When life hands you apples

... turn it into a smiley face.

When I was a kid, my sister and I always had to help my mom bake pies. For Thanksgiving. For Christmas. Birthdays. For my uncle when he plowed us out after a snow storm. For the local milk hauler who brought us water in the summer when our well went dry.

It was our job to get an ice cube out of the freezer. That was her secret to making flaky crust - ice cold water. And my mom makes the best pies.

We watched and talked. About nothing really. Looking back it was just fun.

When mom had the first half rolled out, she lifted it up while we slid the pie pan underneath. It was easy and smooth. And prevented cracking the crust.

Then she'd trim the edges. This was the best part of pie making. We would snitch pieces of raw crust as fast as Mom would cut them off. Flour, salt, and lard. Yum-O! What we didn't eat we sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on and baked.

And to finish it off, she had to vent the crust to let the steam escape and keep it from bubbling over. But rather than cut boring slits, my mom always cut out a smiley face.