I made a cherry pie tonight. It's been on my mind, ever since getting so terribly addicted to "Pushing Daisies," the Bryan Fuller creation about a pie-maker who has the uncanny ability to bring back the dead with a single touch. I love the show so much that I bought the boxed set, and most nights around my house we put on an old DVD to watch again.
So pie's been on my mind. Sitting in my oven right now is a double-crusted cherry pie, bubbling away and ready for eating in maybe five minutes. These days I mostly avoid sugar, as well as any other edible nasty that isn't strictly anti-cancer. I mean, I'll never know for sure if my sweet tooth had anything to do with my illness, but it seems best not too push too many limits these days, especially given I feel like I'm already on my second chance at life.
On the other hand, second chances don't mean total denial.
Do they?
I've even got a bit of Breyer's Grand to top it with.
Just a bite can't hurt, right?
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