Blowback for Novak

Not such a great day for the cast-off Conservatives from the thankfully cancelled "Crossfire." Tucker Carlson's new talker on MSNBC gets SAVAGED in a review in the NYTimes (he's called "surprisingly churlish" which ain't so surprising for anyone that's suffered through his shtick in the past). And Bob "Douchebag for Liberty" Novak sees his head kicked a bit further down the road after yesterday's ugly little interview on "Inside Politics." Who knew that Ed Henry had such mucho cajones before yesterday's questioning? Novak continues to protest that he shouldn't comment on the Valerie Plame affair's Grand Jury investigation for legal reasons. But as two of his colleagues (Judith Miller and Matthew Cooper) face prison time for not disclosing what they know about which Bushie leaked the goods, Novak should be feeling more heat than he already has for this despicable saga. For anyone that has felt the right-wing wrath of Novak's hatchet jobs in the past, this must be pretty sweet to watch unfold. As of this morning, it looks like TIME is going to cave and give up Cooper's notes. I expect the NYTimes will follow suit. Eventually Novak's going to be forced to finger the Bushie - he said so himself yesterday, except not using the double entendre. The Grand Jury's mandate runs through October. Stay tuned on this one.

Also in DC yesterday, yet another hapless lawmaker tried to make the long-ago refuted connection between Saddam and al Queda stick. Apparently, the rest of us are still wrong. Rep. Robin Hayes (R-NC) - a man so shamelessly American that he features both military AND NASCAR imagery in his website masthead.

Outside of the seldomly inspiring world of politics, did you realize that NASA's got a craft speeding toward a comet that will use an "impactor probe" to collide with it over this upcoming weekend? I sure didn't. They've named it Deep Impact, hopefully not after the less-than inspiring disaster flick of the same cliche`.

Wimbledon women's semis today, included the hotly anticipated match between Maria Sharapova (the thinking man's Kournikova) and Venus Williams (the thinking man's Williams sister). A rain delay may derail the oogling for a few hours. Regardless, I'd love to see Venus reach the finals, but I expect that Sharapova-mania will continue to build with a victory for the young Rooskie hottie. Either way, I've got a Brewers-Cubs game set to TiVo on WGN so there's gonna be some high quality sportiness in our crib this evening. Hope the same's the case in yours. Rock on.

Maya considers Poppy's risotto. Her conclusion - "needs a touch of salt, but otherwise delightful." 

Maya's newly-employed MegaSaucer platform for insanely colorful toys.

A flunkie applauds, a nation sighs

Much is being made of the cynical silliness in Dubya mentioning 9/11 five separate times during last night's ridiculously-staged event at Fort Bragg. I've spent some time this morning reading through the postings, and almost all of it falls along previously established demarcations in the rhetorical sand. What Dubya had to say - and the scandalously shallow way in which he said it to a reluctant and small national audience - will be parsed for a newscycle or two and then we'll be back to the stories that matter (such as the search for truth in a helicopter being shot down in Afghanistan with 17 soldiers aboard). I'll admit a slightly delayed viewing of the actual "address" on my part - Sarah and I used the luxury of Grandparental babysitting to sneak off and catch a movie yesterday ("Batman Begins" - a full-recommendation and a solid B rating from my scale with strong performances from everyone except the surprisingly featherweightish Katie Holmes and uncharacteristically lame Liam Neesom). But I'm watching the TiVo'd coverage on CNN and had to weigh in on the most appalling story from this morning about the stagecraft. ABC NEWS reported that the one applause break in an otherwise somber reaction from the crowd of soldiers occurred when a Bushie advance team member started clapping. I just watched it - in slow-motion with the sound WAY up - and it's entirely obvious that the Bushie plant started clapping out of camera range before Dubya had even finished delivering the line. And the CNN feed shows the best-framed soldier in a sea of similarly postured and beret-wearing studs refusing to join in on the applause. If you look closely enough (and I did, trust me) you can even see the guy next to him nudge him to join in, to no avail. So while we're all told to support the troops and that they support their Commander in Chief without reservation - ah, hell that's a load of horsehockey, as Colonel Potter would say during the depressing later M*A*S*H* seasons. The wheels are coming off, people. Last night was a prime-time differently-staged version of the same old same old. Anyone who says otherwise will take tons more bad news to convince them that things are unrecoverable in Iraq. And I personally don't have the stomach for that sort of punishment.

