PITS

Dear Sister,

Thanks for the cheering! Although, I think I have to agree with Cute Younger Baker Boy (hence forth known as Baker Boy) that next year it will probably be a better idea to both train and sleep before the race.

Speaking of the bakery...

1) Let's go back to shortening it to PITS instead of Pie. First of all, I like real pies, and I don't want to forever associate them with Pie in the Sky and never be able to enjoy them again. Second of all, PITS is more fitting. Hah.

2) Tid bits from the Secret Service visit to PITS the other day:

Erik: Quick, I need a dinner platter! (runs away)

Me: What does he want?

Abby: He didn't follow up on it, he's not getting it.

five minutes later...

Erik: Can I get that dinner platter?

Abby: Here's a plate.

(FYI: we don't have "platters" of any sort at PITS, Erik. Except for one nicer plate that Mark brought Coleen dinner on once and then never took home.)

Erik: (puts the sammie slips in the thing) These are *really* for the Secret Service, so be careful!

Abby: What do you think I'm going to do, put bombs in them?

Ellie: Look at Erik, trying to impress the cool kids.

Ellie: Here is another slip that goes with them. (On the bottom it says HOLD THE BOMBS). Wait, did that actually go with the other sandwiches?!

3) Now, see, I was sort of ignoring the whole Secret Service thing in general, cuz well, they're just people, people. But the second group of them gave us a SS badge, which Erik said is "the coolest thing ever!" (direct quote, no joke). Nick's response was more accurate, I think: "Does anyone else think it's weird they just walk around with extra badges in their pockets?"

But I guess the point of kissing their butts was that they're part of the prez's posse, and then if Obama did actually stop by PITS that would be great press.

There are a number of flaws in this whole thing:

a) We don't really need great press, we have way too many customers as it is, and if we get more and people have to wait LONGER than 30 minutes for their sandwiches the bad press is going to cancel out the good press.

b) I don't think the Secret Service really talk to the prez that much. They just stand in front of bullets and all that.

c) You know who DOES talk to the prez pretty often? The cutest baby in the whole wide world. You know who knows her? Me. She comes into PITS with her parents, who I guess also probably talk to the prez a lot, what with being the campaign manager and all. But, I'm just saying, if Viv thinks the PIE SKY! scones are pretty good, I think that's got a better chance of making it to Obama's ear. Although, it might get sandwiched between other important information like the fact that her PINK sweatshirt has a P on it for Phillies, and her aqua is red and she likes to pick out her own hair bows. (It's almost worth the early shift for the chance to hang out with her for ten minutes.)

Okay, I think thats it for now. I've got some thoughts on the not-so-secret Service (they had "Secret Service" right on their shirts!) and another week means another onslaught of day shift PITS stories.

love,

your I'm-only-here-for-3 weeks-so-I-don't-care! sister (re:PITS)

run Ella run!

Dear Sister,

You did it!


[PecanMama running in the 80s.]



[Ella running in the 010s.]

Go livers!
Love,
your super-proud sister

ps - Since you raised enough money for the ALF to cover three people's entries, I'm going to be on your team next year so I can run, ok?

eh ... i'm still alive, i swear

Hi sister,

Ok, so the summer always turns out to be busier than expected. The film festival is over, and was a wonderful experience in that it reminded me why I got out of the business the first time around. No nostalgia on that front anymore. I saw one movie out of the 100 or so we screened that week, but it was a good one, and I'm glad I caught it because it probably won't get the kind of distribution that would bring it to our used-to-be-a-mall-and-is-now-a-couple-of-stores-and-a-Walmart. So anyway, now it's just the normal summer crazy at the bakery, instead of the summer crazy + I-take-on-an-extra-job-for-two-weeks-in-a-field-I-swore-I-wouldn't-ever-return-to crazy. This should mean I make it to the beach at least once in a while. And maybe that I hold up my end of the bargain we made to each blog once a week.

