The Millennium Falcon, Intergalactic Growth Chart

As an experiment (and an excuse to break out The Beast from time to time) I thought I would chronicle our daughter's first year against Hasbro's BMF (that's Big Millennium Falcon, you scum and villainy.)

8 WEEKS:















8 MONTHS:














ONE YEAR:

Best Sequel Ever

The Empire Strikes Back and Godfather II just got they asses handed to 'em.

Good Work, If You Can Get It

This is my daughter's daily schedule; she's 11 months old:

7:00am: wake, eat breakfast & vitamins, play
8:30am: morning nap
11:00am: wake & play
12:00pm: lunch
1:00pm: afternoon nap
3:30-4:00pm: wake & play
5:30pm: dinner
6:15pm: bath, pajamas and books
7:00pm: lights out
repeat

There's also various undocumented "snacks" involved, and much of the "play" time involves being pushed and/or driven about town in grand luxury. I know the American education system is lousy, but my math tells me that's about 17 hours of sleep.

She has the amazing capability to make me feel, alternately, like Justin Timberlake and Amon Göth - no small feat.

Bumper Sticker of the Week

"Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, except backwards and in heels."

So True

Amy Ozols kind of nails it in this week's Shouts & Murmurs. The Ambien line really had me laughing in the lavatory.

Buzzed, by Noah Baumbach

To learn more about the biochemistry of addiction, scientists in Australia dropped liquefied freebase cocaine on bees’ backs, so it entered the circulatory system and brain.
The scientists found that bees react much like humans do: cocaine alters their judgment, stimulates their behavior and makes them exaggeratedly enthusiastic about things that might not otherwise excite them.
—The Times.

Oh, my God, get over here . . . hurry . . . come on come on come on. Taste this nectar, taste it, taste it. . . . Slurp. . . . Is that not, is that not the best fucking thing you’ve ever had? Like nectar of the fucking Gods! It’s like the greatest hits of nectar. A double-album greatest hits, like those red and blue Beatles records where they’re looking down at us off a balcony but they have facial hair in one of them. Oh, my God, I just flew over to this, to this lily. Look at me on the lily?! Is that not, is that not so weird? I’m like buzzing around and then I land. . . .

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