One of our church's major fundraisers is today. I have the happy task of sitting comfortably in my house and occasionally throwing dish towels in the dryer for the kitchen crew while they feed lard-fried (no joke) sausages to a million people. But I did have to spend my whole Saturday making pies as everyone is expected to contribute at least 6.
My mom recently had occasion to talk to the mother of someone with whom I went to high school, and my pride winced as I imagined her describing how I'm pregnant with my fourth baby in five years and spending my weekend rolling out pie crusts. I thought of all those academic accomplishments I was so proud of and how people in the little town where I grew up thought I would really go somewhere. Now I live in a town almost ten times smaller than that one and spend most of my mental energy figuring out what I'm going to feed everyone on any given day. And then I thought, if I'm such a genius, why shouldn't I be generating my own army of humans and making the best freakin' pie crust in town? I really thought that. So I guess it does get easier, at least sometimes.
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