A whorl of my own...

I'm back from Sconnie, armed with enough material from there to hopefully get me through the winter without a trip back as our plans stand currently. Fall in Wisconsin really has always been my favorite time of year. True, multi-varied fun was had by all I encountered and accompanied in Madison, Milwaukee and many points along the way. There was, however, one poetic autumnal moment in Milwaukee yesterday that caught my eye when I was driving back from the Waterfront to my hotel. I was stopped at an intersection - just another one of the tens of thousands that we all stop at in our lifetime. The red light was long enough for me to notice the leaves falling around my rental car and the light blue worn and weary Dodge with a few prominent Obama stickers waiting in front of me. The short sleeve of my shirt had blown up my left arm as my arm draped out the open window. I had the music up a bit too loud. I had plenty of time before check-out to get ready to head to Miller Park for the last home Brewers game of the Season (just "188 days until Opening Day"). When the light turned green, the car in front of me took off a bit too fast and the leaves around it tossed and turned in upon themselves as if unsure what to do with their newly found freedom. I followed, wondering how the swirl might have looked in my wake.

When I got up this morning before sunrise and shook off the stiffness of sitting too much of the day yesterday in cars, chairs and in the air, the thermometer read 47-degrees. Hot coffee felt good through the mug that I cradled in my hand. The day is warming up, but these days will soon shrink and chill even further. I know that is true. For Milwaukee told me so.

Hope your own fall projects get a little kick in the pants from the world's little things all around you today. Rock on.

Who's next up after Tucker and Delay? Easy - Fred Thompson.

I'm drenched in shame by the admission, but I watched the clip of Tom Delay on "Dancing With the Stars" last night. It was worse than a car accident. No one tries to immediately joke about a car accident. And the choice of "Wild Thing" was such an inarticulate nod to bad taste that I hope he gets a letter of reprimand from Tony Perkins and all those Family Research Council peckerheads. Everyone knows that the only barely permissible use of the horribly overused "Wild Thing" was to accompany Charlie Sheen's laughable presence in the movie "Major League" - a true blue guilty pleasure of mine with the only pairing ever on celluloid of Bob Uecker and Pete Vuckovich. Vuke plays a Yankee. Uecker plays himself, as usual. No one does it better.

Speaking of Uecker, I'll be in Milwaukee on Sunday at Miller Park for the last Brewers home game of the Season. It will be part of a larger trip to Sconnie for me. Expect lots of details later.

One last quickie pop culture mention - if you don't watch "Mad Men" because you feel like you need to start from the beginning, I say hogwash. Catch a re-run of Sunday's episode whenever you can. It will spoil nothing and even though it isn't anywhere near the top of this glorious show's arc, there is one surprise that will shock each and every one of the initiated or otherwise. I won't say what it is. But you'll know what I mean when you see it. Gruesome hilarity.

Hope your own bags are packed with lots of gifts and a Polaroid camera for special shots, too. Rock on.

Mumbai from an experienced POV

I had thought about posting a silly bit of Milwaukee Brewers news today (Don Money, one of my favorite old school Brew Crew players that looked like he was 50 when he was 25, got promoted to be the Manager at the Brewers AAA club in Nashville). But then I got a forwarded email from my sister-in-law mentioning that a beloved friend published an Op-Ed in yesterday's NY Daily News. Sameer is one helluva smart dood. And he was the first guy to get me to go golfing a few months ago after what had been more than half a decade's worth of peevish boycotting. His reflection upon the tragedy last week in Mumbai is personal and poetic. Please read it.

Hope your own journeys take you to ancestral homes you may not have ever known today. Rock on.

Sarah Palin pals around with slednecks that couldn't even name one of the Weathermen besides Al Roker - which is worse?

The Brew Crew are done for the year. Philly looks pretty darn good and we just never got anywhere near hot. So it goes.

Of all the political ads that hit the wall like such a pile of mud, the latest Obama offering for whatever reason struck me as dead-on.


Maybe it's because, um, I'm totally in the tank for Barack. Or maybe because there's literally nothing to fact-check herein. For those that were hoping for a second Palin bump - hardy frickin' har. That moose has officially been hung and smoked.

One Maya nugget for those that read through all else for such details - she's got a new tagline that she using on both Sarah and me with regularity. "Let's talk about politics!" Seriously. It's not as scripted as our recent faux Marx Brothers routine (me/straightman: "What are you a Communist?", Maya: "No, I'm a Socialist."). But it absolutely kills. I think we'll take this one on the road. Keith Olbermann look out - you've got competition.

