Monday, December 27, 2010

A Christmas, Baseball Metaphor

Whenever the holidays come around, there always seems to be this desire that all details work out perfectly. Maybe this only happens to me, because I'm a perfectionist. (Somehow I don't think this is the case)

Because this is an unattainable desire, something inevitably goes wrong.

The apple pie I assembled for Christmas this year was on the three strike plan:

Strike 1: Pie crust was on the dry side, and nearly crumbled as I rolled it out. Crisis was narrowly averted when the "together" parts of the crust neatly covered the necessary area.

Strike 2: Pie was forgotten at home, retrieved by husband and brother, and stored on the floor of the vehicle during the Christmas Eve service (can you see where this is going?). Curtis nearly smashed the pie with his foot when later climbing into the vehicle, but crisis was averted when he caught himself just in time.

Strike 3: Pie was not golden brown enough for this perfectionist's taste, and was thus left in the oven for three extra minutes. The timer was set, and when the pie was retrieved, this was the tragedy that awaited me:

Clearly, perfection was going to elude me once again.

The way I figure it, if this is the worst that happened, I am getting off pretty easy.

After all, this could have been about the moose that was stocking Curtis while he tried to check the mail. Now that would have been a true crisis...

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