Fatty Crab

The Chooch has thunder thighs now. Mom's got her on the chubby plan, and she's responding admirably. Double chin established, gunning for a third. The girls head down to Tampa on Wednesday, then to Charlotte for a "sip and see". Sounds preposterous, though I hear they're serving potato salad and chic fil a.

Hit the Bozlich 35th birthday gala Friday night, with baby Jane. She was not interested in the debate, but aside from a legendary diaper, managed to behave herself. Food and company was tremendous, though a little less guzzling and a few more chicken pieces may have made Saturday more tolerable.

All the all stars out.





Hitting the feedbags.

The cake, and the bakers. Most impressive.


Mr. Birthday, eating his shubbery.

Party girl milk necked herself pretty good at the event. Smelled like cauliflower. Bath time, like daddy, no ass, all attitude.


The crew managed a stroll through the west village on Sunday. Checked out all the coming attractions, rocked the pretzel dog at the Rusty Knot. I guess if you don't live here, these might be of minor interest. Standard hotel, on the hi line, under construction. Schnabel's Italian Villa, the building on the building.



Parting shot.

10 1/2 lb. Froggy

Jane and I got great news at the Doctor's today. After last week, Doc was concerned about her low weight, so we put Operation: Chubby Baby into action. She gained 14 oz. in just a week and is back on track. She's such a champion sleeper (10 hours straight at night these days) she needed to catch up with a little extra milk during the day.

She's so much fun right now. Smiling, laughing and talking all the time. Well, gurgling and babbling, but its music to our ears. She's also rolling over and loves to sit and stand (with an assist, obviously). Just lying down in one place has clearly gotten old. We're still wondering where her hair is though...

We've gotten over the hump of having a few babysitters — very hard for me at first, but I'm toughening up. And I'm still interviewing nannies for when I go back to work in November. Its so hard to imagine leaving her.

Right now we're listening to one of my iPod playlists that Dad does not approve of... "Ultimate Gym List". Hate to tell you babe, but so far she's loving Nelly, Prince and ODB. Whoops!
xo Winz

Ruck Zuck Zahnluch!

The Milk Gnome has delved into the fall wardrobe drawer. Shamfoolery in progress.

Still, nothing beats naked. Especially when your threads are cycling on heavy soil.

Friday night, we hooked up the Bryces and Herr Bozlich for the two liter minimum at Radegast German-style Beerhall and Sausage Eatery. Someone called the Mizzlesburg family drum collective, much clanging and marching to report.
You can't really see it, but there's a brace of flautists in frame.

Gigi got animal.

Lucy and Jane, in between liters.

Folks rolled in last night, dad and I went straight to Yankee Stadium for the last home game ever. Jeter struck out looking with the bases loaded, figures. But they rolled out the heavies in any case, caught Bloomy and Rudi in an embrace exchange. Crushed a death dog, good times.

Sorry Colleen:




And a few from tea time this morning.



Well, the clamor for Yeti evidence has been overwhelming. This from Brent in Finance.

Jane Says...

Grandmas only

Been kind of slammed. Was involved in a wedding ring recovery plot that left me both rattled and flummoxed. Tough being a solid citizen. Also having trouble remembering to put the washed clothes in the dryer, before they smell like gym socks. So much responsibility.

Hunt for a nanny is on, depressing. Like taking out a second mortgage, hilarity being we don't have a first mortgage. Hoping the deli guys will help with the child care when the time comes.

Baldy has some new tricks. If you put her down on her stomach, she rolls to belly. She can also go belly to back, which I understand is "advanced month four". She's three months, 23". On the lack of development front, she cannot fetch beers solo yet, which we're working on.

She's also dancing a lot.


Little Buddha.


Lord of the sweat shack dinner party:

Finally, the tummy tuck.

Proper post to follow, with hi-tech video evidence of hijinks.

Tacos,

A

Midget Legs!

The bald one has learned to feed herself, which is helpful.

She has also identified herself, which is less helpful, but hilarious.

Most importantly, she's getting company. These two, are eating for three:


The McKenna's east are beyond juiced. Imagine the grandfolks. Capped a pretty perfect weekend. Tiny and KOB hosted the Brooklyn Beavers, in SF. Eags got married, parents made it in, lots of passing the chooch around.

This guy was engineered to change diapers:



Met Etta Shannon, also perfect. Class of 2030, brown bjorner.

Got in Friday, Jane was an angel on the plane. Blew it out over Colorado on the way out, smart. Met up with the nerd herd Friday night, lot of hall passes below.

Wedding was Saturday, in Los Gatos. Posed for some Christmas cards prior.



JB, on greeter duty. Lost several Paynter VIPs on account of that tooth pick in his beard.

Mrs. Anderson, baby whisperer:

More coming attractives:


Best dressed, runner ups.

Best dressed is on the right, flanked by the Kerbloki fanclub.

Thao and Andrew crushed it. Couple of the couple:





The wedding accessory.

Jane behaved impeccably, making her poppa proud. She dined on fine thumb and forefinger, wore an outfit hand picked by your author, made it the distance.



Plans were laid to get her one of these dresses, modeled by Nancy's two girls.

The General, always a scene stealer. So good to see the old crew out, McCarthys also in tow.



Escorts to the dance barn.

Tommy Guerrero, personal highlight.

Chuck Paynter, demonstrating how to wear my suit.

Roommate Reunion.


After party. Things escalated quickly.



And degenerated just as quickly.

Recovery. Foggy.

Milko!


Bookending the weekend, dear Pawel and the Mighty POLVO, at Bimbos.



Hard to leave. The hits just kept coming.

Leave you with this one. Eagle on honeymoon.