What makes a good leader?
I ain't real sure, so.. I went to that K thru 12, BS, MBA, PHD hop over replacement, Google:
1. Clarity. "There is no question of their vision and what needs to be accomplished."
2. Decisiveness. "Once they have made up their mind, they don't hesitate to commit, it's all hands on deck. "Great consistency with their decisions."
3. Courage. "Boldness is both something you can develop something that is blessed as a virtue."
4. Passion. "There's nothing more inspirational than seeing someone who cares about what they do - the best leaders exhibit boundlss energy and passion for what they do. As long as you are passionate about what you know, or care about, it will shine through and people will follow."
5. Humility. While confidence is a very attractive trait in leaders, there's nothing like a humble character for creating a lovable persona. Great leaders admit when they are wrong and take criticism as an opportunity for growth. Show the world how grateful you are to be where you are."
Forbes takes it a bit further: Earn the respect of the Team. "“Having the ability to show respect, empathy, and care to those that follow you, are all attributed to being a great leader. Earning respect is crucial to a successful relationship with someone, while also showing that you care about their work or ideas."
They also say "Know the Team." "Knowing the strengths and weaknesses of every individual to effectively manage the outcome of a team is imperative for success."
And... Know that people are the Key to Success: “A great leader understands that it is the people they lead that ultimately determines the success or failure of any venture."
And................ Push people. (WAIT, there's more to that!) Push people TO BE THEIR BEST. Many companies forget to add those last four words, ha. "Great leaders have clarity of purpose and are great at articulating their beliefs. I aspire to be the kind of leader that pushes people to be the very best they can be but still make people feel safe because it starts with the heart."
"You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late." Ralph Waldo Emerson.
"The most powerful leadership tool you have: your own example." John Wooden.
"As the workplace evolves to become more trustworthy, transparent, ETHICAL, collaborative and mindful of its employee needs – leaders must be equally diligent to earn respect from their colleagues. Being the leader doesn’t mean that you have earned respect. Too many leaders take their titles and authority for granted. Some leaders believe that they are owed and/or command some level of (unearned) respect just because of where they are positioned on the organizational chart. Today’s workplace – highly influenced by millennials and embedded with people that have trouble trusting others – requires proof of performance before respect is earned. As such, leaders must reset their state of mind and become more responsible with their actions and accountable for the effect their influence has on their employees and the organization as a whole." Forbes (again)
"Today’s uncertain workplace requires leaders to pay close attention to others. Leaders must be active and attentive listeners, practice patience, appreciate the unique talents and capabilities of their colleagues, and be noticeably grateful for the effort and performance of their teams." Forbes again and again.
I know this blog has maybe bored you, all good. Method to madness.
Eh, maybe you can find VIC in VindICtive. There's a rumor afloat a company that recently terminated a certain blogger is following his (her? ha) every move. Figured they might as well learn something while they're here. Love, Victurd.
Monday, October 30, 2017
Saturday, October 28, 2017
I can't get no... GPS...or, I once was lost... and/or, nail in the shoe.
Lest anyone forget, I'm here for me, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. I remember the "How many people hate you?" thingy on FB, I saw a guy with 72 and thought "wow", then I did the little test and it was 272 that hate me, or something like that. That's ok, I can take it, sure it bugs me, but... you can please all of the people some of the time.. eh, you know. So, read on, or exit, stage left.
Here to talk about life. With paddle, without paddle. One of those hideous fold up maps with 63 creases.. or, a bookmap, or, heaven forbid, blinders on - GPS reliant.
There ain't really any "structions" that accompany birth.
I can be a nervous sort. My mind, sometimes, thinks faster than my body reacts. Long ago, breakroom @ Eastern Airlines, Kansas City, I was thrust in the 'lead role' simply because the true lead was off, we had a junior crew - and by seniority, I was next man up. Hell, I screw up my own life sometimes, howinthehell was I supposed to lead seven working two flights. So, comparing to sleep - I was tossing and turning. In real, awake life, I started in one direction, another damn thought entered my brain, I immediately did a 180, and trekked on. A much older, wiser buddy - my beloved friend Herbert, smiled as I did this. He knew of my want to do good - but he also saw I needed some calming down - just as I pivoted on the 180 he spoke "Hey Vic? You gotta nail in that shoe?"
He was right. I laughed. I calmed down. I was uncertain of which damn direction to go - and he helped put me back on a calmer, more organized path.
Life. Uncertain of which damn direction to go. I ain't got answers fer sure, but mebbe that's not a bad thing. Oh I can bemoan "damnit, I'm the lone survivor of my nuclear family, HELP! NOT FAIR!"... or "You guys all gotta mate, do you have any idea how hard this (life) is when there ain't no "point/counterpoint?"... Then, I stop and remember a friend I saw at the reunion who just lost his longtime spouse.
