We brought back many things from Calgary on our last trip out. Much of it was very useful (our bed! A couch!), but a lot of it was stuff that has been resting in boxes since I was little. Somehow, we managed to bring back an entire trunk full of things saved from my childhood (photos, notes, old journals), but we couldn’t find things like our casserole dishes or even the bookshelf. Sigh. I guess veggie lasagna will have to wait. As will everything that belongs on a bookshelf… In the meantime, though, I have a ton of new fodder for the YCMTSU segment of this blog. Phew! We couldn’t have that stuff just collect more dust now, could we?
Designed by the good folks at Fulcrum Communications (yes, it’s designer!), this placard was intended to retrieve a certain pie plate of my mother’s back from a certain ex of mine, but it served mostly to provide cheap thrills for my family for a good half decade.
Background Info: Way back when, I somehow ended up dating a guy that I was trying to set my best friend up with. The details of the situation are sketchy (methinks karma was just getting herself some cheap laffs at my expense), but I do know that in our three short weeks of ‘dating’ (read: hanging out at the mall?! Going to watch a Cannons baseball game?!!??!! WTF?!), I was called upon to bake a pie for said ex’s birthday. (Of course, his birthday conveniently happened to fall some time in those three weeks. Mine was likely still 8 or 9 months away. Isn’t that always the way?) Anywho, I’d never baked a pie before, but I was fortunate enough to be the daughter of the Queen of Pies. By the time of this fateful birthday pie, my mom had about a kabazillion gourmet pies under her belt, so she offered to teach me for the occasion. She also offered me the use of The Pie Plate.
Long story short, I baked the pie, presented it for his birthday, and promptly
dumped his ass decided we were better off as friends. The only thing was… I didn’t get the pie plate back.
Days went by. No pie plate.
Weeks and months went by. No pie plate.
A year went by with no sign of the pie plate. I still ran into him occasionally, and I always asked about the pie plate. I even asked his dad about the pie plate and was assured that I would get it back shortly. This was getting a bit ridiculous. (Note: By this time, the regular old pie plate had been elevated to the sacred status of Pie Plate. Rumors began circulating at home that this very Pie Plate had been passed down to my mother from her mother, and her mother’s mother, and her mother’s mother’s mother, and so forth. Truly, things were getting out of hand.)
It was around this time that my mother implemented a 15 dollar security deposit fee for any new boyfriends I happened to bring by. This helped to ensure she got her books and baking dishes back, and it also helped to ensure that I would never bring any boys by the house. Ever. Again. You try explaining to your latest crush that they have to cough up 15 bucks for your ma… (Actually, by this point, it was all in good fun.)
This is how the Pie Plate placard came to be. My mom’s friends whipped it up to be displayed whenever I might run into the ex, just as a little reminder. They were eager to point out that the font type was called “Hey, Stupid!” (for real!), and we were all pretty amused to imagine me parading by the university with the Pie Plate placard in tote. Sadly, though, this story does not have a happy ending. Our beloved Pie Plate has still not been recovered. If anybody has any information about Pie Plate’s whereabouts, please phone CrimeStoppers anonymously. Cash rewards may be paid for information that leads to recovery of stolen property or to an arrest. With your help, we can put an end to crime.