The Nannying begins

This morning with a slight degree of trepidation and buckets of glee, we left Maya in the capable hands of one of her new part-time nannies, Collette. Unlike so many new people Maya's encountered in the last many months, she went to Collette like a famished camper to a delicious cheeseburger. Collette's WAY too qualified to be taking what we're paying her - her regular work is as an occupational therapist who also helps kids with developmentally-delayed needs. But she's excited to work with Maya who was especially charming and cute both during the interview last week and this first morning. So I'm now focusing on my writing and a number of other projects that have been put off recently. We can now look back and appreciate how much we really struggled in our attempts to find someone we both felt was qualified and would accept what we were offering. "Flexibility" was formerly our chief requirement, and I now think that's what screwed us so royally. With this round of screening and interviewing, we stressed warmth and tried to be much more solid in our scheduling. That seems to have made all the difference. Well, that AND the luck of finding two women with way more to offer than what we'd met previously. Just when I was beginning to doubt that Craigslist would work for this endeavour, we were surprised by the power of such listing services. I'm glad to be a true believer once more - the next time I see Craig Newmark (THE "Craig" who hangs out at my favorite cafe, Reverie in Cole Valley, where I can once again hang my hat part-time), I'll be sure to give him a bearhug and playful noogie in thanks.

As both Sarah and I kept half-an-eye on The Golden Globules last night, I was struck by how much more interesting celebrity-types are when they're drinking versus sitting sedately and trying to look engaged. No surprise there. My favorite throw-away moment was when Bob Hoskins (nominated for his role in "Mrs. Henderson") was shown drunkenly licking his lips as Penelope Cruz introduced his performance - he looked like the biggest lech imaginable. That and when Matt "I'm NOT Johnny Drama" Dillon prodded Queen Latifa to read off the cue cards with a loose approximation of "I think it's your line, hon." True Gold in the unintentional sense of the evening. Otherwise, I couldn't have cared less. George Clooney gets my award for the best subtly-political acceptance speech. Hugh Laurie had the funniest speech (LOVED him in "The Black Adder" series from years back on the BBC, haven't paid any attention to his cantankerous Doctor role on "House" for which he won). Didn't stay up for the big awards, but I know that gay cowboys are raising a healthy crop of gold this season. That pleases me immensely. Hope y'all ranch a similar bumpercrop from yer own events today. Rock on.

"Way to go Johnny Drama!"

With Maya offering some pre-show complaints from the back bedroom, I'm watching the delayed coverage of the Golden Globes. Holy crap! Did you know that one of the camera shots now utilized in the uncomfortable Billy Bush-like interviews is the toe-to-head shot? Not head-to-toe, mind you - they start at the feet and pan up until the director is satisfied by the ugly reaction from the actor's head. I just saw them do it to Charlize Theron and Mandy Moore. Not surprisingly, they didn't do so for Queen Latifah. Royalty, ya know.

Lovin' the Al Gore reunion-indignation tour started this afternoon. Big Al called for an independent investigation of Dubya's warrantless NSA evesdroppin' program. Kudos.

Sorry...we're entirely distracted by the utterly REE-DEE-Q-LUST banter on the red carpet outside the Golden Globules. I'll give a breakdown tomorrow. Thank you to the Foreign Press Association for the opportunity to hang out with Al Roker and Michael Bolton. And to all my fans in the balcony - I LOVE YOUSE GUISE!

