The Pursuit of Pie
Pie. Look at it. Look! Ah, the comfort of a nice warm, homemade slice baked with plenty of butter and berries. Pure sugary bliss.
One bite can unleash a flood with the perfect chemical cocktail inside like a warm blanket of puppy hugs, the ultimate temporary rush of happy feelings. A simple concept handed down for centuries, mixing fruit with sugar and spices, then stuffing it into a crisp, flaky pocket, like some cruel blitz on the senses, hijacking our most basic childhood memories to keep us coming back again, and again, and again. Together, the combination of salt, sweet, and savory can bring order to uncertainty and numb the senses from the daily chaos of humanity.
Almost a decade ago, I brought my niece and nephew to the Republic of Pie coffee shop, where I enjoyed this slice of Marionberry Pie. I still savor the delightful memories from those summers when my sister-in-law would send her kids to visit us in California. From perusing Daiso for Rilakkuma pens to afternoon excursions riding the Pirates of the Carribean and Haunted Mansion on repeat, that time remains carefully bottled and vacuum-preserved in my mind.
Unlike those glory days, this very different, chaotic summer has crushed me down, swirled me around, and toasted my brain to a crisp, as a testament to my dedication to getting the absolute most out of therapy…
June bubbled up from the get-go with a last-minute sales trip to Montrose County Colorado, followed by a same-day even-more-last-minute trip to Las Vegas. The resulting non-stop 4-day series of sales pitches, mixed in between dinners, drinks, and promotional cookie-baking, finally ended with a red-eye flight home to chef’s-kiss the whole trip.
What did I learn? I thought I might have a few days to process, but the great pie maker in the sky showed no mercy. I jumped back into the mixing bowl with a Monday night Beatology concert, featuring the fab four live on stage, triggering childhood memories of belting out harmonies, while washing down the drain any effort for much-needed sleep.
The very next day, pressure mounted when I learned what tree professionals call a “tree emergency,” due to one of our massive 500-pound branches snapping and teetering in the wind over our neighbors’ master bedroom. After the fire department reassured me that they could not help at all, and recommended with a shrug that the neighbors get the hell out of their house, I spent the evening waiting to see whether the tree or I would crack first.
A team of climbers brought ropes chain saws by the next afternoon to make some noise and remove the offending hunk of wood. As the wood chips settled, I put all my remaining energy back into the two main items on the my menu board: building a career for the paying of bills, and producing my sketch comedy podcast for the having of fun. Both required a yet one more trip, this time to California.
Stepping up to the jet bridge one more time, I found myself back at my home away from home (away from home… away from home), the City of the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. Within a few hours of what Tattoo called de-planing, I stepped into a recording studio to capture 12 ridiculous stories, also known as comedy sketches.
At this point, June’s four-week chaotic baking process had left my mind’s kitchen a complete mess, disshevled and dizzy with a mix of ingredients and metaphors, clouding my sense of my place in the world, and confused about how comedy even works. Do I deconstruct a single chuckle, then reassemble it? Do I need to know… words? What do I do with my ears?
Luckily, we already completed the hard work of gathering the ingredients, plus soaking, mincing, mixing, refining and kneading them all together into proper screenplay format. Therapy provided the raw materials, using the challenges of pursuing of happiness as the theme for the series, because what better way to address a difficult topic, than through the sharp comic edge of satire.
Like grandma’s recipe on a tattered index card, we simply followed the words on the page. Sliding our comedy pie in the oven in Studio A, the irreplaceable talents of the delightful kitchen crew of funny people – writers, producers, and actors – baked it to perfectly delicious hilarity. And topping it all off with one more slice of Marionberry at the Republic of Pie. Order up!