Hope your own Crew raises a Brew in tribute to me and you today. Rock on.

"But, doggone it, I still think your surrender flags are made in San Francisco by illegal immigrants that want to unionize, I'm tellin' ya."

Let's debate the Debate. Sarah Palin didn't fall on her face or have an unscripted nip slip. So everyone's disappointed, in some way. She was all style, zero substance, no true gaffes. Biden was flat early, but eventually gathered steam. In short - a total draw. Gwen Ifill, I'm sorry to say, was the true loser by offering nothing near the realm of compelling questions. Some might argue that was her purpose. But I'm convinced that she was stymied by the lame criticism of her upcoming book by Republicans who were fully aware that it was in the pipe months ago. Regardless, I hate Palin's tendency to offer up the cutesy wink and folksy colloquialism after essentially delivering a bald, false, dickish rip on more than half of the Nation's voters. Doncha know.

Brew Crew lost another yesterday, 5-2. It heads back to Milwaukee for Game 3 on Saturday. It's not over. But unless we find some bats back in 'Sconi, it's pretty much over. Same goes for the Cubbies who head to LA after getting spanking at Wrigley. My only question - who will track down Steve Bartman before this year's team is done for the Season. Poor, unfairly doomed bastard. If anyone ever deserved to be in the witness protection program, it's that Cubs fan.

Hope your own debate coaches have enough Advil to make it through the morning flight back to DC today. Rock on.

Oh, and Sarah Palin will struggle to name a single TV show that her TiVo recommends aside from "all of them".

Big debate tonight, no matter how you spin it. Aside from being offended by the childish effort to tarnish Gwen Ifill's credentials, I'm going to hold back on the counterspin for the time being. Except for saying that I bet Sarah wears blue in a cynical attempt to court Hillary Dems. Biden will wear a dark suit and puke-colored tie with a few swizzlesticks sticking out of his breast pocket.

The Brewers lost Game One in Philly yesterday, 3-1. They took forever to get going, but their bullpen looked strong and they were surging in the 9th before Corey "No, not THAT Corey Hart" Hart struck out with two runners in scoring position. CC Sabathia pitches on short rest again today. Take one there and guarantee two games back in Milwaukee. It would have been nice to take that one. But I'm not exactly taking off my jersey with where we stand right now.

Hope your own debate watching parties serve moose burgers and Rocky Mountain oysters tonight. Rock on.

At long last...

WHOO-HOO! The Milwaukee Brewers make the Playoffs for the first time since I was in Junior High School. I won't claim that we'll go far. But at least we're in the post-season mix once again.

Contrary to earlier reports, this blog is not officially suspended.

I know, I know - I surely picked a loaded week of newsiness to not add anything to the mix. Sometimes even the most self-convinced among us take a few days off to thoughtfully consider just what's hit the country in the face like a flock of junebugs while hurtling along at 100 miles an hour on a motorcycle. I'll make it quick on a variety of points.

Last night's debate was a draw. Obama was calm and measured, to a possible fault. But McCain looked like the grumpy ol' cuss that we all know he truly is not so far beneath the surface. I take that back - McCain lost. Expect him to get all touchy-feelie next time out. Which will creep people out even more.

Sarah Palin's star has fallen. Incredibly so. Her interview this week with Katie Couric was the turning point, although I expect the zeitgeist had seen her as a mistake much earlier. The best evidence that she's no longer trusted by the McCain camp to open her mouth on camera? She didn't do a single interview after the debate last night. I think Biden was everywhere but on the Home Shopping Network. I imagine her in a missile silo in North Dakota right about now.

The Wall Street bailout is a turd wrapped in another far more expensive turd. Since I know as much as any other moron, I expect a complex mess to be passed in the middle of the week after World markets flop like a 40-pound catfish after a few days of doomsaying.

I also predict that McCain's next Hail Mary will be to vote against whatever form the bailout takes for final passage. That and getting Sarah Palin to appear in a "Maxim"-quality photoshoot sitting on his lap in the Oval Office. Oh wait, is that sexist. Sure. But she is truly only cosmetic and I couldn't care less about that charge anymore.

The Milwaukee Brewers now control their own destiny with two games remaining for both them and the Mets in the regular season. The Brew Crew's won 5 in a row. Ben Sheets is pitching hurt today. CC Sabathia is prepped to pitch on short rest tomorrow if need be. I'm cautiously optimistic.