I remember another friend who tends to an ailing mother with Parkinsons. I remember my buddy, and I can't begin to place my feet in his shoes as he stares at his wife, unresponsive, in the hospital bed.
Perspective.
It's obvious from above, I ain't perhaps the best, right, leader - and turn left if you think I'm here to spout "do it my way.. do what I say." My quest is for me, and anyone else who'd like to hop on, or, read on - AND, to certainly input your ideas, ways, means, even if only 'speaking' to yourself.
Things that help me when I'm out of gas, have a flat tire, see more bills than money in the account, waller in self-pity, GPS on the fritz, fallen outta the boat with no preserver.
I pray. Yes. Yes I do.
I immerse myself with loved ones. Not THE tonic alone, but a damn good one.
I hang around friends. Listen, learn. Comprehend, hey, we've all got problems - and sometimes simply overhearing leads to ideas on howthehell to get out of the breakout room.
Regis, I'd like to phone a friend. Sure, ten guys, a beer or two each is damn therapeutic - but there's nuttin' like a good ole good ole one on one with a BFF who will either say "I'm here to help".. "Call me anytime".. or, "you dumbass, why would you think/feel like that?"
I drive. Yep. By yesteryear. I can't imagine living anywhere else, not having the history to - presto - drive by in a millisecond - so perhaps returning to recent happy places is a possible fix. For me, some of my best thinking is from behind the wheel. "There's where we wore out the grass basepaths playing whiffle ball. Remember climbing that rock wall? Do you remember that time Buck Buchanan stopped and talked to us ten year olds for at least twenty minutes? The ice cream man always came by this time of day."
Ya get lost in yesteryear, today's problems kinda jump in the backseat.
I Google. Yes, yes I do. You can find answers, suggestions, for anything from "how to cook the best lasagna".. to "Replacing the starter in a 1997 Chrysler Lebaron".. to, "Help, I'm about to give up." I never would, emphasis on the 'about', but Google can/does help.
Emulate. "What would ____do/say?".... "He/she is/was the calmest, kindest, smartest one I know, what would they do if they too had this damn nail in their shoe of life?"
How many roads must a man walk down
Before they can call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
How many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Yes, music. Music is a yummy slice of the pizza of diffusing "holy shit, now what" times. Certain you have your faves. I can Youtube Ray Charles and after three songs I forget whatinthehell I was worrying about.
Sotto. Yeah, I know, I didn't know whatintheheck it was until yesterday. Talking to one's self. Checks and balances. Sotto affords bitch slapping and back patting, sometimes all in one 'conversation.'
Just know: all of us have that nail in the shoe upon occasion. I am at the front of the line in recognizing I do (and yeah, thanks in part sometimes to friends like Herbert.}
It takes a village of ideas.
And if you can't be with the one you love.. honey, love the one you're with:
You
Love, Victurd.
Here to talk about life. With paddle, without paddle. One of those hideous fold up maps with 63 creases.. or, a bookmap, or, heaven forbid, blinders on - GPS reliant.
There ain't really any "structions" that accompany birth.
I can be a nervous sort. My mind, sometimes, thinks faster than my body reacts. Long ago, breakroom @ Eastern Airlines, Kansas City, I was thrust in the 'lead role' simply because the true lead was off, we had a junior crew - and by seniority, I was next man up. Hell, I screw up my own life sometimes, howinthehell was I supposed to lead seven working two flights. So, comparing to sleep - I was tossing and turning. In real, awake life, I started in one direction, another damn thought entered my brain, I immediately did a 180, and trekked on. A much older, wiser buddy - my beloved friend Herbert, smiled as I did this. He knew of my want to do good - but he also saw I needed some calming down - just as I pivoted on the 180 he spoke "Hey Vic? You gotta nail in that shoe?"
He was right. I laughed. I calmed down. I was uncertain of which damn direction to go - and he helped put me back on a calmer, more organized path.
Life. Uncertain of which damn direction to go. I ain't got answers fer sure, but mebbe that's not a bad thing. Oh I can bemoan "damnit, I'm the lone survivor of my nuclear family, HELP! NOT FAIR!"... or "You guys all gotta mate, do you have any idea how hard this (life) is when there ain't no "point/counterpoint?"... Then, I stop and remember a friend I saw at the reunion who just lost his longtime spouse.
I remember another friend who tends to an ailing mother with Parkinsons. I remember my buddy, and I can't begin to place my feet in his shoes as he stares at his wife, unresponsive, in the hospital bed.
Perspective.
It's obvious from above, I ain't perhaps the best, right, leader - and turn left if you think I'm here to spout "do it my way.. do what I say." My quest is for me, and anyone else who'd like to hop on, or, read on - AND, to certainly input your ideas, ways, means, even if only 'speaking' to yourself.