There's tons more to say, but that little crassly-staged tidbit tired me out. Plenty of other things to address that are much more worthwhile. Hopefully in all our lives. Rock on.

Why Ed Klein should stick to "Parade" magazine and an upcoming guest gig of mine

If you've been paying any attention to Ed Klein's hilarious blowback following the release of his frothy slopbucket ("The Truth About Hillary"), I know you would enjoy watching Al Franken and Joe Conason work him over on Al's show last Friday. I hadn't seen a more humiliating display since the last time I rented "Deliverance." But Ed's latest twist of logic really shows how seriously this nut is cracking. New York Magazine picked apart the false usage of a photo of Bill at a Kerry campaign event which Klein alleged in his book showed an "open mouth kiss" with a "stunning divorcee" whom Bill was also allegedly conoodling in private. Well, of course the photo was real but the story Klein attached to it was an outright lie - the photographer was the first to come forward to say that it wasn't even fair use of his work. But when Klein was questioned for this follow-up "New York" online piece, he offered the following defense. Enjoy.

"A man who masturbated in the Oval Office with a cigar shouldn't be going around leering at women and kissing them on the mouth."

How Bill would, um, with, a...yea, I'll leave the cigar bit where it should stay - unmentioned hereafter for all eternity. But that's a pretty harsh sentence Klein suggests, both content-wise and in karmic impact. Klein should stick with the "Personality Parade" column that he ghostwrites. At least therein his reputation can't sink any lower.

On a completely different subject, I going to have a guest blogging gig in July at the blog "Whatever" by John Scalzi that I'll be further promoting as an exercise in appreciative synergy. The intro there today is worth reading - I'm the blogger mentioned as being previously unconnected. But I really appreciate the chance to include my shtick and hope that some of his traffic heads this way with increased regularity. Don't expect Maya picks over there and I'll only be truly responsible for Thursdays through the month of July (there are 7 of us guest bloggers, each moderating one day a week beyond what else we lob into the mix). Regardless, I hope you give John's blog a looksie. Rock on.

Rummy's pretty sure we're all dummies

Now that we've got another camera, all Maya's fans can rest easy that we'll be showcasing her with something more than archived shots. Nanna and Poppy were kind enough to lend us theirs until Sony repairs our standard shooter. Speaking of which, Nanna and Poppy (Grandma Phyllis and Grandpa Elliot to those of you unacquainted with their chosen in-family pseudonyms) are in town for a few days on their way back home to Santa Barbara after a year living hard just off Harvard Yard (or thereabouts). When they arrived on Saturday, Maya went through a brief period of "stranger danger" ranting - something she's certainly not shown previously. No one was offended and after reading up a tad on the phenomenon, the timing of this seems pretty normal. Not that I put full faith in our growing library of those "Read Me Or You'll Destroy Your Child's Future" books. Still, a little education sure beats the ol' "strap 'em to the plow and let the instincts kick in" approach that I expected to employ with this here youngin.

Watching Rumsfeld on the morning shows yesterday was an exercise in the much vaunted "shock and awe" techniques the Pentagon used to enjoy mentioning by name. The shocks came repeatedly - the insurgency could last a dozen years or more, we've been negotiating with those "dead-enders" (I've always despised that folksy usage), it's up to the Iraqis to defeat the insurgency...and the hits just kept on coming. The awe is best described, I believe, as the grandiose Grandfatherly smugness with which Rummy continues to deliver these body blows. If there's any trace of self-doubt in that man, he's certainly keeping it heavily sedated so that it won't pop out of its coma and pull a McNamara on us.

Leave it to Drudge to spin a non-announcement by Rehnquist into an opening for Conservatives to bash Dems on a non-nomination battle. Don't read him - I do so you don't have to.

And even if the New Brew Crew couldn't sweep the Twinkies in their interleague series over the weekend, the crowds in Milwaukee were huge. For Milwaukee. There's some serious young talent on this Brewers team. In a few years I'm sure almost all of them will be playing with different teams in cities near you. So check them out now before they have any real success. And remember that you heard about Richie Weeks and Prince Fielder here first. Rock on.

