Bring on the pie! |
The week after I arrived home from Europe,
despite pleasurable autumn-like commuting weather, I didn't feel quite back to normal.
Jet lag, for sure. I was tired by mid-afternoon, unfocused, and uninspired, not
to mention out of sync with job demands after a fruitful,
wish-I-was-still-there type of vacation. To complicate matters, for several
nights I dreamed I was still bike touring, stopping in Roman villages, soaking
up the joie de vivre.
Back at work, I wasn't yet fully attuned to
the value of afternoon snack time. For a couple days,
it went okay without the extra energy. I arrived home in normal fashion, the
ride taking an hour. By the third day, things didn't go so well.
I labored, eventually slowing...which coincided
with approaching The Mill. The site was a former cider mill, but is now part convenience
store, gift shop, and deli. It continues to sell homemade pies, however, which
is what drew my attention. Dreaming of flaky pastry—anything, really—I steered
the wheels across the store’s gravel lot. When I get food on the brain, better
get out of my way.
Inside,
I chose a blueberry pie. It would be a nice surprise for my family too. I
contemplated getting something to hold me over until dinner—can’t dive into a
beautiful pie without utensils—but decided the expense was enough. I should be able to pedal the three remaining
miles home. After all, I am an adult.
Just
hauling that pastry box gave me a boost. Anticipation. A container
of whipped cream in the refrigerator. A snack as soon as I arrived home to curb hunger. Helping with dinner. Then yummy pie.
And
what do I find on the dining room table? Two copies of current magazines with Lance
Armstrong featured on the cover, this time, unfortunately, not for winning the
Tour de France. Oh Lance. But I try and find the humor. What
if professional cyclists used pastry instead of performance drugs? Anyone for CamelBak
with blueberry filling? Grab and go with pain au chocolat? Oh, the possibilities…
After
all, it works for me.