Things that help me when I'm out of gas, have a flat tire, see more bills than money in the account, waller in self-pity, GPS on the fritz, fallen outta the boat with no preserver.
I pray. Yes. Yes I do.
I immerse myself with loved ones. Not THE tonic alone, but a damn good one.
I hang around friends. Listen, learn. Comprehend, hey, we've all got problems - and sometimes simply overhearing leads to ideas on howthehell to get out of the breakout room.
Regis, I'd like to phone a friend. Sure, ten guys, a beer or two each is damn therapeutic - but there's nuttin' like a good ole good ole one on one with a BFF who will either say "I'm here to help".. "Call me anytime".. or, "you dumbass, why would you think/feel like that?"
I drive. Yep. By yesteryear. I can't imagine living anywhere else, not having the history to - presto - drive by in a millisecond - so perhaps returning to recent happy places is a possible fix. For me, some of my best thinking is from behind the wheel. "There's where we wore out the grass basepaths playing whiffle ball. Remember climbing that rock wall? Do you remember that time Buck Buchanan stopped and talked to us ten year olds for at least twenty minutes? The ice cream man always came by this time of day."
Ya get lost in yesteryear, today's problems kinda jump in the backseat.
I Google. Yes, yes I do. You can find answers, suggestions, for anything from "how to cook the best lasagna".. to "Replacing the starter in a 1997 Chrysler Lebaron".. to, "Help, I'm about to give up." I never would, emphasis on the 'about', but Google can/does help.
Emulate. "What would ____do/say?".... "He/she is/was the calmest, kindest, smartest one I know, what would they do if they too had this damn nail in their shoe of life?"
How many roads must a man walk down
Before they can call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
How many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.
Yes, music. Music is a yummy slice of the pizza of diffusing "holy shit, now what" times. Certain you have your faves. I can Youtube Ray Charles and after three songs I forget whatinthehell I was worrying about.
Sotto. Yeah, I know, I didn't know whatintheheck it was until yesterday. Talking to one's self. Checks and balances. Sotto affords bitch slapping and back patting, sometimes all in one 'conversation.'
Just know: all of us have that nail in the shoe upon occasion. I am at the front of the line in recognizing I do (and yeah, thanks in part sometimes to friends like Herbert.}
It takes a village of ideas.
And if you can't be with the one you love.. honey, love the one you're with:
You
Love, Victurd.
Friday, October 27, 2017
Do you hear what I hear?...
I was gonna do a blog on 'like'. It's a question (like?) I ask many times a day, of me, of what I've said.. Of what I should do.
So, silently, I talked to myself. I know we all do that. The gamut, moral code, sometime seedy thoughts, I shouldn't say this, I shoulda said that. I like me. I don't like me.
Whenever I do/say something I ain't real proud of, I (talk, silently) and beat myself up, make me feel ten times worse than I probably should.. Conversely, when I've done/said something I like, am proud of, I (talk, silently) and praise my ass way, way too much.
Balance?
“Talking to oneself is a recognized means to learn, in fact, self-speak may be the seed concept behind human consciousness. Private conversation that we hold with ourselves might represent the preeminent means to provoke the speaker into thinking (a form of cognitive auto-stimulation), modify behavior, and perhaps even amend the functional architecture of the plastic human brain. Writing out our private talks with oneself enables a person to “see” what they think, a process that invites reflection, ongoing thoughtful discourse with the self, and refinement of our thinking patterns and beliefs. Internal sotto voice conversations with our private-self provide several advantages, but most people find it difficult to maintain self-speak for an extended period. Internal dialogue must compete with external distractions. Writing allows a person to resume a personal dialogue where they left off before interrupted by outside stimuli. A written disquisition also provides a permanent record that a person can examine, amend, supplement, update, or reject.”
― Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls
LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!... Ok Kilroy, damnit, I'm talking to myself. The hell is 'sotto'? (BRB).. sotto "under the breath: in an undertone; also: in a private manner."
Damnit! Disquisition? (Bear with me, brb). "A long or elaborite essay or discussion on a particular subject."
Where was I? (My 'former', damn that's hard to say.. my former co-worker Jim, love him to death, but he talks to himself, and it ain't 'sotto'. It's aloud. That distraction happens, and he's "Ok, where was I?" And I virtually always answered "Grandview, MO." Damn
I won't miss that drive, or, a couple of bosses, but I'll miss Jim.
VICTOR! Think about that? He said, to me. Did you need to add that about the bosses? I wrote it down, so I guess I did. Then Victor said "you'da had to been there."
You ever have onea them days where, you are SO tired, not from exercise, not from eating/drinking too much, but from OVERTHINKING and your body tells you (Eventually begs you) "go to bed three hours early you idiot, tomorrow is another day and you worry (sotto) too damn much.
