A Pleasant Birthday

We were in New York City for my birthday; also for another four days distributed unevenly on both ends of that day.

I would normally tell you many things. I am a man of many words, usually. Since returning home, however, I have been enjoying a runny nose, a sore throat, a hacking cough and a head that generally feels as though it had its brains replaced by oatmeal (and goopy oatmeal, at that.) In other words, I have a cold. And I don't feel like writing.

I will not leave without telling you about my actual birthday, though, because that was an awesome day. That's because MY WIFE and I visited with Mr. & Mrs. Edelstein of the Upper West Side. You may know them as Daryl & Ray (or "Toonman", in Ray's case) and that's how we know them, too, so I have no idea why I just wasted a sentence being so formal. Not only did we get to hang out with those two wonderful folks, but we also had the pleasure of meeting Andrew Johns, playwright, artist, and raconteur extraordinaire.

You may know Andrew & Ray as Slim & Cody or Micky & Patsy. If you don't, you should. Both men are wonderful comic actors and Andrew writes tremendously funny stuff. Everything they've done as a team is vastly entertaining and there are some 25 or 26 videos featuring the two men on YouTube, ALL of which you should watch.

Anyway... We were treated to brunch, witty conversation, a tour of some of Daryl & Ray's building (including a space containing a permanent installation of some of Andrew's artwork), and a visit with the best cats in Manhattan, Harry and Jack. It was all a hoot and I wish I was feeling a bit more up to the task of an honest blow-by-blow account (but I'm not; I have a miserable cold.)

So there you have whatever that was. Thanks, Daryl! Thanks, Ray! Thanks, Andrew! Thanks, Harry! Thanks, Jack! Thanks, MY WIFE (who has some serious cat dander problems, but who loves Harry and Jack and wishes she could spend a longer time with them, but she is physically unable.)

Soon, with more better stuff.

(No, that's a lie. My writing has an infinitesimal chance of being improved in the next go-round, but the time we had certainly couldn't have been any pleasanter.)