Sunday Blasphemy

I was at the grocery store the other day, picking through frozen food when I noticed a sale sign for frozen pies. The sign proclaimed that they taste like they are "home cooked". Really, like my mom use to make? I am not paying for that, my mother was a shitty cook and a shitter baker. The term "home cooked" for me means crappy watery I guess I will eat Spagettios meal. I have to say my "home cooked" meals are about the same, that is why I am picking through the frozen food isle.

I suppose the image of "home cooked" pies are intended to touch the sentimental side. For the consumer to look back on their childhood, erase all real memories, and replace them with good ole' mom, cooking a pie with flour on her face and love in her heart. In my reality, my mom was a working mom. She came home, ran around the kitchen and cooked whatever was thawed and took 30 minutes or less. Then we sat on the couch and watched T.V. as we shoveled the fast and still slightly frozen food in our face.

Alas, I don't know how many pies the image of my families dinner time would sell. Anyway, the advertised pies reality seems better. Maybe I can buy it pass it off as I cooked it and my daughter can look back at our dinners and be awash with pie nostalgia.