Man, I feel like a woman!

Sunday nights are naughty nights at our house. We all wander around the house after church, restless until we find an occupation. The activity we often land on to the pass the evening is baking. (We are such chicks.)

We have a bushel of freshly picked peaches which I decided to house in a pie while Karen crafted devilishly rich brownies. As I peeled peaches, I announced to Karen that we needn't feel guilty for this pie as it didn't have added sugar. I looked over to see her sitting cross-legged on the counter, slurping brownie batter right out of the bowl. "Um, yeah I'm not exactly concerned with sugar intake at this very moment," she informed me.

I filled the pastry . . .

and wanted to make a lattice-top crust. Only problem was I didn't actually know how to make a lattice-top. I was slightly concerned . . .

but it turned out beautifully! (After I squealed in exasperation several times and sighed, "I don't know what I'm doing!" several more.)

Going in the oven:
In the oven:
All done!

Yeah, I was a titch proud of the little guy. The roommates threatened to pummel me if I didn't stop gushing, "Oh, it's so darling! C'mere! Look at how cute it is!!" I was forced to call my mother to fulfill my gush requirement for the day. (No, I don't at all have an insatiable need for attention.)

I think my first lattice-top pie has secured my induction into true womanhood; I own and frequently use a crock-pot, I've canned food, knit a baby blanket and watched An Affair to Remember at least a dozen times. With this pie, I'm pretty sure it's official.


P.S. If you're ever bored/hungry on Sunday evenings, please come over and eat our food. Please. Like right now. SOMEONE COME EAT THIS PIE!