I have made a great many pies in the last month. Five for Alan's birthday a few weeks ago, and then one for the apartment building, and one for Joe, and one for Brad, and one for Mom and Dad, and now another one for Brad. That's how many, ten? The second one for Brad I made last night, and got to bed around midnight as a result. It's a good thing that my ease and speed at making them has improved in this last little flurry of baking, cuz my back was already hurting like a big dog, from the book sorting we had done earlier that evening.
Brad had brought over five or six boxes of books that he had rescued from a neighbor woman moving out of the house she had lived in for forty years or so. My job was to go through them and identify for him any that I thought would be of value. And there was one. Lots of good looking hardbacked books, and lots of good stories in paperback, but the hardbacks were all textbooks, and the paperbacks were all cheap editions of no-name thrillers. One or two exceptions, but as I say, only one that might sell. It is a history of the Heywood Wakefield company. Written by them, and illustrated with photos and all -- it was in pretty good shape, too. I've just been looking on eBay, and if he can find the right buyer, he has a chance of making some money. If an ad on a page from a magazine can command $24 than a whole book ought to be worth something.
Anyway, he also brought a bowl of wild blackberries from his backyard, and they are in the pie I made. The leftovers of them are in my lunch.
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