Maya's been teaching us what's she's learned about the upcoming Rosh Hashanah holiday on Monday ("it's the New Year, Daddy"). Auntie Becca's in town for a weekender visit to also benefit from the education. Can't really say that I've got a shofar to blow. Whatever that means. But we're learning.

Hope your own teams don't inappropiately "blow the shofar" early this weekend. Go Brewers. Rock on.

Palin pales as the banks fail?

As the markets burn and the Bushies throw bailouts hither and yon, I'm certainly not alone in thinking the real short-term impact is on the race for Prezidunt. McCain's faltering at every opportunity. Palin's nowhere to be seen (I'd check the nearest Valentino store where I expect she'll be looking to return that slightly used $2500 blouse thingie she bought for her Convention speech). Obama's on the attack. Biden, too. And the polls, for what they're worth, are showing the margin shifting away from McCain/Palin. The first debate is next Friday. Six days after that, Palin and Biden go at it. I expect that countless opinionmeisters with a soapbox to use will begin to seriously doubt the wisdom of choosing an untested Governor from Alaska just prior to this upheaval. Nonetheless, I'm waiting for some GOP hacks to start saying that the Dems somehow manufactured this meltdown in our Nation's financial sector. Because if you're going to throw every imaginable mudpie at the wall to see what sticks, you might as well mix in a few more up-to-the-moment conspiracy theories.

All of this focus on losing a few trillion dollars has certainly taken the Nation's eye off another big story - the shocking demise of the Milwaukee Brewers. They fired their manager, Ned Yost, in the most uncivil fashion with just 12 games left in the regular season. They are no longer in the lead for the Wild Card slot in the playoffs. They may have lost pitcher Ben Sheets for the remainder of the season last night. Sure, they've got Robin Yount back in the dugout as the replacement Bench Coach. But at this point I think he's only good for mustache grooming tips. I'm not giving up - they did win last night in Chicago after needing to use 7 relief pitchers after Sheets had to leave the game. Interim Manager Dale "Yes, My Name is Spelled Correctly" Sveum got a beer shower after his first victory in that role. But I'm beginning to think about getting that tattoo removed if they miss the post-season again this year...

Hope your own markets are fully stocked with loads of organic veggies today. Rock on.

And maybe throw in a "please, God, give someone - anyone besides Charlie Gibson - the chance to ask Sarah Palin a question before time runs out"

First up - sports. The Green Bay Packers won a big opener last nite against the Minnesota Vikings. There was plenty of sloppy play, but Aaron Rodgers certainly performed better than I expected. Which means that NFL fans across the Nation will continue to debate the soap opera that is Brett Favre's breakup with the Pack. Because, in case you were in a cave all weekend and didn't see the highlights, Favre had an equally great first game as a New York Jet. Tom Brady's out for the year, the Chargers got spanked harder than Jessica Simpson after a Cowboys rout, the Colts look as old as a Sarah Palin-free John McCain rally in a diner, and everyone else still has hope since it's only the first week of the Season. Ah, football. Smells like America without a Bush in the White House.

Secondly in the same vein - the Brewers are swooning. They still lead the National League Wild Card race by 3 games over the Phillies. Less than 20 games left in the Season for everyone. If you've got a few dollars left after contributing everything you can to Barack Obama, please buy a bratwurst and say a prayer for Milwaukee. Not one of those "pray away the gay" prayers from Sarah Palin's church. A prayer that may actually do something. If you believe in that cut of jib.

Hope your own home teams have plenty of good seats miraculously available. Rock on.

"Aaaayyyyy!"

America - I beseech you. Love this photo!



The cast of "Happy Days" showed up in Milwaukee for probably the first time ever last night after dedicating a Fonzie statue and getting their assorted prescriptions filled for free. Twice! Would've loved to have been there. Aside from the fact that the Brew Crew lost. No word whether Chachi could afford the Amtrak ticket to join the jubilation.

Hope your own next civic celebration doesn't include trying to exhume Cindy Williams and that guy who played Squiggy. Rock on.

Plus, Brett will arrive in a biofuel pickup truck running entirely on oil recovered from Bud Grant's illegal Idaho fry operation

A few supa quickies. The Brew Crew swept a four-game series in St. Louis last night with an heroic 9th inning homer by Ryan Braun. That young man possesses the sweetest swing ever to grace a Milwaukee uniform. Sorry, Stormin' Gorman. The Cubbies come to Beertown on Monday for a four game series. Before that we've got the Astros for a weekend of sure-to-be sellouts. Oh, how I love it when a plan comes together...

