In a past life, Maya was a phrenologist.

In a past life, Maya apparently was a phrenologist.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya and Eliza series #1 - All hands on deck to check the new critter out.

Maya and Eliza series #1 - All hands on deck to check the new critter out.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya and Eliza had what their parents would define as "a blast" hanging out for the first time. Of course, we also define filling a diaper as "two big thumbs up!" and a fleeting repeated syllable as "genius!" But it was indisputably a great time having the "second generation cousins" together, even if only briefly. We look forward to doing the same with Maya's other "second" cousin Luke, and more shared time with Maya's first cousins in Wisconsin, Dan and Kate, as soon as possible.

Maya and Eliza series #2 - Glancing askance, ripples intermingling.

Maya and Eliza series #2 - Glancing askance, ripples intermingling.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya and Eliza series #3 - Maya learns that pool time shared is exponentially cooler.

Maya and Eliza series #3 - Maya learns that pool time shared is exponentially cooler.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Besides, Andouille sounds - I don't know - too Expos-ish

Floyd Landis may - just "may" at this point - have had some help on that astonishing climb in Stage 17 of the Tour de France on the way to his overall victory. Reports are spilling out this morning about his positive test for an "unusual level of testosterone/epitestosterone" found by the mandatory testing following his victory in that Stage. I, for one, surely hope he's not guilty. If he is, his position as the greatest Mennonite bicycle racer EVER is surely in jeapordy.

As if we need more reasons to doubt the latest dubious Dubya "makin' progress" in Iraq plan for stepping up the American military's presence in Baghdad - the WashingtonPost has today's must-read story from the boots on the ground POV. I know that the Pentagon has done all manner of sneaky shite in years past to squelch the voices of our soldiers. That's why I recommend to everyone that you read this story and call your Congressperson to ask if they've read it. This kind of story has legs. Unless, of course, the Pentagon's civilian leadership succeeds in blowing them off.

In the only upbeat story I came across today, my otherwise depressing Brew Crew is offering at best a delightful distraction from their post-All Star Break swoon. A new sausage is about to be entered in the Sausage Race performed and beloved at all home games. And that sausage is...

The Chorizo!

Not sure if there's necessary "spice testing" required before he/she/it will enter the field. And no one knows yet what "The Chorizo" will look like. But I'm willing to bet it won't be wearing a Manuel Lopez Obrador t-shirt.

Hope your own sausages are dressed in a delightful array of condiments today. Rock on.

Setting back the otherwise honorable profession of pirating hundreds of years...

Like much of the known movie-loving universe, we decided that we couldn't wait any longer - yesterday we saw "Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest". And even though it's gotten loads of bad reviews...they weren't even close to bad enough. I left the theatre strangely confused and filled with misdirected rage, looking for defenseless dogs or Mormons to pummel. But I'm luckily redirecting that energy into my rating - a flat D. If it were 45 minutes shorter, it would have gotten a D-plus. Since I'm sure there are those of you who enjoyed the thrill-ride silliness and unbridled escapism of this Part Deux in the "Pirates" cheesy thrillogy (I'm talking to you, Stubbs), here are my preemptive responses.

Sure, beautiful production design. But at the cost of enduring an utterly indescribable plot. Intolerable logistics (everything in the Carribean is apparently a few minutes away by rowboat). And more Orlando Bloom than even his Mom could tolerate. I can't blame Johnny Depp for whatever it was that he was doing other than to wonder...what the hell was he actually doing? The often hilarious and delightful Bill Nighy played Davey Jones as if he were told to chew his way through every line like a toothless, elderly shark - thrashing about constantly but with little obvious effect other than to spray a whole lot of water everywhere. The fawning appreciation for Keira Knightly who is unquestionably gorgeous and stunningly tanned herein should be redirected toward someone even more in need of suck-up praise. Like Paris Hilton. The overall effects of this folly were as fulfilling as a buffet table piled high with Splenda-sweetened, fat-free, tofu-flavored frozen yogurt. If you love summer movies that make absolutely no sense, insult your intelligence at every turn and laugh at you all the way to the bank - get yer arse to this poopdeck, Matey! But all I could say after seeing this was "Arrrrrgh!"

Hope the planks you need to walk today to be entertained are short. Rock on.

