For the love of french fries

I'm back.  And boy are you lucky!!  It was an utter and complete amazement to myself that I was able to make it to the chair this morning.  My muscles are screaming at me and my mind and body are thrilled with me!  


Yesterday at work, Vivian and I got this brilliant idea to prop open the doors in the jail area (we are empty currently) and put our area to good use.  I started out walking laps around, counting each and every step carefully, as Vivian did her stretches and upper body exercises while catching the radios and phones.  And then we'd switch.  


We each got a set of laps in...well Vivian was actually still finishing up...when the Sheriff came back to get some coffee.  Pretty sure he thought we had flipped our lids.  He sees all the doors open to the jail area and says "Where's the jail administrator?  There's been a jail break!!!"  Like I said, we are currently an empty jail so we are hurting nothing by utilizing the space.  And all bases are covered.


So after we visit with the good Sheriff a while and he decides he doesn't want to be a part of this and leaves, I go out and do another set of laps and then so does Vivian.  We were able to get some pretty good speed built up going around that horseshoe.  It was awesome.  


In comes the Hot Shot Deputy.  Now, I think he was pretty convinced we HAD lost our marbles when he walked in and all these doors were sitting propped open.  He proceeded with caution.  We explained what we were doing and so he grabs the two large trash bins and sets them out in the booking room hallway and says, "There!  Now you have two obstacles to walk around."  And as I'm happily taking a call, I look over and there he stands with a FIRE EXTINGUISHER over his head and he says, "You need to walk with THIS over your head."  


And then I swallowed my gum, laughing.  Okay not really.  But if I would have had gum in my mouth, I would have swallowed it.  I did laugh though.  I'm a bad girl.  I can just see that happening!  ME, carrying a fire extinguisher over my head.  Wait... ME, trying to get a fire extinguisher over my head.  The truth of the matter is, I would be lucky to walk around that horseshoe with a bottle of ketchup over my head.  I have NO strength in my arms, whatsoever.  But I'm slowly trying to change that.  Give me time.  I will be running with a forty pound bag of flour over my head one of these days. Noooo............... that was a joke.  I won't be doing that!


So...for round number three, we were supposed to walk around the horseshoe and to the end of each hall in our booking area (around the trash bins and the chair that we added) and that would make one full round.  Apparently I don't know when good is good enough.  Every time I entered the horseshoe area, I jogged.  When I made it to the booking room, I walked.  Kinda broke it up a little bit and made it a little faster.  And I like to jog...in short increments.  AND...the horseshoe doesn't have video.  


So for round three, I added twenty eight steps to my new routine.  Vivian added twenty three.  She's longer legged than I am and takes less strides than me.  It's still a good addition to our routine.  And boy did it make all the difference in the world!  More steps and jogging.  I loved each and every step of it.  We ended up doing a total of five rounds.  Lunch was in there somewhere.  I vaguely remember that between breaths.  -_-


I came home and for the first time in weeks, I didn't need a nap AND I was ready to tackle something.  So I deep cleaned my dining room.  And that wasn't enough.  So I got out my ingredients and started in on the pie that I wanted to make for Hot Shot.  This story has a little background so let me tell you about that before I go into my horrific story.


I asked Hot Shot if he liked peach pie because I had one in my freezer and I was thinking about bringing it the next day.  It was him, Vivian and me working.  He said he did like it.  He asked me if the peaches were fresh.  My answer, "They were at some point."  That's all the was discussed about the pie, okay.  So, the next day I bring the pie in and he comes back to get some pie and I hand him his plate, he sits down and I leave the room.  Vivian mentions something about it being a "fundraiser" pie.  Immediately he stops eating the pie.


I come into the room and he says to me, "You didn't make this pie?"  I assured him it was still a homemade pie and that my niece and her teammates made them.  So I get nothing but grief over this pie.  I couldn't believe it.  What's the big deal?  The next day, he tells a couple of other officers the story about the pie and how I "deceived" him about it being homemade and having fresh peaches.  Of course, he only does it to bother me.  And it works.  Because he's my favorite.  And he knows it.  