Since I'm just now resurfacing from not having slept for a week, I'm just going to give you a rundown of a conversation that happened last month when I attempted to change my oil, with the help of SuperTiger brother. (Well, not MY oil, since I'm a human, obvi, but the oil within my vehicle.)

So. After several false starts (ST brother: Hey Aila, can you teach me how to drive stick today? me: No, because I shouldn't be driving it at all until I change the oil. ST brother: Oh, ok. Maybe we can do that tomorrow? - a day or two passes - ST brother: Hey, can we drive the truck today? Aila: No. Oil change. ST brother: oh, yeah. - a day or two later - ST brother: Hey ... are you free? Can you teach me to drive the truck?) I got off work and camped out at the house until ST brother himself got off work. He'd forgotten we'd made plans to do the oil that day, which I'd accounted for and added time into the schedule accordingly. He canceled on his friends ("planning fail, guys, my bad") and I waited while he changed his clothes. And talked with StrongDad about (what else?) soccer. And decided that he needed to speak only French with me this summer, because that way he'd learn French better, and he'd be able to communicate with the Haitian guys on his soccer team. Whatever.

After a reasonable amount of time has passed, SuperTiger brother and I arrive at Autozone. (Actually, first I had to explain to him that we needed to leave the house. ST brother: Why? Aila: Because we're changing the oil. ST brother: (blank stare) Aila: And I don't carry around 4 quarts of fresh oil with me at all times. ST brother: Oh, right.)

Aila: Ok, ST brother, we need to figure out which oil filter to get. I never remember.
ST brother: Right. Whoa ... are those all steering wheel covers?
Aila: Um, yes. So, we look in this catalogue/book/thingy to find the make of the ...
ST brother: Whoa! A Tweety bird steering wheel cover!
Aila: ... vehicle ...
ST brother: Check it out -- Tazmanian devil steering wheel cover?!?
Aila: Super Tiger brother! Over here! Help me figure this out!
ST brother: Right.
Aila: I think this is the number we want ... can you find it?
ST brother: Sure. Where?
Aila: Over there.
ST brother: Whoa! Seat covers! With Tinkerbell on them!
Aila: Hello - filter number -
ST brother: Yeah. But seriously, I should buy this.
Aila: No, you shouldn't.
ST brother: Yeah, I'm totally going to buy this. I'm going to put it in Beachmom's car. Don't you think she'd find that funny?
Aila: I think you'd find it funny.
ST brother: Yeah, she probably wouldn't get it. What if I put it in StrongDad's car?
Aila: I don't think he'd notice.
ST brother: Hm. I'll just buy it for (male friend's) birthday, then.
Aila: Ok. So we can come back then. In the meantime, help me find the ...
ST brother: Whoa! Look at this!

(At this point, I abandon him for several minutes while I get the filter and the right kind of oil. Then ... )

Aila: Super Tiger Brother! Leave that alone and come help me carry these oil quarts.
ST brother: But it's like a sled, with wheels!
Aila: It's for people to get under their cars.
ST brother: Do you have one of these?
Aila: No. I use cardboard.
ST brother: Huh. If I had one of these, I'd use it to go down steep hills.
Aila: Well, lucky for all of us you don't have one.
ST brother: ... I could get one ... (mostly to himself)
Aila: No, you can't. Help me carry these.
ST brother: Okay. Whoa! Look at that! It's shiny!

(Seriously. He actually said that. Five minutes later ...)

Aila: Super Tiger Brother, I'm leaving the store now. You can walk home, or you can come with me now.
ST brother: I'm coming ... Aila, how did I not know about this store before? Autozone is the coolest place ever. Whoa! What is that?!?

(I drag him past the display by the door, whatever it was, and get him home. Many minutes later, he has dug up some cardboard from the garage and we are under the car, trying to loosen the bolt on the oil container. By this point, he has remembered his original plan to only speak French with me.)

