watch your toy baby while you go to "work," and I don't want to go on the swing.  My ass is too wide now, and that thing CUTS IN.  I am BORING NOW!  I have LOST MY SENSE OF CHILDISH WHIMSY. 

When I go to the beach, I really want to lie there on the sand for a while and READ A FREAKING BOOK.  Then I want to SWIM, and not stand there as a lifeguard.  When I'm done swimming, I want to dry off and not wear my bathing suit any longer, eat a nice meal that is not called HOT DOG, and I want it with a COCKTAIL, and finally, I want to conclude my day by poking leisurely through the little shops that are near the beach. 

When I am at the public pool, I want to DO LAPS, and GO IN THE DEEP END.  I don't want to redirect kids on floaty things away from my head.  I don't want to pull their long hairs off my fingers, and I don't even want to THINK about how much BOOGS AND PEE PEE  is in that pool.  IS in the pool?  ARE in the pool?  You know what I'm saying. 

I don't want to go to indoor playlands.  Period. 

I never want to eat IN at McDink's. 

When I go to the waterpark, I want to enjoy some of the less scary things, and the outdoor swimming pool, and then I want to spend some quality time at the BAR. 

When I go to the library, I want to have the chance to find a BOOK FOR ME. 

Oh, but that's okay.  I can give THE BEST YEARS OF MY LIFE to my children, and when they're old enough for me to not have to worry about their every move, that'll be great.  EXCEPT I'LL BE 70.  Yeah, I'll be touring the world at 70, and that will kind of suck, because my back will be shot, and I'll look weird because I've had that botched second face lift.  Oh, and people might wrinkle their noses at me, because my bladder will have completely let go of the toe hold it still had on my body, and I'll have to wear a great big incontinence diaper. 

So, hip hip hooray!  I'M LOSING IT.  I have two more weeks till the kids go to school. 

Last night was particularly festive:  after 3 hours of Jack bugging Ella non-stop at my niece's birthday party, and the two of them having epic smack fests, and the kid losing it because he's a little control freak and was flipping out that he couldn't hear youtube because--HEAVEN FORBID--other people were trying to listen to the TV, and then he freaked on me because I wouldn't let him eat a chocolate bar after a piece of cake...



I flipped my shit in the car on the way home.  Yeah, if you were driving by at approx. 7:45 last night, I was the mom in the little green car who was SHRIEKING as she drove.  Shrieking because after trying to be patient, and understanding, and saying the same thing over and over again in a calm, rational voice, and getting smacked (me, people), and yelled at, for three solid hours, it builds and builds and BUILDS until you LOSE IT.  Something SNAPS inside you, and you're shrieking down the road that your son needs MEDICINE to STOP BUGGING HIS SISTER!!!!!!!!

I'm finding solace in LAUNDRY. 

Does that tell you everything you need to know?!?

Saturday, August 20, 2011

A Few Words From Your Friend TAMPON

 Hey there, hi there HO THERE, Friends!  I'm a busy little wad these days!  Hoo-boy!  I know, I know--you're all sad that summer's nearly over :( FROWNY FACE! 

I too am super duper sad that summer is almost done, 'cuz I've been having so much fun!  Why, I can't tell you the number of vacations I've been on this summer, and especially the number of times I've been to the beach!  Hooray!  What?  You didn't know I love the beach? 

Hellz yeah I love the beach!  I've got a sweet deal worked out with Mother Nature to see that I get to go to the beach or on vacation nearly every time SHE gets to go to the beach or on vacation!  It's really swell. 

Here's a funny little story about karen:  her dad called her up mid-week and said; "we're going to BLAH BLAH beach on Friday!  I'm driving you and the kids and your sister and her kids in the van and we're all going to go up together and have a great day!"

Well, karen checked her calendar and she boo-hoo-ed and wa-waaa-ed, but she knew deep down in her heart that I'd be coming along too!  Hey!  You wanna hear something crazy?  karen's only been to this particular beach TWICE in her life, and it takes an hour and a half to get there, and BOTH TIMES, she got to bring ME along! 

ISN'T THAT A F*CKING SCREAM?!?  Ha ha ha ha!  She had to throw about six of me and my buddies in her purse, and tuck one secretly into her "Walmart Teen slut shorts" (her words, not mine), and go slip in to a filthy public washroom (with flies!) to FRESHEN UP!  Oh, and for good measure, she tossed a bottle of ADVIL into the bag, along with the towels.  WICKED!

