Hollie Jean Burmeister makes such a to-do over her old-fashioned frozen pies. I don’t know what the big fuss is. The canned pies at Mustang Mart cost ninety-eight cents apiece, half of what the frozen ones do. The Kandi-Whip gets soft as soon as the air hits it. Don’t ask me how they do that. Ever so often they mark ’em down half price, and I buy a dozen at a time. Where else can you get a fifty-cent pie that’ll serve six people?
I stopped buying frozen pies when I had my second child. I said life’s too short and I’m too busy making a home for my family to have to thaw something out every time I serve it.
I’m gonna contribute two apple and two cherry to the bake sale for the Montgomery Clyde Hatch Antique Playtime Palisade. They’ll bring at least twenty dollars apiece. Juneau, my daughter, is running the sale. She’s Chairwoman of the MCHAPP Foundation. Her goal is to raise enough money to clear the mesquite so they can break ground on the Mudpie Arena.
Come to think of it, I’m gonna put my pies in tin foil plates so they look frozen. You don’t want people to think you’re goin’ cheap on ’em when they’re springing for twenty dollars a pie.
[Stag Country, Copyright (c) 2018 James Mansfield Nichols. All rights reserved.]