We made the most delicious blueberry pie earlier this month. It was the first official pie of the year, since I kind of took a pie break after the holidays and then things like God of War III got in the way. Not to toot my own horn–okay, fine, I will–but somehow my crust came out superb and I think I can almost make it from pure memory now. Note to self: don’t cut the butter into the pastry too much, so you can basically eat chunks of butter with blueberry deliciousness.

I guess pie is on the family brain, because today I got this email from my dad:

So now I don’t know what to do. Bake them multiple pies by Tuesday out of guilt because he really isn’t joking? Or bake one just to one up this “most probable” joke? Or bake them pies because this is my dad’s reverse psychology at work? Or just ignore this email and never pick up the phone when they call? Hmm.

Here’s what I’m going to do. Bake a pie and eat it in its entirety during the next episode of Lost.