ST Brother: Et, qu'est-ce que tu fais maintenant?
Aila: ST brother, I don't know French auto mechanic vocabulary.
ST Brother: Je sais. Je souviens ... le mot pour "oil" ... parce que je faisais un projet sur le "oil spill" pour l'ecole ...
[Editor's note: I'm not going to try to figure out how to do accents on here. Also, I'm trying to capture the French of an 11th grader, so bear with the grammar of these sentences.)
Aila: Ok.

(Eventually, we head inside because I'm having trouble loosening the oil filter and need to give the truck a minute to cool down. StrongDad is in the kitchen with us.)
StrongDad: I know how to speak French.
Aila: Oh, heavens.
StrongDad: No, really. Je cogitare, je suis.
ST brother: What does that mean?
Aila: Cogitare is Latin for "to think." Strong Dad is trying to say "je pense."
ST brother: But what does the whole thing mean?
Aila: StrongDad's trying to say "I think, therefore I am."
StrongDad: Only I don't know the word for "therefore" ... so I only said "I think, I am." Ha! I think I am!
ST brother: Oh.
StrongDad: Je cogitare, ergo je suis!
Aila: I'm going back outside now.

(Fast forward far too many minutes ... I am back under the truck, trying again to loosen the bolt. ST brother is with me.)

StrongDad: Hey ST brother, did you feed the pets?
(silence)
Aila: ST brother, StrongDad's talking to you.
ST brother: Quoi?
StrongDad: Did you feed the dog?
ST brother: Oui!
StrongDad: Did you give him his medicines?
ST brother: Oui!
StrongDad: All three of them?
ST brother: Trois?
StrongDad: Deux?
ST brother: Un?
StrongDad: Un?
ST brother: Un!

It was at this point that I more or less gave up. The twenty minute oil change took about an hour and a half ... and created this incredibly long blog post.

Welcome home!

Love,
Your sister

Dear Sister,

First things first-- thanks for helping me move, sorry it was the road trip from hell. I owe you?

Now that that's out of the way...

I went out to the most amazingly delicious dinner last night, so I took pictures so I could share it with you! See, I've been saying goodbye to NYC one favorite food place at a time, so I've had everything bagels with olive cream cheese, sushi, subs salads, coffee from my coffee man, etc. Last night was not one of these staples of my college years that I'm enjoying for the last time in awhile. It was quite the opposite-- probably the fanciest dinner I will ever experience, unless, of course, I do become famous. In which case it will just be par for the course. And don't worry, we were super subtle about taking pictures of every course, I highly doubt we looked at of place at all. I bet everyone thought we go there all the time.

Here it is, for you to enjoy vicariously, my dinner at Jean George's (which, for the record is pronounced with a French accent, not an American one):

Appetizer (which we didn't order, they just brought!):

As our waiter (who was dressed nicer than I was) informed us, this was fresh mozzerella with some kind of little flower thing on it (he knew the name, obvi), a cube of watermellon with, I think, a dash of pepper on it and chicken soup with chamomile in it. Fortunately, they gave us the fork you use with it AND someone near by was eating it-- so we just copied their technique. And I did not drink the chicken soup chamomile thing like a shot, although I was tempted because come on, thats in a shot glass!

First Course:

Madai sashimi in a zesty strawberry sauce. SO good. I ate a bite before I remembered to take a picture! And, I managed to eat it without spilling it everywhere.

Second Course:

Atlantic Char with couscous and clams. If you were cultured like me you would know that char is like salmon, but lighter. And that gray square is the skin. And the clams are mixed in with the couscous. And no, of course I did not have to ask our waiter all of these questions. I just knew the answers, because I'm cultured.

Next up: The wine!

All I have to tell you about the wine is summed up by this conversation:
The Waiter: Do you like a fuller bodied cabernet?
Ella: Uh, sure?
The Waiter: (laughs) Okay, then. (Shakes his head knowingly).

Third Course:

Beef Tenderloin and squashey things. I did not eat the squash, and I barely had room for the beef. I ended up sharing it with JT, but I did not eat any of his, because he got lamb. And I always think of the bottle lambs from when we were little. Also, even though I made him promise not to order liver, I heard the waiter say foie gras at some point with J, and well, ew.