All sports' journalists are currently stumbling over the headline that Brett Favre is going to report to training camp in Green Bay on Sunday. Unless, of course, Big Cheddar steps into the fracas, ya know, and has him whacked. Yea, yea - it's the biggest football summer soap opera since Joe Montana and Roger Staubach shacked up in Mexico for a stolen month of passion way back in '79. Still, funnier than a bag full of cats getting dropped onto a dogfood assembly line. My prediction remains the same - the Pack screwed up royally and will rue the day that they didn't make every effort possible to get Brett back on the Reservation.

Big music weekend for us here in GrungeCity. Sarah's heading to the first night of the Capitol Hill Block Party tonite with a friend to see Vampire Weekend, among others. I'm making the same trip tomorrow to see The Hold Steady and DeVotchKa, among others. Expect copious reviews. Maybe a few pics. Hope your own tickets were pre-purchased and came with a free bobblehead. Rock on.

"Did I hit him or just Swift Boat him?"

This very morning on K Steet in DC, Robert Novak hit a pedestrian with his Black Corvette. I know, I know - stop laughing, America. Notice the buried lead in that reportage` - Robert Novak drives a BLACK CORVETTE. He claims to have done so since 1961. Decades before the invention of Viagra. The still-to-be-named victim purportedly had the crosswalk light and still hit the Dark Knight's windshield. I, for one, blame it on a long history of wanting to drive through a point that everyone else disagreed with.

Dubya gave a fundraiser speech that was surreptiously recorded in which he detailed his intention to relocate to Dallas. Thank Gawd. For years and years, Sarah and I have been debating whether or not we actually hated living there. Now, there is no remaining concession. Dallas sucks.

The Brew Crew took another in Saint Louie last night on late inning heroics by Bill Hall. CC Sabathia takes the mound tonite. As our friend visiting from Cleveland, Goldy, intoned this weekend (I'll paraphrase) - "I'm glad he went to a team I can appreciate." Damn straight, Michael. May your leadership in this national struggle toward finding a Nation to appreciate lead us to the promised land. And by us, it was totally a Brewers comment.

Hope your own Park Cities real estate tours take you through some really fine foreclosure opportunities today. Rock on.

Gravitas comes from a joke about Tim Conway being cast in your role as a maverick?

Barack Obama hit the international road - today he's in eastern Afghanistan, close to the border with Pakistan. Great pick to get his rhetorical ball rolling. Last night John McCain went on Conan O'Brian to joke about his age. Not so great pick, even though he didn't totally embarrass himself. Obviously, what we'll be seeing in the months ahead are two campaigns in punch-counterpunch mode, as is always the case. But this time around, the Dems have the advantage of reach and endurance. Polls are worthless at this point. It's all about perception. And I predict that unless Obama makes a major gaffe (minor ones should be expected with as many stops as he's scheduled), he comes back home to the States with some major wind in the sails. Everyone dropped the story way too early that Obama outraised McCain by $30Million in just the month of June and has an unprecedented $72Million in the bank. Fundraising stories are the stuff of pre-primary punditry fluff, I suppose. But that advantage (McCain's got $27Million in his coffers) and a really well-choreographed foreign tour is just the sort of bump to shoot for as the nation turns its annual focus toward summer vacations. I believe that the constantly belabored "flip-flop" storyline is a dead end for both sides this cycle. That will forever be the albatross hung around John Kerry's massive head - inappropriately, I must add. So I imagine the endless stream of take-out food tastes much better in Obama headquarters these days for all those sleep-deprived 20somethings. And the after-hours hook-ups are probably a lot more fun, too. After all, that's why many of those folks play the game. The pay sucks, the hours are terrible, you live like a meth addict stuck in a cubicle. But you're surrounded by fellow addicts who are endless fun to hang out with when you stumble outdoors for a ray or two of sun.

Maya had her third ballet lesson this morning. I didn't stick around for the whole show as Sarah and I did the trade-off on watching from the window seats, but the routine for summer Saturdays seems pretty well set. Up early. Challah french toast. Extra syrup. Don the tutu. Get fired up. Hence the extra syrup. Play shy for a few minutes. Join in the gaggle of impossibly adorable girlie compatriots. Rock out, ballet style. Refuse to take off the outfit for hours. Collapse into an afternoon nap. Not a bad gig, for all concerned.

CC Sabathia pitched another complete game last night as the Brew Crew smoked the Giants in San Fran, 9-1. He's 3-0 as a Brewer. Yummy.