Just for kicks, let's see some pics from my scrap book.  Enjoy!

Dick:  "Come on Gals!  These waves are BOSS!  Let's hit the surf!
Jane:  "oh sh*t...I think my f*cking tampon's falling out"

Every g*ddamn time I go to the g*ddamn beach I get my g*ddamn "monthly bill."  Let's just hope this red swim suit covers any 'wardrobe malfunctions'

Annette:  oh SNAP!  I just got my sh*t A$$ PERIOD!
Frankie:  Is that why you've been such a bitch for the past week?!?

Hey kids!  I've changed the term for "period" to LADY TSUNAMI !"

Thursday, August 18, 2011

Blog Award With Useless Facts!

I'm on FI-YAH

Barbara, one of my lovely new friends over at Español Para Niños (Spanish For Kids), thinks I'm neither whiny, nor redundant, but rather entertaining and fun, and has bestowed a bloggy award on me.  

I enjoy Barbara's blog, because I secretly SUPER LURV SPANISH.  No, I love it.  I know:  you be a hot dude and come over and say something in my ear in Spanish.  This will result in KAREN PUDDLE.  And don't be stupid and whisper "donde esta el baño" because I know what that means. I'm not a total idiot.  Before I went to Mexico twice and the Dominican, I actually spent weeks in front of the computer listening to my LEARN SPANISH cdrom, so that one day I was able to walk up in front of a bank teller and say:


I've told this story so many times in my life now, that I'm sure I've driven at least a few people away.  I was so excited though, and the bank teller---DID NOT GIVE A CRAP.  She was all business I think, so she could get the dipsy, shiny tourist out of her freaking face. 

I appreciate anyone who reads my shtuff, and I extend a warm welcome to everyone and anyone.  Please, join us in the comments section where we gab and gab and gab. So, muchas gracias, Barbara.  

Okay, I'm supposed to say 7 things about myself and then pass this on to a bunch of other blogs.  The problem is, blech.  I couldn't come up with a thing about myself.  What do you want to know?  So, I turned this over to THE MAN.  Yes, I was taking a risk, but what the hell.  It was a bit of a test, because if he couldn't come up with anything after all these years, I would be forced to send him off to DUMPVILLE.  Haw, haw, haw.

7 Things About Me, According To THE MAN

1. I am EXTREMELY SNOBBY about coffee. 

he even stressed "EXTREMELY SNOBBY."  Duh.  Doesn't everyone know this by now?  I wrote a couple of posts completely dedicated to coffee:


plus, I talk about it constantly.  I am not ashamed of my snobbery.

2. I could talk about pies every day. 

pppffft...what does he know?  I DON'T talk about pies every day...I don't think... 

Okay, it's true:  we are/were pie obsessed in my family.  We used to have a regular Sunday dinner convo about which pie was everyone's favourite, and I talked incessantly with my Mom (sniff!) and sister about what needed to be different and what was good about each pie we ever made. 


3. I refuse to look like "MOM." 

by this, he means I refuse to look like A MOM, not MY mom.  This means that I fight like hell to not let my hair go into the frumpy bushy triangle it WANTS to go in, or be seen in public too much with sensible length shorts, socks and running shoes.  What?  WHAT??

4. "We can coexist now thanks to Lorna Vanderhaeghe's MAGIC PILLS." 

Okay, it's no secret that I've suffered mercilessly at the hands of horrible PMS for years.  So, for two weeks of the month, LURV the husband, the other two LOATHE the husband.  And still, when he looks back on those dark days before I found THE SUPPLEMENT, it's all "waa waa" and "poor me".  

Sheesh.  Man-up. 

For all you other gals who suffer too, you can read my journey to becoming less homicical

5. I would love to wear the same thing every day but I fight it and settle for 4 days out of 7. 

Okay, it's true:  I hate wearing different clothes.  There are some clothes I love so much better than others, and wish I could just wear that shirt every freaking day of the week.  One shirt a week.  Pure happiness.  But then, there's that STALE CLOTHES issue.  So, I do not.  Plus, The Man is taking liberties here.  I do NOT wear the same shirt 4 out of 7.  I'd say 3 days, tops. 


6. I spend 45 minutes POURING OVER hair colour boxes, but ALWAYS come home with the same colour. 

Much rolling of my eyes, here.  Little does he know that while he THINKS the shade of my hair is the same every time, there are subtle differences.  Like, sometimes I'm "dark golden blonde" or "dark ash blonde."  

