Pie Day


6
Aug 10

Our first Auburn Pie Day

Our Pie Day options

I solicited recommendations for pie in Auburn. There was a tie. One of them I’ve tried before, and did not enjoy. So we went to Mike and Ed’s, which is new to me. It is owned by a lady who is named neither Mike nor Ed.

Mike and Ed’s uses the Zaxby’s model. Place your order, wait for your number, have a seat, get your drink and so on.

Tea?

Give them this, they do the drinks right.

The Yankee debated between ribs and a pork plate. I talked her into the pork, just in case she didn’t like it. This was her first experience with mustard-based barbecue sauce. She did not care for it much. I don’t blame her. I had the chicken, which was tender and reminded me of a good dry rub. And then they poured the sauce on it.

(Barbecue sauce is a regional thing.  Your mileage may vary, but the Carolina sauces just don’t carry the same appeal for me. People that like the style are fans of Mike and Ed’s, we just have a different taste. We prefer the Texas and Kansas City styles.)

You saw the pie choices above. The presentation leaves something to be desired.

The pie

We tried the peanut butter because, really, how often do you run across that? It was rich and true to the name. It isn’t the sort of thing you would order too often. The restaurant itself is decent enough. It has an eat-and-go atmosphere, though, and Pie Day has always been more about the people — eating and lingering and fellowship — than anything else. So we’ll keep looking. That’s half the fun!

Give ’em this: Mike and Ed’s is displaying what they say are the hands to the clock on Old Main. It was built in 1859 and burned in 1887. I have a copy of this image and I’m not sure where the clock was, but that’s a cool piece of history if it is legitimate.

Any suggestions? Leave ’em in the comments.

In other, happy news, we’re finished with the unpacking. The boxes in the garage have been moved and emptied. So, I suppose, that means we’re settled. Now we just have to decorate.


29
Jul 10

The pre-move

The heat index only made it up to 99 degrees today. And I did my part, I tried, to get that last extra degree so I could say “Hey, I moved furniture in triple-digit temperatures today.”

Because 99, somehow, doesn’t sound impressive.

And that’s when you know sunstroke has set in.

So the recliner went downstairs to the garage. One of the rocking chairs joined its mate. The living room chair found its way safely into the garage. Numerous boxes, all of our books all made it downstairs. The plan, since the move is tomorrow, is to sling everything from the garage onto the truck and call it a day.

This evening we packed up the kitchen. All of our clothes have been dutifully stored in wardrobe boxes. Later I’ll tear down the network and pack up the televisions.

Even still, I managed to do three voiceovers this morning. But the place looks entirely different from that, even 12 hours later. Now it looks like a cardboard factory explosion.

Pie Day

We had our last regular Pie Day with Ward tonight. (Incidentally, that’s the banana cream pie, which is new to Jim ‘N’ Nicks, and quite tasty.)

Ward

I’m a fairly sappy and sentimental person, and waxing on about it is possible, and would be silly. Ward, there, has looked after us for a long time. We’ve been coming here for five-and-a-half years. This is as much a part of our history and social culture as anything else we do. And we’ll still make it here when we are in town visiting, but this was our last regular visit.

Yes, barbecue means that much. Pie means that much. That it was the first excuse I had to get my eventual wife to have a bite to eat with me means even more. (As I’ve mentioned before, it was a competitor’s waitress’ line about how “Friday is Pie Day” that cinched the deal. When The Yankee and I were standing in a parking lot one afternoon I impulsively invited her for a barbecue sandwich. She hedged. And then I invited her for pie. Friday, I said, is Pie Day. You just can’t argue with logic like that, friends.)

We’ve had untold celebrations here. Birthdays, graduations, quiet nights of dinner for two, loud nights of dinner for a dozen. This has always been our date night and we’ve always incorporated everyone that wanted to come. I used to keep count of the people, stopping somewhere around four dozen, that joined us for Pie Day.

And now when I mention it — or even when I don’t mention it — on Twitter people respond to it even people I haven’t yet met in person.

Sure, The Yankee and I will still have Pie Day. Yes, I’m looking forward to finding the new home for the event. But, still, I hold onto things, tightly and closely. And this has been a wonderful event worth holding onto for a long time now.