Ok, think I will, as in the 7am to 3am I did last night. There's good in 3am. The gal on ABC news is cute as hell. 4am happens, local news comes on, and Rachel, oh Rachel, speaks of current traffic conditions. At least that's what I think she reports, hell, I'm too busy "sotto"-ing "holy crap she's gorgeous."
Ain't it fun to be in public, or anywhere for that matter.. maybe a newspaper in hand... or seated doing nothing on a bench.. you/we watch,
observe, outwardly quiet, but oh that brain is a runnin', a talkin'. If only they knew.
I'd like to produce a movie, maybe with subtitles, mebbe not, about people only speaking what they are thinking? "Wow, you're an idiot." "Have you considered thinking before you speak?" "Does your elevator go all the way to the top?" "I REALLY admire you." "I sure would like to see you naked" VICTOR! Sorry, kinda, TELL ME you ain't been there? Uh huh, what I thought you fellow pervert.
“You become what you digest into your spirit. Whatever you think about, focus on, read about, talk about, you’re going to attract more of into your life. Make sure they're all positive.”
― Germany Kent
OK, OK. But who's to say a beautiful naked body ain't positive? I thought that, then typed it. Then, I asked myself "should I have done/said that?" Sure. It's sotto, anything goes in sotto.
It's my hope you're partnered, for being mated to 'sotto' can kinda tend to drive one nuts. You almost get to the point "SHUT THE HELL UP?" And again, it's you talking to you.
I hear voices. They make me upstanding. Alert. Tired. Ashamed. Proud. Bored. Horny. VICTOR! Again, tell me you ain't been there!
Hey, the movie could have Mr. Roboto as a theme song! Directed by Otto Preminger? Nah, he botto the farm in '86.
OK, it's 6:32am. I'm tired. Gonna take a nap, ha, I'm retired. Then, I will get up and listen to what that damn idiot has to say.
Tomorrow is another day. Shutup Victurd.
So, silently, I talked to myself. I know we all do that. The gamut, moral code, sometime seedy thoughts, I shouldn't say this, I shoulda said that. I like me. I don't like me.
Whenever I do/say something I ain't real proud of, I (talk, silently) and beat myself up, make me feel ten times worse than I probably should.. Conversely, when I've done/said something I like, am proud of, I (talk, silently) and praise my ass way, way too much.
Balance?
“Talking to oneself is a recognized means to learn, in fact, self-speak may be the seed concept behind human consciousness. Private conversation that we hold with ourselves might represent the preeminent means to provoke the speaker into thinking (a form of cognitive auto-stimulation), modify behavior, and perhaps even amend the functional architecture of the plastic human brain. Writing out our private talks with oneself enables a person to “see” what they think, a process that invites reflection, ongoing thoughtful discourse with the self, and refinement of our thinking patterns and beliefs. Internal sotto voice conversations with our private-self provide several advantages, but most people find it difficult to maintain self-speak for an extended period. Internal dialogue must compete with external distractions. Writing allows a person to resume a personal dialogue where they left off before interrupted by outside stimuli. A written disquisition also provides a permanent record that a person can examine, amend, supplement, update, or reject.”
― Kilroy J. Oldster, Dead Toad Scrolls
LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!... Ok Kilroy, damnit, I'm talking to myself. The hell is 'sotto'? (BRB).. sotto "under the breath: in an undertone; also: in a private manner."
Damnit! Disquisition? (Bear with me, brb). "A long or elaborite essay or discussion on a particular subject."
Where was I? (My 'former', damn that's hard to say.. my former co-worker Jim, love him to death, but he talks to himself, and it ain't 'sotto'. It's aloud. That distraction happens, and he's "Ok, where was I?" And I virtually always answered "Grandview, MO." Damn
I won't miss that drive, or, a couple of bosses, but I'll miss Jim.
VICTOR! Think about that? He said, to me. Did you need to add that about the bosses? I wrote it down, so I guess I did. Then Victor said "you'da had to been there."
You ever have onea them days where, you are SO tired, not from exercise, not from eating/drinking too much, but from OVERTHINKING and your body tells you (Eventually begs you) "go to bed three hours early you idiot, tomorrow is another day and you worry (sotto) too damn much.
Ok, think I will, as in the 7am to 3am I did last night. There's good in 3am. The gal on ABC news is cute as hell. 4am happens, local news comes on, and Rachel, oh Rachel, speaks of current traffic conditions. At least that's what I think she reports, hell, I'm too busy "sotto"-ing "holy crap she's gorgeous."