Beginning yet again today, we'll no longer be limited to archived photos! Such as this shot from last night at the Inner Sunset restaurant Koo (our first time - very much a place to revisit), where Maya showed an early interest in the Spider and Dragon rolls.

Much like a young Lindsay Lohan, Maya knows what it feels like to be hounded by photographers everywhere she goes.

I know we all hoped Tom would find his true love. Apparently, she's amazing.  

Back to the news, in all its depressing grandeur

Maya's messing with our usual nighttime bliss a bit more often as of the last few days. Our instinct is that she's going through something of a growth spurt. Or maybe the fact that she's napping a bit more has caused a disruption in her standard 10-hour conk-fest. I shouldn't even mention it since that's probably bad karma. But in case you see increasingly erratic postings (2am one day, 4pm the next) in the weeks ahead, at least I've got the excuse out there for all to speculate on.

I haven't offered much in the way of newsy shtick in recent days, but that's certainly not because there's a lack of scary goofiness in the mix. Iraq discussions are dominating the Old Guard news horses - Dubya's tone-deafness at this morning's silly two questions from a side newser with the Iraqi Prime Minister, Rummy's petulance in front of the Senate Armed Services Committee yesterday, Abazaid disputing in everyway but actually answering Cheney's claim that the insurgency "is in its final throes," and the daily drumbeat of attacks that now sound like static in the background of our collective lives given that we're nearing 850 days in Iraq with no end in sight. We can still be shocked, though - such as the over-the-top and I believe entirely inappropriate photo on the front o' the NYTimes this morning showing a burned Iraq bombing victim. What's coming in the days ahead? Dubya's giving a primetime address next Tuesday. The Bushies will possibly need to further defend Karl Rove's atrocious speech from this week saying that, in effect, the Dems are pussies and want more dead American soldiers in Iraq to bolster their, well, pussiness. No news from Iraq would be the only real good news for the Bushies these days. I deeply fear the long, hot summer in Iraq won't let that be the case. Ick.

On the more personal domestic stage, I have come to believe in the last few days that Circuit City is essentially a large Ponzi scheme and that those little "registration" cards that companies insert in any new product you buy are entirely for their benefit (just try calling a manufacturer to find what they've got for you on file - in my case, bupkis). I've reached this conclusion in trying desperately to get just the shipping info necessary to replace/repair our not-so-old but entirely-busted digi camera. The camera will finally hit the mail today. And cause we're missing out on irretrievable yet random moments of Mayaness, I'll pick one up to get us through the expected limbo hereafter. If anyone's got a particular bias or love for a camera company and product, I'd love to hear from you on the subject. Regardless, we'll get some new shots up soon.

Oh, and after getting contacted by a local news station (KRON4) about a syndication aggregator project their working on with local bloggers, I've taken the first steps in that direction for and the Family Buick. If you've got a newsreader habit and want to get my posts hot off the presses, use the Feedburner or Atom links in my sidebar. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, ask one of the counter geeks at your local comic book or computer store. Or just check back when you get a chance, like our ancesters did way back in the late 90s. Either way, rock on.

From the archives - Maya trying to avoid the paparazzi outside The Slanted Door on her first night on the town. Good instincts for a one-month old. Sarah's a bit less guarded. 

Maya showing enthusiasm for a bath in the kitchen sink before we left Cambridge earlier this month. 

Today's archive photos (sorry - camera's still broke) include a look at a surprisingly disgruntled 3-day-old Maya way back when in the hospital... 

...and how Maya looks now. Or at least recently in Vermont, surprised by her prowess at filling a diaper on command.

A Tragic Announcement for All of Maya's Fans

I broke our camera today. Didn't mean to, and I feel terrible about it. I'd love to blame it on someone even more nefarious than myself, but it really just came down to a fumble on an intended grab off the coffeetable to capture a shot of Maya that demanded worldwide attention. So until I can figure out what sort of grief Circuit City will throw me in trying to actually use a "service plan" for electronics, we'll be using the undefined interim to post pics of Maya that we'd never shown her fans in the past 16 weeks. Expect a full range of Maya-ness. And please excuse my clumsiness. Hopefully, this will lead to store credit and an even better camera to showcase our adorable daughter's growth. Or maybe I'll just transfer the credit toward a buncha video games and post my scores. Let me know which you'd prefer. Rock on.