Maya lobbies for a space of her own

Don't EVEN get me started on L. Paul "Jerry" Scooter Mayor McCheese Bremer's "Meet the Press" appearance this morning. He's so perfectly Bushie in the post-Iraqcle debacle context - trying to now get credit for supposedly "admitting" mistakes while entirely spreading the blame outside everyone else's campsites. Whatta dooshbag. Can't wait to see if Jon Stewart actually gives him a moment of proper astonished indignation on "The Daily Show" this upcoming week. But before I drop this (as I'd intended to do after a brief opening rimshot), can you believe that the Bushies have allowed "What's my declassified nickname again?...The Frickin' Bremster?!" Bremer to go off the reservation with this critique? In his assuredly horrible book, L. Paul criticizes Rummy. And he talks disparengingly of inadequate troop levels. Or is it troops level. Whatever the case may be, this shows a chink in the previously inpenetrable claims of always giving those brave commanders what they need. Any chance he'll backhand back that Medal of Freedom? Doubt it.

Much more importantly on this NFL Playoffs weekend - I just got through the Steelers' crazy victory over the Colts. Look for more assholy comments about the Colts' kicker Mike Vanderjagt following his horrendous "Wide Right!" like those previously uttered by Peyton Manning ("our drunken kicker had to go off and shoot off his damn mouth..."). But let's all remember just how completely outclassed the Colts were in this one. Just as the previously unstoppable Patriots were - the Donkeys finished off Tom Brady's streak in a fashion that was more entertaining on a Saturday night than a nude drag race. Oh, yea...the Seahags finished off the seriously streaky Sunburned-Native-Americans, too. Great Playoffishness thus far.

Maya's elevated her busy and mischievous hands to a new level of hard-to-control fun. Earlier this morning as she tore her way through the far-too-adultish junk on our endtable I suggested to Sarah that we should build a little rubber room which we could fill with disconnected cordless phones, a TiVo remote control, some paper clips, a cellphone and a 50-pound bag of pretzels - everything that Maya seemingly loves at this point in time. Sarah didn't exactly veto it. So look for fresh pics of this New-Improved Gitmo in the weeks ahead. But in all seriousness, Maya's a freakin' delight of a handful. In that line of reasoning, the week ahead should be especially important. Namely - we found a nanny. More accurately, two. The primary woman is named Megan - a former actor with tons of experience with kids and truckloads of pop-culture cred, which was one of Maya's requirements (Megan was on a season of "Dawson's Creek" and did a handful of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" episodes ). More importantly, she's warm, funny, and kick-ass cool. Our part-time part-timer is named Collette - an occupational therapist who welcomed the chance to work with Maya while studying for her post-grad-school licensing tests. I'll do my best to respect their privacy while showcasing their amazingness in the months ahead. Hope your own positions are equally filled with satisfaction. Rock on.

"And they've got a heckuva lot of great garbage for kids to pick through."

Even though everyone's resigned to the unfortunate reality that Samuel Alito will be given a lifetime job as one of the biggest dicks in DC, the Dems are delaying the vote. Unless they've got a reason to dump on the dood, they need to capitulate in this particular case. They'd be better off making a big deal of how lame the whole process was rather than putting up this momentary speed bump. I can't say strongly enough what a bad taste Alito leaves on my palate. But being whiny after being so ineffectual is exactly why so few of the natural allies of Democratic positions are willing to stand with them when times are actually tough. Make fun of the guy. Mock his teary wife. Follow his dick of a kid around campus. Say that we are further headed down the wrong road. But vote. Seriously.



So Dubya's dumb enough to cart out his "heckuva" moniker when it comes to NOLA. Has anyone in the known world forgotten how dumb "Brownie, yer doin' a heckuva job" sounded? We really are the blind being led by the dumb.

Maya just erupted into consciousness after a satisfyingly long nap. I know she'll want to post much more commentary over the weekend, so please check back. Hope your own floodwaters have receded considerably. Rock on.

The New Face of the Green Bay Packers? Or Samuel Alito's younger, equally-wrong-for-the-job brother?

Maya reacts to paparazzi claims that her playtime activities confuse traditional gender roles. And that's just the way we like it.

Maya reacts to paparazzi claims that her gender-styled activities are confusing. And that's the way we like it.
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Starfish bath toys - It's what's for dinner!