Ain't it fun to be in public, or anywhere for that matter.. maybe a newspaper in hand... or seated doing nothing on a bench.. you/we watch,
observe, outwardly quiet, but oh that brain is a runnin', a talkin'. If only they knew.
I'd like to produce a movie, maybe with subtitles, mebbe not, about people only speaking what they are thinking? "Wow, you're an idiot." "Have you considered thinking before you speak?" "Does your elevator go all the way to the top?" "I REALLY admire you." "I sure would like to see you naked" VICTOR! Sorry, kinda, TELL ME you ain't been there? Uh huh, what I thought you fellow pervert.
“You become what you digest into your spirit. Whatever you think about, focus on, read about, talk about, you’re going to attract more of into your life. Make sure they're all positive.”
― Germany Kent
OK, OK. But who's to say a beautiful naked body ain't positive? I thought that, then typed it. Then, I asked myself "should I have done/said that?" Sure. It's sotto, anything goes in sotto.
It's my hope you're partnered, for being mated to 'sotto' can kinda tend to drive one nuts. You almost get to the point "SHUT THE HELL UP?" And again, it's you talking to you.
I hear voices. They make me upstanding. Alert. Tired. Ashamed. Proud. Bored. Horny. VICTOR! Again, tell me you ain't been there!
Hey, the movie could have Mr. Roboto as a theme song! Directed by Otto Preminger? Nah, he botto the farm in '86.
OK, it's 6:32am. I'm tired. Gonna take a nap, ha, I'm retired. Then, I will get up and listen to what that damn idiot has to say.
Tomorrow is another day. Shutup Victurd.
Sunday, October 22, 2017
4am..... Why?
Well, one reason could be because I snuck into bed at 8pm... awakened at 2am.. uh huh, pee pee trip # something-or-other.. turned the thought to, "That's six hours.. I'm up/good."
How long do most people sleep Google? The National Institutes of Health tells us "the average adult sleeps less than seven hours per night. In today's fast-paced society, six or seven hours of sleep may sound pretty good." I wonder... Oh I wonder wonder wonder wonder HOW, how they know that?
4am. Lends to the ability to look up stupid facts like "How much of your life do we spend sleeping?".. Survey says... "If the average night's sleep is eight hours (ie one third of a day), one sleeps for one third of one's life. If you live, say, 75 years, that's 25 years asleep, or 9,125 days." To which, they always have those point, counterpoint thingys where the average Joe can add/comment/dispute/reinforce/yada.. and one feller (obviously a 4am'er himself, not enough caffeine yet) writes "Not nearly as many as after their lifetime." Har har.
What time do we go to bed? Well, Clifton, AZ goes the earliest at 10:33pm... The City that never sleeps, New York "tops" the list with 11:55pm... Sao Paulo Brazil says "step aside, NY'ers, we retire at 12:34am".. and then, Seoul, South Korea indicates "브라질, 우리는 1:13 am 안 될 때까지" which, translated from Korean means "Bite me Brazil, we don't zonk until 1:13am."
The average infant awakens 4-5 times a night. Why do they say "Sleeps like a baby?"
What does a sheep farmer count? Good question, how long does it take us to fall asleep? Found to be 10-20 minutes. Of course, more for some, less for others. I personally try to take life "good to the last drop" and I drop, and soon thereafter I'm out. It's been awhile since partnered, but I think I remember that taking a bit more time. Then again there are those "And I kept on tossin' and turnin' turnin' and tossin' Tossin' and turnin' all night." Some, students studying, adults fraught with worry admit "I couldn't sleep at all last night.. doot doo doo doo."
What do people do at 4am? EF Hutton says.. jk.. Wall Street Journal says "4am is the most productive hour." HA! I just walked by a HUGE pile of laundry.. scoffed at a half full sink of dishes.. and blogged for boogity sakes! WSJ continued "Most people who wake up at 4 a.m. do it because they have to—farmers, flight attendants, currency traders and postal workers. Others rise before dawn because they want to." And, I read further and they related "very successful people take care of many things at this hour", I tried to read even further out of curiosity, they wanted me to subscribe, I thought "Bite me", just as I do when some business chum emails wanting me to join the LinkedIn thing.. "Sorry, that pony is over the crest.. take this career and shove it."
Most murders happen between 1am and 4am, whew I'm glad I 'slept in' until 4.
I usedta work 4am until noon. I sat in Operations area at United Airlines/Kansas City. We had a 4pm to midnight shift, and once or twice a month I'd get a call around 4:15am from a (probably) inebriated worker from the 4pm start shift relating "HEY.. I jjuusst woke up, I'll be there in a sec." I always wondered if they got dressed, went out to car and found "dark." Hehe. Working weird hours does weird things to your body.