From the Gawds of Unintended by oh-so-Apt Ironies - Karen Hughes's "Sideways" moment

Time to catch up on a few stories. The so-called "liberal blogosphere" has been kicking the crap out of "Joementum" Lieberman for months in his flailing bid for re-election. While I find Joe to be the worst sort of politician masked in the husk of a decent sort of human being, I fully support the campaign to end his inexplicable support of the Bushies by sending him back home to Connect-I-cut. But putting aside all the bloggie shtick, the must-read story today comes from the decidedly pre-modern world of magazine journalism. Specifically, New York Magazine's evisceration of Joe's fight for his political life. If you're a political junkie, this is today's high-grade fix.

Condi's now supposedly changed the Bushies' Israeli-Lebanese clusterduck position by shwooping into Beirut. To absolutely no effect. But the trip there sounds like a hoot. Especially in the NYTimes piece just posted where a group of frustrated American citizens confront a "wine sipping" Karen Hughes in an Ireland airport. Doesn't that sound ridiculously apt for this bunch of clowns - our envoy to the Middle East gets faced kicking back a few glasses of wine (!) in Ireland? Astonishing. Anyone with half a brain can tell that Karen Hughes is a joke with absolutely no hope for a punchline. But back to Condi. I'm seemingly the only one that feels this way given all the fawning press she receives for her sporty pant suits and obsessive workout routine - Condi's style of self-absorption betrays her complete lack of substance and disasterous standing in the region.

Cullyforneeya's sweltering like so much of the country this summer. People are starting to die and the strain on the power grid is much like that exerted on the moviegoing public whenever the Guvernator tries his hand at comedy. If there's one intangible in this Fall's midterm elections, I predict climate change will freak people out like never before and strongly tilt any leaners. Remember, you heard it here first.

Expect some new Maya pics soon in an attempt to counter America's image problems abroad. Hope your own travel plans include unstaged events that inspire the locals today. Rock on.

Tiger and Floyd - proving to the World that while Americans can suck, we are also enviably inspiring

There are athletes. And then there are serious punch-you-in-the-heart-and-make-you-get-teary- at-the-mere-suggestion-of-what-they-do athletes. Tiger Woods is the best example of the latter I can think of in my lifetime of watching sports. Floyd Landis is a damn close finisher in the moment that is this Sunday, albeit one without the inspiringly long rise to prominance. But whatever sort of taste you may have lingering with regard to sports currently on the palette (I'm talking to you, France), today's stories of Tiger winning the British Open and Landis winning the Tour de France should wash away any lingering saltiness. If only the forces aligned along the border region of Israel and Lebanon could take a moment and tearfully watch "SportsCenter"...I swear that we would all thereafter be looking at a much brighter Monday rather than lamenting an unfortunate Sunday hangover. Now if only I could get the Brew Crew to watch the same ESPN segments that I suggest for the Middle East...

Maya's really taken her command of the word "No!" to a new extreme. "No!" now means just about everything. "More!" "Yes!" "Guiliani!" "Eggplant!" "The Netherlands!" "I love you!" All new 'rents I'm sure can understand my surprising interpretation of her limited lexicon. But she's bounding forward in so many other ways that I'd be remiss if I left that snarky impression stand without qualification. She's so much more communicative that we've begun to worry about Sarah's rampant profanity - check back on our plans for corrective treatment in that regard. In another vein, Maya's got a new baby pal to chill with over the next few days - Sarah's cousin Annie and her equally cool hubbie Chris arrived last night with their 4-month-old-ish daughter Eliza. Expect a fair dollop of cute pics featuring the kids to be dumped atop the banana split that is and the Family Buick in the near future.

Hope your own highlight shows shove that metaphorical frog way up into the throat as the week begins. Rock on.

Giving LA its due. Appreciatively.

We just spent two days in Los Angeles, soaking up the luxury of guilt-free, Maya-free living while savoring the chance to chill and congregate with friends who call that massive, often-misunderstood City home. Maya did great, as did Nanna and Poppy giving her big love here in Santa Barbara. And we also did quite well - thank you very much - loosening the reins and chillin' like regular pre-breeders for a brief respite. Serious old-school props to our good friends Josh & Megan, Stubbs, Whitney & Andrew, and Paul for giving us all sorts of delightful, hilarious interactivity during our stay. They are all a true tribute to their shared, adoptive home. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise - Los Angeles is a delight. The traffic may blow like a Texas Panhandle tornado warning. But to otherwise get down to the heart of the matter, I'd like to offer my limited reviews of a few snapshots taken while there.

