Mommy with a Penis

By now, most of have heard the latest Sarah Palin gaffe. (What? Another one? Get out of town!) While visiting the Old North Church in Boston, Palin made a horse's patootie of herself when presenting her loose interpretation of Paul Revere's place in history. She insisted Revere warned the British (?) and did so by ringing lots of bells. See for yourself... Seemingly unrelated, on Sunday, my little family went to a fundraiser for the Pop Luck Club, which is an organization for gay dads in the LA area. Sebastian, as usual, scored tons of tickets, sometimes by winning them at basketball dunking, sometimes by asking complete strangers for their tickets, and was able to trade them in for cheap ass candy and cheap ass toys. Michael, however, made his killing at the silent auction and raffle winning even more cheap ass stuff. He scored a camera bag full of random Pixie Hollow items (oh, joy) with Tinkerbell's image emblazoned on EVERY SINGLE THING (double joy). Didn't matt...

Six weeks ago, my little family drove north on Interstate 5, hung a right at Highway 14 and drove into Antelope Valley. Sounds like a pretty place, doesn't it? Almost mystical. I would bet most of you, if you were to take out your own personal mental snapshot of California you would be looking at Rocky Mountains or the roiling Pacific, majestic redwoods or overpriced amusement parks. I'm sure none of you pictured Antelope Valley. Although it sounds like a lush savanna bounding with chipper quadrupeds, in fact, Antelope Valley has no antelopes. The poor creatures were obliterated by hunters in the 1880's, and replaced with prefab homes, out of date strip malls, alfalfa fields and the second largest Borax pit mine. Antelope Valley also has the distinction of being the crystal meth darling of the Mojave. This is where my daughter, Maxie, was born. (Interesting to note, the nurse in charge of Maxie's care for the first two days of her life, told us an increase of meth users...