A buddy worked the overnight gig in a hospital emergency room. 4am started their 'lunch hour' where they would chum with coworkers and rehash work events from 'the evening.'.. I told ya weird, so dont' shoot me.. one such event that they rehashed was a feller that had come in to have a table leg removed from himself. Yes, you read that right. Even weirder, he came back a couple weeks later to retrieve it. Musta been some kinda affinity there woodn't you know. Story 2 was this man that had a tattoo of a ruler.. on his... well, never mind. Somehow they'd all had a peek. And no, I didn't ask for specifics, conversion tables, etc.
On Facebook, the lights never go out. Right now (5:08am) I have 7 friends up and on. At four, there were more, but they were headed the other way.
Whilst I'm hoping for local intervention, I peeked at this goofy dating site I'm on, and there were 7 within 25 miles that were online at 4am. Good gosh, what kind of poor poor pitiful me would be on a dating site at 4am? Ahm, NEVERMIND!
I should go. No, not pee trip #7, I should go as in the paper just hit the sidewalk, my Sunday breakfast joint just opened. I'm headed there, then will return for a nap. Thank you blog for getting me from 4am until now.
If you too awaken at God awful hours (never really understood why they put those two together.. God.. Awful), anyways, prior to not letting the bed bugs bite, take Sominex tonight and sleep, safe an restful sleep, sleep, sleep.
Love, Victurd.
How long do most people sleep Google? The National Institutes of Health tells us "the average adult sleeps less than seven hours per night. In today's fast-paced society, six or seven hours of sleep may sound pretty good." I wonder... Oh I wonder wonder wonder wonder HOW, how they know that?
4am. Lends to the ability to look up stupid facts like "How much of your life do we spend sleeping?".. Survey says... "If the average night's sleep is eight hours (ie one third of a day), one sleeps for one third of one's life. If you live, say, 75 years, that's 25 years asleep, or 9,125 days." To which, they always have those point, counterpoint thingys where the average Joe can add/comment/dispute/reinforce/yada.. and one feller (obviously a 4am'er himself, not enough caffeine yet) writes "Not nearly as many as after their lifetime." Har har.
What time do we go to bed? Well, Clifton, AZ goes the earliest at 10:33pm... The City that never sleeps, New York "tops" the list with 11:55pm... Sao Paulo Brazil says "step aside, NY'ers, we retire at 12:34am".. and then, Seoul, South Korea indicates "브라질, 우리는 1:13 am 안 될 때까지" which, translated from Korean means "Bite me Brazil, we don't zonk until 1:13am."
The average infant awakens 4-5 times a night. Why do they say "Sleeps like a baby?"
What does a sheep farmer count? Good question, how long does it take us to fall asleep? Found to be 10-20 minutes. Of course, more for some, less for others. I personally try to take life "good to the last drop" and I drop, and soon thereafter I'm out. It's been awhile since partnered, but I think I remember that taking a bit more time. Then again there are those "And I kept on tossin' and turnin' turnin' and tossin' Tossin' and turnin' all night." Some, students studying, adults fraught with worry admit "I couldn't sleep at all last night.. doot doo doo doo."
What do people do at 4am? EF Hutton says.. jk.. Wall Street Journal says "4am is the most productive hour." HA! I just walked by a HUGE pile of laundry.. scoffed at a half full sink of dishes.. and blogged for boogity sakes! WSJ continued "Most people who wake up at 4 a.m. do it because they have to—farmers, flight attendants, currency traders and postal workers. Others rise before dawn because they want to." And, I read further and they related "very successful people take care of many things at this hour", I tried to read even further out of curiosity, they wanted me to subscribe, I thought "Bite me", just as I do when some business chum emails wanting me to join the LinkedIn thing.. "Sorry, that pony is over the crest.. take this career and shove it."
Most murders happen between 1am and 4am, whew I'm glad I 'slept in' until 4.
I usedta work 4am until noon. I sat in Operations area at United Airlines/Kansas City. We had a 4pm to midnight shift, and once or twice a month I'd get a call around 4:15am from a (probably) inebriated worker from the 4pm start shift relating "HEY.. I jjuusst woke up, I'll be there in a sec." I always wondered if they got dressed, went out to car and found "dark." Hehe. Working weird hours does weird things to your body.
A buddy worked the overnight gig in a hospital emergency room. 4am started their 'lunch hour' where they would chum with coworkers and rehash work events from 'the evening.'.. I told ya weird, so dont' shoot me.. one such event that they rehashed was a feller that had come in to have a table leg removed from himself. Yes, you read that right. Even weirder, he came back a couple weeks later to retrieve it. Musta been some kinda affinity there woodn't you know. Story 2 was this man that had a tattoo of a ruler.. on his... well, never mind. Somehow they'd all had a peek. And no, I didn't ask for specifics, conversion tables, etc.
