Harps and Angels

Two signs I'm getting old and soft:

1. Bought a Randy Newman record and liked it

2. Highlight of the weekend may have included a trip to the farmer's market

Back from Brasil, trip was wall to wall meetings, no time for hijinks. Sao Paulo is massive, apparently dangerous, and we were shuttled from venue to venue by a security detail.

Here's our protection, the lovely Concepcion. Can't vouch for her attack skills, but she did have a lethal pedal foot and took most excellent care of us. Also pictured, David B., pub landlord.

Took all of ten pics, the road to Cajamar looked a lot like this:

But the facility was 22nd century. Pretty surreal.

The rest of the trip was hotels, conference rooms and airports.

Meanwhile, the Beav was out east, hanging with the Wood girls.


Snaps from the home front. Jane is pretty active in the mornings, otherwise, she's just like her dad; no ass, big feet, likes naps, needs constant bathing, fussy on the outfits, likes sportscenter and Mastodon, master of the faceplant.

Mom predicts her first words will be "hunter bacon".

Dad thinks something more like "let's toss these muthas".


On Saturday we hit the green market in McCarren park. First time I've been up and active that early in ages. Tried to go record shopping but nothing was open.

Saturday night we toasted Herr Bostic, to celebrate his passing of the final CFA exam. 3 for 3. Beav put the chooch in her angel pjs, hoping the sentiment would carry over to the late start time.

Sunday, we hit the ballfields in Redhook. My orange taco.....on line for pupusas.



Off to SF this weekend, for Eagle's wedding. Could be the high point of the fall social season. Whole crew coming in hot. Tiny B and KOB hosting, first time meeting the beanser. Kind of can't wait already.

Still all in tatters over the Bernie / Isaac / Leroi triple passing. Bad things always come in threes. Bad news given I only had two fried tacos for lunch.

The Giggle Queen of India Street

From Crackle: Aug 18 2008 - VID00010

Fluke Force Five, dawn of the attack swans

Surgical strike to Bellport on Saturday. Made the McCain's swanky outdoor dinner party, absolutely heavenly. Tuz and Henny hosted, and threw some lines in the water this morning, came up aces.

View from the backyard, Pertuz residence.

The dinner at the McCain's was outside, which couldn't have been better executed. Got to meet Sarah and Bobby's twins, Jack and George. They were described as future Clemson frat guys - really lovely lads.

They denied ever being this small.


View from the table head...

The hot termite got a lot of attention for dinner.

Baby cakes in honor of the Henny. She was taking copious notes. Candidate for cutest mother club.

Moms hair looks red.


That's Miles McCain in the gas mask - clearly sending Fog Bostic a message.

Watching Phelps make eight. Unfazed. Our baby is a patriot, however.

Our fishing expedition, this morning.






When we came in, the neighbor was shooting the swans in her swimming pool with an air gun. This one got snippy with me.


The James has the magic hands.

This is the crew that sent us off to the Del Fiore pork store. That haul is getting put to use here in a sec, dad's on dinner.


Thanks, everyone.

Jane's made three trips now, and the girls are off to Bridgehampton next week while I'm off in Sao Paulo. It's tough being 22".

Fun Bags, Finally

All kinds of action to report.

I just ate ten pounds of cowflesh, and maybe a dozen tablespoons of mayonnaise, feeling upper Minnestoa.

Off to Patch-hog this weekend for a brief bender with Cap'n Tuz and crew, should be aces.

Last week was brutal on multiple fronts, most worrisome - the U.S. men's gymnastic team. Imagine me listening to the following "show 'em how we roll! Sup y'all, we bangin!", voiced over by our little impish floor generals, peace signs flying, tight sabres at attention, gads. I'm sticking to the men's indoor volleyball team coverage - a collection of Chris Dudley's with bad haircuts and questionable ink. Those guys know how to party.

We had the Altar airlifted into the living room. Beav supervised and snapped these, so rad:







Mom is in some kind of new mothers of Greenpoint group now, cannot wait to crash this party:


Crazy dinner party at 24 Powers last night. Toby + Gigi's birthday party. A++ chow and company. Super fun, Jane slept in the downstairs bathroom during dinner, an angel. Good looking crew.




I'm off to Brasil next week, here's to being kidnapped.

Cap'n Caramel Britches and the Shem Creek Miller Chill Smugglers

We're back from the hot sands, though it wasn't an easy feat, our return. Got dropped off at the airport at 9:15AM, took off around 9:45PM. Couple planes, four passes through security, seven diapers, lots of bad words.

As usual, we were seated in the non-reclining chairs, the ones flanking the turdlet.

Daddy actually ordered a beer he couldn't pay for. They are like ten bucks now. Good thing the shoebox under your seat is still free.

Anyways, great trip, Sullivan's is totally boss and the house was perfect. Huge kee-yahs to the Beavers for organizing.

Mulling a milk cocktail.


She's discovered the hand sandwich.


I'm oddly addicted to the Olympics. Good thing I still got it.

She loves her baths now. Prior to this one, had achieved double milk neck / triple stink belly.

Foam Hands!

Charleston. En route to the Peers cocktail party. Mr. Beaver went banana yellow on the sportswear. View was insane.


Jane representing.

Bet you didn't know the tripod mount on your camera fits a lamp harp. I didn't.

Dad's eye color. Jane is showing blue steel at the moment.

Final day on the beach, with awards. Genius.




Hard to beat family hilarity.

xoxoxoxox