Tomorrow Logan’s school is celebrating Pi Day (3.14, get it?) by serving lots and lots of pie. I signed up to make two pies, and our conversation went like this:
Me: Pi Day is almost here. I need to find a winning recipe because I’m bringing in two pies and I want them to be THE BEST!
Logan: Umm, Mom, you know it’s not a pie contest, right? No one will even know it’s your pie that they’re eating.
Me: Oh, honey, they will know, because they will say, “Who made this one? You have to try this one. It’s the BEST PIE I EVER ATE.”
Logan: Seriously, Mom, you can just buy two pies from Acme. No one really cares.
Me (blank stare): Huh? “No one cares?” Of course they care! They care and I care and I will win at Pi Day.
Unfortunately, pie is really not my thing. Talking smack, that’s my thing. Never one to let lack of skill or experience get in the way, I started pulling out cookbooks and magazines and Google searches, determined to create the best pie ever. There are over 61 million results on Google for apple pie alone. My head hurt. Analysis paralysis, as they say.
But then something happened. I stopped and asked why. Why am I doing this? Why does it matter? I certainly have enough things to do, so why am I making extra work for myself?
The answer, it turns out, is as infinite and transcendental as pi itself.