Lucky us! For the house smells of freshly-baked apple pie again. The latest was delivered warm to Keith, our postmaster. I learned long ago to appreciate those who work for the postal service, for theirs is often a thankless job. Now he'll have something to enjoy when the Patriots play the Falcons tonight on Thursday night football. (Something in his eyes when I handed it to him tells me, though, it may not last that long.)
I don't eat pies because I've yet to find a healthy way to make them. Although I did not tell this to Keith, Dick, or Wonalancet, they are vegan, but not good for the arteries. Too much Earth Balance buttery spread.
You would have laughed if you had seen Emily grabbing the front seat to be closer to the pie on our way to the post office. Her nose is the most animated of any animal I've ever met. It twists, it turns, and it has a personality of its own. There are times I expect it to even speak—for it is that expressive.
Samwise is f…
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