The Orlando Hotel - a solid B-plus. Josh and Megan live literally a broken-arm stone's throw off the pool deck from this delightful boutique hotel where they hooked us up with their highly desirable "neighbors rate". I'd give it an A-level-rating if it weren't for the fact that they charged me for an espresso at the breakfast that was otherwise included in said rate. Call me a bitch, but at least I'm unwavering in said bitchiness.

Angelini Osteria - a should-be-marginally-higher- but-still-amazing A-minus. The best Italian meal either Sarah or I have enjoyed in ages. We got momentarily chafed by our dropped reservation and had to wait for our table (in LA time - it was like a year and a half). But every other teeny smidgeon of the experience was off the charts. West Hollywood bliss - if you're in that 'hood, you can't do better.

The Getty Museum - a B-plus. The architecture and flow of the museum are stunning. The gallery spaces - not so much. If you go there (which you absolutely should), skip the tram from the parking garage - walk up and down the mile path to and from the museum. Bring the kids. Explore the gardens. Look at all of LA longingly and longishly. I flat out loved the location. The rotating exhibit featured those crazy Flems (or hopefully not phlegms) - Rubens (not Pee Wee) and Bruegel's collaborative works. Pretty cool if you're an art history major, I'm sure. But I was more interested in seeing Hector Elizondo mingling during our simultaneous perusal. At almost 70, that guy looks more amazingly well-maintained than the 16th Century masterwords being featured.

There were other bits and pieces of our brief trip that probably deserve a bit of loving snarkiness. But I'm moving on. Hope your own current or upcoming getaways are worth describing ad infinitum. Rock on.

"...because if these children were spare parts, I'm sure we'd find a way to send them over to the Pentagon to lend a hand."

Proving at long last that he's able to find a veto pen in that desk that JFK so famously imbued with actual gravitas, Dubya nixed stem cell research today. Dooshbag. On this one, there is no defense for the Bushies. Just one more example of how little respect this Adminstration has for science. If the entire Middle East wasn't a tinderbox and Iraq wasn't exploding in the summer heat, this would rightfully be Story Number One. I'm immediately reminded of how just two days before my wedding almost 5 years ago, Dubya made his tortured, triangulated announcement on "sufficient, usuable stem cell lines" and how utterly uninformed he seemed and ACTUALLY WAS. But in this veto, Dubya's surpassed even his own highly dubious low standard. If the Dems can't figure out how to use this veto against him in the Fall, I once and for all declare my intention to start a new Party.

We're in Santa Barbara, enjoying vacation in more ways than I can easily list. Sarah and I are even heading down to LA this afternoon for a few nights away while Maya stays here with Nanna and Poppy. Included in our LA plans is an overdue visit to the Getty Museum. Expect a review in the near future. But speaking of reviews, we've been delighted to see a few flicks already since arriving in Santa Barbara. Hopefully, there will be more on the agenda in the week ahead. Here's a few quickie reviews.

"An Inconvenient Truth" - a upward-leaning B-plus. Al Gore deserves almost all the credit. But the filmmakers put together a stunningly obvious display of just how screwy this debate has become. If you hate all the global warming shtick, you are the target audience. If you hate Al Gore, you are the target audience. If you appreciate the global warming shtick and/or Al Gore and still haven't seen this movie, get a babysitter or time off for good behavior and get yer butt to a theater. I'm only wavering away from an A-minus rating because it didn't invade my walkaround thoughts of the following days that I typically use as a marker for a stunning film. But you're missing the point this summer as the temperature soars if you wave off this film as a "been there, done that" documentary. This is classy shite, to update Dubya's tortured vernacular.

"Superman Returns" - a weak C rating. Kate Bosworth is truly horrible as Lois Lane. Brandon Routh makes me miss Christopher Reeves all the more (even though he's passably good in this cypher role). Kevin Spacey has more fun than anyone, unfortunately including those of us watching the movie. The SupaDupa mythology seems tainted. The payoffs are minimal. Rent it. At least that way you can step away and get a beer (repeatedly) when you inevitably get bored during the indulgently-padded two and a half hour cheesefest. Or better yet, rent "Batman Begins" from last summer - much, much more satisfying escapism meant to similarly evoke memories of summertime guilty pleasures.

