Oh well.

I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing I ain't pretty and my legs are thin.

I love Fleetwood Mac... This song is kinda-sorta so all about me today – ceptin' for the next line maybe: But don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me too.

Oh well.

It's gorgeous weather – whether you've noticed or not. We've been waiting for this goodstuff – now we got it, so let's “do”. I planta. No, I don't mean plant. I mean plan ta. I've got a black thumb, not a green one. (From mechanical attempts on my car... “Hi, wanna go out with me?”... “well mebbe, but we can't hold hands.”)

Maynard turned the tables on me yesterday. Oh Victor, please, this ain't about the car is it? Well, mebbe. Twas driving my Hot... Rod... Lincoln home last night.. Windows down, old people's classic rock blaring, didn't care who noticed.. allofasudden there's this thump-thump-thump-thump (hella loud, louder than 25 or 6 to 4 wasa playin').. Pulled into Community Center (they don't recognize me there any longer.. no, not due to weight loss.. due to lackagoin'.. ).. Damn, that serpentine belt is offagain. (Which means, the battery ain't chargin', which means, I wasn't going very far.)

Now when I talked to God I knew he'd understand – He said, stick by my side and I'll be your guiding hand.

Maynard, oh yeah, Maynard. I made it to his City bus stop (whew)– picked him up, and his mostly frantic (the hell do I do now) father said “we gotta go straight home.. that belt broke again”... and as this frantic father had his knuckles taughtly glued to the steering wheel (as if he were in “ona United Airlines jet landing at O'Hare” and “by God these handrails are gonna save my life if/when we crash, so I ain't lettin' go).. I was talking to myself.. Blurting ugly non-profane things like “why us?.. I hate this car.. “ yada yada.. and Maynard said “Dad, I see bums every day downtown. At least we gotta roof over our head.”

Oh well.

Rectum he shaked me back into reality, perspective. HRL, don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me to.

Meineke tells me, “it was a defective pump.” Durn. The pump is only fitty, and O'Reilly should/will replace that, but it costs $374 to get down to the little dooger. O'Reilly O'really tells me “well.. we can't do anything for your 'relief' – but we can file a claim with the manufacturer, and if they deem it defective, then we might get somewhere.”

Oh well. So I've got the day off. I wish I had a pedometer, 'cause I been out and about a walkin'. Onea my 'buddies' recently wisecracked the other day “I saw you walking down 291 the other day, thought it was the 'Penny Man' or something” eliciting snickers from the table we were at. (We have a disadvantaged chap in our fine town that – daily – walks miles and miles finding spare change on the ground, and in laundromats, vending machines, etc.).. Which, caused me to think to myself “self, if he saw me, whythehell didn't he stop and gimme a ride?”..Now this dude and I usedta do battle on the basketball court. He could really be an asshole, seriously, but I enjoyed that because it motivated me to try to beat him that much more. Hence, those little 'marks' surrounding 'buddy.' But don't ask me what I think of you I might not give the answer that you want me to.

Victor, if you tell one more car story, I ain't never comin' back. Yeah, I hearya. Cars are kinda like people though.. They age, they show wear from love, abuse – the mileage, it all adds up. Then, one day they pee their pants and forget their name, or, start throwing their lifeline (serpentine belts)off of one afta another.

I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing I ain't pretty and my legs are thin.

Ya know what? I find myself in a very good mood. That aint' braggadocios, it's a statement. I've enjoyed the walking, truly. I love everything greening up. I see happy people. I piddle with my friends. I love my friends, coworkers – and I mostly think the reverse is true. Money worries will always be there. Car problems will happen. And happen. This whole durn blog started with my '93 checkenginelight. Roller over to the HRL. My father, for years and years bought them old clunkers (Lincolns).. Put 200,000 miles on each and every one he owned. So there's some history, and some love there. Maybe, just maybe HRL, I would give the answer that you want me to.

Life, it be good. In fact, whilst like the weather can be, cars can be, we all can be – it ain't perfect .. but it's pretty damn good. “I've gotta roof.” I gots my HS running cronies. I gots my friends here (Thanks to all who've ever stopped by to scratch a note – you'll truly never know how much each and every one means... ). I've got ma nifty chair in the cubicle where my butt has managed to give it a decent ravine over the years.. I gots my coworkers.. I gots my daily email chit-chat with Misty/Kendra – two of my alltime favorite usedta-be coworkers.. I gots Mayard.. I gots more loving family.. I gots Jackson and Figaro – and pretty damn thankful they've lived to be teenagers. Most importantly, I've gots smiles.

Now when I talked to God I knew he'd understand – He said, stick by my side and I'll be your guiding hand.... I gots God too.

I can't help about the shape I'm in, I can't sing, I ain't pretty and my legs are thin. Yet, life, can it be any better? Love to all, Victurd.