Starfish bath toys - It's what's for dinner!
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

"But I know what my constituents really want to know is, have you ever REALLY looked at a rainbow?"

Alito's confirmation hearing was so interminably boring yesterday that the news networks have already jumped off the full coverage bandwagon. Bank hold-ups, crappy video surveillance tapes, people hugging their pets - anything that shows life in actual motion seems to trump this bunk. At the moment everyone's riveted, RIVETED, by Tom "I'm Not an Attorney" Coburn lobbing fluffy snowballs about foreign rulings and stare decisis and...ZZZZZZ.

Oops, sorry 'bout that. I seem to have nodded off, like Sam Brownback actually did during yesterday's testimony. Alito is Nyquil and qualludes in human form. And now Coburn's asking "why would you want to be a Supreme Court justice?" Oh, SNAP! That'll really trip him up....ZZZZZZ.

Damn, nodded off again. And now Coburn's asking "tell us a little about Sam Alito" and I just saw Alito's son yawning in the front row behind him. Alito is communicable narcolepsy. I hate to say it, but just vote for the twit already. He'll be a horrible Justice and will hurt all of us in countless ways. But I'd rather be thrown into Gitmo than be forced to endure heartfelt descriptions of this man's softer side. Hope your own hearings feature some actual excitement today. Rock on.

"Cookie Monster on a STICK!"

As the questioning of Samuel Alito starts rolling, I'm less and less impressed with the facade he's presenting. No big surprise - we all expect these judgey-types to be slippery, especially when faced with the oversized Senator egos on the Judiciary Committee. Even those of us that aren't lawyers but read about the relevant cases know when we're hearing code. With John Roberts, you got buckets of charm thrown in the mix. With this dude, you get icy disdain. Can you imagine him as a Dad? Oy. Break curfew and you're SOOO screwed. But think of adding him to a BigDaddy triumverate with Scalia and Thomas and imagine the sort of chores they'll come up with. Hella-Oy. I fear that the most honest thing he's said thus far was yesterday during his opening statement when he bashed the debauchery he saw from some of those around him while at Princeton. Obviously, Alito wasn't a "party" sorta guy. No, this guy was the pooper to end all poopers. Now he's poised to ascend to the Big Show unless he has a sudden onset of Tourette Syndrome and gives Senator Sam Brownback a new nickname (as if he needs one). Mega-Oy-Yoy-Yoy.

Speaking of outbursts, Maya's verbal gymnastics have taken on a new characterization for me. To get the idea, think of the body waxing scene in "The 40-Year-Old Virgin" (my favorite epiteth - "Kelli Clarkson!). I'll try to get up a few audio files showcasing her range. Otherwise, she's diggin' the Mac 'n Cheese, psyched to have an ankle deep layer of new toys from the Holidaze scattered throughout the apartment, and ready to start interviewing new nanny candidates. Our past attempts have been miserable failures, but the new round looks promising. If anything especially ridiculous comes up, I'll pass it along. Hope your own screening processes yield welcomed surprises. Rock on.

The Day's newzie methane wafts freely

I'll try to connect what I feel to be the three most interesting newzie stories of the Day with the following bumpersticker - "If you buy the Cow, don't be suprised by the Crap." Actually, I'm not sure that it's a bumpersticker. Yet. Check back on that one.

"If you buy the Cow, don't be surprised by the Crap" ("IYBTCDBSBTC") Story Numero Uno - James Frey is full of crap. That's James Frey, of the recently reformed Oprah's Book Club, the author of "A Million Little Pieces" which became the second-best selling book of 2005 (even though it was originally published in 2003). The Smoking Gun has a typically sensational yet utterly insightful dump on Frey's book. I read it when it came out, and I'm not trying to out-cool anyone. Well, maybe I am. But in the interest of honest critique. The "memoir" describing Frey's astonishing abuse issues and the resulting treatment was entirely unorthodox and scary/funny. So...now it turns out to be mostly a load of crap. If you're familiar with Frey's Oprah-driven success, you need to read just what a fraud this guy is. But, if you buy the Cow...