Hope your own mythology inspires much worthy debate today. Rock on.

Maya works her abs by the pool in Santa Barbara.

Maya works her abs by the pool in Santa Barbara.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

"Mommy, are those bubbles yours or mine?"

"Mommy - are those bubbles yours or mine?"
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya does her best to work through the silo-load of veggies we just had dumped on Nanna and Poppy's lawn.

Maya does her best to justify the silo-load of veggies we just had dumped on our lawn.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

"Push me. Or lose me forever."

"Push me. Or lose me forever."
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Boogie Down, new to Town Grrrrl!

Boogie Down, new to Town Grrrrl!
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Maya didn't seem to mind having next to nothing around in her new joint for the first few days in Seattle (notice the plastic furniture in the background). All our stuff arrived on Friday - unharmed and unwilling to bemoan the process. As are we.

"You're my boy, Red!"

Seattle. We're here and settling in. Stuff comes tomorrow from the movers. And we picked up 35 boxes of books at Our Friendly Neighborhood Post Office which will surely soon be not so much on the Friendly. Laziness and languishing bureacracy - same ol' story. I, for one, until this episode believed sending all manner of parcels via Uncle Sam was dead straight dependable. Of course, I've never sent a ton of books for SixHunnerd bucks before. So for every finger pointing at someone else...the Postal Service can still surprise you with its suckiness.

Enough commerce. Let's talk heart. Didja know that Red Buttons died? I was damn sure like fifteen years ago. But actually it happened today. Go figure. Remember his Oscar-winning role in the 1957 movie "Sayonara"? Me neither. The internets found me this two-month old picture of ol' Red. Bet the guy ran a hunnerd pounds soaking wet.



Maya's lovin' having a yard and seemingly has settled in altogether quickly. Seattle suits her. And we've been greeted by a few surprising days of coolish weather after a sticky summer prior to our arrival. Which is a bonus. Being back in this city after eight years away - Dallas, Vermont, San Francisco, then back up here - feels something akin to a journey completed. It feels good. I'll elaborate more later. Or not. Once we get our remaining four and half tons of crap into our rental house, we're taking a vacation. The thought of which is VERY nice right now. Hope your own routes are pleasantly circuitous today. Rock on.

Our final check of what we might have forgotten was thankfully beneficial.

Our final check of what we might have forgotten was thankfully beneficial.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

So we're gone, folks. Maya's a frickin' trooper, as is Sarah. Me, on the other hand - well, let's just say that y'all should check back early next week to see how the trip went. But we couldn't have been happier with the way we left our adoptive city, San Francisco, for our longer-term adoptive city, Seattle.

If these guys were skinning a cat instead of moving our couch, I still would have been with them since "Hello".

If these guys were skinning a cat instead of moving our couch, I still would have been with them since "Hello".
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

If you look really closely, you can see Maya's tag dwarfed by my much cooler effort. She's so entirely not in "The Breakfast Club".

If you look really closely, you can see Maya's tag dwarfed by my much cooler effort. She's so entirely not in "The Breakfast Club".
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

On our way back to GrungeTown

Alright, Folks. This entry's gonna be more scat singing than scatological. We're on our way as a Family from San Francisco to Seattle. The last week's been all about packing up our lives and getting ready for the move. The movers grabbed our entire collective lives' crap and threw it on a truck yesterday. Professionally, I must say. But expect a few surreal pics framing the process when I get to a more dependable internet hookup. Basically, we're done with our first day of driving with a 16-month-old and we hit our target. Eureka, Cullyforneeya. Beautiful-ish little community. As Sarah and I discussed on our way home from dinner - kinda like a Wausau, Wisconsin crossed with a Carmel, California. Seriously. Deserted downtown. Even during a Blues Festival ("Our 10th Anniversary!"). But driving through the redwoods into this part of the world (the famous and infamous Humboldt County), seeing hippie hitch-hikers and a double-redwood that grew into a joined supatrunk, yada yada yada - I'd love to catch y'all up. Depending on a WiFi connection in the best Best Western in Humboldt County is not exactly a safe bet, though. So I'll get back to this a bit later.

Hope your own travels inspire you equally. Rock on.