Multiple Choice; or, Made for Quiche

Question of the day:

Which is more unsettling?

A) A show I watched last night about a woman who carried her unborn baby for so long that it calcified and turned to stone and had to be surgically removed (while in the process making me feel like maybe there are some things more unfair than being a non-progeny bearing entity such as myself);

B) A show I am watching right this very second, in which Barbara Walters repeatedly makes reference to people a) dying and disintegrating and b) going to Heaven, neither of which seems very likely to be in her cosmic deck of cards; or

C) The fact that I have already, a mere 24 hours after receiving them in the mail, used our two new Emile Henry 9" burgundy clay pie dishes.
C-2) To make quiche.
C-3) Two different kinds of quiche.



In other news, in a divine example of getting what I asked for/deserve, I am now faced with the unsettling task -- after enjoying my Strike Day today by baking quiches and buying things for M's stocking and starting Chapter 3 of you-know-what and going to a distractingly-hot-guy-free yoga class -- of somehow finding my subwayless way from Midtown Manhattan to the North Bronx tomorrow morning.

I'll be the one staggering up the Major Deegan Expressway laden with two freshly baked quiches. Please be kind.