Of Pie

Have you ever wanted to do something very badly that was just a very bad idea? You know it wouldn't be good, you don't care most of the time, and only your quivering sense of right and wrong stops you at all.

I speak, of course, of things related to pie.

You thought I was talking about something much more sinister, weren't you? Well, I could be, but let's use pie as an example.

By now, most of my Facebook friends know I have this odd addiction to pie and have given me advice to feed that addiction and where to find the best pies. Mmmm. Very, very tempting. I do love pie. But consider if I took this well-meant advice. I don't think I could stop at one piece. I would just want more and more and more. So isn't it better to not indulge the addiction at all?

But, oh, how I miss it so. My heart aches for pie, but my brain knows that indulgence is fraught with danger. So far, I've been able to talk myself into staying away from it and NOT thinking about the crunch of sweet pecans nestled in a bed of gooey, sinfully rich custard, or the burst of juice from a mouthful of blueberries in a delightfully sweet sauce. Is it simply torture to look at pictures of pie? Probably.

Meanwhile, it's a good idea that I'm exercising like a crazy person.