Hup two-three-four....

My father was the most wonderful independent cuss I ever knew. Lived where he wanted, when he wanted, worked where he wanted, when he wanted - pretty much did whatever he wanted - yet balanced the role of hubby/father quite decently.

Months (possibly years) after he shoulda been put in to a full-time care facility - his Parkinsons had deteriorated the 'old him' to the point it was mandatory one day at age 81. He didn't spend a full night there.. Massive heart attack - passed in the hospital some days later. That's independence.

Wow would you believe it's been handed down? Recently helped 'Gracie' move 3400 sq foot of stuff across town into a 2100 sq foot house. That, in and of itself, presents problems - but that's a side point. (And a walking path point, and a front yard point, and a front porch point.)

"Say, I'd like for you to......" Wait! Stymie halt - DON'T GO THERE. "I will do what I want, when I want" said my father's son. It's now kinda become a joke - but too it's sincere.

I've heard George Toma's yard has weeds. I don't personally know George - but he's a nationally renowned "Baseball Diamond/Football Field fixer-upper." The Super Bowl calls him every year months in advance to come "spiff up" the field. George's lush, green, patternistic, finely manicured baseball field at old Municipal Stadium in Kansas City went far in planting the love of sports from the view of this 9 year old's shoes. Victor, you're off the topic again. "Hush, dammit, I'll write whatever I want, whenever I want."

I envision George's wife told him "George, there's weeds in our yard. Would you go out and attend to them?" It's my belief George is independent too, thus, his yard has weeds.

Arrive at work daily. They have this 'wonderful' GD (gosh darn) gizmo that we must enter our PIN #, place our hand in pegged contraption... it somehow records our palm print, and the powers that be in the HR Department don't have to record anything, nor peek in the parking lot to see whose car is there, whose isn't.

This is followed shortly thereafter by a way too loud loudspeaker announcement "GOOD MORNING, IT'S NOW 8 O'CLOCK. (In my independence, I'm reminded of a story of my dear cousin and his buddy [who happened to be black] walking into a grocery store in the state of Kansas at precisely 12:05 am to buy a handy six-pack. Arriving at the checkout at exactly 12:07 am the clerk looked them in the eye and said "It's 12:07am." WHAT? KW beckoned? "It's 12;07am" inferring 'huh-uh, you can't buy beer past midnight. KW's murmured reply was "God damn, didn't wanna know what time it is, I just wanted a six pack." "GOOD MORNING, IT'S NOW 8AM" followed closely by "GD (gosh darn) didn't wanna know what time it is... I just wanted to check my email."

Smoke, we can take a 15 minute smoke break between the hours of 9:30am and 10:30am.. as well as between the hours of 2:30pm and 3:30pm... This is why my father has trained me to sneak out at 8:48am, 11:15am, 2:07pm and 3:59pm daily for a cigarette.

If we time in too early (I think there's a 7 minute cushion - we possibly could get an email stating "You timed in too early, we'll need you to time out at 4:55pm tonight".. That's about the only "Say, I'd like for you to ...." I comply with - still I do so as the ole blood pressure rises.

We walk to the damn hand machine nightly shortly after the "IT IS NOW 5 O'CLOCK" announcement. GD (gosh darn) didn't wanna know what time it is... I just wanted to head home and fetch a handy six pack along the way.

Have too's... Must do's... Be here at such-n-such time... Leave at such-n-such time. I hate em. I have a moronic dream of selling all, buying a Chinook (<-- do they still make 'em?) and driving across the contiguous 48 until I was almost outta money.. almost outta food... and finding a temporary job to work as long or as short as I want - to get me gas, food to get to the next town I wanted to stop at.

Lazy? To again quote my gorgeous stepson "Not no's but hell's no." I got a wonderful raise last year thanks in part to a letter a coworker wrote to the brass on my behalf. They know me, they pretty much (except for the damn hand thing and the annoying time announcements) leave me alone to do what I do. In return I give them an honest day's work. Well, ceptin' checking my email and seeing what's the latest on CNN.com occasionally.

Side note... Aye yai yai Victor, can't you hold a thought? "I'LL HOLD ANY DAMN THOUGHT I WANT AS LONG OR AS SHORT AS I WANT." We have the post-poop spray in the bathrooms at work - somewhat of a modern day replacement of the old wooden matches I so fondly remember in my grandparent's squatter. This stuff is strong - and one or two squirts turns an ugly constitution into April Flowers. Well, someone bent the spray nozzle of the can in the footsoldier bathroom at work and it wouldn't spray. The brass were all outta town attending some convention (golfing) so..... I went to the Executive Squatter with bent nozzled April Flower can in hand... Switched it for the Vanilla Breeze can in theirs... and returned Vanilla Breeze to the footsoldier bathroom with an independent smile on my face. Besides, theirs doesn't stink anyways, so they don't need it!

I tend to thrive on "you can't do that" - "watch me." All of our rules were established post Adam and Eve. Somewhere along the way each and every social norm, "the right way" was put in place. At one time, those ways weren't in place. I love Rosa Parks for not going with "the way." I kinda admire the chick at work with the tatooed ring around her ankle. I love the skateboarders "don't care about what so-and-so thinks of me" attitude.

GOOD MORNING IT'S 8AM. We're all in our places with sunshiney faces. Well, ceptin' Jana, she comes anywhere from 8:07am to 8:20am daily. I love her for that - yes, she pays, but it's her way.

Have a happy day, and IT'S NOW 10:35AM AND I'M QUITTING WRITING FOR THE DAY. Gotta problem with that?