She had trouble with her CatEye, the little computer that measures her speed and distance and time. There is a sensor attached to the bike’s fork and a little magnet attached to a spoke and the revolutions are beamed to the computer on the handlebars which do the math and, there you go, you’re cruising at an admirable speed. But she had problems. And then she fell over. She didn’t crash. She just fell. Still not sure how.

Did you know she was an All-American gymnast and a diver? She’s very graceful.

And so we pointed our wheels down the road chasing one another around the city’s bypass, through the subdivisions that dot the landscape, across the big intersection with the road that slices through the heart of town. After that we hit a new construction zone which covers about six miles of that bypass. Just under halfway around it we turned back in toward the campus.

And then when we hit the bypass on that side of things I called an audible and pointed to home. I did 10 miserable miles. This being the first time I’ve really been on my bike since April 9th. So while my neck and back finally feel better — I’ve tried to change my sleeping posture, which has been a big help — I’ve lost whatever little sliver of fitness I had built up.

Back to square one, then. And if you think that’s frustrating, well, you’re right.

Today is also a travel day. We spent most of the afternoon in the car, headed to Jackson, Ala., a tiny you-can’t get-there-from-here town to the southwest. Our friend Wendy is getting married tomorrow.

Tonight they had a little family get together at the bride’s parents’ home. There was also a shower, which I didn’t have to go to, fortunately. Instead I caught up with friends from Birmingham and Savannah and right there in Jackson.

This is the first time I’ve ever been to Wendy’s hometown. She has, for the entire decade-plus that I’ve known her, complained about how small it is. But they have 3G AND a Walmart. What else could they possibly need?

Tomorrow is the big day, though. We once counted up our friends and thought Wendy’s wedding would be the last one we’d go to for a long time. Never say this. This will be the second wedding we’ve attended in less than a month. We have another in three weeks.

And we’re running out of present ideas.

For those who have never been to Price’s Barbecue House — I’m sorry and you should fix that as soon as possible — they are set up to take your order at the counter, hand the ticket to their right while you get settled at a table. After an appropriate amount of time spent thinking about the delicious food you are about to receive one of the nice guys running the short order grill calls your name. You go collect your food and eat this delicious meal they have prepared for you.

Mr. Price sometimes takes the order. More often than not, of late, one of the ladies working there is running the front counter. Mr. Price, as I’ve mentioned here before, remembers me. I visited the place so much during undergrad that last fall he asked if I was back or just visiting. That was more than a decade and thousands of customers ago.

(I’ve eaten a lot of food here. And, while it is still sensibly priced, I just had a flash of memory: is it possible that my breakfast here once cost $2.17? Surely not. That seems shockingly low, even for a century ago, especially for the golden age of the 1990s. Another number pops in my head: $5.45? My memory can’t be trusted. That was in the last century, mind you.)

Anyway, Mr. Price remembers me. The ladies, one of them at least, doesn’t recall my name, but she remembers the usual breakfast we order. This new lady, though … Last week she wrote my name as she did above. I thought that perhaps she spelled it phonetically. Perhaps, I reasoned, a little of my north Alabama accent had slipped into my name as I told her the order. Maybe I’d done as much of my family does and made it sound like an I. Today I was very deliberate with the pronunciation, just out of curiosity.

“Kenny.”

And, again, she wrote: Kinny.

And that might have been the worst thing that happened today.

I’ve got it made, I tell ya.

Also, I have a big stack of papers to grade. So, if you’ll pardon me …

Our guy at the Caf at Samford, he’s a friendly guy, big laughs, big smiles, carries on running conversations with a lot of the people that he sees every day. And he’s something of an artist, maybe.

Or maybe it is just a fine omelet full of fresh tomatoes. Either way.

The last class of the semester. We got in our last presentations. We discussed the final paper. They brought me cookies. I thanked them for their patience in the class. I told them I hoped they learned as much as I did and, I said, “This is my favorite part of the semester. Have a safe and happy summer. I look forward to seeing you in the fall.”

One of the students stood up and cynically said “That sounds like a prepared speech.”

I was so proud.

