The Art of Spying on Mum

Introduced her to selected works from Thelonius Monk and Benny Goodman today. She seemed to really connect with the Monk, but kept hiccuping all the way through Benny's set.

Took a late evening siesta on the back deck, where she got to try out her new yellow sunglasses. Thought she'd really dig 'em (kind of a girly kiddy version of Elton John/Audrey shades). But she just kept hiccuping.

As many of you know, Spying is both one of my passions and one of my greatest skills. I have been extremely excited to begin training my daughter in this vital area. So I took her on a reconnaissance/training session this evening. Simple, relatively mundane, very little risk. Just to test the waters, see if she has any sort of inherent aptitude. Anyway, we maneuvered our way into position, at which point I held her up around the dresser to stealthily watch Mum brushing her teeth in the bathroom. She did well for the first 30 seconds. Held her silence well, didn't step on any dry tree branches, kept the cell phone off. Mum was completely clueless. Until thirty seconds in. Then, yes: more hiccuping.

Little disappointing, but she shows so much promise.

She has the greatest smile. Only seen it twice, but it's good. Trust me.

Very big fan of Uncle General Jeremy, who danced with her this evening.


  1. I should be there... I need to be there... I'm so mad at myself right now...

  2. Neat. The kid is here. The pictures are adorable, slightly reminiscent of my own effervescent, post-natal state, with the one glaring exception being that I was a blondie. Which leads me to query the veracity of my brother's so-called 'traightforwardness' as to the true identity of the baby's sperm donor. I mean, Josef and Becca were both blond, correct? ...On the other hand, I'm fairly certain that Sergio, Darius, and perhaps even Nate were all dark-haired at birth. Just an observation. Seriously, though, I'm more than slightly blue at the fact that my power to hold my niece (?) has been temporarily rendered impotent. Kind of like how Tony Soprano was feeling in episode seven of the first season... Additionally, what's all this talk about "Uncle General Jer..." --I won't even finish that blasphemy. First off, I am the Commander General, and any promotions go through me, and perhaps the committee, should I deem it appropriate. The committee consists of me, Mr. Orange, and sometimes select excerpts from Clinton's subpoena hearing. Thus far, I have not approved Jeremy to any rank above 3rd Leftenant. That is where he remains, just above Benedict Ivan. ...Magdanella, I miss you, and I bought you Ferrari shoes today. Just kidding, it's Sabbath.


    Uncle Commander General James

  3. this is addressed to Corporal Uncle James:

    thank you for your remarks concerning your niece. apparently you must have had a liver stolen in Venice because your mind is filled with the fog of foolishness. you have no legal adjudicatory role in promotions. i will ask you kindly to refrain (again) from using "Commander" in front of your name. it is an insult to those who have worked so hard to achieve it. tough lovingly,

    Commander General Joseph


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