He says to me, "It's okay if you can't make a peach pie.  Just tell me next time that it's someone else's pie.  Ya know, it just hurts right here (as he pounds himself over the heart) that you led me to believe this was your pie...." and on and on he goes.  Making this huge deal over it not being MY damned pie.  So guess what...yup!  My goal was to make that stoopid pie.  And I may sit and watch him eat the whole thing!


So as I get ready to get my crust started, I realize that I don't see any peaches.  Anywhere in my kitchen.  ANYWHERE.  I even went as far as to look in the laundry room, the deep freeze AND the bathroom.  Needless to say, it wasn't in any of these places either.  I called Aunt Grace.  Had her check her car because she's the one that drove us to the store that night.  No dice.  Nothing in her car.  Grrrr.  I call Hy-Vee and am not happy about it because... well number one...it's in c-town and I'm not; and number two...I don't have a receipt from that visit.  


The nice little gal that helped me said nobody left a note about any peaches being left here and I could get another bag if I just bring my receipt in.  I told her I didn't have my receipt so that wasn't going to work.  Expecting the call to end right now, I head out to the van.  I mean, what were the odds that they would be in there and not get noticed for two days?  Surely I would have smelled them, right?  So as I get to the van, this gal comes back on the line and says, "If you give me your name, I can let you come get another bag of peaches for free as long as you bring me your ID."  


Just as she spits all that out.....I spot the bag.  It's between the seats in the back.  ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME???  WOULDN'T I HAVE SMELLED THEM???  Apparently not!  And to make it worse, there were two bags of vanilla chips and a bag of lettuce.  Now, here's where my two little friends come out and sat on opposing shoulders.  One says to me, "Tell her you will come get them.  Even if they're good, they just told you  that you can have a free bag of peaches!!"  And I think to myself that these things can't be good.  But it's nobody's fault but my own here.  My other little friend is saying to me, "Tell her you found the bag and thanks.  Don't take advantage."  


The little one in white won.  I said, "Oh dear, I just found them in the back of my van!"  I am imagining a peach hell when I get them in the house.  I thanked her and hung up.  Something was telling me that this pie may be the death of me.  In the house I go.  I am ready to tackle this project.  And thank God, the peaches were ok.  Just a couple of spots.  I even ate one.  I amaze myself.


An hour and a half later, Gee walked in the door and saw me sitting at the kitchen table.  Flour everywhere.  Literally.  Dough all over my hands.  Crumbled dough all over the floor.  And "that look" on my face.  He says to me, "Don't cry."  So I cry.  Dammit that pissed me off!  I had to throw away two pie crusts because I was just not getting it right!  Gee tries to help and just when I think he's got it, it is stuck...to the table and to the roller and then to his fingers.  GEEZUS H CHRISTMAS TREE!!!  I am starting to understand insanity all too well at this point!  This dough also goes to the garbage.


Wouldn't have mattered if he would have gotten it though because "I" am the one that opened her big mouth and said that "I" was making this pie.  From scratch.  So if he would have gotten it figured out, I would have started over and just did what he did, I guess.  Anyway, it didn't work.  I took a break from it and he went to the store.  I wanted a store bought crust so I could see just how this was supposed to be done.  So he brings it home and we study it.  And we get our crust like that one.  And we tear the crust.  The store crust.  Phew.  So I barely got my crust in the pan.  Gee had to cut the edges because at this point, if I would have handled a knife, it may not have been so pretty.


Got the insides put together.  Made too much but got it put together all the same.  Put the top crust on (with a cut out on top) and in the oven it goes.  Looks good.  It's cracked though.  Dammit!!!  My goal is to make a pie crust every day until I feel I can do this.  There should be no reason I can't make a damned pie crust!!


Got the pie delivered.  It was "good."  Seriously dude?  I considered offing myself while doing this and all you can say is "good?"  For the love of french fries man, get with the program!!  Another peach pie coming up tonight.  This one is for the freezer.  I may have it bronzed.....if it turns out like I want it to.