Just me? Well that doesn't surprise me.
Especially since the song I'm hearing him sing is Rocky Mountain Pies, which you probably don't recognize but is very similar to his classic hit, Rocky Mountain High.
Same tune, one tiny little word change.
That word change is directly related to the simple fact that my life over the past several days seemed to revolve around pies, pies, and more pies...and also the Colorado Rocky Mountains.
It was quite a change from my normal life, but sometimes life isn't normal and you end up trekking from the Ozarks to the Rockies with your vehicle crammed with ice chests full of 200 frozen homemade mini pies, a collection of vintage decorations, several flats of succulent plants, plus your family and all your luggage--strapped on top of the vehicle, because there was no more room inside.
For the luggage, I mean. My family all fit inside the car, thank goodness. I'd have hated to have had to strap somebody on top.
They probably would've hated that too...especially when that western Kansas thunderstorm hit us as we were cruising down I-70 about midnight that night.
I probably should explain what brought this crazy adventure on, but it's easier just to show you...
And my dearly beloved brother and his dearly beloved bride opted for mini pies in lieu of a big wedding cake...which is where I came in. Me and my 200 from-scratch, vintage-recipe blackberry, cherry, peach, and pecan mini pies.
Plus, I also made a full-sized cherry pie for the newly married couple to enjoy after the ceremony...
There was no holding her back after she spied that tiny little fruit-topped cake, and there was no holding back the crowd when they spied my pies.
Or maybe I'm exaggerating. But they did seem to go over well...
We must be related. But I'm not exaggerating a bit when I say that David did an amazing job officiating the wedding ceremony which, by the way, was absolutely perfect.
Well, sort of. After all, it was probably to much to expect for it all to go off without a hitch--especially when somebody important is getting hitched and I'm in charge of catering the dessert.
Let's just say there were a few tiny little figurative snags in my figurative non-existent pantyhose...like when the pie boxes decided to go for a spin and flip upside down in the back of my vehicle when I was only ten minutes away from the wedding venue.
After hauling them all the way from the Ozarks to the Rockies without a single issue.
Yep. That's my life.
And like when I realized the full-sized cherry pie had leaked most of its filling out into the box it was traveling in and then trickled down onto the seat of my new car (within inches of the fancy dress I was to change into right before the wedding) as a result of that unfortunate avalanche of pie boxes that occurred ten minutes before arriving at the wedding venue.
After I hauled them all the way from the Ozarks to the Rockies without a single issue.
(I may still be upset about that. Just saying.)
Or also, like when I discovered the marshmallow frosted cakes were too soft to hold their shape while being transported and would therefore require last minute primping and decorating at the venue...to which I was late arriving to due to that unfortunate pie box avalanche which occurred in my car ten minutes before arriving at the wedding venue.
After I had hauled them--oh well, you get the point.
But despite all the obstacles, I salvaged all but one mini pie and managed to pull the job off superbly, if I do say so myself...
Or at least it felt that way. Hopefully my entrance was a bit more subdued than how it seemed at the time.
And some time later, after the I do's were vowed, the dinner was devoured, and the pies and cakes and fruit were all gobbled down, I heard the first strains of "Footloose" kick off beneath the canopy tent, and I knew what I had to do.
So, I kicked off my Sunday shoes and hit the dance floor. Because sometimes, after you been workin' so hard, you just gotta cut loose.