I’ve mentioned before that [1] whenever Ken has pie he says, “I had pie once,” but it needs to be fresh in your mind or this won’t make sense.  Now pie is pretty rare at our house but it wasn’t at Grandmamas when Ken’s grandfather was reminiscing about having had pie. We laugh when Ken says it but it makes me a bit sad that Reid and I never met Grandpa Charlie. From this and other stories that Ken tells, it sounds like he was a special guy.

All this leads me to the fact that I made an apple pie this past weekend. We spent some time at the orchard and then an afternoon of peeling, peeling and more peeling, that has left us with apples slices in pie portion sized bags in our freezer. I tossed some into a store-bought crust. (I didn’t say that I’d been possessed by Martha Stewart and made pie ;+) I even remembered to add margarine before I put the crust on so that we wouldn’t have apple soup like the last time.

When it was ready to eat and I offered it to Ken, he said, “I had pie once.” (I told you that he says it every time.) Not missing a beat, Reid asked, “You like pie again?” Ken and I laughed aloud and he declared Reid to be the only person to have offered the proper response.