On Facebook, the lights never go out. Right now (5:08am) I have 7 friends up and on. At four, there were more, but they were headed the other way.
Whilst I'm hoping for local intervention, I peeked at this goofy dating site I'm on, and there were 7 within 25 miles that were online at 4am. Good gosh, what kind of poor poor pitiful me would be on a dating site at 4am? Ahm, NEVERMIND!
I should go. No, not pee trip #7, I should go as in the paper just hit the sidewalk, my Sunday breakfast joint just opened. I'm headed there, then will return for a nap. Thank you blog for getting me from 4am until now.
If you too awaken at God awful hours (never really understood why they put those two together.. God.. Awful), anyways, prior to not letting the bed bugs bite, take Sominex tonight and sleep, safe an restful sleep, sleep, sleep.
Love, Victurd.
Friday, October 20, 2017
Baseball Ray……
You’re born. You blink. You stay on the blanket. Face down, patooey. Ya learn, ya age, you turnover.
WOW. This life ain’t too bad after all. You start to gain focus. You end up giving love back to those that so dote over you.
You crawl. Not for long, because then you bear walk. Soon, you take off the training wheels (gain courage) and walk. Not far, not long, but ya do.
After awhile, you (kinda) repeat what you hear. Down the road, you pick what you want to say. You are now allover the house, crawling, climbing, tipping things over, emptying the sugar bowl on the living room carpet. You scribble on the wall. With indelible ink.
You go to school, new world. You eventually get used to it. You make friends. Friends move in, friends move out – some ya keep forever. You ultimately one day ‘find’ the opposite sex. Wow, this is weird, but yummy all in the same.
You start baseball with a very soft ball.. whiffle maybe. Squishy plastic bat with a bit of cushion. You bounce a tennis ball off the brick wall outside. You take a plastic bowl – use it as your ‘glove’. It soon conforms to feel natural.
One day, you play catch. The balls get harder. Ouch, that hurts. You finally get it.
You get a glove. Yum. It’s stiff, but beautiful. It’s strange to you – but you coddle, nurture, stare, ogle, and you become one finally.
Some have the same glove their entire life. The older it gets, the better. Oh, not without some woes.. Ya leave it in the yard, rain happens. Soggy. You get the shakes because you gotta wait a few days so it will mostly turn back into it’s old self.
You’re finally “between the chalk.” You make an error, you blame it. You have success, you place it next to you as you fall asleep and dump the teddy bear.
You’ve got some freedom now. You slide it on the handlebars – off you go. You gather with others and their gloves – it’s all good. You compete. You argue. You sweat, toil. You have fun. You back pat. You shake hands. The glove goes back on the handlebars – you’re headed home, hopefully the return is downhill.
There’s a love relationship with your glove. It fits. It’s comfortable. You conform to each other. Again, some go their entire life with the same glove. Oh sure, it weathers, wrinkles, creases, gets a little stiff, but you are loyal, and vice versa.
Some, the glove simply wears out. Others, lose it. Devastation happens. This ‘relationship’ you’d built comes to an end. “Baseball (life) will NEVER be the same.” I’ve seen buddies lose their gloves and they're ready to give up. “I’ll never be happy.” Down the road, they get a new one, not long after – it’s broke in. They’re all smiles now, maybe even – no probably even, like it more than the comfy glove they’d known all that time.
Being left-handed, others tried to help me. But ‘others’, 95% of them, wear the glove on their other hand – and it just don’t work. You know, like handing LH Paul McCartney a right handed guitar. Nice idea, could take awhile – but it never works.
Do you give up on the game? Dare you shop for a new one? Could you ever love it like your last one? If you do, this time, will you bring it in outta the rain? Will you oil, condition, care – treat it with the respect, - and pardon the pun, but give it the “kid glove” care it deserves?
You eyeball ‘em. To short. Too long. Outta my league. I could never afford that one. Not pretty enough. That one’s just not me. You try ‘em on.. you might even go back to the store several times testing, just to make sure it’s right. Nah, I thought so, but ‘we’ didn’t fit.
After weeding out – finding “nope, that one ain’t right” for many – you find “the one.” It’s exciting – you didn’t think possible. You get it.
You (each) treat the other right. You/glove – conform. Soon it fits. You’ve not completely forgotten your ‘old one’ – but you realize – baseball ain’t so bad, I do really like this glove – and the pain has definitely lessoned the grief of not having my old one. Life, baseball go on. Smiles happen. The familiar sounds, the shared camaraderie with others. Ah, the best.
I’ve lost my glove several times in life. I’ll never give up on baseball. There’s too much past and potential love and fun to be had.
The baseball glove, you – are akin to relationships. Some, last forever. Some, you lose ‘em, some, give up – others trudge on – poorly at first, but one day again find that glove that oh so fits, you oh so love
and you play on. You never lose or forget the old glove, but ya learn to love your new glove. Lots for some.
