Headed for the coast this afternoon to babysit a certain grandson. His parents are planning a getaway weekend and they need backup. They came to the right place.
Weston in his new slippers. A gift from Aunt Amy.
I read somewhere recently that little kids cannot fake a laugh, but I know this isn't true because Westies has this little "ha ha" he does (I have him on video doing it), a very sarcastic burst, that sounds sort of like a forced laugh, or, as we call it in the family—a courtesy laugh. Many think he got it from me. Anyway, according to Kathy it looks like my new name is G-paw Ha. Which I actually love.
Old Man, Take A Look at Your Cars
This is the title, above, of a review of Neil Young's newest book, "Special Deluxe" about his love affair with cars. The reviewer, Earl Swift, in the Wall Street Journal, gets in a few lusty licks: "Neil Young struck out for rock-'n'-roll stardom behind the wheel of a 1953 Pontiac hearse—a great, bulbous mass of pouting chrome and brute force that bludgeoned any air in its way and left a deep atmospheric bruise along old Route 66 when he left Tononto for California in the spring of 1966."
Wow! That is not only a poetic mouthful—"a great, bulbous mass of pouting chrome"— but it also pretty much sums of Neil's entire life. But Mr. Swift is not done, not by a long shot:
"Our cars are our partners, our side kicks, our modern take on a cowboy's trusty steed; they're our sanctuaries, love nests and music halls. They are the setting for adventures, dramas and conversations that stay with us for lifetimes."
BBB and "The Toaster" outside the True West World Headquarters
"Well I heard old Neil put her down. Well, I hope Neil Young will remember, a Southern Man don't need him around, anyhow."
—Lynard Skynyrd "Sweet Home Alabama"
