We were invited to another family's house for dinner last night. When they called to ask us a couple of days ago, I said "yes". And "thank you". As both those things were difficult enough in and of themselves for me to say, I thought I'd done my part. I wasn't given any instructions to prepare and bring a course so I didn't think another thing about it.

When we got into the car to leave last night, my husband, who is really the girl in our relationship, could not abide showing up at their door without delectable baked goods in hand.

"What are we bringing?"

"Nothing, I guess."

"They said not to bring anything?"

"No, they didn't say to bring anything."

"You mean you didn't even ask if there was anything we could bring?"

"No. They didn't tell me to bring anything."

"Well we should bring something."

"Why? They've already prepared the meal and all we've been asked to do is show up. What more is required of us?"

He rolled his eyes at me and motioned to pull into the parking lot where there was a small organic market I'd never before set foot into to secure precious baked goods so we would not be laughed out of existence when we showed up empty-handed. (Sometimes we both agree that I was meant to be born a man and just stood in the wrong line when God was handing out testicles. Of course, you know what that says about him.)

I stopped the car in the loading area and let KoH go in by himself. He, after all, would have the better scoop on the appropriate thing that we weren't asked to bring. After the hippie family with eighteen kids came in and out of the store eighteen times, my husband finally emerged with not one, but two of the least offensive pies I have ever seen or heard tale of in my life. The following text was emblazoned on each package (seriously - not joking here):
  • No Wheat
  • No Gluten
  • No Refined Sugars
  • No Dairy
  • No Corn
  • No Hydrogenated Oils
  • No Additives
  • No Preservatives
  • No Soy
  • No Cholesterol
  • No Trans Fat
  • Non--GMO (I had to look this one up on wikipedia - it eiter means Genetically Modified Organism, General Medical Officer, or Glenn Miller Orchestra - I'm not sure which)
  • No Nightshades (Nightshades??!? because now I gotta worry about belladonna in my food?)
  • No Grain Alcohol
  • Vegan
  • Made in Maine (because where else?)

"Is there any pie in there?" I asked as we pulled out of the parking lot and the hippie family got out of their Volvo and headed back into the store for the nineteenth time.

When we showed up at the door with not one, but two pies, they looked at us like we were crazy. They'd already prepared cupcakes and an activity of cupcake decorating for the kids as dessert. Each of the adults ate a small piece of pie to be polite, but what I really wanted was to eat spoonfuls of frosting and jelly beans straight the can like the rest of those lucky kids.

The pie itself ended up being pretty good, if unlike any pie I'd ever had before and despite my compulsion to repeat ad nauseum to anyone within earshot, "You know what would make this pie better? Gluten!"

After a lengthy argument about who should take home the rest of the pie, we lost and now have two nearly complete Fantastic Health Food Voyage Pies in our refrigerator. Vindication. Take that KoH! *Spikes pie on kitchen floor and does victory dance under imaginary marriage goalpost*

I'm eating some of the blueberry pie for breakfast, which, I figure is healthier than anything else in my entire house... combined. But what this pie really needs to go with it? Gluten-flavored ice cream.