Creatures Were Stirring, Including the Mice

If everything went smoothly all the time, I’d have nothing to write about.  Everything did go smoothly on “Pie Day”, the day before Thanksgiving.  I repeated the procedure from last year, doing one step of making the cranberry mince pies, reading a section of the newspaper and going to the next step.  It took about 2.5 hours to get the two lattice crust pies in the oven.  As soon as that was done, I began on the pumpkin cheesecake.  This was a first.  Every year I brought home a whole pumpkin pie and remnants of a second.  After 30 years, you’d think I’d get the message that our extended family does not favor pumpkin pie.  Rather than gear up for two more pie crusts, I opted for the cheesecake.  The recipe was loosely based on the family favorite by Aunt Doris.  I read about 15 sets of directions on the internet, jotted down approximate measurements and threw together this makeshift dish.  It wasn't exactly a hit, but it was more popular than our usual pumpkin pie..

I was nervous about leaving the pies on the dining room table, since that is where mice destroyed a decorative gourd a few days before.  After we disinfected the area, we saw no further evidence of mouse visitation.  I figured we had the table in the center of the room, so that was a step in the right direction.  I pulled the chairs away from the table, assuring myself a mouse could not jump high enough to get on top.  Once in the night I woke and wondered if the pies were OK, but I didn’t get up to check on them.  I slept even better than usual, waking without an alarm.  I showered, went downstairs and saw grandson Nate and husband John putting breakfast on the table on Thanksgiving morning.  Although they were within two feet of the pies, they acted as if nothing were wrong.  My eyes had immediately gone to the pies like metal to magnet.

I wailed, “Oh!  No!”

John said, “What’s the matter?”

“The mice have been at the pies!”

They ate the top crust from a quarter of each pie.  Actually, I’m glad they attacked both so I wouldn’t be tempted to think they didn’t touch one.

I said, “Let’s eat breakfast.  What time do we have to leave for the choir rehearsal before church?”

John said we needed to leave at 9:15.  I drank half my coffee and ate four bites of the lovely chocolate cheese horn John bought that morning.  As I gathered the things for new pies, I asked John to throw the first ones in the woods.  I wonder what animals had a nice Thanksgiving feast, thanks to our mice.  Hope they enjoyed it as much as we would have.

Having just used the recipe the day before, I referred to the cookbook only once.  Going into high gear, I quickly put the filling ingredients in a bowl and asked Lise to stir them while I lined the newly washed pie plates with pastry.  The woven lattice crust would take too much time.  The short cut was a top crust thrown on, sealed, crimped and vented.  I had 10 minutes to finish breakfast and get dressed.  The non-cook Lise was left in charge of getting the pies out of the oven.  The record breaking time was one hour, more than twice as fast as the day before!  It’s probably the first time John and I ever walked into church and found the full choir standing about waiting.  We made it!  I took a deep breath, and we rehearsed the four pieces the choir was doing and got through the service creditably.  I came home to put my feet up (which I obviously didn’t because I wrote this), and then went back for the family Thanksgiving Feast.  We had much to be thankful for.

A friend, Carol, wrote that she would have cried if mice had nibbled her desserts.  I replied that there was no time to cry.  Daughter Lise heard my exclamation and told me later that she stayed upstairs, thinking I was going to explode.  After I took the mouse eaten pie pictures, Lise wondered when it would be funny.

"It's beginning to be funny right now," I replied.

What saved the day was thinking about how to write this story, even as I whipped out the utensils to replace the pies.  It seems I'd rather write than cry.

We had a debate about where to store the remaining cranberry mince pie after our snack Thanksgiving night.  Chrissie, living in an older house upstate, suggested the microwave.  She doesn’t know how often ours is used.  John liked the idea, saying he could have another piece of pie every time he heated a cup of coffee.  I was not willing to leave the pie unguarded on the dining room table, knowing the mice would be back for more.  I voted for a different table in a different room.  John fetched the largest Tupperware mixing bowl and popped it over the pie.  David and Lise agreed with me that the plastic alone might not deter a fierce family of rodents.  If they could squeeze under a fairly tight doorway, they might pry their way under the bowl.  John added two tile trivets, but I shook my head.  David chose the green marble napkin holder and tested the combined weights.  I still had misgivings, but the others were satisfied.  I woke once in the night but didn’t have the umph to check out the mouse block.  Everything appeared undisturbed in the morning light.  I did not assume the pie was safe but lifted the heavy things to make sure.  All was well.  We found the winning combination at last.  Somehow, winning a skirmish in a mouse war lacks drama, but I was inordinately pleased at our success.

  

One person wrote that after he saw the picture of the mouse nibbled pie, he thought David and Nate might be the culprits.  I could understand that a fond grandmother might call the thieves mice, not pointing to her grandsons by name.  When another of my posts kept talking about REAL MICE, he realized I was writing about rogue rodents and not human thieves.  I thought that was the end of the story, but we had another twist Friday night.  Around 10, John, Lise, David and I sat at the infamous table eating dessert.  After telling the story about our grandsons being under suspicion in one person's mind, I commented that our children and grandchildren would have known by age 2 not to touch a dessert left on the table.

David snickered.  He said, “Look at what I’m doing to the pie.”

He removed the top crust of his piece and put it to one side on the plate.  He was using my old trick of saving the best till last.

“Stop!”  I said.  “Where is my camera?”

I thought there was a remarkable resemblance to the destruction of the lattice top and the naked slice on his plate.  The big difference was David finished the filling as well as the crust.  I would trust him to guard my pies any day.