MessMaker 5000 - The Final Word in Filth

Nearly two years ago, around mid-May 2010, Sumie and I received our first MessMaker 5000.  We'd considered getting one shortly after we got married, but ended up waiting about four years before moving forward.  When we finally decided to go ahead with the purchase, we were both excited and anxious.  I suppose the waiting period does that to you.  A lot of thoughts go through your head over 9 months.  Will it actually destroy as much as I've heard?  Is it a life changer?  Can I really not do without something that will almost assuredly put a fist through my vintage speakers? 

When we first received our MessMaker 5000, I was a bit confused by its performance.  Our model didn't seem to make much of a mess - it could only filthify itself and anything within a 2-foot radius - but it sure as hell was loud.  It was also very distracting.  Every 2-3 hours it would go off, demanding milk.  And it was expensive!  I suppose I fell prey to the same marketing plan everyone else does.  "MessMaker 5000 - Yours for only one night of fun and no money down!"  I have to admit, the initial investment was negligible.  But good lord, after only two months of use, I was shelling out money left and right.  In NYC the going rate for MessMaker upkeep was $1,700 per month.  And that was basic service.  We had friends who had gone with in-home MessMaker maintenance and it was costing them upwards of $3,600 a month.  Granted, they didn't have to drop off their MessMaker in the morning and pick it up at night, but man, that's a lot of money for something that does little more than vomit milk on your shirt from time to time. 

After about a year our MessMaker became mobile.  As the months went by and the MessMaker learned to stand, open cupboards, unspool toilet paper, drool aggressively, and produce noxious waste, we really began to get our money's worth.  As promised, our home became shabbier and shabbier while the MessMaker grew ever louder, curious, and violent.  Now, at nearly two years into MessMaker ownership, I think we're finally starting to experience full filth mode. 

Like all MessMaker 5000s, ours requires constant distraction in order to operate at peak efficiency.  The other day this meant I had to set up a wooden railway.  I suppose this was required so that the MessMaker could place each piece of track in a different room of the house and the individual cars could be hidden in the kitchen, bedroom closet, and toilet.  Anyway, that's what happened.  Our MessMaker is a bit quirky and prefers to destroy vintage toys over new ones.  Note the 1960s packaging.  Perhaps our MessMaker fancies itself a modern Sally Draper. 

All MessMakers are inherently creative.  Perhaps that's why so many households have one.  Here, our MessMaker has found a new way to create filth: feeding ham to inanimate objects. 

One of the primary ways MessMakers create filth is by demanding something, playing with it for 2 minutes, and then abandoning it.  Now, this wouldn't be such a big deal if the owner could immediately put the item away.  But MessMakers are programed against that kind of rational behavior.  Once something has been brought out, even if it's not being played with, it must stay out for a minimum of 4 hours or the MessMaker will revert to tantrum mode.  As a result of this programming, our living room looks like this...

our hallway like this...

and the MessMaker's storage facility like this.

Below you can see our MessMaker in action, examining a car and determining the optimal place where it will cause serious injury. 

Occasionally, the MessMaker will take a break to do something seemingly constructive.  Here ours is drawing at the kitchen table. 

MessMakers are specifically designed to look cute when completing simple tasks, so don't be too taken in.  When I saw my MessMaker scribbling at the kitchen table this morning my heart melted.  But that's just what it wanted.  5 minutes later, when I removed the MessMaker from the table, I found 1,500 pen marks gouged into the kitchen table.  Yes, the MessMaker cunningly balances filth with cuteness.  This enables it to destroy your belongings with impunity.  I have to admit, it's a rather ingenious strategy.  

Those without a MessMaker in the home may think that one is more than enough, but amazingly, most people who purchase one MessMaker eventually end up getting another.  Even Sumie and I, despite our MessMaker 5000's tremendous reliability when it comes to destroying our home, are considering investing in a second one.  Foolish, I know, given that MessMakers tend to outlive their owners and only grow more expensive with each passing year.  Still, there's something very endearing about the MessMaker line of products.  I think it's that darn cuddle factor they've programmed in.  There really is no getting around it, no matter how filthy your living room may get. 