What does he know?

7. part of me wishes I could be a spinster living with my sister in the same house.

It's true. 

Okay, so there you have it--7 things The Man thinks he knows about me.  And now I'm supposed to pass this along...

mmkay...let's see

* I'll pass this along to Lizbeth over at Four Sea Stars.  Lizbeth is my home girl who is living a parallel life to mine.  It's almost eerie how when she blogs about different things she lives with her children, and especially with her son who has Aspergers, I feel like I've lived THE SAME FREAKING THING. 

* Sherilinnie at
Laughing My Abs Off .  Sherilin's re-rocking her Hair Bonanza posts, and they are so fun, so go on over and have a read. 

* Lance at
My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog.  Lance is a writing machine, and I like a lot of the music he likes, so that's cool.  Plus, he said EFF YOU to blogger, and hopped on over to Word Press, and that's oooooooo...

Peace out, homeboys and homegirls.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

How to Make A Peach Pie The NON STUPID WAY

Everyone, I have very strong opinions about certain baked goods; specifically:  CAKE and PIE.  Here are the facts:  many people do not bake, and therefore rely on the sh*t that their local grocery store or sub sandwich shop, or slightly crappy bakery has to offer by way of cake.  They also buy cakes and cupcakes from stores that pretend to be FROU-FROU fancy cupcakes SHOPPES, and if they have a freaking cupcake shop, this must mean they are cupcake experts, right? 


Once at a family dinner, some "fancy" cupcakes were procured for dessert.  Ooo, aaah, everyone sighed.  Look at all the fancy coloursDon't they look GOODLook, there's a MINT ONE, a COCONUT ONE, a CHOCOLATE ONE, and A PINK ONE...oh, the LEMONY YELLOW ONE must be LEMON!  So, everyone chose a colour, and dug in. 

"These are GOOD, eh?!?"

karen's verdict:  MEDIOCREThe icing was that pseudo buttercream horror, and the cake was lackluster at best.  I don't care how pretty you make the PACKAGE, the PRESENT ITSELF had better be good. 

Once I was browsing recipe blogs, and the woman author of one foodie blog proclaimed that she had found "the best recipe for icing."  It was not sickeningly sweet, and had a fabulous texture.  It was some kind of buttercream horror with SHORTENING IN IT. 


F*cking shortening.  Go take a moment to open up that drawer in your fridge and throw that shit out.  Go on.  I'll wait for you.  It's a trans-fat.  DO I NEED TO TELL YOU AGAIN ABOUT TRANS FREAKING FATS?

But, this post isn't about cake.  It's about pie. 

Good pie. 

Pie that is ACTUALLY good.  Not some bullsh*t pie with a cardboard crust and big, hard chunks of apple in it, suspended in some kind of snotty apple cornstarch sludge.  That is not a good pie.  A good pie has meltingly soft (NOT MUSHY) fruit, and is juicy.  This means that when you slice a piece, some FRUIT JUICE will run out onto the plate.  So you can lick the plate after. No, don't pretend you are too civilized to lick the plate.  This is acknowledgement of a GOOD piece of pie. 

A good pie crust is made with flour, salt, cold water, and lard.  LARD.  The end. 

But, you don't know good pie.  YET.  Your family always bought one of those apple pies that came in a box.  You heated it up for a bit while you ate dinner, so you could melt your vanilla-flavoured ice cream on it, and sure, it was OKAY, but you really loved it because you simply DO NOT KNOW ANY BETTER.  YET!

I tell you this because I love you.  I know this is hard for you to hear.  Those pies and tarts you got from those country market shops?  I'm sorry, they sucked a bit too. 

And so I am ANGRY.  I am angry at these SO-SO baked 'treats' that try to pass themself off as GOOD, and since peaches are in season here, I made a motherf*cking PEACH PIE this past weekend, and it was DOPE. 



Stop whining. 


Non-Stupid Peach Pie

Standard Double Crust Plain Pastry

* 1 1/2 cups Cake and Pastry Flour (I find it more forgiving than "all purpose" flour)
* 1/2 tsp salt
* 1/2 cup very cold lard
* 5-10 tbsp  ice cold water


* 6-8 peaches (depending on size)
* 1/2 cup sugar
* dash or squeeze of lemon juice
* 1 tbsp melted butter
* 2 tbsp all purpose flour
* ground cinnamon

*** you can substitute apples for peaches.  The recipe stays the same, but omit the flour.

basic crust recipe adapted from the Five Roses cookbook.  They use shortening though.  Because they are WRONG. 

