I am so happy to report that in the light of morning, all chickens had made it and were present and accounted for. I'd been especially worried about the oldest girl, a black-and-white Plymouth barred rock, as she's been showing signs of aging and decline. She must have been hiding in one of those dark corners, but she came out with the others for breakfast yesterday.
Camille had stopped by the night before to share a glass of a chocolate wine she'd found.. (Yes, there truly is such a thing and it is absolutely delicious.) In the course of our conversation, she asked if there was any of the tomato pie left. I had to disappoint her, saying I'd had the one piece left for lunch. However, there were more tomatoes in the basket and if she liked, I'd make another one last night. "Yes!" By this time, I had the recipe in my head so doing a repeat was easy, and the second pie turned out as well as the first. I sent a big wedge home with her, but I've got leftovers again. This will be day four of tomato pie, and I'm pretty sure I'm done with tomatoes for awhile.
It was a good day, even though Jimmy Johnson didn't win the race in Phoenix. Bummer.