We celebrated Thanksgiving on Friday.
She knows how unSTELLAR my pies are and she took pity.
I must be world renown for making horrid pies.
Just as we were sitting down to eat, the mailman stopped by with this box.
So I opened it right then.
I am not lying!
Packaged so carefully.
From Gigi in Georgia.
She had told me earlier than every good Southern woman who is worth anything at all serves a Pecan Pie.
Not a scratch on it and because it's so stinkin' cold here it was perfectly preserved.
Then I cried.
Then I ate.
Then I converted to the truthfulness of being a Southern Woman.
And of Pecan Pie!
And Apple Pie.
And many other pies.
Today I suffer from Pie Coma.