"IYBTCDBSBTC" Story Numero, um, Two-oh - Samuel Alito is the least funny whiteguy in a country full of them. His opening statement on a day full of them at his Confirmation Hearings was more full of groaners than a nursing home fieldtrip bus rollover. Absolutely what I'd expected. Tomorrow, the crap may actually begin to fly. Check back for Maya's assessment.

"IYBTCDBSBTC" Story Numero C - Howard Stern debuted on the Sirius satellite network this morning and promptly emitted a healthy fog of blue material and promised that "the only limit is our (sic) mind" for the future. Don't get me wrong - I think Howard's a ballsy entertainer. But he's so low-ball he makes a pair of twos look like a full house. I'll wait for the stories on him featuring live sex acts before I give him credit for being newly tasteless. Until then, I'm still one of those mostly-NPR freaks downloading podcasts from elsewhere like a cynical cyborg when it comes to radio.

Hope your own "IYBTCDBSBTC" views of the world are methane-free. Rock on.

Schwarzenegger rumbles on to Victory, smashes melon

The Guhvuhnator is testing a new voter outreach program - once again with his family and love for moh-toh-cy-culls on full display. Or actually, Ah-nolled creamed a Brentwood soccer mom's Volvo wagon yesterday. No word on whether he was wearing a helmet, but he did need 15 stitches to his lip. So we should also expect that his accent will be even MORE outrageous in the weeks ahead. Ladies and gentlemen, start your impressions!

We rented "Cinderella Man" last night - my rating is a lukewarm C. A good, rousing finale, but the fight scenes are too rapid-fire and the emotional background bunk is pretty much by the numbers. Good performances, especially by the adorable hungry urchins. But you would have thought that Ron Howard would have taken the time to watch "Raging Bull" or even "Million Dollar Baby" before taking on this project. James Braddock was an amazing American sports story. I just don't think the bankable braintrust that is Grazer/Howard did anything worth bragging about herein. Save yourself the rental fee, and watch it on HBO or its less-impressive brethren when it comes out. I'm sure it will be playing there approximately ever 11 minutes for 8-months thereafter.

Hated seeing Carson Palmer go down with a knee injury yesterday. The Cincinnati Bengals are still the Bungles as a result. Drag. But it does give those of us that care another chance to see Steelers coach, Bill Cowher, scowl at his competition next week. The Patriots are also clicking like a 8-legged-tapdancer as evidenced by their dismantling of the Jags, the Panthers pooped all over the Manning Family victory tour, and the Redskins kept alive hope for all of DC that someone will write a few stories in the Post about something other than Samuel Alito's horrible avoidances and stylish comb-over. Hope your own newsbriefs are freshly washed and unbunched at the moment. Rock on.

The Vikes get serious, the Frost Heaves get Hot-Hot-Hot!

Many Packers fans like me are terrified of the head coach hiring decision being guided by the incomparably incompetent, Ted "EVEN Worse than Tommy" Thompson. The list of second-class males I've heard bandied about thus far is all the evidence you need. In short, I'm looking at the Pack as a fallen franchise that won't find a cure for what ails us in the foreseeable future. But then I read a piece from the always interesting Minneapolis Star-Tribune (the "Strib" as it should always be known) about how their owner, Zygi Wilf, courted their new head coach, Brad Childress, and I began to feel even worse. I don't think I've ever said this, but I'm incredibly impressed by the Vikings. Having big-time cash and jets and what I assume are the finest hookers in the 612 area code on-call surely helps. Still, the always interesting 'Sconi-Mudducks border battle might just tilt entirely in the Western direction in the near future if Thompson goes anywhere near the choices he seems to have on his short list. Zygi "No, Not MILF, it's" Wilf may have the worst name in pro sports. But he's kicked the crap out of the Pack's tarnished legacy this week.

