I’ve been thinking a lot about pie. Why? Five things happened:

1. When it was on, I watched and adored the show Pushing Daisies. (Returning this fall, btw–joy!) The main character, referred to as “the pie man” makes pies at a restaurant called “The Pie Hole” as in “Shut yer . . .”

2. I saw the movie Waitress. Tell me you can watch that movie and not want pie. Go ahead. LIAR!

3. I read the book Julie and Julia; My Year of Cooking Dangerously. Hilarious and possibly life-altering.

4. I was talking with friends, one of whom admitted to an obsession with gardening. I don’t garden, but I knew what she meant when I confessed, “I’m obsessed with baking.” She understood and said it was the same kind of thing; a tactile activity with a tangible result. Since we work in the same field, on weekends and weeknights we crave the tangible. 

5. I bought, after coveting it on the shelf, the book Pie. It was $40 on the shelf, so I left it at the bookstore after reading several pages, then caved to the crave this week, buying it for much less on Amazon (with free shipping!).  

When I told the boy I bought a book about pie, he wanted to know if it was just pages and pages of the number. LIKE I’D EVER WANT A BOOK ABOUT PI.

I sat and read MUCH of it last night and am about to embark on a mission to become a master pie baker. And yes, I will likely blog the journey. There are sure to be some disasters as I blunder my way through 300 pages of pie recipes.

Another small thing happened while I was having my pie epiphany. Andrew Hersey blogged about a lemon pie that was the best food he’d ever put in his mouth. I had to know more, and Andrew was kind enough to tell me; not meringue, more of a cream. I will endeavor on my pie journey to reproduce this pie. Andrew will have to be an honorary tester.

AND YES, if I can find it, I WILL BAKE A CRUST WITH LARD. (Don’t suppose I can buy this at Rebecca’s or Whole Foods, eh?)

Neighbors and friends be warned: there’s a pie in your near future.

The girl, age 11.

This could be a picture of me at her age, nose stuck in a book.

I’m so glad she’s a reader, like both her parents.

Better still, is the book she’s reading, a favorite of ours. It’s such a thrill to share beloved books with our kids, and have them appreciate them, too.

We spent part of the afternoon in a coffeeshop, she with her hot chocolate, me with a mocha, pleasantly reading, quietly passing the time together, doing what we love to do best.

I have come to a crossroads with my hair. If I continue down one path, there are two diverging roads. On one, I can spend at least $100 a month at a salon where my color will be efficiently and beautifully managed. I’ll never show a bit of gray hair although roots will show and I must be on top of the maintenance schedule. This option is not that appealing to  me. That’s a lot of money over a year’s time. Also, I hate scheduling appointments and spending that kind of time in a salon.

The second road down this path is, of course to color my hair myself. This is much less expensive. I, however, am far from a professional colorist. When I’ve done my hair myself I miss whole sections or the color comes out not exactly the shade I’d hoped. I’ve ranged from chocolate to auburn to a punky maroon. It’s really tough to match plain old brown and not have it look fake or overdyed. Colored hair, particularly for brunettes, looks so obvious to me.

Aside from the reluctance to maintain hair color, either on my own or with professional help, I wonder about the effect of coloring one’s hair. Is it really good for me to have all those chemicals on my head? What about the environment? Is it “green” to color one’s hair? Probably not.

My husband is very anti-hair color. He would actually prefer it if I just let it go. He’s graying at a rate slightly faster than I am, and it looks good on him — of course. Gray hair always looks good on men. I said that I think when people see a (younger) woman with gray hair they think she doesn’t take enough of an interest in her appearance. But I’m not sure that’s true. In the last few weeks I’ve noticed plenty of my friends my age or thereabouts who aren’t coloring their hair. It looks fine — good, even. Normal.

I mean, as a friend from grade school recently pointed out, we’re almost forty. Who are we kidding, here?

So I’m seriously considering it. So much in fact it’s been months since I’ve covered my gray. I don’t have much — just a string of holiday lights along my part and a few at my temples. In the right light, it looks silvery, and I’m hoping, in the sun, like highlights. Maybe I’ll be lucky and have that lovely silvery hair that some older women have, rather than dull, colorless locks.

