Here are a few more pie supplies.

I wanted to make sure I had enough stuff for the first five or six pies so that I don’t have to go to the store every day. Hardest ingredient to find so far: red hots. Remember those spicy little candies that you eat around Valentine’s Day? Turns out–only available around Valentine’s Day. A helpful checkout lady recommended the toppings section of the baking aisle. There I found a tiny bottle of red cinnamon candies which, according to the price, must be grown on a remote island made entirely of cinnamon where the natives hand craft each candy by pouring their own spicy blood into golden molds. Anyway, hope they’ll be worth it in the recipe I found.

I’ve been making lists of the kinds of pies I want to make. I’m nowhere near done, but a few that I will definitely try are listed here:

• peanut butter pie
• apple pie
• peach pie
• banana cream pie
• lemon meringue pie
• cherry pie
• chocolate chess pie
• key lime pie
• chicken pot pie
• whoopie pie
• boston cream pie
• cappuccino pie

I can relate to Yogi Berra. My family is not one to eat modest slices of anything. My mother is a fantastic and resourceful baker and chef–learned from years of serving five kids and a husband. My general love of food I owe partially to her. And my Dad–he LOVED sweets. Candy, cakes and pies. I’m pretty sure I got my sweet tooth from him. And I’m grateful. ‘Cause man, I love pie. I even started out the year with this yummy cherry pie. It was divine with coffee on a chilly New Year’s Day.

My favorite place in this world(so far) to eat pie is at Yoder’s Amish Restaurant in Sarasota, Florida.The food there is excellent, but I would skip it entirely to eat the PIE. Every kind I’ve tasted–fruit pies, cream pies, hot or cold–has been delicious, but my favorites are coconut cream pie and peanut butter pie. I love that place so much that I have souvenirs that I use/wear often. It made a real impression on me. The place is not fancy, but they do what they do so well. Each year, during our beach vacation on Anna Maria Island, we make the drive over to Sarasota to eat pie–I mean–have dinner. For me, it’s all about the pie.

A close second is Johnnie’s diner in Oklahoma City, OK. I’ve been there twice with my sister. Here’s a glamour shot of their INCREDIBLE coconut cream pie. I “suffered through” a slaw dog before hand, just to be polite.

I recently installed a new app on my phone. And by phone, I mean the beautiful, wonderful, smart, efficient, how-in-the-heck-did-I-ever-live-without-this-thing iPhone that my husband and I purchased on our 15^th wedding anniversary. Seriously, people, I’ve considered knitting a little cozy for the thing so that it could rest comfortably beside my pillow each night.

Anyway, the app is called Countdown. It allows you to enter a date that you are anticipating, and then it counts down for you. You can choose the units—months, days, hours, minutes—that will count down to your event. So right now my event is called “Turning 40.” Yep. Not much time left. Only 46 days remaining.

I’ve been thinking about “the event” for months now. My range of emotions has gone all over the place. I’ve dabbled in everything from What’s the BIG DEAL? to Oh, Dear God, I must hurry and do everything, before it’s too late. It’s as if, on the dawn of November 4, 2011, when the first stream of sunlight crosses my bed, I will dissolve into dust or something. My family members laugh about it. My twelve-year-old daughter (who has her own countdown, as she will become a teenager in a few short weeks—and don’t think THAT doesn’t fuel my fire), replies good-naturedly every time I say, “I’ll be turning 40, and then it’s ALL OVER.” I love what she replies—“Or maybe the fun’s just beginning.” Love that kid.

I, like many people, have been considering monumental ways to mark this milestone in my life. Let’s see…run 40 miles? Great idea, except that I only try to run if there’s a fire. On me. I considered a big party, writing letters to people who’ve impacted me, going blonde, and a host of other wacky plans, until I finally decided on this one.

So here it is. During the forty days leading up to my fortieth birthday, I will make forty pies. Forty different pies. Why? Because I really like pie. So, why not? I can do what I want.  When I communicated this idea, my husband said, “Who’s gonna eat all that pie?” We shall see. Only time will tell.

For now, with 46 days to go, I am in the preparation stages. I’ve made a few pies in my lifetime, but I am by no means a baker or a gourmet. So I’m researching recipes, techniques, and supplies.

Here are a few books I had around:

I saw some recipes that looked interesting to me.

I can also already tell that I need to do some shopping. I am about to make my first pie purchase from Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Pie-Tried—True-Delicious-Homemade/dp/155832254X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1316372381&sr=1-1

Lastly, in honor of this endeavor, I have included this rhyme which, in cooperation with the upcoming EVENT (again, I say, only 46 DAYS!), is inspiration for my blog title:

Sing a song of sixpence,

A pocket full of rye.

Four and twenty blackbirds,

Baked in a pie.

When the pie was opened,

The birds began to sing;

Wasn’t that a dainty dish,

To set before the king?

The king was in his counting house,

Counting out his money;

The queen was in the parlour,

Eating bread and honey.

The maid was in the garden,

Hanging out the clothes;

When down came a blackbird

And pecked off her nose.