Desert:

I have no idea WHAT most of this was, but it was DELICIOUS. Oh man, so you could choose between strawberry, garden, cherry or chocolate themes for desert. Um, duh, that was a no brainer. That white stuff is frozen white chocolate-- seriously, I thought it was dry ice at first, but then I thought, why would a possum answer the phone? (No idea why that just popped into my head as I was writing...but I'm leaving it because, well, totnn). The chocolate in the bottom right hand corner was fan-freaking-tastic. It ooozed even more chocolate when I cut into it! And the vanilla ice cream went with it.

Oh, and the best part, which I forgot to take a picture of, at the end of the meal the waiter brought the check and handed it to JT and a little bag with a box of chocolates in it for me!

So, all in all, if you ever want to go here with me I'm down, but we'd probably have to choose between rent and a single dinner there. No, really. How did I weasle my way into this fantastic dinner, you ask? Well, as you may have caught on I went with JT. His parents gave him gift certificates there, and he offered to use them with me. Seriously, he offered, I didn't even pressure. In fact, I suggested he use them on a real date but he thinks that would set the standard absurdly high. And I'm not really going to argue, because, well, it was delicious. I could barely move after, and I've barely eaten today. Also, I think the waiter was trying to get me drunk because he kept refilling my wine glass more than J's, which made JT decide he should try to fist bump the waiter on the way out as a thanks. Not sure if that went down, I was too full to do anything but waddle out in 4 inch heels.

Stay tuned, I've got some thoughts on Cambridge and parking, and eventually an update on my move and such.

love,

your eternally-greatful-for-helping-her-move-and-oh-so-classy-and-cultured sister

Happy belated country-versary!

Dear sister,

Good luck with all that. I have a pretty long list of to-do myself, mostly all left over from my move last month, but it's sitting idly by. I worked like crazy for all of the 4th weekend; we pretty much doubled production at the bakery, which meant upwards of 750 pastries per overnight shift. I have in fact been dreaming about butter. Anyway, I took off this past weekend instead, heading up to Bard to visit with Slonim and celebrate, belatedly, our nation's birth.

We had a lot of fun - did a lot of talking - a lot of laughing - ate A LOT of food - and even did some walking and other outdoors-y activities. I'll let you see it all on facebook. Here I'll just give you two things that came up for me while thinking about the 4th, independence, freedom, and America in general.

I don't know how to embed video, so I'm linking you to the PFAW (People for the American Way) video of a 1982 re-enactment of the Continental Congress. Let me just say that it involves the Muppets.

And secondly, here's a poem by Wendell Berry. It's from a book of his selected poems, given to me by The Element when I graduated last month. No moralizing intended; I just wanted to share it with you since I liked it myself.It's titled "We Who Prayed and Wept."

We who prayed and wept
for liberty from kings
and the yoke of liberty
accept the tryanny of things
we do not need.
In plenitude too free,
we have become adept
beneath the yoke of greed.

Those who will not learn
in plenty to keep their place
must learn it by their need
when they have had their way
and the fields spurn their seed.
We have failed Thy grace.
Lord, I flinch and pray,
send Thy necessity.

Love,
your sister

My State of Mind, FWIW

Dear list-making-sister,

I sadly do not have anything nearly as exciting as your recent picture essay to share, but as I *just* got an air conditioner installed (HOORAY!) and can now type without dripping sweat all over my computer, I thought I'd write to you. And, since you like making lists and so do I, here is a glimpse into my brain these days, in list form (which is how it would look if you could see into my brain. Well, into my mind. My brain would just be all mushy and bloody and such. Want to see a brain? I've got some at work. Rat brains, fyi, are really tiny compared to their bodies, but supposedly they're really smart. But I digress...):

To do before/during/immediately after moving:

• find an apartment
• pay off my car
• cry about my bank account after paying off my car
• register my car/get a parking permit
• figure out what state I am currently a resident of, and then promptly get MA residency
• find some health insurance
• pack
• find a job in Cambridge/Somerville so I don’t get evicted (assuming I find an apartment)

To do at work:

• look busy
• enjoy the AC
• vending machine runs for candy
• replicate some DNA PCR style (see, I do real work too...)