My guess is it will take ten years or more before I’m completely gray. Maybe even closer to 20. Although, in the next ten years the girl will go through all of what teenagerhood holds. She may well turn my hair white overnight.

Are you going gray? Where do you stand on the hair coloring issue? I used to think I’d color till I was dead, never for a minute revealing my true color. Now though, I think I’ll just let it go, and see what happens. If I start being mistaken for a much older woman, then I can always start coloring again.

I really do not like shorts. I think they look terrible on just about everyone.

I don’t even find capris, while comfortable, terribly flattering to all but the thinnest, longest-legged women.

I like skorts. They’re more flattering than shorts and are good for the hottest of days.

I like skirts, in fact I wear them a lot in the summer.

A dress though, is what you want for those hottest days. My search for the perfect sundress is never ending.

This is cute, and in a nice summery color. (From Victoria’s Secret for $29). I’m not, as you know, sixteen-years-old, so I doubt I can pull it off.

If you’re sixteen, though, you should consider it. The price is right.

This is not bad, from Newport News for $59 on sale. This model reminds me of the woman with the gorgeous hair on CSI Miami.

I will never have that hair. How does she keep it from frizzing in the Miami heat? These things really distract from the plot.

 I like a nice halter dress.

I’m into brown this year, too and have shoes that would look nice with this.

But, at $250 from Neiman Marcus, I think I’m going to have to pass.

As a side note, remember that famous pinup of Farrah Faucet? The one where she’s wearing the orange swimsuit? I saw that in a magazine today and you know what was refreshing to notice? She’s not frighteningly thin. And she’s not surgically enhanced. She looks pretty but normal. Wouldn’t it be nice if more models looked like Farrah used to? I’m just sayin’.

Of course, I don’t think we need to go back to the big frosted hair. I’m OK if that doesn’t come back in style.

I think I need an intervention. I’m completely drawn to two patterns when I shop: polka dots and paisley. I have owned, or currently own, plenty of polka dots. I’ve managed to steer clear of the paisley, but there’s a swimsuit I’ve been eyeing that’s aswirl with pink, orange, green and blue paisley. Somebody stop me.

This is lovely, though, and comes in brown, too. It’s $168 at J. Crew. I could do without the rosette thing. That would have to come off.

What do you think? Too bridesmaid?

As I said, the search for the summer dress never ends.

Today is a big day. It is not only the day of Foxfield and the Dogwood Parade, but tonight is PROM! No, I’m not going, the boy is. Somehow, the boy negotiated only $2.50 to pay the girl to wash his car. I enjoyed the negotiation, particularly now that I know I can get away with paying her $2.50 to do mine.

(Large thunderclap interrupts this post. Oh no! I hope the rain either holds off or passes so we can take prom pictures in our blooming front yard.)

The girl has been a good helper today. We got her hair trimmed first thing this morning and watched a woman getting her hair done for her wedding. We then grocery shopped, and baked a banana cake together. We are stocked up on bananas, not because we are cool and belong to a CSA and got a huge load of bananas this week. No. We were just poor planners and bought some at the store and then a 3lb. bunch at Sam’s. We’ll frost it with chocolate butter frosting when it cools.

Tonight, while the prom goes down at the JPJ, we’ll grill some steaks and corn on the cob, relax and maybe watch a movie.

The weather (except for the ominous thunderclap) is beautiful. Darn near perfect. Mark’s been doing all kinds of outdoor work, putting in paving stones, planting grass seed and an herb garden. I’m taking a break and will, in a moment, do piles and piles of laundry. I will never get over my love for weekends.

It’s a good day.

Moments the girl will be mortified I’m sharing:

The girl, heading out to church on Sunday morning: “Hey, I could have sworn there were pockets in this skirt.”

It was inside-out.

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The girl leaned over to give me a hug and put her armpit right in my face. “WHEW! Did you forget deodorant today?” I said. “You stink! Take a whiff if you don’t believe me.”

The girl: (sniff, sniff) “WHOOO! There is definitely something to what you’re saying, there.”

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That’s right. My kid is the stinky one with her skirt on inside-out.