Cruisin' along happily...and then someone squirts you in the face with a fake mike

For anyone outside California that thinks Ah-nold "the Governator" is still a hot political property, today's SFChronicle published some poll results that you should check out. 31% approval rating. Yikes. Just goes to show that his approach to pushing through a special election and attacking cops, firemen, teachers and nurses as "special interests" were major mistakes. Yesterday I also heard a pretty fascinating interview with a new Ah-nold biographer Laurence Leamer on KQED's excellent show "Forum" hosted by Michael Krasny. In short, Ah-nold's pushing issues he knows nothing about and Maria Shriver is a rank bee-atch when it comes to controlling her hubbie's public image. The fact that Ah-nold now often draws more protesters than listeners to his scripted public events is the most convincing sign I've seen that his honeymoon is over. Even if he will "Jingle All the Way" to this Fall's election with the donations he's been raking in nationwide, his goose is cooked. But then again, I'm always wrong about these trends so this may be the point from which he begins to ascend again. Ya never really know until ya know, ya know?

More and more the blogosphere's running with the idiocy of Cheney saying in an interview with a second-rate Conservative talk radio host that Dick Durbin's comments on Gitmo were "one of the more egregious things I've heard on the floor of the U.S. Senate." Methinks you doth protesteth too much, Deeeck. Especially given what you said to Pat Leahy there last year. And with "statesmen" like Rep. John Hostettler inexplicably foaming at the mouth with hateful invective and saying things in Congress almost daily that would make a serial killing hooker blush with shame, I think calling out Durbin's a losing proposition. Sure beats actually doing anything about prisoner abuses, though.

Speaking of abuses, don't we all owe Tom Cruise an apology for finding his squirt gun prank so damn funny. Talk about a fella on the edge of a massive blow-up - keep him away from anything sharp, Katie. Can't wait to see "War of the Worlds" but I could live a thousand years and never care to hear another word from the future Mr. Holmes.

Maya when told that the wearing of overalls required no actual work in the barn. 

Maya's new "arch the back" napping posture. Weird. 

Please define "excellent idea" for the rest of us

Maya's definitely into a rhythm as of late that we enjoy. Her nights feature a long stretch of sleep leading up to an early rising time (most mornings around 6:30). She tries a bit more often to nap, although it occurs in her swing or bouncy chair not her crib and almost always only in the mornings. Daily runs in the park, lots of chatter, and a general need for one or both of us to be within visual range or she'll call for your return "pronto!" And when it comes to eating, the more the merrier is her mantra. So hopefully we're not screwing her up in any sort of noticable fashion. For Father's Day, we played it pretty casual. It's a fake holiday after all - not like Halloween or Groundhog Day where the tradition runs deeper than the right to choose whatever sort of take-out food sounds interesting and obligatory tolerance for the desire to watch 7 hours of golf on TV with one's hand down one's own boxers. And now with yet another lovely San Francisco morning facing us, we'll head out for our run and take advantage of one of the longest days of the year. But first a few stories that demand comment on my part.

The bloom is certainly off Dubya, with stories like today's NYTimes analysis of his agenda and the last few months of defeats (which reads more like an editorial, to be fair) carving him a new one. Some will claim that it's too early to start describing the Bushies' downfall. But the public is restless and the summer's a terrible time to get anything done in DC. Iraq's an inevitably bad barrel of pickles, yet what I could see being the bigtime agenda stoppers are, 1) Rehnquist announcing his retirement at the end of the Supremes' session this week, and 2) another delay on the Bolton nomination vote today in the Senate followed by a recess appointment (which would put him in place until January 2007). You can expect that I'll be watching closely for what happens with each story.

Porter Goss wants credit for having "an excellent idea" where Bin Laden is currently hiding. How moronic is that? The Bushies more tightly control the release of government info than any Administration in modern American history. Everything gets held back by claims of "national security" and the need to protect sources. And then the CIA Director casually drops a smug, off-hand claim that we know where Osama is and that we're making great advances. Does anyone other than me see that as being either a terrible bluff or a lousy tell that will totally blow whatever hand we may be holding? Goss has always been a chump. But yesterday's attempt to create "news" more importantly shows he's little more than a mouthpiece for the Bushies. I'll be the first to concur that catching Bin Laden would totally change the dynamics in DC. But I'm not holding my breath that ol' Porter's got the goods on anyone accept probably all the bloggers out there drawing attention to his inadequacy.

