Pie; Chart

Just a day.  Best of times and worst of times already taken so, just a day.  Thereabouts nineteen and a half thousand so far and, let me check the official Social Security life expectancy table (fun times, click here) … twenty-seven point zero one years left.  Rats.  Now I have to convert .01 years (when did years switch to the metric system?) into 365 days and …

I’ve lost interest.  Who wants pie?  Suit yourself.  I do.  The meal wasn’t that great, but dessert is the best “do over” since the foot wedge was invented. 

Last Tuesday was the first no baseball, no work evening since February.  So, what’s a boy to do except wander down to the used vinyl shop and find nothing old that’s new to add to the collection.  Earlier, the family Malin had a good day and I got the first call, so that was special.  Just didn’t want to conclude the special day, I guess, with retiring to the domicile.  So, while there’s nothing new old at the vinyl shop, as I walk past a bar and grill, I hear some Cannonball Adderley playing and that’s enough to bring me in.  Not too fancy a place, but a little hard bop jazz and some Rat Pack over the speakers goes a long way. 

Not too fancy.  A good band name, and / or, a way of life.  Pulled pork, coleslaw and an oatmeal stout on tap makes for the first restaurantesque meal since arriving.  It’s hard to feel anything but alone in a restaurant, so there’s normally not much point.  But while the pulled pork doesn’t compare to the land where the pulling is … how to put it … fresh, and the coleslaw is an exercise in vinegar tolerance, the oatmeal stout is excellent.  One out of three gets you into Cooperstown.

Ingrid asks if I’d like some dessert and I counter with a pecan pie slice request.  She advises they have homemade vanilla ice-cream to go with it, and I’m all in.  The sun is setting.  The walls are decorated with jazz albums and pictures of what must be Ingrid’s family.  Daughter, son-in-law and grand-daughter are featured prominently, particularly daughter and grand-daughter.  Having spoken with Amanda earlier on her good news, it’s not difficult to supplant Ingrid’s family pictures with the movie reel I carry in memory and count my blessings as Sinatra croons.

I offered up some friendly advice to the new QCTimes publisher at lunch that she seems hard-pressed to take because (lawyers and liability, is my guess).  The Social Security Administration calculates there’s only a .004 chance that I’ll perish before the statute of limitations for libel expires, so that is hardly worth disturbing the moment.

The pie and ice cream arrives and I’m not alone in the restaurant anymore.  I’m transported to a movie reel of family Malin Thanksgiving meals - always with pecan pie and ice-cream.  Joy can be found most any day, if you're not too fancy about it.