I have two older sisters. K is ten years older than I am, and M is three years older than K. What this means is that I was four when M went to college, and eight when she got married. I was eight when K went to college and 12 when she got married. I had the experience of being an only child for much of the time from the age of eight on. I had holiday and summer sisters.

Despite the age difference, or perhaps because of it, I have learned much from my sisters. From K, I learned how to be creative. She, in effect, taught me to color outside the lines. It was no surprise to me that she became an elementary school teacher. From K I have also learned how to become part of your husband’s family, without losing the connection to your own. Without realizing it, I’m sure, she also taught me how to be a mother, as I saw her often with my oldest nephew when he was very young. K is patient and kind and from her I have learned what that looks like, and aspire to it.

From M I learned how to be opinionated, to pave my own path. I learned to have the courage behind my convictions, to speak up, and to write my own major in college (something she did, and so did I.) M, also a writer — a print journalist, in fact — has always encouraged me with my writing but also demonstrated how to dedicate your life to work that you love, while being a dedicated mother, too.

My sisters are both incredibly generous and caring. My sisters are thoughtful and artistically gifted. My sisters often know just the right thing to say.

My sisters are, and always have been, beautiful. I wanted to be just like them, alternately, at different times in my life. They are so different, it’s impossible to want to be just like both of them at once. They were the ones from whom I stole blush and lip gloss, whose Danielle Steele novels I read, whose wedge espadrilles I wore, at their chagrin, as soon as my feet were as big as theirs. I tried my sisters on like dresses, to see which one I would turn out to be.

I’m sure that many of the lessons I learned from my sisters, I also learned from my parents, or my sisters learned from my parents and passed down to me, the little sister. But that’s another post.

This one is about my sisters.

In last week’s Newsweek, Katie Couric contributed an article about the condolence cards and letters she received when her husband died ten years ago. When Jay died from colon cancer, my mother sent Katie a card. I kind of scoffed at that, the way we do when our mothers do something we don’t quite understand, and reading Katie’s article, about finally sharing all those notes and cards she’d saved these ten years with her daughters, I thought about the difference in me then, the one who scoffed ten years ago, and me, now; the one who’d be just as likely to send a card to someone I know just about as well as my mother felt like she knew Katie Couric.

My mom felt Katie’s pain, and having had breakfast with Katie for the many years she was on the TODAY show, felt like sending a card was the right thing to do. It was validating to learn that Katie did indeed, read and save those cards and letters. They meant something to her; even the notes from people she never had, and never would meet.

Ten years ago, I didn’t understand because I’d had yet to lose someone close to me. My brother-in-law had not yet lost his battle with cancer. Ten years ago, I didn’t have a friend with breast cancer that has spread to her bones, her lungs and her liver. I had not yet become a blogger, an activity that has made me feel as if I do, indeed know people I’ve never met and might never meet. There are blogfriends  to whom I would certainly send a condolence card if they lost a loved one. I’d not yet learned how to say to someone, “I’m sorry for your loss,” in a way that is comforting and did not make me squirm. I get it now, and although it’s belated, I too extend my condolences to Katie Couric.

There are, believe or not, some non-mothers who read this blog. Some, unlike the guys or others not interested in procreating, plan to be mothers one day. For some, motherhood is imminent.

So to the someday moms, I ask, what kind of mother will you be?

I remember in high school, we all said we wanted to be the “cool mom.” We all planned to stay home with our kids until they went to school, but we also all planned to have amazing, fulfilling careers. Some friends have put off motherhood as long as possible, to get that career in first. Some simply haven’t found the right daddy. Some, like me, had kids first, then the career.

I’m not sure if I’m the “cool mom” I wanted to be. Probably not. We seldom are, to our own kids at least. I know I embarrass and even humiliate my kids at times. I’m sure I don’t “get it” and deserve the eye roll and the sigh now and again. My vow to always keep up with the new, cool music was thwarted around the time Britney and Justin were on the scene. Do you blame me?