Perfect Fried Chicken, Perfect Weekend

We all look forward to weekends.  It's just how we work.  But, far too often, those two days we look forward to all week are either squandered in a binge of TV or packed so full of errands and events that by the time Sunday comes again we're even more tired than when we started.  This last weekend, though, Sumie, Mimi, and I managed to strike a perfect balance of family, fun, and getting things done. 

Thanks to Mimi, Saturday started off early.  Despite our initial groggy objections, we were glad Mimi set her alarm for 7:30.  We had family coming that evening and a lot to get through before they arrived. 

After pancakes - cooked by Papa - we headed out to get groceries.  We were putting together a pot-luck and Sumie and I were in charge of the Japanese fried chicken, our specialty.  Between our shopping stops we checked in at the Salvation Army store on Geary, a virtual must for me at least once a week.  There we found a beautiful, Japanese-style coffee table.  Low and relatively square (3ft x 4ft), with space underneath for your legs, Sumie couldn't do without it.  She'd humored me and my American-style coffee table long enough.  Luckily, the table was priced right and the store was having a 50% off sale.  I snapped it up and asked them to set it aside for a few hours.  We finished up our shopping with a stop at Safeway, and then I jumped into the BMW wagon to pick up our purchase.  I love that wagon.  It took only a few minutes to get the car ready and, once the seats were down, the table fit without a hitch. 

Table brought up the stairs, it was time to rearrange the living room.  This also lead to swapping out the hope chest from the library side of the living room with the old coffee table, repositioning the old Coney Island pinball, moving the hope chest to the bedroom, shifting the dresser in the bedroom to the other wall, and finishing it all off with a nice cold Coke.  It's amazing how one relatively small table can result in a complete re-assessment of all the household furniture.  We're genuinely happy with the changes, though.  By the time Mimi was napping, we felt the house had become a little bit more our very own. 

Sumie's brother and sister came over with their families around 6:30 or so.  I'd already finished off the first go on a batch of double-fried french fries and was in the midst of our chicken karage (Japanese fried chicken).  Sumie and I have been making these delicious chicken nuggets for years.  We're famous for it and while it always got rave reviews, we never felt we'd really nailed it.  The flavor had always been there, but the texture was never quite right.  I'm happy to say that this weekend we had a chicken breakthrough.  Here's how we did it.  This is my first time sharing this recipe, but I finally feel I can because I think we've finally gotten it right!

Ingredients:

• 2lbs of chicken thighs (Boneless.  Skin on is preferable, but not necessary)
• Cooking Sake
• Garlic
• Ginger (if you wish)
• Soy Sauce
• Salt and Pepper
• Cornstarch

Not that much, huh?  And here's how you put it together.  The measurements aren't exact - we've always done this by sight - so it may take a few batches until you get a feel for it.

1. Cut thigh meat into chunks roughly 1x1x2; place into a glass bowl
2. Wet chicken with cooking sake; fill bowl until sake height reaches about 2/3 of the chicken
3. Medium chop 5-6 cloves of garlic; add to bowl
4. Add a dash of soy sauce (about a table spoon)
5. Add several pinches of salt and pepper
6. Set bowl aside at let sit for an hour or two
7. After chicken has marinated, drain off any excess/standing marinade and add several table spoons of cornstarch.  Mix by hand until chicken is evenly and lightly coated.  Mixture will still be wet.
8. Now, in the past I'd fry right then and there.  But here's the trick that really made it come out.
9. Take a large plate and cover it liberally with cornstarch; mix in some significant pinches of salt and pepper for flavor.
10. Remove the chicken from the bowl piece by piece and lay out on the cornstarch plate with plenty of room between pieces.  Coat each piece with cornstarch and then shake off any excess.  Set pieces aside.  Each piece should look relatively dry, though we spots can still show through.  You don't want too much dried cornstarch on there.  
11. Bring a deep pan of oil up to fry temperature.  I think this is around 325 or 350 degrees, but I'm not really sure.  I've always used cheap wooden chopsticks to test.  Dip the end of the chopsticks in and press against the bottom of the pan.  If you see bubbles coming up from the chopsticks, the temp is just about right.  Put the stove on medium to medium high heat and get ready to fry.
12. Add some of the chicken to the oil.  Don't try to fry it all at once.  The oil temp will drop.  Stir chicken occasionally to make sure it doesn't stick.  Fry time will be about 5-8 minutes.  Pull out the largest piece and cut in half to check if the batch is done.  
13. Remove chicken from oil and set on a rack, paper towel, or lettuce.  
14. Serve hot to friends.  It will not last.  