In my office I cleaned things up and did the last few remaining chores of the day. This stretched out longer than it had to, but this day always does. I lingered to listen to Van Morrison:

Why it is Van Morrison I am not sure. On the last day of my first semester at Samford I was parking the car when some really obscure tune of his was playing on whatever random satellite channel I was listening to at the time. It seemed appropriate for the day and I have a weakness for appropriate, yet pointless traditions.

Wednesday omelets seem like a good tradition …

Some puns can’t be helped, really. This is in a bookstore, a shopping genre I haven’t visited in a while, but I had a few minutes to kill between errands today, and so I found myself wandering around the tomes, making sure books that have my photographs in them are displayed face-front, rather than by the easy-to-miss spine. I’d re-work the shelves so that they are all at eye level, but that earns you hard looks from the people that work there.

And they’ve got it bad enough already.

Don’t get me wrong, one of my late-in-life ambitions is to work a few days a week in a sleepy little used bookstore and sit behind the counter reading everything there that happens to interest me at the time. Run a few bucks through the machine, smile at the occasional visitor, direct them to the romance section or whatever else they’re looking for, like the romance section, and go back to my book. This is a grand idea.

But to be at the big chains these days feels exactly like the video rental stores felt a decade ago. There’s a general sense of impending — and that isn’t because you’re standing in the reference section looking up words in dictionaries — mixed with the coming odor of doom. Which is found, of course in the fantasy and sci fi sections, but really all over the place these days.

I also saw one of my colleagues recent books, though, and I made sure her book was covering everything remotely interesting around it. These are the little things, small efforts in random bookstores which will, no doubt, be undone by the niece of some author who’ll come in behind me in four days making sure the Art of Pickling is prominently displayed in every section of the store. You never know when the Mason jar set will come in to best your efforts. Bookstores are one by the zealous, and the preserves people are ruthless.

I saw this in the regional section, in one of those sepia toned books. “Vintage Birmingham Signs” is full of ancient pictures from the Images of America picture series. I love this stuff:

There’s never been a cooler Shoney’s sign in the world, I’m fairly certain of it. And they were advertising the strawberry pie, which was one of the eternal treats of Shoney’s. They were happy nights when we went there after the sporting event of the night and got that hard-crusted, whipped cream covered treat. The only thing better was the breakfast bar, and then only sometimes. (Sometimes it was bad, but you had to go back and try again because other times it was incredible.) The strawberry pie, though, was always perfect.

I think Shoney’s was the last place I saw a cigarette machine, stowed and careful stocked by the restrooms. The last time I was in that area that particular store had become an eerily un-busy Chinese restaurant.

Saw this, too:

The caption places this in the late 50s at a place that would later become Eastwood Mall. That mall started dying in 1989 and was demolished in 2006. Now a Walmart is there. Neither offered an improvement over that HoJo sign.

I sent that to James Lileks, the nationally renowned columnist and author, because of his affinity for signage in general and his love of old HoJo in particular. He wrote back almost immediately.

“Looks like the kid is in a military graveyard, what with the cross.”

Beware the pancakes I guess, then.

I only have vague recollections of Howard Johnson. They were more places that we didn’t go than did, for whatever reason, and they always looked a bit tattered and frayed by the time I came along. I know I visited one once, but it is now a Hampton Inn.

I did not know HoJo had 28 flavors of ice cream. That must have seemed like an embarrassment of riches to parents, and nirvana to their kids. I suppose it set the standard for the day? And then along came Baskin Robbins to win by a field goal. These days there aren’t even any of those around any more, which is really off the point.

The point was the Pez. Gollum has a Yoda-ish quality to him. But, really, why do toys and promotional items like these never really get the image right? This becomes even a larger problem with hi-definition, 3D and IMAX when we really want to see every pore in Ian McKellen’s face, but also just to distinguish between the hobbits. As candy dispensers, though, that matters little. The little discs of sugar are the important part. And the accuracy of the bottom of their chin and jaw. You’ll trust the sweet, delicious treat that looks like it came from the real Aragorn, but a Pez molding based on the likeness of Scott Stapp just won’t get it done for LOTR fans.

Anyway.