“Need” but shouldn’t buy (interestingly, also usually a list of things I’ve recently broken):

• a new ipod
• AC in my car
• a phone
• a hair appointment (no, I didn’t break my hair)

Suggestions for not melting in the heat wave:

• Freeze a bunch of icey pops, put them in a garbage bag, and sleep on it. (The garbage bag, I’ve been informed, is necessary because one time a purple one popped and purple stuff got all over a certain someone’s bed.)
• Stick an ice cube on my head and let it melt
• Naked parties

(Editors note: only one of those was PecanMama.)

Acronyms TSNBU (because I couldn’t immediately guess them):

• FWIW
• FUBAR
• OTPHJ (don’t look this one up)

Acronyms TSBU (because I like them):

• IDGARA
• HRWATPTRTCITG
• BYOC (couch...for housewarming parties that get thrown a little too early)
• TOTNN (duh)

Misc.

• Why am I not immune to measles?
• Did StrongDad “misplace” my spare keys?
• Why do constipated fish float?
• Why did Lindsay Lohan write "F*ck you" on her middle finger nail before her court date and then claim she "respects" the court?
• Why does Lindsay Lohan look like a 60 year old already?

And there you have it, Sister, a (probably frightening) snap shot of my mind at the moment. Notice, if you will, the ratio of crossed off to not crossed off on the “To Do” lists. It’s a ratio that is inversely proportional to my stressed out level. There is, of course, also a running tally that should generally resemble my bank account going in my mind at all times, but its in so much flux that I can’t even express it in any tangible way. Oh, wait, yes I can: ^$%^#$&*%^@. Yup, that about sums it up.

love,

your possibly-gone-off-the-deep-end sister

month in review: June

Hi about-to-move sister,
I know how hard moving is. I just did it, remember? I thought you might need a pick-me-up while you're in the midst of being moving-crazy, so here's a little photo essay on your most favorite subject: me. It's my month-a-versary of living at Grandmother's!

First, the reason for my seeming productivity: an unintentional quasi-daVinci sleep cycle.

As you can see, since I'm working overnights (they're euphemistically called "opening shifts") I get up around 1am, and then sleep again when I come home, or at the beach, or various other points of the day. This leaves me with a lot of daylight time, for:

Sitting on the porch, watching these little ones:

(Chickadee on the top wire, female baby woodpecker in the bottom feeder - hiding from omni-hungry brothers, I think.)

Whilst working on this:


Making lots of food out of a CSA share:


Making lots of other things:

(By the way, that is what I meant when I said I had knit a chicken.)

And keeping the already-made (and some already-bought) things clean:


Those are the things on my list. Grandmother's list has included fixing the outdoor shower, several attempts at fixing the fridge, planting tomato plants, planting bee balm, chamomile, basil, and chive seeds, trying to keep the squirrels from digging up afore-mentioned seeds ... oh, and cleaning up various things in the basement, like the wooden cabinet sharing drying space with the laundry in the picture above.

And throughout it all, piles of reading:

Left = to read, right = read. ("Read" the past participle, not the second singular imperative. As in, "having read" and not "Read!") The middle are in media res. Yes, that is a history of Weeki Wachee and yes, I read it cover to cover. And yes, this is the first time in my life that the "to read" pile is smaller than any other. Though of course, that's not counting the two boxes of books in the basement, but since I can't find them, they can't count anyway.

I know moving is horrible and frustrating and horribly frustrating right now, but look at what awaits you! Fun things - well, I know these are only fun to me. You can pick and choose your own productivity and funtimes. Though, somewhere in the basement I have a box of books for you, too ...

Love,
your one-month-home sister