This is the recipe and process I followed and, for the first time, our chicken had not only the taste, but also the look and texture of our favorite Japanese restaurants.  Hooray!

OK, that was a major digression.  Back to the party.  Shu and his wife brought a wonderful salad while Kae and Eddie brought pasta, cake, and the makings for California Rolls.  These Eddie made from scratch.  They were fantastic.  Here's a full view of the spread. 

The kids were excited to be together again, but the food was so good that they were still able to gather round the table.  At least for a few minutes. 

They were soon joined by their parents. 

Haruki, Kae and Eddie's newest addition, was the star of the night.  A perfect gentleman, he did nothing more than whimper.  He's the opposite of Mimi at that age.

The kids made the most of their playtime together.  We read...

we played pinball...

and there were many spontaneous games of ring around the rosie. 

Everyone stayed up until almost 11:00.  Mimi finally collapsed around midnight, Sumie and I a few minutes after.  So, it's no surprise that we all slept in until 10:00 on Sunday. 

And that sleeping in set the stage for the perfect second half of our weekend.  We balanced our busy Saturday with a quiet Sunday.  A friend of mine came by for a visit - we went out for burgers - and Mimi and Sumie hit the park for an hour or so.  We topped off our strenuous Sunday outings with afternoon naps.

By the time Sumie and I headed for bed that Sunday night, we knew we'd had a wonderful weekend.  The house was clean, we'd spent time with family and friends, and we were ready for the week ahead.  You can't really ask for more. 

Daycare: Take Two

This morning found me dressing Mimi for her first day of daycare here in San Francisco.  We'd found an excellent home-based center a few months back and, knowing Mimi needed more time with kids her own age, decided to enroll her for twice a week.  This would be just enough for Mimi to improve her social skills and for her father to regain a smattering of sanity.  The day she'd start seemed, and literally was, months away when we'd first enrolled, but it snuck up on his with amazing speed.  Mimi was ready, though. 

And I was excited to finally get some things done around the house.  With Mimi by my side, I couldn't even clean out so much as a drawer without her poking her nose into things. 

Even with the benefits daycare would provide both me and Mimi, I was a little anxious when the time finally came to start up again.  Our last experience, despite the excellent facility and compassionate staff, had been a tough one.  In fact, it's one of the factors that led me to be a stay-at-home dad. 

With Sumie in the midst of her nephrology fellowship and me still working a full-time job with  massive travel obligations when Mimi came around, we had no choice but to enroll her in daycare at the tender age of six weeks.  We weren't happy about it, but we'd lucked out with getting a space at a fantastic facility directly across the street from Sumie's hospital. 

From the beginning, Mimi was not a fan.  Bringing attention to her displeasure was a difficult task.  She couldn't write, she couldn't talk, she couldn't moan and mumble, and she certainly couldn't walk out.  She could scream, though.  And this she did with wild abandon.  We were heart-broken, particularly Sumie who had the tortuous job of dropping Mimi off and leaving her behind each morning.  But we were assured that things would get better.  "Every child is different and every child needs some time to adjust."  Mimi, however, is not "every child." 

Things came to a head after about two months.  You occasionally hear of kids getting kicked out of high school for drugs, grammar school for fighting, and maybe even preschool for biting, but when was the last time you heard of a 3-month-old getting kicked out of daycare.  The child can't even roll over!  And yet this is the situation we were facing with Mimi.  A sad story all around.  There were days when Mimi would literally yank her hair out in anguish.  One afternoon the tantrums were so bad that Sumie was called in from the hospital just to soothe her.

