Chin Ho Kelly here to save the day!

Around Day 6 of my time on the sofa, I developed a new obsession.

As mrguy was digitizing our 78's, I began to wonder whether Hilo Hattie really was part of Harry Owens' band. The answer was yes, but my research also led me to a Hawaii Five-O fan site which listed her as a guest star.

Why had it never occurred to me to watch Hawaii Five-O before? It's chock-full of what I like: 1960's Honolulu, eye-popping aloha wear, kitschy lingo, and the occasional local guest star, like Hilo Hattie or Carol Kai. This is perfect viewing for the guy family. The first three episodes and the pilot were really great, and there are 69 more episodes available on DVD (278 in all).

Ask me about Five-O fansites :)

Mele Kalikimaka

Day 5 on the couch. I finally broke down and took antibiotics.

Mrguy tells me that I'm not allowed to drink porter when I'm taking them.

He is digitizing our Hawaiian 78's.

The tea kettle's whistle is in the same key as Andy Cummings' "In Spite of It All".

SOS

My captor has just forced me to drink the cherry-tasting fluid.

Last night I could not find where my captor had hidden the fluid.

Instead I took the extra-long-lasting cherry-tasting fluid.

Waaaaaoow...

I am frozen in time.

Wheezing in a winter wonderland

Thursday I just wasn't myself.

Friday I realized that getting out of bed was just a fantasy.

I've been flat for three days now, and I show no sign of getting up or getting better. I hate to say it, but I'm sick and I don't think I'm going to make it to Christmas this year. I hate to leave them in the lurch, but I'm so out of commission. And I don't want to get them sick.

Today mrguy had to take me to Santa's Workshop to pick up his tribute. He's been feeding me potent cough syrup and I can't drive by myself :)

I'm sick, but I'm lucky.

New York, odds and ends

We never did see anybody from SNL, and couldn't even find the picket lines. But we did find this awesome artifact of the writers' strike, which I just had to capture:



1) A note of apology from The Colbert Report
2) Misspelled graffiti correcting the spelling of the apology

Ah, New York.

New York, Day 3

Did I mention that this was my best birthday ever?

Sunday we went to an antiques show at the piers, where again my taste was entirely vindicated.

Three years ago I went to a warehouse sale. The people running it had bought an entire container of old stuff from Switzerland: everything from 16mm films from the 'teens, to painted cowbells and rugs and furniture. Dotted around the warehouse were these bizarre and quite ugly but stylish pots from West Germany. Blobby glazes, weird shapes, "off" colors. I thought they were so unusual that I should buy them all. I bought only what I could afford with the 20 bucks I had in my wallet, which got me one French pot and a tall German one with dents and blobs in contrasting blues.

At the sale in NY we met our first dealers of West German pottery and learned that the pots are now highly collectible. Kate Spade had just come through and bought a lot of the inventory for her stores. I found two very small versions of my blue guy listed for $145. And we bought some pots, and then some more.
We wandered around, looking for somewhere to eat and found the perfect restaurant. They sat us next to the piano, and the sweet teen Abe Lincoln piano player brought me almost to tears with his rendition of "Here's That Rainy Day".

Sweet.

New York, Day 2

Saturday was officially my birthday. We went to the Armory to see the Modernism show, where I learned that I have fabulous taste. Two months ago I almost bid on some Ed Wiener earrings, which later sold for $150. I saw them at the Modernism show, and would have thrown down for them (what with it being my birthday and all) if they hadn't been FOUR THOUSAND DOLLARS. These are earrings, people, not etchings.

Then we went to Ginger Man to sample beer and dial up friends. Thankfully, we know some spontaneous types who came out and gave us the hard news: SNL actors were doing a live version of their show that night, tickets were completely sold out and acquaintances of ours were the musical act. Knife through my heart on that one, but good times with a good friend.

The richness continued! My sister and brother both called while we were at Ginger Man.

Off to Brooklyn, where we ran into friends from the forklift museum on the subway. Never has a trip to Brooklyn seemed more effortless. We met our friends Threads and Snappy at Yemen Cafe, and caught up on butter minutia while eating fried bread with butter, sugar and cinnamon. I wish we'd had more time or had not been on our fourth adventure of the day. We were snatched from them way too soon.

Undaunted, we *did* go the UCB theater in the hopes that we could get in. Denied, but we saw a part of town we wouldn't have otherwise. We raided the vending machines and ate junk food. My idea of a nightcap. And a birthday.

New York, Day 1

There was no joy in Mudville as respects our attempt to see Saturday Night Live in NY. But the tickets were purchased, and my birthday comes around no matter what you do. We went.

Took the red eye, dropped off our bags, got a Palm Beach shrimp sandwich with feta and white balsamic dressing at Chopp'd. I've been waiting 16 months for that sandwich. Then off to my old haunt, the Museum of Modern Forklifts, where we spent some happy days in December 2005. Saw our old buds, eyed their new digs, and caught up, but not enough. I miss them.

Then quick! Off like bunnies to see our best friends from the city here, who now live upstate there. We shot the shinola while eating black pudding (o.k. *I* ate black pudding).

The night ended too quickly. Lacking additional companionship, we went back to the fancy bar at our fancy hotel and sipped passionfruit caipirinhas. Not a bad start to our trip.

Thanksgiving 2007

Thanksgiving brings out the McGuyver in the Guy family.

When the candles wouldn't stay put in the candle holders two years ago, Mom got the bright idea to knead a leftover Tootsie Roll like clay and stuff it in the holders before adding the candle. Worked like a charm.

This year The Man robbed us of our giblets, but Mom and I somehow made credible gravy by pan-browning the neck, some leftover chicken trimmings and the Pope's nose and using that for our stock. Boil, boil, boil, and before you know it, it's gravy.

No baking rack? Use a bed of celery stalks to keep the bird from sticking to the pan.

Need to keep the wings in place? Might I suggest tacking them down with clean steel nails.

Worked for us! And a good time was had by all.