I am not the mom, however, who still wears miniskirts and leopard print, who is trying to look like a teenager when clearly, she is NOT. I am also not the mom that micromanages and plans her children’s every move. I did not start looking at colleges when they were in preschool. I am the mom who cooks and cleans, who nags her kids to help and makes them do their own chores, even when they complain. I am not the mom who redoes their homework so they get good grades. I am the mom who will help the kids study, read over the paper or the math sheet, or drive to the store at 9pm to buy the posterboard for the project they forgot they had to do.  

I am the mom who, occasionally, will let them eat birthday cake for breakfast. (What, there are eggs in it!) I am not the mom who will tolerate insolence, sloth, carelessness, thoughtlessness, lack of manners or bad grammar. I will let them stay up past bedtime, but only sometimes. I am the mom who tears up at band concerts and recitals because I’m just so darn proud. I am the mom who laughs at their jokes and loves it when they laugh at mine.

I am a mom who has lost patience, who has fallen apart, who has gotten angry, freaked out, panicked and stumbled. I am a mom who has lost confidence, made mistakes and had regret over decisions I’ve made as a parent. I am a mom who picks herself up, knows when to say “sorry” and tries to do better, again and again.

I am a mom who kissed her babies at least a hundred times a day. I am the mom who, seeing her 18 year old sleeping in the recovery room after having his wisdom teeth removed, loved him and cared for him just as much as when he was a tiny boy.

I am the mom who wants to know what my kids are doing, who they are with and when they will be home. I am comfortable letting them out of my sight and I don’t need to know about every moment of every day. That’s called letting go. I am the mom who has trouble letting go, but I’m not the mom who won’t. That much I know.

If you are a mom, what kind of mom are you? Are you the kind of mother you thought you’d be?

Even though it didn’t turn out beautifully, the Easter chocolate roll I made was very good, and several of you wanted the recipe, so here it is, with another photo from my FIL.

Chocolate Pudding Roll

1/3 cup cake flour
1/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
4 egg yolks
1/2 tsp. vanilla
1/3 cup sugar
4 egg whites
1/2 cup sugar
One package instant chocolate pudding (you’ll need 2 cups milk to make the pudding)

Combine flour, cocoa, baking powder and baking soda. Set aside. In a mixing bowl, beat egg yolks and vanilla for 5 minutes until thick and lemon-colored. Gradually add the 1/2 cup sugar, beating on high till sugar is dissolved.

Wash the beaters, then, in another bowl (or, in my case, I have one bowl for my mixer so I had to transfer the egg yolks to another container, wash the bowl and start over) beat egg whites on medium speed till soft peaks form and tips curl. Gradually add 1/2 cup sugar, beating till stiff peaks form (stand up straight). This always takes longer than you think it will. Don’t even try this recipe if it’s humid out. Fold yolk mixture into beaten egg whites. Sprinkle flour mixture over egg mixture and gently fold until combined.

Spread batter into a greased and floured jelly roll pan. I use a cookie sheet with edges. Bake at 375 degrees for 12-15 minutes, or till cake springs back when touched in the center.

As soon as you take the cake from the oven, loosen edges with a butter knife. Prepare a clean kitchen towel (of the flour-sack, not the terry variety) on the counter with a sprinking of powdered sugar, and, if you’re feeling adventurous, powdered sugar mixed with cocoa. Turn the cake onto the towel. Do this quickly. Don’t freak out. It will be fine.

Roll up the towel with the cake inside, starting on a short end. Put the cake on a rack and let it cool completely. Meanwhile, make your chocolate pudding. If you make instant, it won’t need to cool, obviously. If you’re hard core, and make cook and serve pudding, it will, at least, need to be room temperature. Unroll the cake and spread the pudding, staying about a quarter of an inch from the edges. Roll that baby up!

You can stop there, but I didn’t. I covered it with a Chocolate Glaze. I was supposed to use half of the glaze but I wasn’t paying attention and made the whole recipe. So here’s the whole recipe. Halve it if you like.

Chocolate Glaze
4 squares semisweet chocolate
3 tablespoons butter
1 1/2 cups sifted powdered sugar

In a small saucepan, melt chocolate and butter over low heat, stirring constantly. Remove from heat; stir in powdered sugar and enough hot water to make it a glaze-like consistency. Spoon over cake.

Chill the whole mess or sit down and eat it right away. Enjoy!