With the help of the daycare staff, we were eventually able to turn things around.  Somewhat.  We'd see a little improvement over the course of each week, but with every Monday it was like starting over with massive kicking, screaming, and sobbing.  The improvements, gradual as they were, eventually began to add up.  By the end of her first year, and the end of her time in daycare, Mimi had finally become comfortable with the situation.  Well, perhaps that's not entirely accurate.  Despite her being only one year old, I'd say she'd just resigned herself to being in daycare.  She'd made tremendous strides, and had made one close friend in Azurde, one of the care givers, but she never fully made that "adjustment" we'd been told would happen in the first few weeks. 

And this is why today was such a blessing.  Mimi arrived at her new daycare and immediately hit the toys.  "Papa, you can go now!"  she seemed to say. 

A few minutes later, I did just that.  I waved goodbye to Mimi and she toddled away to meet her new friends in the back yard.  As I walked down the stairs down to the street, I was a bit choked up.  It had been 12 seconds and I already missed her.  And she didn't even so much as bat an eye when I walked away. 

I stayed home today - cleaning the house in record time thanks to Mimi's absence - wondering when the phone would ring.  Amazingly, it never did. 

Sumie came home just before 5 so that we could pick up Mimi together.  Upon arrival we found Mimi sitting at a table, book in hand, smiling away.  It was remarkable.  We learned that she'd napped, eaten well, and had mixed in wonderfully with the other toddlers from the very start.  Sumie and I looked at each other wondering if Maya, the primary caregiver, was talking about the same child I'd dropped off in the morning. 

Mimi obviously enjoyed daycare today.  So much so that when she got home, she grabbed her daycare bag and ran for the stairs.   She even packed a favorite toy.  I have to say that I like her taste. 

Tonight I am so proud of my little girl and so relieved that she can finally be happy without her mother and father constantly by her side.  I like to think that I may have, over the past six months, played a small role in making this possible.  Or, it may just be that Mimi's so sick of being around me that anything is an improvement!

A Table for Mimi, a Desk for Papa

At the back of our home here in San Francisco is a sun room.  It's small, cold, quiet, and lined with windows.  The perfect place for a humble home office.  And with Mimi soon attending daycare twice a week, I'd need a place where I could start writing in earnest.  There was just one problem: no desk. 

Mimi, with her developing fine motor skills, was facing a similar situation.  She'd discovered a love of drawing, but apart from our coffee table, which I'd like to keep somewhat clean, she had nowhere to put crayon to paper.  She needed a kid's table.  I needed a desk.  Both stat. 

But where to go?  In these pages I'd previously written that we'd only be purchasing furniture we'd keep "for the long term."  And while I continue to feel that way, I've softened a bit on certain items.  I still want to find that perfect desk someday, but I've recently realized that I didn't want finding the best furniture to keep me from having a home office.  And when it came to Mimi's table, well, she's just going to destroy it anyway.  Lastly, with paying off debt from the move and saving up for a car, it was time to go on the cheap.  And so it was time to go to Ikea. 

Mimi's table, though a pain in the butt to put together, has been a huge hit.  She absolutely adores it.  From the moment the table stood on its own four legs, well before I'd even finished with the first chair, she knew it was hers.  She'd pound on it lovingly, both hands coming down, open-palmed, on the white top to shrieks of excitement.  Once the chairs were made, Mimi sat herself down and got right to work. 

 Of course, being Mimi, she soon decided that a change was needed.  Apparently, the table would be far more enjoyable off the carpet and in the middle of the living room.  And so, Mimi began to move the chairs. 

With the chairs in place, she then had a go at the table.  This proved a little much for Mimi, despite her massive determination.  Her plan thwarted, she shunned the table, grabbed her artwork, and set off to continue her masterpiece on the chairs alone. 

This lasted about 20 seconds. 

With the chairs back in place, Mama helped Mimi get back to work. 

