You know you've got somethin' special going on when your girlfriend suggests you make a pie, a pumpkin pie, when you can't divine the difference between a pie crust and a pocket knife, and you go, "Yeah. Know what? It's pie weather," and you work your way to the store and buy spices and instruments you probably won't use more than once, and to another one in the opposite direction to find a serviceable crust, and you buy bacon and ground beef while you're there to retain a certain, I don't know, Respectability, and you go home and you mix and blend and beat things with spoons, and you don't cook it long enough and cut it too early and end up with this gorgeously sweet, redi-whip drenched concoction that you have to eat with a spoon, and you feel so much better for having learned something useful, sort of,
...and she's two-hundred miles away.
Damn.