 In a large bowl add flour and salt.  *Here is a trick:  with a BOX GRATER, grate in the lard.  It will be so easy to incorporate into the flour, you will cry.

you need a pastry cutter thingy like I have here.  Or, two sharp knives, like only everyone's grannies used.  "Cut" the lard into the flour until the fat is the size of "small peas."

see?  Fat incorporated well into flour, so it's in small rollies.

5 to 10 tablespoons of ice cold water, YO.  That's 150 ml's BITCHES

carefully start pouring that cold water in, a little at a time, and dragging a fork around to get all the flour moistened so it can start to stick together.  Keep FORKING until you get ALL the little bits.  ALL OF THEM.  Only add as much water as is needed to get all your dough to stick together in one large ball.

at this point you've put down your fork to feel how moist the dough is.  You start to swipe that dough ball around the bowl to grab all the little piece of dough. 

ta-da!  One ball of dough, with all flour in.

divide into two same-size balls. Insert joke about "two balls" here.

cover loosely with plastic wrap and pop those babies in the fridge for ONE HOUR.  That's right:  ONE HOUR.  If your dough was a little too wet, or if you effed up a bit, an hour of resting time will be SO FORGIVING to your dough.  Trust me. 

that gives you time to clean THIS up.  Lousy single sink.  Stupid $%!* dishes...

ah!  All nice and tidy.  And look! Here are your rosy peaches (*note cute little boy in the background MASSACRE-ING his cinnamon toast). I have 7 peaches.

PREHEAT YOUR OVEN TO 450 DEGREES.  Peal and slice fruit into thin pieces

see?  Not too thick.  NO BIG HARD HUNKS (erm...) OF FRUIT!  Now add sugar, dash of lemon juice flour and butter--but no cinnamon.  Stir well to incorporate.

do you have a small sieve?  Oh well, dust some flour onto your workspace, so your dough won't stick.

one dough ball goes in the middle of the flour, the other goes back in the fridge.  Dust that thing liberally with flour.  This will also help if your dough was too wet before you fridged it.  Yeah, I said "fridged." 

start rolling.  Roll out from the centre in all directions.  Sprinkle more flour on if your rolling pin sticks, and shoo it up from the table with one of those fancy dough scraper thingies or a thin spatula to toss more flour underneath if your dough is sticking to the rolling surface. 

the goal is to roll it into a circle wide enough to fit into your pie plate.  Hold it over to see how it will fit. 

carefully fold your dough in half, and scooch it off the table to your pie plate.  Unfold gently in your un-floured pie plate.

press gently into pie plate to make sure there are no air pockets anywhere.  If you have little tears, just kinda pinch it back together. 

this is where things get stupid, and fancy enough to give you a freaking headache.  I made a fancy 'lattice' crust.  You do not have to.  You can simply roll your second ball of dough, as above, into a nice circle large enough to cover the top of your pie.  I rolled it out into a circle, and cut into thin strips with a sharp knife.  Then I went all OVER/UNDER, OVER/UNDER, OVER/UNDER, and cursed viciously at what a pain in the ass it was, and what a STUPID WASTE OF TIME AND WHY AM I MAKING THE FANCY CRUST TOP THIS IS STOOOOOOPID....

once you have your top crust rolled out, or rolled out and sliced into strips, pour your peach filling into bottom crust.  No worries, it will be runny.  Sprinkle lightly with cinammon.  Cover with top circle of crust, or weave your hellish over, under, over, under lattice.  If you have a plain crust top, dock well with a fork (that means prick it, baby), and pinch the edges together either by rolling under or sealing together with a fork.  At any rate, make sure you cut the excess crust off at the sides, or it will look silly. 

Oh wait....the lattice crust does look wicked.  Hrm...maybe the sweating and swearing was worth it...
At any rate, you can now brush the top of your crust with a pastry brush dipped in a beaten egg yolk with a teeny amount of water added to it.  Or, skip it.  No worries.  Or, do your egg wash thingy and then sprinkle the top of your crust with a little white sugar.  Sparkly like fairy land.

Bake for 10 minutes at 450 degrees, then reduce heat to 350 degrees and bake for another 50 to 60 minutes or until crust is golden brown. 

Yes, we are awesome.

pretty, isn't she.

another shot to drool over

now you know I was right. 


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