Spoon feeding

This week we started non-booby food. Which, while a nice sign of progress, is just another step away from a world in which boobs are required multiple times a day.

Heartbreak aside, Sasha took to the spoon with grace and precision. Most of the food stayed in.

This would be yet another good point to remind oneself that everybody had to learn how to eat. How weird is that?

Also, we had a hint of crawling. At one point, Sasha was seen on the other side of her playpen in a totally different position. No witnesses.

Edward R. Murrow

That's Ed. He's got a cigarette in most photos. And suspenders. And furrowed facial expressions. If you have to explain "He's a famous journalist", he's probably not that famous. But he's the pre-Cronkite journalism gold standard, a relic from the days when one angle was good enough for America.

A documentary I produced won an Edward R. Murrow award. First it won the "West Coast Regional", then it won the National Award for small-market news documentary.

This is a good thing, to be sure. I think. My point is that it's also awkward. When it aired, it was well-received, but most people missed it.

So, the winners were posted. My boss ran up the stairs to announce the good news. Black-tie awards ceremony in NY in the fall.

It was in the papers. An aunt called from a plane when she found out. Various local newspeople emailed. A neighbor hollered "Nice work!" from the driveway. It's in the trades, and the industry people send nice notes; many bear a surprised undertone. Sara's boss made some sort of congratulatory statement in a staff meeting. Compared it to a Pulitzer, I hear. Let's not go that far.

In fact, let's take it down a notch. Because, when I found out it won the nationwide prize: "Really? Humhm. Cool."

I think that most people have almost no clue what the award means. I am among them.
So, in the end, it's a nice little bonus. Here are the lessons:

1. Now I get it when people say "It's about the story, not us."
2. Now I understand that there are a lot of awards for all sorts of things.
3. Now I have proof that over-editing isn't a total inefficiency.
3. Smoking cigarettes gets an award named after you.

Things haven't been busy or anything

Mike here.

Ironically, the more you have to blog about, the less likely you are to have time to actually blog.

Ok, so long stories short:

Sara's grandparents, they of generous spirit, took me on a gameshow-sized shopping spree. It was unreal. When they look at the guy that married their granddaughter, they didn't want to see a slovenly bumpkin. They wanted to see a person who's clothes were hole-free. They have now achieved that.

Bonus: I scored flip-flops with bottle-openers on the soles. I'm surpised that the gimmick is actually quite helpful. Who knew?

As a temporary side gig, I might soon be working with an internationally distributed radio program. Then again, I might not, we'll see. It'd be fun to do some super high-tech audio stuff. Nobody understands the joy scrubbing heavy breaths, plosives, and spittle out of somebody else's voicetrack for hours. I LOVE it. I dream about Pro Tools.

The deck project is finally done. Adam and Dustin put in the sliding door connecting our bedroom to the deck, and it really opened the house up (seriously, no pun intended.) The backyard had no direct access, and thus sat virtually empty for the last 20 years. Now, just in time for global warming to flood our block, it can actually be used for recreatin'. Get it while the gettin's good.

Sasha hit the big six-month mark, and is waxing mobility. She conquered sitting last month, and now stand/leaning is all the rage. Sitting is for five-month olds. Plus, she eats anything that she can hold.