"Walker, Maya Ranger" premieres - Chuck Norris conditionally commits to an upcoming episode

Time for some fessing up. To those of you that feel I've been slighting the Maya coverage in lieu of all that is so galling newz-wise as of late - my apologies. I offer this blog as a free public service meant largely to serve the Maya-loving public...at least until my team (accountant/web designer/goatee wrangler) finds a way to squeeze some extra pennies from your beloved readership. After which I go "Big Time!" - solid platinum Hummer3, free-range cashmere track suits, Evian enemas, rainforest-wood-fueled BBQ smoker lit 24/7 for beercan bald eagle cookouts. Most days I can't help but comment upon horrible stories such as the U.S. Military in Iraq getting roped into a raid on Moktada al-Sadr's multi-purposed torture-chamber/mosque. Or Idaho's Gov. "Dick" Kempthorne arranging for his fake-wife to be appointed Lt. Gov. of "I-da-ho" when he moves to DC to cover up things in the Interior for the Bushies. But today I'm putting all that and other juiciness aside. After two brief updates...

Tom here in SF (a friend dating back prior to this blog, via college chumminess with Sarah) passed along a follow-up to the Issac Hayes story regarding quitting "South Park" over Scientology. Basically, Chef may have been framed as an unfortunate pawn. Tom Cruise isn't mentioned, but should be. The only point necessary to be drawn - Scientology is the bitchiest, most-clueless cult this side of Amway. Or Oprah's Book Club.

Also, the previously mentioned "Dove Foundation" that I'd wanted to split open like a well-dried gourd. Well, I lost interest the more I researched them. Essentially, they're Mormons with a crazy hard-on for attacking "Hollywood" on behalf of those that believe in "family values" and the need for the curbing of free expression. To give them more ink would be to give them more time than they deserve. As I believe Jesus would say, "those freaks is CRAZY".

So for the Maya-ness some of y'all crave, I've got good news. She's walking. Not to the store, not even downstairs to pick up my morning newspaper - although I've asked in both cases. But walking consistently and true. A weekend in Santa Barbara with the encouragement of Nanna, Poppy, Aunties Becca and Katie, and a number of beloved random visitors got her engine for such activity fully primed. The steps came in bunches. And now that we've back home, she's striding like an Olympic hurdler full of the requisite horse steroids. Given that it's her 13-month Birthday, I suppose that such a signpost is appropriately noted. When she takes her first serious digger, I'll be sure to pass it along. Regardless, she looks happy and hearty in her new mobility. Bicuspids are in, so to speak. Molars on their way. Or at least that's what I saw this morning at breakfast. Hope your own dentistry is formatively focused today. Rock on.