|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.