Speaking of chumps, after all these years Drudge still can't stop flinging mud at the Clintons. Anytime a political hack claims that Bubba's cheating on Hillary (in this case also supplying a grainy, dark picture supposedly capturing an "open mouthed kiss"), you can bet that Drudge will make it his top story. Get some therapy, Matt. Or just come out and admit that you're in love. Give in to those feelings and you'll be stronger for it. So what if the vast majority of your audience will drop you like baggie full of doggie doo when they hear that you're gay. At least you'll be happy.

In a very different part of the world of information, there appears to be a rather public "he said, he said" exchange beginning between Neal Pollack and Dave Eggers. Pollack - who I've always found to be a one-joke ego of impossibly lame proportions - wrote a piece in the NYTimes Book Review yesterday trying to pick apart the success of McSweeney's and 826 Valencia and the world largely centered on Eggers' growing literary personality. Egger's responded on McSweeney's website, followed by Pollack's re-response. If you care at all about these characters, it's certainly worth a looksie. And in a related sense, I'll be passing along more info this week about my marathon training and the desire to raise money for 826 Valencia and the expanding number of 826s around the country. So you can probably guess where I land on the pillowfight between Neal and Dave. Rock on.

What Dad sees when he looks at Maya on Father's Day. 

What Maya sees when she looks at Dad on Father's Day.

In the eyes of some, Dubya's still shining brightly (cue the celestial choir). But of course, they're wrong. Unless he's got the backdrop. 

Aviva takes instruction on how to best apply a Wet Willie to her new pal Maya. 

Dessert in Burlington, VT - especially when one of the BBQ's hosts works at Ben & Jerry's and takes advantage of their "3 free pints a day" policy. 

Appreciating what hasn't changed, even with the swirl of life all around us

To all those that checked over the past few days, my apologies for not giving updates on our last day in Cambridge and then the short visit to Vermont. I didn't have a readily accessible way to upload things and almost all my energy was dedicated to wiping sweat from my brow. Of course, now that we've returned to San Francisco it appears that the sweltering swoon Back East has largely abated. I'm glad for y'all back yonder. Because after enduring an obscenely long flight back (7 hours from Philly to SF including a delay on the tarmac following a two-hour layover) we encountered a chilly evening and felt immediately rejuvinated. Seriously. People shivered as they waited for their parking shuttles and we were scrambling to cover Maya up with everything at the ready. I even saw a woman wearing a long coat and scarf (!) when I walked to the market after we'd settled in at home. 4-season climates are great for feeling connected to something larger and more cyclical in Nature. But as far as I'm concerned, that sort of Nature can bite me.

Back to our travels - our last day in Cambridge gave all comers the chance to jostle and collectively oogle Maya. By the time she went to bed, she was more riled up than a box full of roosters on a flatbed truck. Which, I think, would be pretty riled. Anyhoo, she crashed from exhaustion almost immediately, slept well, we hit the road for Vermont the next morning after loving goodbyes, yada yada yada. You can imagine the intermingled remainder of special moments. The trip to Vermont was strikingly familiar - I've driven that 93 to 89 stretch from Boston to Burlington oodles of times and think of it fondly on occasion when stuck in the sort of spirit-crushing traffic you often see in California. Maya slept all the way and in little more than 3 hours we'd arrived at the home of friends (Jena, Greg and their 2-year-old Aviva). I shouldn't have been surprised but the heat was just as bad if not worse and the humidity hung in the air like an invisible blanket of phlegm. Greg's in Wyoming doing a NOLS instructor course, and Jena insisted we take the air-conditioned room on account of Maya's babiness. Crazy sacrifice, much appreciated and hopefully not abused. Sarah got her work done, showed off Maya to the general community, and our short trip served its intended purpose.

