1.11.99
Happy Birthday, Susan. I spent the entire day with the "Sister in Law" (RR's sister) bombing around town. She's been around many times before, so I was able to save the horrid "Welcome to Hawaii" tour. For that I am always grateful, for on the mandatory afternoon on the North Shore beaches, I always get sunburned.
Had a really good time with her, though. Started out the day driving a script to the Film Studio for RR (who left it in the foyer.) and having a civilized breakfast at the Yum-Yum Tree at Kahala Mall. Actually, we were mostly wasting time until the mall proper opened, for a morning of clothes purchasing. I doused her in Chanel #5, and told her that if she ever wanted a hit, I have a bottle in my bathroom. I have always loved the smell of #5, and will occasionally dab some on. Nothing too much, mind you. Just enough to remind me of Grandmother. (That's what she wore. That and "Chineese Red" lipstick. I however can live without renewing that memory)
We went to Chinatown and looked for some porcelain. Nothing. Nada. I'm amazed that we can have a Chineese population the size that Honolulu has, without a place to purchase proper plates. All we found were some awful plastic ones at the junky store beneath Wo Fat's. We were looking for the large rice bowls, which I use for cereal.
And, aren't you just thrilled to know that? I warned you months ago that I lived a mundane existence.
We ended the evening at Maple Garden, a wonderful Mandarin Chinese restaurant in Isenburg Street. Ate the usual Chinaman's hat, sautéed haricots vertes, chicken with cashew, garlic eggplant, and spring roll. (*yawn* U still awake?) The most wonderful thing about this restaurant (besides the food) is the stunning collection of John Young paintings that line the place. In fact, the owner of the restaurant was the last person to talk with him before his death. Rather macabre, but that was what we discussed while he was opening our bottle of champagne.
There is a storm a-brewing in relation to my last entry. It will be interesting to see where it goes, but otherwise, I find the entire discussion to have taken a very juvenile turn. I have been promised a "Moral high road," so I am expecting an explosion of brilliant proportion from a young man who knows all the lyrics to all three versions of Evita. This could be interesting. I am remaining neutral in the discussion, though. I have said my bit about bored rich kids, and that's the end as far as I am concerned. A quote from Noel Coward off the live Las Vegas recording. The song is "A bar on the Piccola Marina:"
That dear ones, is all I have to say on this subject, At least for right now. I'm off to Kona at the moment, and intend to return to an entirely new outlook on things.
Had a really good time with her, though. Started out the day driving a script to the Film Studio for RR (who left it in the foyer.) and having a civilized breakfast at the Yum-Yum Tree at Kahala Mall. Actually, we were mostly wasting time until the mall proper opened, for a morning of clothes purchasing. I doused her in Chanel #5, and told her that if she ever wanted a hit, I have a bottle in my bathroom. I have always loved the smell of #5, and will occasionally dab some on. Nothing too much, mind you. Just enough to remind me of Grandmother. (That's what she wore. That and "Chineese Red" lipstick. I however can live without renewing that memory)
We went to Chinatown and looked for some porcelain. Nothing. Nada. I'm amazed that we can have a Chineese population the size that Honolulu has, without a place to purchase proper plates. All we found were some awful plastic ones at the junky store beneath Wo Fat's. We were looking for the large rice bowls, which I use for cereal.
And, aren't you just thrilled to know that? I warned you months ago that I lived a mundane existence.
We ended the evening at Maple Garden, a wonderful Mandarin Chinese restaurant in Isenburg Street. Ate the usual Chinaman's hat, sautéed haricots vertes, chicken with cashew, garlic eggplant, and spring roll. (*yawn* U still awake?) The most wonderful thing about this restaurant (besides the food) is the stunning collection of John Young paintings that line the place. In fact, the owner of the restaurant was the last person to talk with him before his death. Rather macabre, but that was what we discussed while he was opening our bottle of champagne.
There is a storm a-brewing in relation to my last entry. It will be interesting to see where it goes, but otherwise, I find the entire discussion to have taken a very juvenile turn. I have been promised a "Moral high road," so I am expecting an explosion of brilliant proportion from a young man who knows all the lyrics to all three versions of Evita. This could be interesting. I am remaining neutral in the discussion, though. I have said my bit about bored rich kids, and that's the end as far as I am concerned. A quote from Noel Coward off the live Las Vegas recording. The song is "A bar on the Piccola Marina:"
She answered rather bibulously,
"Who do you think you are?
Nobody can afford to be so
'La-de-bloody-da'"
That dear ones, is all I have to say on this subject, At least for right now. I'm off to Kona at the moment, and intend to return to an entirely new outlook on things.
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