In other sportiness, I'm very excited by how the soon-to-be-beloved New Brew Crew are handling their off-season acquisitions. Bringing back a strong closer (Dan Kolb) as a set-up reliever and picking up an under-used third-bagger, Corey Koskie, at a garage sale equivalent price is dating-the-homecoming-queen-whose-Dad- sells-weed lucky. Yet aside from my well-established Milwaukee fetish, my favorite New Year sports story comes from the unlikely climes of the Green Mountain State. Namely, I'm going to pay some bigtime long-distance attention in the year ahead to the arrival of the Vermont Frost Heaves - the newest '06-'07 ABA franchise (that's WAY-subpar NBA basketball for those that are un-acronym-aware, or UAA). A fun ongoing story that I happened upon the introduction of in an issue of "Sports Illustrated" from last month piqued my interest. I even ordered a t-shirt as a result. You shirty folks should too. So the Biggish Leagues FINALLY come to Vermont. And even though they're trying to use the Packers as a model of community ownership (a great idea, unless you're trying to convince the Terrell Owens'es of the World to come a courtin'), I'm all in on this team. Do yourself a favor and get Heavin'! Rock on.

From today's "Have you no sense of decency at long last?" file - DeLay gets his due (Tee-hee-hee)

DeLay's done. Over. Completely toxic and not yet even close to fully exposed as the criminal he is, was and will FINALLY be forever categorized as being. If this guy were an element, he'd be plutonium. Good luck trying to get back into the extermination game in Houston. My humanist side hopes he stashed some of the millions in contributions he took from his political extortion activities because...jeez, what the hell am I saying? All I would say to Tom DeLay if given the chance is this - "history will be your final arbiter. Read up on Joe McArthy and his downfall. You're gonna make his descent look like a comfy tandem-parachute ride. Oh, and you've got something on your tie. Boop!" As Nelson from "The Simpsons" so famously says - Ha-Ha! Put that on your Freedom Fries. Bee-yahtches.

Three stages of Mac and Cheese - "The Hands-on Approach"...

Three stages of Mac and Cheese - "The Hands-on Approach"...
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

"The Mouthfeel Test"...

"The Mouthfeel Test"...
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

And "The Verdict" - Numdiddly-Dum

And "The Verdict" - Numdiddly-Dum
Originally uploaded by emaggie.

Lohan sets the record straight, wears bikini

For once, the real thing lived up to and surpassed the hype. Texas beat USC in the National Championship game last night in the Rose Bowl. 41-38. Over 1100 combined yards, bone-crushing tackles, insanely good performances from the most highly touted college players in decades, marvelously coiffed cheerleaders shaking the crap out of their pom poms throughout, enough Keith Jackson high quality commentary to last well into the middle of 2008. I did end up losing $1 to my father-in-law by picking USC. And as a Big 10 grad, I find the use of the Rose Bowl in this BCS BS to be utterly distasteful. But so long as these sorts of games come along, I'm all in, Baby.

I heard that Condi "Does This Pantsuit Make My Ego Look Big?" Rice characterized Ariel Sharon as a "gigantic figure" in the Middle East. Bad move. Don't insult the guy's "glandular problem" when he's fighting for his life. Even if he's a total fatty.

The NYTimes features a plan from Rep. Richard Baker (R-LA) to buyout tons of NOLA for $80B. And Baker's a seriously freaky fiscal conservative. This plan may have legs, though. My question is rhetorical when I wonder whether this would be lumped on top of the $62.3B already allocated. Of course it will be. Mind-boggling figures, regardless.

More details on the appalling safety record of the Sago Mine in W.VA. 273 citations in two years. Holy crap. I think that's even more than Lindsey Lohan's gotten.

Speaking of adding insult to injury, Miss Lohan bares much (but sadly not all) in a "Vanity Fair" piece describing her eating disorder, drug use, beastiality, cannibalism and various murder sprees. Or something to that effect. Check it out. Rock on.

