The poor woman spent the entire day in my
But my stupid friends had this weird obsession with "calories" and "fat" and "trying not to be mistaken for mall Santas," so Mom and I had to be hard-core pie pushers to get each of them to eat their required four servings. Our efforts worked, though; we were left with less than one pie after everyone left.
I love throwing parties, but here's what I hate about it: My place is not so big—and, in the case last night, Mom is not a pie factory—so I couldn't invite everyone I wanted. In fact, my short guest list represented about a third of the people whose pie holes I wanted to stuff. So to speak. And I will spend the next 10 months stressing over the hypothetical hurt feelings of friends who for all I know couldn't have come anyway. (10 months. I'm that much of a mess.)
Fortunately—at least in the short term—I can drown those feelings of I-have-betrayed-my-friends despair in the yummy goodness of leftover pie.