We managed to sit in the same table where we ate there the first time.

And now, so I don’t waste any more of your time on it, cute cat pictures:

She's helping.

She’s helping.

She stopped helping ...

She stopped helping.

And now for a late night and early morning of last minute panic packing…


16
Jul 10

Pie Day

Clinkies at Pie Day

Brian took this on his iPhone. Sad, happy times, since Pie Day will be changing and this one will be the last with the regulars for a while. Love you guys, mean it.


9
Jul 10

Delicious musty books start the weekend

I found an estate sale on Craigslist and, opening what will exciting chapter in our relationship, drug The Yankee to see it this morning. The ad was curious. After a few reads you couldn’t decide if it was a preview showing before an estate sale or the sale itself. They promised furniture though, which we do not need, and books, which we love. Thousands of books. And they were all going for a buck.

Having only gotten lost twice getting there — both being my fault — we discovered the sale in progress. There were a few furniture and rusted items for sale, but an entire garage and basement full of books. This personal library was even organized by genre, covering shelves, windowsills, a pool table and every other flat surface.

There was a small army of people pouring over the books. I picked up snippets of conversation about the likes of different customers, what used to be on the shelves and the constant search for boxes. A few women were picking up books by the handful and needed something to keep them all together. A kid was driving a remote controlled tank thing. There was some sort of camera or sensor on the vehicle, and he had the viewscreen, so he could drive from another room. I’m not sure if it was for sale.

I picked up all of the books now running across the top of the blog. First I found a book I’d normally not have any interest in, but I flipped through a few pages and thought “For a buck …”

Heart Songs was compiled at the turn of the 20th Century by Mitchell Chapple, supposedly taking the suggestions of 20,000 people for the music that defined them. This book, then, with its deep red cover and gilt, is a a piece of culture, a moment of history that captured the musical spirit of people from all over the country and wide swaths of the world. There are hymns, patriotic songs, childrens songs, operas, love tunes and more.

The foreword, written in Boston in 1909 as the book was published, is itself a thing of beauty:

Songs that have entertained thousands from childhood to the grave and have voiced the pleasure and pain, the love and longing, the despair and delight, the sorrow and resignation, and the consolation of the plain people — who found in these an utterance for emotions which they felt but could not express — came in by the thousands. The yellow sheets of music bear evidence of constant use; in times of war and peace, victory and defeat, good and evil fortune, these sweet strains have blended with the coarser thread of human life and offered to the joyful or saddened soul a suggestion of uplift, sympathy and hope.

The sheet music is occasionally interrupted by pictures of once famous singers like Jenny Lind and Adelina Patti.  The foreword also mentions, but unfortunately does not include, the many stories of how these songs had impacted the contributors. If they made this book today surely they would include some snippets of the better stories. That would add a lot, but there’s already an incredible wealth inside the cover. (And I’m not remotely a music historian.)

Then I found an 1897 Biblische Geschichte, a German bible. I can’t read it, beyond the cognates and the smallest set of words, but the pictures all make sense. Fortunately I know someone that can read it.

You're getting a book next week!

You're getting a book next week!

So I’ll send it to my Elisabeth. She can tell me if the stories inside are any different.

I also picked up a copy of R.A.C. Parker’s Europe 1919-1945, so we can learn all about the uneasy peace, turmoil and war from the British perspective. Parker was a Churchill fan, and Old Labour. This was a Delacorte volume, the seventh in a series of 35 meant to cover the history of mankind.

They couldn’t get that in 30 books?

I won’t collect the entire set, I promise.

Picked up Allen Drury’s A Senate Journal: 1943-1945. Drury was a military veteran turned United Press journalist. This book earned fame after he won a Pulitzer for fiction for Advise and Consent. After that, this journal was published. My copy, a first edition, made its way into the local library and ultimately, into my hands today.

I also found Rickenbacker: An Autobiography. Race car driver, pilot, ace, war hero, Medal of Honor winner, businessman and more, Eddie Rickenbacker is one of the great American icons of the first half of the 20th Century. He died quietly, almost forgotten in 1973. My history professor, the great W. David Lewis (1931-2007) of Auburn University, talked glowingly of Rickenbacker. He researched, for 15 years, his hero — including during the year or so I took his classes — and his book, came out in 2005.

