Monthly Archives: November 2013

Second Post…Wanting the impossible changes

There are many things that the Angry Pie wishes would change, but can’t. The top change would be moving my mother-in-law out of our house. I objected to Grandma Pie moving in with us for a very very very very very very long time. Mrs. Pie’s mother is 89 years old now and Mrs. Pie started asking for her mother to move in with us about 11 years ago. She believed that the change would have a calming effect on Grandma Pie, and help make her final years more peaceful. Just over 6 years ago, Grandma Pie almost baked herself a second time when she fell asleep in her recliner while holding a lit cigarette. Against my better judgment, knowing that it would not work well, I reluctantly agreed to have Grandma Pie move in with us after seeing the worry and stress in the eyes of my daughter, Pielette, and my son, Pie Jr. after Grandma’s close call.

So after a few months, and the purchase of a new home to accommodate the extra family member and her collection of…eclectic items, she was completely moved in with us. The calming effect that Mrs. Pie was planning on lasted for 6 hours. I was bringing Grandma Pie some dinner while she was settling in to her new room. When I walked in I saw Grandma Pie sitting on her bed with her head down and sobbing quietly to herself. It was clear that this move had broken her spirit and my worst fears were coming true.

Before the week was out Grandma Pie had complained about every single part of the new house. By the end of the first month, Grandma Pie was openly calling her granddaughter “fat”, “ugly”, and “worthless”; openly calling her grandson “lazy”, “broken”, and “stupid”. After 6 months she was starting to spread rumors through the rest of the family that we were stealing money from her accounts, which was a blatant lie. Neither myself or Mrs. Pie have access to her bank accounts. Grandma Pie was losing money because she kept giving it to Mrs. Pie’s worthless sister for no reason (but that is another blog post entirely). We spent weeks fielding calls from angry family members who were demanding to know why we were taking advantage of poor old Grandma Pie. We had to show some of them copies of bank statements to get them to believe us.

After a year she started to complain that I was wasting money on my hobbies, which costs about $400-$500 per year. I then politely suggested that to save even more money, she should give up smoking a carton a week and save an extra $250 per month. For that, she spent the next month telling everyone that I threatened to beat her up if she didn’t stay in her room. After taking more angry calls from extended family, I had had enough. When I confronted her I told her that she was “rude”, “manipulative” and “mean”, then walked out of the house before she could respond. I was ready to take my kids and leave.

The good news is that she is not openly abusive to me or the kids anymore. The bad news is that she now saves up all the animosity and unloads it on Mrs. Pie. This is not fair either. After many more confrontations, about the continued verbal abuse, she has learned to hide her negativity as constant complaints about her health. Every time Grandma Pie walks into a room there is a 5 minute diatribe about all the pain she is going through and how horrible everything is. We make doctor’s appointments as a response to these complaints which always end up with reports of good health and normal tests. There have been several times where I have walked into a room when Grandma Pie was unaware and I saw her walking happily though her daily routine, sometimes even humming and singing to herself. When she is finally alerted to my presence, her shoulders slump, her back curves, her face sags, and the complaints begin again.

My greatest wish is to place her in a home. She is a poisoned pie. She is trying to poison the rest of us. But the money that the family had saved up has been given away. Grandma Pie, in either an effort to spite us or out of sheer stupidity gave two-thirds of the money that she had saved up for retirement to my wife’s sister.

My sister-in-law, a 50 year old unemployed for over a decade oxycontin addict, was absolutely fine with this arrangment. She would come over to help clean Grandma Pie’s room once a week and collect hundreds of dollars for this. When she finally ran the account empty, she asked us to start paying for my sister-in-law’s crappy services. We refused. So she started giving her money from her social security checks and not telling us about it. She would tell people that she couldn’t talk on the phone long because we were listening in and taping her phone calls. This was yet another blatant lie, but by this time the rest of the family was catching on to her pathetic lies. We got a couple of calls from family members just to make sure that this was another one of her stories.

So that brings us to now. Six years after she moved in with us, Grandma Pie has not changed. She pastes on a fake smile while you’re looking, then verbally cut you to ribbons when your back is turned. She will randomly scream and cry and cuss, then when you ask her what’s wrong she’ll give you a mean look and coldly reply, “Nothing.” then go back to what she was doing.

Grandma Pie is rotten from cream to crust. Sadly, there is nothing I can do about it. I want an impossible change.

My first post…In search of an identity.

It started off as a joke. A complete non-sequitor. We were just putting random words together. Burlesque monkey. Inflatable cheese. Preheated triangle. There were many really funny pairs that we created that night, but one always stood out to me. Angry Pie. I always had a clear picture of it in my head. A frowning, anthropomorphic pie standing on two legs and shaking its tiny fists at…whatever. It’s a cute contradiction. Something sweet, known for bringing joy to people, but simultaneously furious and bitter. A simple item with a complicated meaning.

Until one day I was grocery shopping and saw a lone pie sitting on the shelf. The crust around the outside was slightly discolored and the top of the filling was cracked in various places. If you looked at it from the right direction, the pie is unhappy. After approaching the counter and identifying the isolated pie, the phrase instantly took on new meaning. Not just a grumpy pie with a permanent frown – angry at the prospect of being eaten, but a jealous, lonely pie angry over circumstances entirely beyond its control.

From this, the Angry Pie became connected to me on a much more personal level. I struggle with jealousy often and have bouts of depression when caught between circumstances that I have absolutely no control over or any effect on. The Angry Pie became a metaphor for some of the darker moments in my life and an icon to drive me to be a better pie….I mean, person. The Angry Pie is what I strive NOT to be.

So now that I have some semblance of the direction I need to go (or at least I know which direction I don’t want to go), I’m left with a few lingering questions that I just can’t get out of my mind. Did the Angry Pie end up the way it is because it started out angry and drove the other pies away, or did it become angry because of its circumstances? If it started out angry then it has no one to blame but itself, but if it is angry because of its circumstances then how can it change? A pie can’t walk itself out of the store. Once it’s baked it can’t re-make itself. The pie is what it is. If it can’t get away from its situation and is unhappy, what can it do. It needs help from an outside source. A catalyst of sorts.

Someone has to come and accept the pie for what it is. The pie has to wait for someone to help. That is a very dark place.