I should probably come clean and tell you that half the reason we drive out the the berry farm (about an hour away from us) is that afterward we get to go to the famed Bluebonnet Cafe for burgers and pie.
That’s right, pie!
Peanut Butter Pie
Coconut Cream Pie
German Chocolate Pie.
There we were, at the table, waiting not so patiently for our lunch. I was confiscating silverware, righting the salt shaker, picking up those little cups of creamer after their “pyramid” fell to the floor, taking each one individually to the bathroom (because the can’t all go at once, of course not) and then I looked out the window and saw this:
I had to laugh. There was a time when I made the happy hour circuit. I was dressed to the nines and ready to set the world on fire. I was the next big thing in public relations. I was networking, sure that the next hand I shook would be my ticket to the fast track. There were a LOT of (not so) happy hours, and I can’t say a one of them involved pie.
You know, it might be a kinder gentler corporate world if they had. Just imagine, men and women in their pinstripes discussing the merits of bulk mailings vs. print ads over apple pie a la mode.
I think the Bluebonnet might just be on to something!