Long ago, I was afraid to make pie. My husband repeatedly asked for fruit pies, and I would say, “I’m sorry, it’s too nerve-racking.”
One time, my mother-in-law tried to help me make a pie, and I thought we were going to hit each other over the head with the rolling pin. Which is funny, because she had insisted on purchasing a store-bought crust, which requires no rolling pin.
Eventually, a day came when no one was asking for pie. I found some stale Crisco in my pantry and made a pie, which my husband thought was excellent, even after I told him I made the pie with stale Crisco.
I made a dozen pies in the next two months. (I bought some fresh Crisco.) Eventually, my husband asked me to lay off on the pie-making for a little while.
Life is like pie dough: it can remain dormant, it can be stretched, it can even be completed using a stale ingredient, and still taste pretty sweet.