Hope your own Saturday features hours and hours of dancing. Rock on.

"I mean, it's not like I can tell people to power the internets with that passing wind power."

Dubya held a presser this morning - his first since the end of April. He was his usual petulent, winking, evasive persona. Yawn. But two things stuck out for me. One, the only time he sounded like he knew what he was peddling was when he was talking about off-shore drilling for "product" and the capital expenditure required to make it all happen. Far too little is made of what a failure he was as an "oil man" - aside from Joe Conason's seminal reporting way back in the run-up to the 2000 Election. But BOY was he trying to make it seem like he knew what he was talking about in that realm today. My prediction - his ex-Preziduncy will feature a victory lap similar to what Cheney exploited at Haliburton. Secondly, his dismissal of his obvious ability to encourage Americans to reduce their energy consumption was a dismal fraud. Instead, Dubya believes Americans are "smart enough" to choose how to conserve and that they can "balance their own checkbooks". Really? REALLY? This is the country that got seduced by adjustable-rate mortgages and Hummers. Unreal. Dubya couldn't be more out of touch if he were whiling away the last year of his disasterous reign listening to Ray Price 8-tracks echo around an empty basement White House bowling alley.

For my birthday today, the National League front office appropiately chose to give Ben Sheets the starting pitcher nod. They're so sweet. The first time ever for a Milwaukee Brewer, by the way. Hope your own home field World Series advantage gets nailed down today. Rock on.

Morgan Freeman saying "M&%$^@f+?ker" adds at least a half-grade, in my book.

We're in Santa Barbara for a family weekend, which can guarantee only one thing. Movie Review Catch-ups!

Yesterday's matinee was "Wanted" with James McAvoy and Angelina Jolie. Solid, hilarious, bloody punches to a happy summertime face. My rating - big B-plus. Soooo close to an A-minus. But I caught the over-the-top Rooskie director seemingly cheating off the papers of his obvious influences - Tarantino, the sadly insane and discredited Wachowski Brothers, Danny Boyle. Nonetheless, we laughed with appreciation throughout. The train crash near the end is the most unintentionally hilarious disaster since Jamie Lynn Spears recently gave birth. But so much more easy to watch. I recommend that you watch a two-dollar theatre mid-week showing sometime later this summer. You will only be disappointed if you believe in physics.

Our beloved Milwaukee Brewers head into the weekend before the All-Star Break a mere 4 games back from the somewhat sputtering Cubbies. Who gave up 7 home-runs in a convincing loss last night. Corey Hart got the last slot on the National League All-Star Team yesterday, probably because he's a dead-ringer for a young Brett Favre. 6 weeks ago the Brew Crew were 4 games under .500. Now they're 10 games over. No cockiness, just pleasant surprise. Watching this young team get better is more fun than seeing Angelina Jolie's back torso tatoos glistening with dripping bath water as she seductively slinks away. Seriously. Well, maybe not SERIOUSLY...but I'm trying to belabor a point here.

Hope your own weekend matinee schedule includes a "Hellboy", some "Hancock" and maybe even an Edith Wharton adaption. Just kidding about that last one. Rock on.

Don vs. Carsten - you decide who's a bigger deal

vs. ?

Greetings, Brewers Nation. I'm sure y'all are feeling pretty excited these days. For the handful of Americans not yet aware, the Brew Crew picked up a prized pitcher in a trade from the slightly-less lovable Cleveland Indians. Carsten Charles Sabathia. CC, for short. Last year's American League Cy Young winner. Big boy (6'7", 290). Surprisingly good hitter (.300 career average - almost unheard of for a pitcher). Huge strikeout master. More intimidating than a calculus pop quiz. On fire and ready to win so he can boost his free agency value after the season. I remember being excited when the '82 Brew Crew picked up Don Sutton in a well-timed trade. The trade for Sabathia makes that old school rap look like Barry Manilow. Kudos to my boys back in Milwaukee. Sabathia starts today for the first time as a Brewer. I think I just broke a sweat smiling.

Hope your own overly eager forecasts today roll all the way to the Series. Rock on.

Up next - Colin Powell tells us all that the vial of anthrax was from Dubya's private "forgotten" stock from those wild days

Santa Barbara is so gorgeous that I'm even slated to go play golf this afternoon. For those keeping score at home, this will be my first official outing on the links since just before my wedding. So I'm due for a killer round. Define that however you'd like. Regardless, I'm looking forward to describing my efforts soon for y'all.