All told, I think Mimi was pretty satisfied with her artwork.  And with our purchase.  As I've been writing this, Mimi's been coloring at her table (and on it), interspersing her crayon strokes with kisses for what she's drawn.  For me, that's twenty dollars well spent. 

And my home office?  It's nothing spectacular, but it's functional, and that's all I need.  The table supports my laptop, the chair supports my butt (somehow), and I finally have a workspace of my own. 

Hopefully, over the coming months, the walls will become peppered with research for stories.  I'm looking forward to it. 

Thanksgiving and an Exceedingly Lazy Saturday

The past several weeks have been, to say the least, busy.  Between my sister and her family coming last weekend, a surprise visit from Sumie's mother, Thanksgiving, and Sumie being on call, downtime has been a very precious, and very scant, commodity.  Perhaps that's why, despite the sunshine and it being unseasonably warm, we've yet to leave the house this Saturday.

Last Thursday was my first time to have Thanksgiving back at home for 10 years.  I'd missed it.  My mother's side of the family had always made a rather grand production of Turkey Day and the tradition has continued.  It has also grown.  With the expanding family, it's no longer just my mother's siblings and my cousins.  Chatting with my step-brother, we both remarked that it was now nearly impossible to point out the exact familial relationships.  There was no, "That's your cousin, so-and-so," or "Say hello to your great uncle what's-his-name."  We were all simply on a first name basis.  I suppose that's what happens when the dinner party reaches 50+.

The event was held in "The Cabana," the neighborhood recreation hall that is part of the community pool.  My mother and her husband Randy had helped to upgrade the building years back and, with all the improvements and the growing Thanksgiving attendance, shifted Thanksgiving from the home to the hall while I was back in NYC.  I still don't know how my Mom and Randy pulled off cooking for over 50 people, but they did it.  And in fantastic fashion. 

Mimi enjoyed the food.  I think she even got a bit of a "Turkey High." 

She finished off early, though, and then demanded her bottle.  Here she is sucking down some milk while mowing the tile.  Sumie, who had been on call, sneaked in shortly after this picture was taken.  I wish that I could have gotten Mimi's reaction.  For Mimi, Mama showing up was definitely the highlight of the day.

There were three highlights for me this Thanksgiving.  First off, it was wonderful to finally connect with my cousins again, after so many years on the east coast.  I'm not sure why it had been so hard to do so before, but this familiar family gathering - a shared experience for all of us going back even further than we can remember - made it happen.  Secondly, this was Mimi's first Thanksgiving with my side of the family.  And she did pretty much the same thing I would've done at her age in the past: play with cousins, eat a little, and make a mess. 

Lastly, there was nothing more entertaining that evening than watching Mimi, along with the rest of the little-girl-cousins, play horseshoes with her great Uncle George. 

Mimi was particularly adept at the game - partially because she owns it, partially because she'd been practicing, but mostly because she cheated.  Mimi found that setting horseshoes down was far more accurate than throwing them.  Here she is celebrating her victory. 

She was so excited, in fact, that she had to run over and tell her Mama all about it.  I wonder if there's a professional horseshoe league.  Ah, I see that there is.  The NHPA (National Horseshoe Pitchers Association).  Thank you, Google.  (Oh, by the way, "Google" is one of Mimi's new words.  I doubt that would've happened ten years ago). 

By the time we got home from Thanksgiving we were exhausted.  But there was no rest for the wicked.  Friday was still a work day for Sumie and I, refusing to brave Black Friday with a manic toddler, despite the deals, became captain domestic and tackled the laundry, shopping, and cleaning. 

And so it is that we find ourselves on this sunny Saturday refusing to go outside, or even get off the couch.  Sumie is contemplating a run to Ikea this afternoon, but I'm not sure if it will happen.  Shifting my reading from the bed to the living room this morning has already taken a lot out of me.  And then Sumie asked me to take her phone into the kitchen to charge it.  That resulted in at least 20 full yards of walking. 

No matter what we do this afternoon, we've all earned a little rest.  So, as soon as I sign off, I'm going back to my book and back to bed.  Sometimes, despite the sunshine and the shopping, that's what Saturdays are all about. 

