The pie crust incident...

So I had a little incident with a pie crust this weekend.

And before you think this is just some silly story about baking, stick with me—because there's actually a point.

I love Thanksgiving. Like, LOVE it. It's probably my favorite holiday because I get to spend a whole week cooking and baking and making everything from scratch while channeling my inner Martha Stewart. (I secretly think we could be best friends.)

Growing up, food wasn't really a big focus in our house. Lots of microwave meals, lots of last-minute scrambling. No shade to my parents—they did the best they could—but I think that's why I've always been a little extra when it comes to cooking.

Real ingredients. Real care. The whole nine yards.

So when I say I go overboard for Thanksgiving, I mean it. I have a special binder, just for Thanksgiving, with checklists and schedules and all of my tried-and-true favorite recipes. I prepare like it’s my Superbowl.

And this year, I got it in my head that I was going to make two kinds of homemade pie with homemade crust.

Now, here's the thing about pie crust: it's fussy. Like, really fussy.

I’ve always used my BFF Martha’s Pate Brisee recipe, which is so good… when it actually works.

But to make it work, all the ingredients have to be super cold—the butter, the flour, the water—and then you have to get the texture just right or the whole thing falls apart.

And I’ve never admitted this publicly before, but I have a history with pie-related meltdowns.

But my husband Chuck knows. In fact, for the past few years, he's gently suggested we just order the pies from a local bakery. (He's witnessed the meltdowns firsthand for 20 years now, so he's not wrong.)

But this year I was feeling bold.

I wanted the full Thanksgiving experience. Flaky crust and all.

I was a freight train barreling off the cliff that couldn’t be stopped.

So I psyched myself up, chilled all my ingredients, and then—because apparently I was feeling overconfident—I decided to double the batch and do it all at once in my food processor.

Spoiler alert: that was a big mistake.

The food processor couldn't handle it. The butter and flour turned into a sticky, gluey, inedible mess. Flour exploded across the kitchen. There was a lot of yelling. Chuck tried to help. I snapped at him. He wisely retreated to the yard.

Frankly, It was not my finest moment.

But once I cooled down (and cleaned up the catastrophe), I had to laugh at myself a little. Because it was so ridiculously over the top. I reminded myself—out loud—that it was just pie crust.

And then I had to face the truth: I had completely failed at the exact thing I'd been reminding myself of all month.

The mom sets the tone.

Because meltdown mode was not exactly the vibe I was going for.

It was humbling, honestly.

And it made me realize something I do more often than I’d like to admit: I create more stress than necessary because I have a hard time letting go of control. I pile things on my plate (literally and figuratively), and then I melt down when it's too much.

Which brings me to what's been on my mind this week.

This coming Sunday is the kickoff party for my Ignite Your Best Year Yet event, and I've spent weeks getting everything ready to teach—the workbook, the frameworks, the slides, all of it.

But the most important part? Actually doing the work myself.

Because what made this event so impactful for people last time wasn't just the frameworks I was teaching—it was the real-life examples I shared from my own life and my own homework, and the sometimes brutally honest conversations that followed.

The pie crust moments, if you will.

So this week, I'm going through the same process I'll be teaching. Getting clear. Casting a vision. Doing the work.

And I realized something: I don't want to do it alone.

That's why I asked Chuck if he'd sit down and go through some of the exercises with me—especially the parts where we're dreaming and planning for our future together.

He was immediately wary. For one thing, he's not exactly Mr. Personal Development, but his bigger concern was about what can of worms we might open up if we start asking hard questions. "What if we want different things? Isn't that going to lead to a fight?"

But that's the whole point.

The conversation matters.

Even if it's messy. Even if it's not perfect. Especially if it's not perfect.

Brené Brown says very matter-of-factly, "Clear is kind. Unclear is unkind." Along those same lines, Donald Miller reminds us, "A good plan violently executed now is better than a perfect plan next week."

In other words? Progress beats perfection every time.

And clarity beats comfort.

So whether it's pie crust or life goals, here's my challenge for you this week:

Take a breath. Slow down. Start the conversation.

Don't wait until the timing is perfect or the path is obvious. Just begin.

You don't have to do it all at once. You don't even have to get it "right." But please don't let another year slip by without deciding—intentionally—what you want from it.

Live with purpose, friend, and have an amazing Thanksgiving!

xoxo, Ruth

P.S. If you'd like to do this work with me, the Ignite Your Best Year Yet event starts on Sunday—and I'd love for you to join me. You can sign up here → 👉 Join Ignite Your Best Year Yet HERE!

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What’s cooking in my kitchen…

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