Hotboin

Mischief Puppy is doing fine. Isabellybone is too, but she is harder to photograph. This morning she is painting at her easel when she's not in her teepee.




There was a better picture of the artist but unfortunately her lack of pants rendered that photo unusable.

Left the house at 12:30 yesterday, got to Clinton Avenue around 12 hours later. A Greek car service driver reviewed his entire life in half an hour in a NY accent so pure and wonderful that Plontik kept asking him more questions just to keep him talking. Not that that would have been necessary.

He told about having a regular customer, an Italian guy, who owns a huge gasket company in Red Hook. He makes gaskets for everybody. He told the cab driver he was such a good driver that the gasket maker would give him his own gasket when he died.

"Wow, your own gasket, pretty slick," Plotnik said.

"I think he means casket," Duck whispered.

Plotnik asked the driver his favorite Greek bakery. He said YaYa's. "But the problem, see, is whenevuh I eat somethin frum Yaya..." The driver grabbed his heart in pain. "Hotboin," he said. "Like to kill yuh."

The Greek cookies better be really good.

Isabella is more gorgeous than ever. Maybe she'll let Plottie take a nice picture at some point.