Sweet Boys, Books, And Old Boys

The requisite pancakes picture. Of course. I swear, it takes me an hour to make that breakfast and it takes them five minutes (if that) to eat it. 
Levon asked for "two and two," meaning two pancakes, and two pieces of bacon.

August asked for five and five. 
"Ha-ha!" I said. "We'll start with three and three."

They seriously eat so fast that by the time Mr. Moon had every thing on his plate fixed to his satisfaction and specifications as involves buttering, cutting up the pancakes, salting and peppering, and putting salsa on his eggs, Levon had finished his two and one and a half, and August was close behind. 

They were starving. I didn't get breakfast on very early at all. And true to their word to their grandfather, they got up at 7:06 a.m. which is what time they'd all agreed on last night. And indeed, it was 7:06 a.m. when August came into our room and whispered to Boppy that it was time.
"Go ahead and start watching TV," he said. "I'll be there in a minute." And he slept for another ten minutes and then got up but I'm sure he went back to sleep in his chair. I had no idea that August had been there and I woke up and got up at the civilized hour of 8:30. 

We really did have a good time with the guys. They were so sweet and so loving and so kind to their old grands. And no, they did not run around like little heathens after their baths and I sort of missed that. We read some more books when they'd been tucked into bed. One of the things I really didn't know about grandchildren is how nostalgic they can be. All of the grandkids have shown an interest in listening to me reread certain books over and over again, even as they get older. I read them the books and we talk about all the illustrations the way we always have and we take delight in making the same observations we always have. And when the books are like "The Relatives Came" by Cynthia Rylant, illustrated by Stephen Gammell, we happily revisit the family in the book. We are visiting them, just as they are visiting each other. 

There is so much going on that we never get tired of it and we always see something we've missed before. 

The other book we read was "Let's Eat!" by Ana Zamarano and lovingly and beautifully illustrated by Julie Vivas.

Did those of us who love to read first become enchanted by the words in books or the illustrations or, was it as I suspect, both.

I won't drag on forever tonight. Here are a few more pictures. 

The boys helping their Boppy clean up after breakfast. When he started explaining how to load the dishwasher they said, "We know. We've done it a thousand times."

My flower bowl! Jessie went by the pottery studio to get the things we'd left to be fired. There are some things I love about it very much and of course, there are things I want to get much better at. But I will tell you that I truly am excited about pottery class now in a way that I was not before and that's plenty of reason to keep going in my opinion. 

Quick update on the hearing aids. 
I am growing used to them being in my ears. I am not noticing a great deal of difference in my hearing although I do believe there is some improvement, especially when talking with my grandchildren. We go back on Friday to get things readjusted and to get questions answered. So that is fine. We are not talking miracles here but as I keep saying- it's a process. We shall be patient. 

And...four days until Keith turns 82 and his marriage turns 42. 
Here's another picture of him and his daughters, this one including his daughter Angela whose mother was Anita Pallenberg. Look her up. 

You know what? I wish I'd had a daddy like Keith Richards.

But to cut the sweetness here, I give you this video of Keith in the studio making a recording of Lou Reed's song, "I'm Waiting For The Man," for a tribute album to Lou. This was released in 2024, I believe and I love it more than I can say.

The old boy, singing about something he knew very well when he was young. The man was the dope dealer. Lou Reed was also a well-known junkie but who was able to remain sober with the help of a Buddhist practice for the last decades of his life. 

I love Keith's old face far more than I did his young rock star face. I didn't even really have an opinion of him when I was young. Mick Jagger was it, you know? 
And then I read "Life", Keith's memoir, and, well, that was it. 
My spirit totem animal. 
My reminder that we can survive, we can persevere, that music can heal, save, and connect us to whatever magical process it is by which some can capture the essential vibrations of the universe. 

Phew. Didn't know I had THAT in me. 

Love...Ms. Moon