Lewis was a character, full of life and passion for his varied interests. He was a renowned professor of the history of technology, loved cathedrals, pipe organs and, of course, aviation. I saw the autobiography, thought of Dr. Lewis and picked it up. On of these days I’ll pick up my professor’s book; I have to after reading these reviews.

I also met a man last December who worked for Rickenbacker at Eastern Air Lines. He told a story of having a real bad flight, being worked up about and then giving Rickenbacker, the president, an earful … only he didn’t realize who he was talking to. Rickenbacker nearly died in a plane crash in 1941 (dented skull, head injuries, shattered left elbow and crushed nerve, paralyzed left hand, broken ribs,  crushed hip socket, twice-broken pelvis, severed nerve in his left hip, broken knee and an eyeball expelled from the socket) and was adrift in the Pacific, dangerously close to the Japanese, for 24 days in 1942. Rickenbacker won his Medal of Honor for attacking, on his own, seven German planes, shooting down two in 1918. He also won seven Distinguished Service Crosses. Eddie Rickenbacker knew a few things about having a tough day (His book begins, “My life has been filled with adventures that brought me face to face with death.”) so he let the indiscretion slide.

I bought all of those for a buck each. Lugged them outside to meet the nice lady who was collecting the money. She said that the notes inside each book were just notes for her — where the book had been picked up, when and for how much. That six volume set of books I was also considering wasn’t really 60 dollars.

So I went back inside.

Canadian historian Edgar McInnis’ The War volumes will make a nice bookend to Churchill’s six volumes also in my library. McInnis, as you might notice above, breaks the story down by years. The first volume begins “With the outbreak of the war, many Americans set themselves deliberately not to believe most of what they read or were told about.” McInnis worked on this project during the war, and published all six installments in 1946. The sixth volume ends:

Success would lay the foundation for an era of human well-being unparalleled in history. But unless wisdom triumphed over the forces of greed and ambition and fear, the world might find that it had thrown away its last chance of salvation which it had bought at such a terrible price.

Imagine what all lies between those three sentences.

So that, in a rather large nutshell, is my 11 books for 11 bucks today.

Visited campus for a few minutes to meet with a colleague who needed some equipment. Wrote a letter while I was there. The Yankee and I then went to the bookstore. She was searching for something and I was just along for the ride. And then she took me to Ann Taylor. I surfed the Internet on my phone while she browsed.

We visited with friends as is our Friday afternoon custom, hanging out with Brian’s family and some delightful visiting in-laws, and Andre Natta. Most of us went out for Pie Day after that.

Clinkies!

Clinkies!

Brought home leftovers, starting the weekend in style! How’s yours shaping up?


2
Jul 10

Friday is Pie Day

It isn’t especially surprising to me that Netherlands beat Brazil. That Brazil would look so bad in falling was unexpected, to say the least. Brazil played defense this Cup, for a change, but got conservative in every other way and didn’t really find a rhythm to reach their potential. That always seems to be the problem whenever Brazil lose. If they win, they can be majestic; if they lose they can’t find their ability.

And then Uruguay beating Ghana in perhaps the most heartbreaking fashion was tough to watch. Ghana are one of the youngest teams in the tournament, so they’ll be back, but how badly will this haunt them?

Missing the penalty kick to win in the final moment of the game to bring on the penalty kick tiebreakers. To lose after 120 minutes — where they largely controlled the game — must be devastating. Uruguay should be crushed in the semifinals, Ghana are crushed in one of the most bizarre finishes you could conceive.

Spent the afternoon at the pool. Met some neighbors with an almost-five-year-old who’s learning to jump off the side and a two-year-old who has no fear in the water. We were swimming with The McAlisters before dinner. We got out of the pool in time to catch a late seat at Jim N Nicks, where the kitchen was slow, the restaurant was dead and we filled out fake comment cards.

When you’re starving after the pool a slow kitchen isn’t what you’re hoping for. That just means more cheese biscuits. Elizabeth found a recipe for them the other day. You can steal it here. The barbecue house now offers, under “scratch-made trimmings,” fresh cut fruit. Frut at a barbecue house. That’s crazy talk.