How I spent my Saturday

Mmmmm. Apple pie.
This was my first attempt at made from scratch crust and made from scratch filling.
This time of year I have a tendency to feel a bit more domesticated. This usually results in baked goods.
When I moved into my first apartment/house, I spent my first holiday season becoming incredibly acquainted with a Martha Stewart Cookie magazine, and my best friend's Kitchen Aide mixer. I made classic Chocolate Chip, Thumbprints, Hello Dollies, Butter Cookies, as well as new recipes such as Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars and Ambrosia Cookies. I didn't have a Silpat or cooling racks like the recipes called for, so I used wax paper, and cooled the warm cookies on stacks of back issues of Jane and Vogue. My best friend would come over everyday just to see what I had baked, and was happy to take home with her any rejects. Everyone I had a mailing address for that year got a big box of homemade goodness.
I love to bake, but pies have always been foreign to me. No one in my family made pies that didn't have meringue on them or were made with a Jello No-Bake recipe. And crusts were always frozen. I always wanted to make real pie. Something with a double or lattace crust. Something like Aunt Bea's in Mayberry. Like Clarence and Alabama after the movies. Like the "Pie-Maker" on Pushing Daisies (don't they always look delicious).
And I must say, the pie was for the most part a success. My friends and husband complimented me on it. Everyone seemed to be pleased.
But there is one piece left.
In my history of cooking and baking, I have noticed that if something is truly spectacular, there is never leftovers. So I am a little sad that this pie, my first pie that I am so proud of has one lonely piece left in the fridge. Orphaned.
Maybe I should have went with cherry.