Along the way I got to traipse around with a sort of distant familiarity. We left Vermont just a smidge less than one year ago. And while Burlington is far larger than the towns in Wisconsin I remember from my youth, I always struck when things change so little and the faces stay so much the same. Little differences - the parking lot at the Dean Campaign's offices which was always overflowing onto and along the streets surrounding the suburban office park that now houses its offspring "Democracy for America" now looks like the half-filled-at-best space around a Chili's or TGIFridays. The Burlington Bikeway/Waterfront along the coast of Lake Champlain is being increasingly developed. But the little details remain very much the same. After I ran Greg's insanely fit dog, Juke, along the Bikeway Monday morning (or rather, Juke ran me) I asked a homeless man walking toward me "how's it goin'" to which he replied - "not so bad" - even the downtrodden often present an upbeat outward appearance. I stuck my head in the brewpub Three Needs (their "Duff Beer Hour" that accompanies broadcast of "The Simpsons" is still the best Happy Hour idea I've ever encountered) and saw many of the same faces three deep to the bar watching the same episodes and laughing heartily at the same jokes. I mistakedly parked in a loading zone for 15 minutes while getting sandwiches at Mirabelle's and coffee at Muddy Waters for the trip Tuesday and didn't get the $7.50 ticket that I assume is still the going rate for such an infraction there (SF's $35 hovering MeterNazis take note). I saw familiar faces everywhere, tourists by the sweaty busloads loping down Church Street, and the hazy green beauty of the foliage everywhere. Can't say I want to live there again. But it sure was nice to visit, even if only for a blip on the cosmic scale of such travels.

So we're back home with a TiVo full of goofy crap, emails piled up to our eholes, and oodles of other tantalizing and destracting bits of post-modern errata to slog through - amazing what less than a week of away time can leave for you to filter. Maya's now successfully completed 3 trips and she's not even 4 months old - people still marvel at her behavior and smiles come in bunches along the way. The summer ahead looks to be full of fun challenges and parenting lessons the likes of which we can't yet imagine. Look for more changes here at and the Family Buick in the weeks ahead. Let me know if you approve. Time to get the Maya's day started right and then drive Sarah in to work. Good to be back West, even if we touched down just as a 7.0 earthquake hit off the Northern Coast and a tsunami warning caused evacuations and much unneccesary speculation of when the next "Big One" is gonna happen. Your life is where you make it. And for now, I'm happy to be right here. Hope y'all can say the same. Rock on.

"Uncle John says this is good for my colon. WHEEEE!" 

Maya's actually quite interested in negotiation theory. But mainly she likes Poppy's silly hat. 

It Takes a Village...to raise a poop from Maya. At least this afternoon. 

Ladies and Gentlemen - the Class of '23. 

Maya showing off to Aunt Katie all she's learned in the last few months. This appears to be part of the macarena. 

Maya carefully prepares for her second flip... 

...and the dismount. The scores from the judges are 6.0, 5.9 and "Holy Crap!" 

Maya's introduction to the Class o' 23

After less than a year in the comparative bliss of temperate San Francisco, my system seemingly lost its memory of high humidity. So it's only fair that Boston's collective humidity yesterday was somewhere around 140%. For me, it was a sweaty mess - I wore a running hat throughout the day to keep the sweat from pouring off my shaved head to cascade into the various buffet dishes arrayed around a full day of partying with friends and family. But for Maya, the drastic change in climate didn't seem to matter much. Maybe that's the beauty of having a system just barely outside of that "fourth tri-mester" for a newborn. She looked a bit flush, but it rarely resulted in cries of distress or discomfort. Much less than those offered by her Dad, to be sure. Or maybe she didn't even notice given all the new and vaguely familiar faces pressing themselves into her frame of reference. She's low on sleep, but high on new experiences.

Such as the amazing fact (which to non-parents probably sounds like uncalled for overstatement, I'm aware) that she rolled over yesterday for the first time. TWICE. Yes, yes - call the NYTimes, we've got a new banner headline. But if you've got kids and you're obsessively soaking in all the new wonders like we are, this one hints at moments of future greatness that will further surpass the skills of a legless pet. We didn't actually even see the first flip, but Grandma Phyllis (Nanna) was doing some "tummy time" with Maya and in no time she'd (Maya not Nanna) flipped over to her right. We were gleefully alerted and Maya was reset...and then she repeated the feat to her left. Stunning, yet true. So we've got a flipper, folks.

