Hi Bob!

So I'm at the Hudson tonite near Central Park, and I figure I better go get some dinner. I've been reading E.B.White's "With the Old Breed," and despite that, the Japanese sushi restaurant down the block seems like a solid option. I get the usual "lonely guy table for one" that no other paying customer would find acceptable, and I hunker down to read the other book I picked up for the flight, Bob Newhart's autobiography. There's some cute tales of days gone by, and he's quick to mention in the writing the drinking game based on the ol' Bob Newhart show, "Hi Bob." So I'm enjoying probably the most superlative sushi I've ever had (surprisingly, I think it even tops the nights of saki-bombs and sushi with Cale out west -- sorry, cap'n) and at the next table, discussing baseball, there's a voice that's instantly recognizable -- Bob Costas. A quick glance to my right -- yes, that's Bob Costas. Hi Bob. So my New York celeb citing tally goes up to three -- Lance Armstrong and Sean Penn at the club a few weeks back rounding out the total. I'm not one to go all blubbery for celebrities, so it's more like seeing, I don't know, the same reaction I had as a child to seeing a circus elephant running through our yard (true story). It's sort of a "hey, there's something you don't see everyday." Personally, I think I'm just disappointed that I never got to see Mr. T in Chicago. I pity the fool that don't see....T.

Cryin' Time

Nothing adds to the ambiance of staying in a shitty hotel like having a woman sobbing uncontrollably in the room next door while whoever the hell she's with slams the door and swears and calls her a "dirty bitch." Oh, the humanity. The hell with this...I'm going to go get a drink.

Imagine Coming Home to This

Got home from New York last night to find this going on in our driveway. Plumbers had to dig through the driveway to get to the main sewer line from the house to the city line, which had become overgrown with tree roots and was forcing all of our various wastes back into the basement through the drain. Good times.

Add to this the way the city has our sidewalk torn up for repair and the ongoing bullshit the Greek is doing next door (not pictured), and you had a sprawling mass of orange fencing and construction chaos. Of course, in the dark and the rain, it was all the more menacing.

They finished today, and it looks pretty good. I felt bad I didn't get to keep the digger.

Princess Ball 2007

Another lovely year at the Princess Ball here in PR. Was joined by pals Ruben and Ellie, and had a fun night. Too many sweets at the snack table and lack of a nap did Aidan in early, but she still had a blast. (And so did Daddy.)

Getting ready:

Princess pal:

At the ball with the two Ellies:

Pretty maids all in a row:

Too much candy and sweets from the snack table:

Fall Girls

Here they are:

The Last Ride of Rawhide the Wonder Horse

It seemed a certain doom for Rawhide the Wonder Horse today, as we finally cleaned out the attic here at 1219 and hauled most of the findings to the curb. Rawhide had been a constant childhood companion of Cindy's when she had been young and growing up here. Oh! the adventures they had! (I'm told.)

In addition to Rawhide, and a whole mess of mouse leavings, we unearthed an old school desk, once Cindy's as well, a gift from her school teach grandmother, as well as a cool old end table. Plenty of old photos – many of a much younger Harry Anderson – were also part of the day's haul, as well as Harry's old WWII foot locker which had no doubt followed him across the Pacific and back.

The foot locker and the photos will go to him and Kris in Florida. Much of the rest, including Rawhide, went straight to the curb. Hours later, it's all gone, the usual host of street pickers having hauled off the scrap metal and other interesting detritus (the cardbox box marked "Schenly's American Gin" remains at this hour). Even Rawhide has ridden off into the sunset...but not before Reesie got in one final ride...

Farewell, Rawhide! Farewell.

Candy is the Hard Currency of Youth

Took the little ladies to the Maine South Homecoming Parade this morning. It's 15 minutes of poorly constructed floats and thoughtful musical acts and it's all full of school spirit, but the real draw is the candy. Thrown from teens riding various jeeps and flatbeds or strolling along merrily beside the band or the thespian club, the fortuitous pairing of Homecoming with Halloween means plenty of throwable candy easily available in most stores. Couple that with the innate cuteness of two little blondies dressed in red outfits (Reese wore her gymnastic leotard this morning, her choice) shouting "Go Hawks!" and really you have an irresistible target positioned near the start of the parade route where candy supplies and enthusiasm are high.

So the girls just rolled in the candy. Great handfuls of it.

At the end of the parade, Aidan stood gobsmacked, looking into her candy bucket, amazed. "I can't believe how much CANDY I HAVE!!!" she shouted in much the same way I might say "Holy Crap! Someone just gave me ten million dollars!" So for about 15 minutes worth of standing around, she's candy rich for the rest of the month. Makes Halloween seem like a whole lot of hard work...

Now, if you'll excuse me, I should just check in on Aidan's candy bucket and make sure everything is, you know, okay with it...

Here Comes the Poop!

So on my night out with the girls tonite, driving home from the DQ, the girls start singing "Here comes the bride!" and Reesie, who has been inserting "Poop!" or "poo poo" into everything she says right now (calling me in New York the other night she says "I love you Daddy, poo poo") chimes in with "Here comes the poopie!" And so there we were, me and the two girls, singing along, homeward bound.

And you just know that on Reesie's wedding day I'll be thinking of that little singalong...