Tonight the students are putting together the final issue of this year’s Samford Crimson. I buy them snacks this last night of the year, and am always impressed by how few of them know about the goodness of Roly Poly — their site’s title says “Rolled Sandwiches, Soups, Salads” and I’d really like to see how they roll a soup.

So this is the last night. There are many jokes and some hugs and a sleepy section editor on the second day of consecutive all-nighters. There will be misspellings. And then, somewhere early this morning it will all end again. The editor this year helped nurse the paper from a broadsheet into a tab-sized format and, less directly, oversaw a brand new website launch. He’s also been writing for the USA Today Collegiate Correspondent Program. He’s going to prove himself capable of many things. He worked with two outstanding broadcasting, film production students, a varsity athlete, a history major and two other journalism/mass comm majors to put the paper together this year. It could have been better, but it could always be better. It was a year-long exercise for them, though, and they learned a great deal. Some things they don’t even recognize yet, but one day they will.

Someone tonight was scoffing at a poorly written sentence, and that person wouldn’t have done that at the beginning of the year. Others have proven themselves capable managers, all perfected their time management, because none of these kids do just one thing.

Personally I think it should be an almost full-time job working on this paper, but that’s more narrow than you can ever ask a student to really be. You can ask them to learn, and demand their full attention and dedication. And if you get that, you get something worth bragging about, just a little.

Next year’s news staff will be younger, and we’re going to focus evermore on the online side of things. This is where we start to tinker with changing the workflow and the culture of a news outlet. Brainwash them early, I say. Make what they are doing here more conceptually match what they’ll be doing in the working world. They might start off shaky, just as this crew did, but they’ll grow right in front of our eyes and probably do some really cool things along the way. That’s just the way the students here are.

Now, if you’ll excuse me. Someone has dozed off and we must make fun of them.

I don’t often have the Mondays. I have a secret and proprietary strategy for warding them off and it works.

Mostly.

But today was one of the Mondays that people complain about. The dragon coaster, and the craftmanship involved in it were one of the better parts of the day. Soon after this I found myself behind two wrecks.

On the other hand, had I not allowed myself the opportunity to be passed by this truck and his tools of the fairground, I would have been much closer to those wrecks.

So there’s that.

Last week of classes, so there’s that, too.

Also, this didn’t happen:

Maybe today wasn’t such a bad Monday after all.

I did not get this card, but I took pictures of it at the store — I’m that guy. It is a Mother’s Day card, but since this a family site I can’t repeat the punchline:

We had pancakes this morning, not these, but in honor of a delicious breakfast, I share with you a mix that was made for Halloween:

I do not recommend getting much closer than this for your grilling pictures:

Much more this coming week, I’m sure.

He also played baseball at Georgia, batting .356 which, as we learned in Bull Durham, is a career in any league. He played in the Expos organization for three years and that’s how he finds himself in broadcasting in Atlanta today, trading on his considerable name power and sports knowledge to make a fine career.

One of his side projects is to call a bit of college baseball on television, as he did today. Auburn was busy losing to Georgia, and Belue was making fun of the Tigers, but also pointing out every questionable call questionable umpires were making. Those guys haven’t had a weekend. (That sentence applies to both Auburn and the umpires.)

So I poked fun at Buck Belue on Twitter for making fun of the umpires. He said “Dude blew the call.”

And the dude did. It was a call that should have gone in favor for Georgia — a swipe tag at second that happened right in front of the properly positioned umpire — but I calls ‘em likes I sees ‘em. This umpire …

… sometimes he doesn’t see ‘em.

(Sorry … it’s just … those glasses … )

Auburn lost Friday night in a game which featured good starting pitching for Auburn and no bats — Georgia’s starting pitcher had a great game. Then there was an unfortunate sixth inning which saw four Auburn pitchers allow two hits, four walks, a hit batsman and four runs in a 5-2 loss.

Tonight’s game saw errors three spread across 11 innings, in a 6-5 Auburn loss that featured more bad calls from the same umpire crew. The guy above was behind the plate last night and he blew a call that would have scored a key run for Auburn. He’s had a tough weekend.

Hope yours, though, has been lovely.

I posted some Levon Helm videos the day before he died. You can see them all here.