Bridges: One Famous, One Metaphorical, One Made of Lego

It hadn't really occurred to me until now, but I'm again living in a city famous for its bridges.  And, despite the seemingly constant congestion imposed by the Bay Bridge, I'm happy for it. 

Manhattan, being an island, was connected by so many bridges (and tunnels) that it took me a few years to memorize them all.  I still, and will probably always, have a soft spot for the George Washington Bridge, which connects Manhattan and New Jersey.  Ten times a week I would cross this double-decker marvel, in the morning to Jersey and in the evening, blessedly, back to Manhattan.  The morning view from the bridge wasn't all that inspiring - just Jersey and the impending threat of work - unless there happened to be snow on the Palisades.  But the ride home, that was a different story.  The city, sparkling under the night sky or eerily obscured by a midwinter fog, always called and comforted.  Crossing that bridge meant, quite simply, coming home.  And that meant the world. 

Here in SF I'm developing a fondness for the Golden Gate.  We have a partial view of its spires from the top of our street, at least on clear days.  Even better, on the other side of its span are some of the best views, towns, and historical sites in the bay area.  That's why, this last Monday, Mimi, Obachan (Sumie's Mother), and I all decided to cross the Golden Gate and head into Marin for the day. 

We left early, the sunshine holding despite the gloomy forecast, and explored Sausalito.  While it's a bit touristy - like a mini Pier 39 on the other side of the bay - it does offer some fantastic views, tasty cafes, and plenty of dogs for Mimi to point at and scream, "wan-wan!" 

After walking along the shore we settled outside at a little cafe for brunch.  Outdoor seating, no matter the temperature, is always best when you're dining with Mimi.  Remarkably, she actually sat on my lap and ate for at least half the meal.  This is usually Sumie's job - Mimi will have nothing to do with me at mealtimes if her mother is around - but with Sumie absent, I guess Mimi decided I'd do in a pinch. 

After taking down some of my eggs and covering half my English muffin with slobber, Mimi decided it was time to explore the sidewalk around our table.  She was quick to make friends, even though she looked a bit intimidating with her bottle.

We crossed the Golden Gate back into SF around 2pm and Mimi went down for a nap.  That evening, inspired by our trip across the bridge, Mimi and I decided to break out the Legos.  Mimi, as we've seen before, was still quite interested in wearing the Lego box on her head. 

This was good news for me as I was, as I often am when it comes to Lego, a man obsessed.  What is it about men that enables them to play with children's toys?  Or maybe I'm generalizing too much and it's just me.  Either way, Mimi helped me pick out the right pieces for my project and before we knew it, we had a little model of that great orange bridge (albeit not quite to scale or color). 

The evening held one more bridge for us to cross: that mystical, metaphorical, and often quite lengthy bridge from diapers to potties. 

As we already know, Mimi is a fan of her potty.  She's just not quite sure how it works. 

We made a bit of a breakthrough, though, Monday night thanks to, of all things, Mimi's occasional constipation.  Mimi will occasionally strain when it comes time to poop.  Unfortunately, the strain comes from her attempting to hold the poop in and she eventually gets a bit blocked up, which just leads to more straining and more blocking.  This was the situation Monday night. 

As Mimi was straining, I rushed her to the potty, removed her diaper and, before I knew it, was rewarded with a terrible stench.  Lifting Mimi up I discovered that she'd left a rather massive stool behind in the bottom of her potty.  Success!  We have a long way to go - Mimi still thinks her potty belongs in the living room - but it's a start.  A proud papa, I, of course, took a picture of Mimi's magnificent stool.  But, on thinking it over a bit, perhaps some things are better left unshown.

A Childhood Friend Comes Home

One of my favorite things about living in California is being able to share a bit of my own childhood with Mimi.  Coming from a family of collectors, if not hoarders, there's no shortage of vintage goodies tucked away just waiting to be rediscovered. 

One of the most unique items from my boyhood days, and also one of my favorites, is the family's early pin-game - a precursor of modern pinballs.

