I Cheated

It's true. I did.  But sometimes, a cheat needs to happen.  When it's for the right reasons.

Let me explain.  I'm on a diet.  A very strict diet.  As a wannabe baker and homemaker, this is unbelievably difficult.  Then add in my office filled with snacks, it's damn near impossible many days.  But I've stuck with it and not cheated one bit.  Until today.

I read a number of food blogs.  Many are funny, most informative, and all inspire me.  But one crippled me today.  I had just finished work for the day and ventured over to one of my faves, and saw an interesting - and off-topic - post about peanut butter pie.  As I read on, I was gripped by the meaning and purpose behind that beautiful little pie.  Then I wandered some more and found peanut butter pies posted all over the food blogisphere.  All in support of Jennie.

You can read her heart-wrenching and humbling post here.

Jennie's husband, the father of her 2 young daughters, passed away suddenly of a heart attack.  In the depth of her grief and her shock, she asked her readers to make her husband's favorite, a peanut butter pie, and share that with those they love most, as today is the only day we are guaranteed.

This touched the very base of my deepest fears.  The fears that wake me in the middle of the night, for no rational reason.  I'm separated from my honey by time, distance and circumstance, and my greatest fear is something happening to him while we are apart.  I know that us being together doesn't certify his well-being and safety, but who said fears are rational?  So I was compelled to make a peanut butter pie.
A sad, humble little peanut butter pie, with a store-bought graham cracker crust (see, I cheated there, too).

And while I can't share it with the one I love, I can write about it, post the picture here, and know that eventually he will stumble upon this post and know.  I made it for him.  I cheated for him.

Anyone who has lost a loved one knows and understands the pain.  And that there is little to ease that pain, but for the passage of time.  But sometimes, the little moments, such as a cook making her husband's favorite dish, helps to assuage that hurt.  And I'm sure the knowledge that hundreds of others are making the same dish, and thinking of her and her family, along with their own loved ones, can't help but provide a slight bit of comfort.