In more sobering news, Birmingham Business Journal reports that Alabama lost 36,100 private sector jobs in the last decade. There are less than 1.5 million private sector jobs in the state these days.

There are 4.8 million people in the state. How can there be that few private sector jobs?

The Census says 37.5 percent of the state is younger than 18 and 7.6 percent are older than 65. So that’s 45 percent young and old. And if you trust the Bureau of Labor Statistics — which is increasingly becoming a funny thing to say these days — there is 7.6 percent unemployment in the state, so that gets us up to 52 percent of the state.

And here’s a list of government populations by city, which is eye-opening. According to that list 135 of the state’s 512 cities are above the U.S. median for percent of government employees. Not sure how that list accounts for residents in unincorporated areas, which are prominent in rural states.

If you aren’t doing mobile media you’re behind:

(G)rowth of mobile video usage is increasing dramatically. 108 billion videos were watched on mobile phones in 2011, almost trebling to 280 billion in 2012. However, unlike apps, this isn’t translating into symbiotic revenue levels. Despite a 23.8% revenue growth, Video is likely to account for a mere 2.4% ($3.6 billion) of total mobile media revenues in 2012.

Food as art, history and sociology. I don’t think about these things this way on my own, but this is a wonderful read:

Q. Shouldn’t we all be more in touch with our food heritage? How can we go about doing that?

A. When you follow a family recipe, you have an opportunity to bring life to your family story. What sustained your ancestors and your parents? It becomes exciting because you can say, “This is what my so-and-so ate to celebrate the end of World War II.”

Michael Twitty, the A above, is taking a tour of the South — he’s calling it the “Southern Discomfort Tour” — a journey to follow his ancestral path across the region, covering almost 4,500 miles.

How not to do television news.

And how to embarrass yourself on air in one easy step. I’d embed the video, but that television station hasn’t discovered that autoplay is evil. So I’ll link to it.

I’ll be showing that in class. If you can watch it more than once, I applaud you. But go watch some more Bruce instead.

One shot. A steadicam, a dolly, a helicopter and a whole bunch of awesome:

There’s so much going on here you’re going to need to watch it two or three times. I saw a news package on this last night and, honestly, the video is far better than the television piece would have suggested.

I prefer Twitter as an aggregation tool. I’ve talked with disbelieving journalism professors and working journalists and television producers about the quality of Twitter — they’re all using the tool these days, by the way — about that. I learn a great deal from Twitter that I wouldn’t get elsewhere.

Just today for example, a friend in Montgomery pointed out this story:

Alabama lawmakers gave final approval today to a watered-down version of legislation aimed at getting more insurance coverage for autism treatment.

The House of Representatives voted 96-0 for the bill, sending it to the governor for his signature.

The legislation requires insurance companies to offer coverage for the treatment of autism, including for a costly behavioral therapy that now is rarely covered. Businesses could choose whether to offer the coverage as part of their insurance options for employees.

A friend in Atlanta passed along this terrific Der Spiegel feature on East Berlin, before and after the Iron Curtain was pulled down.

Found this on Twitter today too, from a colleague in Arizona. Media Storm, which is journalism juggernaut that doesn’t work as a traditional newsroom, won three awards from the National Press Photographers Association.

Also wouldn’t have found this unfortunate error from the Lufkin Daily News:

And finally, we roast ourselves for mistakenly running a previously published editorial about Pearl Harbor Day in this space in Tuesday’s newspaper. Dec. 7, 1941, is a day that President Franklin D. Roosevelt aptly called “A day of infamy.” While our mistake pales in comparison, May 1, 2012, will go down as a dark hour in this newsroom.

Not to be pedantic, but The Lufkin Daily News is playing a bit fast and loose with the quote, too. That Texas paper is putting a paywall on their website next month. We wish them well.

And, if you’re thinking “Someone that says “Not to be pedantic means to, in fact, be pedantic” you are absolutely correct.

Rain, on my drive home:

There’s nothing spectacular about that video, but I do enjoy the sound.

Two posts on my Crimson blog: Tips for new journalists and Yesterdays are dead.

Also, check out my Twitter feed. Bookmark the Tumblr account.