About 3 feet long and a foot and a half wide, this machine really does show how pinball got its name.  It is, quite simply, a board covered with pins.  And through these pins drop a series of balls, scoring points by slotting into various holes along the way.  It is both a terribly basic and terribly addictive little arcade game.

Our family never knew much of the history behind it.  However, a neighbor of ours, originally from the east coast, once commented that he'd seen rows of them in Coney Island back in the early 30s.  And they hadn't been just for amusement.  Men would gather round a machine, place their bets down on the glass, and then pull back the plunger to see how they fared.  We didn't do any betting at home, but we did thereafter refer to it as the Coney Island Pinball.

It sat in our home in Paradise, atop a coffee table in the living room, for as long as I remember.  I think my father bought it after I was born, but well before I could remember him doing so.  It was always a star attraction in our home, particularly for younger kids.  I eventually outgrew it - transitioning to a full-size pinball - but whenever we had children under 10 over to the house, they'd go mad for it.  It's simple enough for a 2 year old to understand, but requires enough finesse to keep a man of 34 (or so I'm told) intrigued game after game.  As such, I really wanted to bring it home for Mimi and for her cousins.  With this machine, amazingly, we can have a shared childhood experience, despite more than a 30 year gap.

It wasn't just a matter of bringing the machine out of storage and setting it on a table, though.  30 years ago my father had gone through the machine, gently oiling the wood and polishing up the brass.  It had been beautiful when I was 4, but the past 30 years had not been kind.  When it came back to me several weeks ago, it was a bit worse for wear.  The glass top had been shattered, the brass pins and trim were corroded, the play-field covered in years of grime, and the mechanisms, simple as they are, virtually frozen with grit and neglect.  I had my work cut out for me.

It was so filthy, Mimi ran away from it!

I began by removing all of the brass, including the pins, and cleaning/oiling the wood with some wood restorer and steel wool.  This brightened up the play-field immediately.

Now, given that I had started this process around 8pm, most persons would have stopped to continue the next day.  But I get impatient.  It's one of my primary flaws when it comes to completing long-term projects.  I don't have the patience.  I'll keep on a project, gunning for the finishing point, deep into the night, quickly stretching beyond my limits of stamina and skill.  This is why, a few weeks ago, Sumie found me at 2am hunched over the play-field, high as a kite on brass cleaner, mumbling to myself and I reinserted some 200 brass nails.  I decided (read: was forced) to stop there.

One can see just how much cleaning had been needed.  Here's the coin mechanism, half of it cleaned, half yet to be polished. 

The next day I finished with all the trim and tweaked the brass nails into more concentric shapes.  It was starting to look good.

The final piece was to purchase glass for the machine.  Originally it would have come with wooden rails that went over the glass to keep cheaters out and the coin box safe, but these had long been lost.  I did, however, get safety glass for the machine, double-thick, and this has had a tremendous impact on the feel of the machine.  The play went from being grainy, harsh, and intolerably loud to smooth, muffled, and relaxing.

Also, Mimi could now play along with me and not grab the steel balls and fling them across the room.  I appreciated this.  Here she is pulling back the plunger and then watching the steel balls come down, all to shouts of "Bah-ru!!!"

Since restoring the machine I've done a bit of research on it.  As you may have noticed, it's not a "factory" piece.  The rail separating the play-field from the coin mechanism has been made from an old sign that seemed to say "now open" on one side and "open for.." on the other at one point.

This, I think, makes this machine a rather unique piece.  It is definitely based on the "Whiffle Board," which is typically credited as the first pinball (http://www.ipdb.org/machine.cgi?gid=3552).  Chances are that my machine is a beautifully hand-made knock-off, of which there were many in the early 30s.  The original Whiffle Board was a bit of a sensation.  However, through my research I've found that there were 10 prototypes of the original Whiffle Board (none documented photographically, as far as I know) put into operation before the inventors settled on a final play-field.  There's a chance, albeit a small one, that this is one of those original prototypes.  Well, I suppose Mimi and I will have another activity to share in the near future.  A visit to the Antiques Roadshow.