Letterman shows why he's still absolutely necessary

I have never been more impressed with David Letterman than his complete and total shaming of the always despicable Bill O'Reilly last night. I always TiVo Letterman, but I don't give him my full attention often enough. The video clip is all over the web this morning, as it should be. Watch it. Savor just how horribly outclassed O'Reilly was by Dave's humanity. Tell your friends. If you like FOXNews, please admit for once what a mining disaster O'Reilly's persona represents. This just may have been the beginning of the end for O'Reilly. Or so we all should hope.

The allure of the toilet awakes

The West Virginnie mine disaster will focus a moment of outrage on the anti-miner conditions now characterizing the industry. Will it make any difference? Given that the mining industry executive currently running the Bushies' Labor Department Mining Health and Safety Administration (Richard Sickler) and his predecessor (Dave Lauriski) have been so utterly aligned with the bidness side mining, I doubt this will do much except supply People Magazine with some cover-story fodder. This is a terrible, terrible tragedy almost surely the direct fault of the mining company's violation-prone history. But it will soon to be swept aside in favor of sexier stories, to be certain.

Case in point - the Jack Abramoff story is DC's King Kong currently climbing up the tallest TV towers in the land. By coppin' a plea, I'm sure his book deal to come will help to cover whatever sort of lawyerly protection he'll need to dump the dirt he's holding all over the Congress. Should be ugly and utterly delightful to watch for those of us inclined to care about such scandalous insight into the corridors of Power.

Maya just erupted into post-morning nap consciousness. She's really a bundle of fun and games these days. Throwing things in the toilet is her new favorite activity - magazines, socks, bathtub toys. She's really into the "taking out, putting in" activities whether it's the toilet or less enticing containers. Hope your own brood is inclined less toward the water sports. Rock on.

Favre

Even though Brett Favre's last game was in all likelihood played on Sunday, I didn't get to watch the entirety of it until just now while Maya's down for a nap. We had a New Year's Day brunch on Sunday and most of my prime football watchin' time was spent prepping waffles and making sure everyone's coffee was toasty and delicious. Better late than never when it came to this throwaway effort - the Pack won 23-17 over the Seahags and Favre played throughout until stepping aside on the final play when the error-apparent, Aaron Rogers, took a knee as the TV cameras lustily followed the always classy Favre. I will never be anything but a Packers fan. Period. That's frustratingly genetic and anyone who's got a serious sports affiliation knows exactly of which I speak. But my connection to the Packers I fear will forever be lessened by the loss of Brett Favre. He was my compatriot. We're the same age and he came to prominence as I was leaving college and beginning my own journey 'round the "Country" (his nickname throughout much of his career). To say that he grew into an infinitely classy fellow would be a grand understatement. Brett was an amazing athlete. He took horrifyingly original chances, delighting those of us infuriated by the risk averse. Brett improvised like a homeless shelter kitchen manager. And he looked great doing it even during the worst year of his Hall of Fame career. Or, I should say, he still looked like Brett Favre this year even when he was unintentionally abandoned by a team of mediocre talent and screwed by a coaching staff and front office of inexcusable lameness. When I was home in Wisconsin over Christmas, everyone hoped to avoid discussing what comes next for the Pack even though everyone knows what is coming next. Favre is leaving, and the decade-long hangover will hit almost immediately. To have missed the chance to seriously tie one on while he was still at the Party will be lamented for years and years to come. But I'm not bitter. Hell, I even hope he hangs it up and once-and-for-all shows us all how a truly classy ironman can walk away and not be remorseful. Brett can write his ticket anywhere both in and out of football commentary for the remainder of his lifetime. I just hope he ignores all of those that missed the chance to appreciate his contributions to a great American sports legacy. Walk away healthy, rich and strong. You did a heckuva job, Brett. And for once, that means something real.