For those of you just getting here… that number up there is… hmmm… howabout… a game… you decide… it’s either:
A) Number of day’s until this old fart’s life expectancy runs out (according to average), so, serves as a reminder to my sorry ass to not frown, mope, bitch… rather… enjoy, seek, go, do, SMILE.
B) Or… Number of “sammies” (hehe) saved up since last “you know what.”
Or.. Both.. Hehe….
On hope. Run, don’t walk, to grab a newspaper today… (The date is 11/23/2008)… And if you’re a day or more late getting here, then get with the program! Or, see if Parade Magazine has a website and search “Taking care of”….
A WONDERFUL, heartfelt story by a lady… She in her 70’s… Met this dude in High School… liked him… they met others, married… went on their way… Found themselves again in their fitties (U mean life AIN’T over?).. And have had a blessed time riding life out..
Then… he fell 9’ outta their sleeping loft (sorry, begs the question, why are 70-somethings sleeping 9’ off the ground… although.. I always did have an affinity for bunk beds.).. And he suffered brain damage… not to recover… and she talks for a few pages about taking care of him… why she does it (versus send him off to a nursing home)… I can’t retell it as good as she writes it - please just ‘go there’… It’s a damn good read, and a refreshing look at a mighty fine human being, and her perspective on ‘the covenant.” You rock lady. (For any chick flick aficionados, it’s kinda “The Notebook” in reverse… )
Speaking of aging.. A couple of things reminded me I’m getting old. Needed a sugar fix at work the other day… Downstairs to the vending machine. Eighty-five cents, pressed H6, and jualah, down went the Honey Bun to the retrieval tray. I’d put a buck in, so, I hads me a dime and a nickel coming back too. Twenty, ten, mebbe even five years ago, I’da swooped up that honey bun about the time it hit bottom… but on this day.. I remembered grabbing this would entail leaning over… using muscles I ain’t used in awhile to lean back up.. SO… I waited for the change to fall so I only had’ta lean over once. It’s hell (or heaven) gettin’ older, pendin’ on how you look at it.
Remember me and my observance skills (lack thereof)? “Honey, when’d we get that painting right there?”.. “Oh, probably two and a half years ago.” Oh.. Ok… thanks…
At mirror in bathroom at work. I noticed I had “an antenna.” Two actually. I have 60 watt bulbs in the bathroom at home.. Helps to not have so much incandescence that the crevices, crow’s feet, Tigris and Euphrates don’t show up in the mirror after I jump outta the shower. (Victor, you GD liar, you take baths… Wussy.) Ok, so I take baths. I find them therapeutic. The hell was I?
Oh yeah, standing infronta the mirror at work.. Antenna. There on each ear… Unfortunately, not at the same “height” on each ear, were two damn near half inch singular hairs sticking out. Now this ‘phenomena’ has only happened in recent years. Why? Why might I ask do I not have these damn things grow for the first fitty years of my life, then, boom - there they are allofasudden ‘bout the time I get AARP mail and fitty-four cent coffee at Mickey D’s? Why? Why me Lord.. Tell me what did I do.. To deserve growing antennas at age fitty-six?
And yes.. Did do the Mickey D’s thing this morning. In walked a granny (70’s), her daughter (late 40’s) and her daughter (19-ish)… When you stop and think about this, farm friggin out. Granny grew up a child of the Depression - learned “no” actually meant “no”… her daughter grew up in the 60’s, burned her bra and asked “Why? Why should I?”… and then 19-ish, a resident of the “me, me, me” societal group. Yet, bonded all. Learn of the other’s trials, tribulations. Coexist. Love. Respect.
So.. I write again to myself.. (hitchhikers welcome).. Victor, you ignorant slut. IF you’re lucky, IF you’re average, you’ve got 6,893 days left. Are u gonna let trivial shit like bending over, ‘antennas’ and the like ruin your day now? (Prolly not, but did you know that if you scrap brownspots with your fingernails, they’ll go away for a day… hehe.)
I hereby promise to love whatever comes forth. If it’s an obstacle, God give me the strength to jump over it (or walk around it.).. If it’s a lover, gimme the power to appreciate, respect and be thankful. If there’s no love ahead, then please Lord, please - plant (intermittently) fine, fine derrieres in the aisles of the Piggly Wiggly for me to ogle at. If it’s “I ain’t making enough” - remember the homeless feller, who in his most honest moment held the sign up “only $.87 more for a pint”…
As always, thanks for being here. (Go read Parade damnit).. I’m off to grow more ear hairs.. And thinking’ about scaling back to 40 watt bulbs at home so I can mebbe set a record with a three-quarter inch antenna. I’m the (ear hair growing) baby, gotta love me, Victurd.
PS: Had an interesting note (thanks - really - for writing)… “cool that you list your phone number (867-5309).. I almost called.”. Had’ta spoil the surprise and relate that actually was a song by Tommy Tutone…. My number is 913-384-6600. Call me, we’ll forecast the future.
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