Two pies

Stella here.

Rainin'. Perfect day t' set f'r a minute an' ponder th' state o' th' world.
Only I got better things t' do that're a lot less scary.

So yest'day's come an' gone. Pretty funny, now, lookin' back on it. Somebody new lookin' f'r this blog misspelled Harvey an' come up with Harry... that's how that whole mix-up came about.
I still gotta laugh, though... Harvey gettin' all in an uproar thinkin' I had some fella stashed away on th' side!

Made him a pie alright, t' settle him down - but I fixed his wagon. Made him a pickle pie.
Served it up after suppah an' I wish you could o' seen th' look on his face when he bit inta it!
"Mister Man," I told him, "that's what y' get f'r bein' a sour ol' cuss an' thinkin' such things o' your poor wife!"
'Course then I got out th' other pie. 'T was a custard, his favorite. (He calls 'em "cuss-ed". Always has f'r some reason.)
So we made up an' had a good laugh.
I prob'ly shouldn't o' wasted good ingredients makin' that pickle pie, but gosh-amighty if y' can't do somethin' foolish now an' then, what's th' point o' livin'!

Tossed that pickle pie out th' back door an' y' know, even th' seagulls wouldn't eat it. Hadda go out this mornin' an' pick up soggy crust an' sour pickles. But it was worth th' effort!

Anybody wants it, I'll send y' my "cuss-ed pie" recipe. I doubt anyone'd be interested in th' other.

That's all f'r now. Talk t' y' later.
Love,
Stella