Laughing in the Face of Domesticity

Let's face it . . . I did not follow in my mother's home ec-y becky footsteps. My sister received all the genes that are remotely interested in Martha Stewart. Cooking to me involves a box with the words "Lean Cuisine" printed on it, or better yet, it involves waitstaff and busboys.

But somehow, I got stuck with dessert this Thanksgiving. It's not my fault that my sister's boyfriend keeps blowing up her pies (something about not knowing what burner is on . . . ever . . . pyrex doesn't stand up to direct heat well and then there is molten pie and glass all over, physics, ain't it wonderful?). I can manage sweet potatoes. Arranging the marshmellows in intricate patterns somehow keeps my interest and the rest is just steaming and mashing.

So I'm making a pie. This does not involve steaming (the only thing I'm good at) or mashing (the other thing I can do, but I make a huge mess) and there is no arranging. My pie currently looks like this:

However it not even close to done cooking and it is midnight, so I may fall asleep and set the house on fire with it. I went to Whole Foods Market and ended up buying the apples for it because they were so pretty. Here are the apples:

And now my kitchen is a mess and I'm not done baking . . . I'm going to make pumpkin cupcakes in the morning. Of course, my kitchen is pretty much always a mess. Oh, and I now have to bake something else because I have all this stuff -- baking powder, flour, eggs, -- and I have to use them up before they go bad. So it's the amazing 70 dollar pie and pumpkin cupcakes. Would have been cheaper just to go with the "someplace with waitstaff" idea.

Oh and my hair is ORANGE to go with the pumpkin cupcakes . . . have to fix that tomorrow also.