Best of all for both Maya and Sarah, a trio of college roomies who all have started families within the last year brought their pride-and-joys into the mix for an afternoon gab session and lactation scrum. One boy and three lit'l ladies. The pictures of the foursome of babies are priceless. Although all offers are being accepted. And then the day segwayed into a grad party for Grandpa Elliot and his fellow charming overachievers. Great bunch of folks. Not a single drunken brawl (seen) all evening. That's what you get for inviting a passel of diplomats, I suppose.

So our last full day in Beantown will be largely hangin' with the whole famn damily. Eating leftovers. Sweating profusely. And loving the chance to do so together. Still no pics up - my apologies. But I think I've got what I need for the right link later today. Please check back. Rock on.

Our (mostly) good girl goes to Boston

The trip to Boston began early, early in the morning for us yesterday, which worked out quite well, thank you very much. Maya didn't object to being pulled into consciousness at 4:30am and took the long but thankfully direct flight as just another confusing yet stimulating adventure. Maya survived the 5+ hour flight unscathed after almost constant breastfeeding accented by chatty moments used to charm the surrounding passengers and flight attendants. We thought we were golden. But on the ride from the airport back to my in-laws place, Maya changed from that perfect little Huggies commercial angel into something darker, more ominous, more Hulk-like. Which is totally unfair, since she largely took in stride the fact that we'd just flown cross-country without even a single tantrum on her or our parts. Maya just reached the end of her rope thanks to stimulation overload and spent much of the remainder of day and evening screaming like we'd just let her out of the cage in the attic. Not even a bath cooled her down, but there were still moments when the Grandparents and Aunt Katie could glimpse the darling personality bragged of so often. Maya slept through the night, however, and just now she's beginning to stir. Big day ahead. The big event is a graduation party for Grandpa Elliot who got a Masters degree at the JFK School - not exactly expected to be a keg-stands-and-jello-wrestling affair, but this is my first Harvard grad weekend so I'm open to whatever the kids do out here. And a get-to-know-one-another playdate for Maya with Amelia, Penelope and August among possible others doubles up the above the fold headlines. Lots more to report later, I presume. I need to find a USB cord to upload pics so my apologies to those looking for more visuals. Please check back - I assume I'll have them up later today. Rock on.

Wilmer Valderrama Catfight!

Early tomorrow morning we're heading out for yet another travel adventure with Maya. Boston, then Vermont. Maya's still at the age that if she gets all pissy on the plane, Sarah can stick a boob in her yap to chill her out. And unless we're sitting next to Barbara Walters, we'll be fine (check out her narrow-viewed opinion that ingited "lactivists" across the nation). So starting tomorrow and for the next handful of days, "and the Family Buick" will be on remote. Expect the same sort of stuff, but with plenty of opportunities to see Maya hanging with her 'rents' friends' offspring. Should be a hoot - please check back often and stay a while.

When the Dems are sounding off about Howard Dean's allegedly churlish language here in San Francisco, the Party's got a boatload of problems. Howie's got few friends left, but you'd expect he'd find a heavy concentration of them here. I predict that calls for his resignation are not far behind. It's sad, really. Dean's got plenty to offer. But as I've said often before, he's just plain ol' wrong for the position of Chair. He's not nearly greasy enough and should be spending all his time raising cash, not starting brushfires that he then needs to stomp out.

In news that matters much more to many more Americans, it appears that Lindsey Lohan and Ashley Simpson are still fighting over the talentless Wilmer Valderrama - this century's Bronshon Pinchot. Only in America could Wilmer have a shot at these two.

Oh, and PETA appears to be leaving behind the attack on California's "Happy Cows" campaign in favor of bigger causes - running a poll to tell us who are the World's sexiest vegetarians. I was amazed to learn that Alec Baldwin was on the list of candidates. I always knew he'd run for office. My vote goes to Billy Martin. Please offer your own faves if you've got a minute. Rock on.

Maya's spider-and-the-fly gift from GreatAunt Phyllis and GreatUncle David looks like a psychedelic winner. 

Maya takes a bite out of her elephant. Not meant to be political commentary. Kinda.