While we're loving the vacation atmosphere and catching up with friends and family, DC is warming its cockles over the burning phraseologies lit by Scott McClellan's new book. Like every other pundit and unemployed Bushie, I've got an uninformed opinion to offer. Here goes - SO? Dubya's reputation is set in stone. A soggy self-cleansing weepy like McClellan's won't change a single damn thing. If this changes one single uninformed opinion of this Administration's tenure, I'll eat a Chicago Cubs hat. But, if as I expect, no one will benefit from this aside from McClellan in terms of book sales, Tucker Carlson and Karl Rove must eat a Milwaukee Brewers hat. On camera. Wearing a diaper. So the challenge is out there. Do with it what you will.

As we always love to do on vacation while ample babysitting options abound for Maya, Sarah and I have seen a few movies. Two quick reviews. "Indiana Jones and the Overwrought Pseudo-mystical Bank of Crap Metaphors" - a despicable D rating. Worst movie of the summer. It pains me to say that because I fondly remember seeing the first Indy movie in Ann Arbor with my aunt during a junior high summer and falling in love with the spectacle of this form of event movie. George Lucas is obviously insane. Again. Harrison Ford looks amazing. But if I was asked to pay to see a two-hour pilates class, I fear it might have been more compelling than this mess. Avoid it, if possible. Secondly, as we await opening night for "Sex and the City" (yes, I bought advance tickets for Sarah and me) we played catch-up by seeing "Forgetting Sarah Marshall". My rating - a fun B-minus. Definite rental quality. Better yet, hit the dollar theatres that it's surely bound for in the next month. Jason Segal is sweet, Mila Kundis is surprisingly good for anyone that struggled through the weekly torture that was "That 70s Show", the Judd Apatow cast of hilarious misfits is on its game as always. Silly fun should always be this silly.

Hope your own tee times don't require anything more than a shirt and shoes in the bag today. Rock on.

Aloof Goofs Spoof for Boof!

Baseball. The Major League kind. Can you smell it? Ah, it's fresh. Namely, our Nation's beloved Milwaukee Brewers kick off their pennant run with an opener at Wrigley Field on Monday. Many questions remain for the Brew Crew - who will round out their starting piching rotation, will Rickie Weeks finally show up at the plate, will Mike Cameron's 25-game suspension for banned steroids cause his balls to shrink even more, is there any expected end to the lingering winter back yonder? But I think we all can find reason for excited optimism at the foreseen onset of our respective Opening Days. Even though it's currently snowing outside here in Seattle, at least it's not snowing inside. That would suck. So here's to a fine Season for all. Including my new favorite non-Brewer - Boof Bonser.


Said Boof is a pitcher who's been burdened with the nickname "Boof" since early childhood. Yet he legally changed his name from John Paul to Boof. Not surprisingly, he's a Minnesota Twin. He's chubby. He's probably a dick. But I love love LOVE the name. Here's to you, Boof. May the Brewers beat you in Game 7 of the World Series on a surprising goof that in no way diminishes your Cy Young winning year.

Hope your own delusional self-regard prevents you from changing your name to "Dudemeister" today. Rock on.

"Oh, and can you give me some snow up top, with legs?"

A quick coffee-snob critique. I try to only support the independent shops. But the occasional over-the-top dork you bump up against therein can be as unpalatable as the world's worst squirrel stew served in a rusty iron lung. Such as the guy in line behind me this morning at one of my faves. He literally ordered a "triple shot vanilla soy latte, two decaf one caf, extra hot". Really, dude? Aside from the infinitely-remote possibility that you have the sort of tastebuds that can discern spices on the parts per million basis as activated by temperature...can you please just tuck that in a bit. Because it makes us all look sucky.

For those desperate for an update - Maya's thriving in her part-time daycare. She's got two new best friends (Marine and Katie). She already knows more about Judaism than me and Sarah combined. Such as the background details on tomorrow's celebration - Purim. Apparently, it's the Mardi Gras of the Jewish calendar. Costumes, lots of drinking, noisemakers, and a carnival atmosphere meant to celebrate Esther and mock Haman's failed attempt to rid Persia of Jews something like 2600 years ago. Whoo-hoo! Kinda like Summerfest in Milwaukee. Well, without all the justified human ceremony and historical reflection. But I ask you - has Tom Petty ever played Purim? Regardless, check back for what I expect will be a bundle of pics from tomorrow morning's celebration.

Hope your own use of Haman is a friendly "hey, mahn" today. Rock on.