Well, beat the drum and hold the phone – the sun came out today.. We’re born again, there’s new grass on the field. Just roundin’ third, and headed for home, it’s a blue-eyed handsome man – anyone can understand the way I feel.
Oh, put me in coach – I’m ready to play this game. Put me in coach – I’m ready to play, today.
Because I love baseball – and relationships too much, I’ll never put a glove aside. Love, Victurd.
Saturday, October 14, 2017
You got some change comin'....
The college fraternity I was in (I guess still am, a buddy the other day said "Vic, it's in my veins.").. where was I, oh yeah, my fraternity. It was a wonderful group. Brutal, but wonderful. If anyone got a new haircut, shirt, pair of eyeglasses, car, hell, girlfriend, the moniker was "How much you pay for that?...You've got some change comin."
Reckon we do, that's what life does, it changes.
Dayton/David.. as much as I Love the work ethic, character, defense of Alex Gordon, you've got some change comin'.
Leaves, temps.. driving home in the dark.. slip sliding away.. . change a comin'.
I keep a pair of undies, and a pair of jeans in my trunk just in case a change is needed. VICTOR! Well heck, sorry, as we men age, shrink in height, weight, the dadgum prostate grows, and it PUSHES/taunts the bladder, and ya simply ain't got time to pull into Mickey D's, run/wiggle to the john and go. So, if you ever ride with me, don't drink from the Solo cup under the passenger seat. VICTOR! Sorry, kinda, the story just leaked out.
1961. My wonderful cousin was in 8th grade. (I think I've told this before, but I don't give a rats, because that's one thing that ain't gonna change, me, other old people telling the same story over and over and over again. Right Leroy?) Ha, inside joke. Where was I, oh yeah, 1961, my wonderful cousin in 8th grade. Teacher gave the assignment, "get with a friend, do a rough draft on an invention you could foresee in the future, and bring it in Monday." Monday comes, cousin and buddy proudly march up to teach's desk, present the rough draft about a phone, that you could see the person you were talking to. Teacher handed it back, said, "It'll never happen, work on a different invention."
We've all heard the horror stories about pulling up to the drive up window, snotnose (said lovingly) says "$2.57 please", you hand 'em a five dollar bill and a dime and..... crickets, that lost look. OMG, what do I do now? You make change, change is comin'.
Age, wrinkles, a harder damn time getting in and outta the car. Remembering, as you clip your toenails, "I swear they were much closer to me the last time I clipped them."
Change in cable, Hulu, Netflix, Amazon Prime, Sling, yada. Take your cable and $hove it... Stre-ee-ee-eam, stream stream stree-ee-am.
Marriage. Yep, all relationships end, but didya know 41% of first marriages end in divorce, 60% of second marriages and 73% of third marriages? Holy guacamole, I'm stopping at two, bless you longtime folks, or, even the ones that got it right a second or third (or more) time.
Change is comin' is music to the ears of a depressed person. Victor, how do you know that? Bite me, Tubthumping, I get knocked down, but I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down. Good follows bad.
I am on this dating site. Victor, are you gonna share dirty laundry? Ahm, no, I already did that, about the 5th paragraph down. I'm on this dating site. On dating sites, you see someone "hmmm, mebbe", ya wing 'em an email.. sometimes they read 'em, ya never hear back, you wing 'em, they never even open 'em. (Ok, maybe she was too young for me.).. This particular day, a really pretty lady, with a WONDERFUL smile, emailed ME. Damn daddy. Turns out, she's a college English professor, oh crap said he the English language butcher. And she's nice as all get out. Did I mention pretty? WONDERFUL smile? So, we winged 22 emails back and forth. Really? Uh huh, really. She's a golfer, likes MU and the Royals (I asked her to marry me in the first return email, ha)..
So.. she suggested golf, "there's a little par three course at such-n-such we could play, would Monday work?" So, being the tightwad I am, looked and it was $36, not bad, but I'm going on Social Security soon, every penny counts.. I went to a golf website, found a special offer for $25 at a regular ole regular course near the town she lives, suggested that. "Maybe we should just meet" she emailed back. Damn daddy. I went from kite to Hindenburg. Didn't respond for a day.. The town she lives in starts with an L as well, but, it ain't Liberty, it's the ritziest town in the Metro, she's probably got three stories, five bathrooms (Hey, that might be good what with my prostrate and all!), wants to travel, maybe move to Florida.. and then there's me.. a one bedroom apartment in an old rickety house, a measly 401K that I worked on way too late in life.. so,
I emailed her telling her how wonderful she is, that how many areas we are oh so similar in, but that I was struggling a bit with self image.. money, lack thereof.. and that she is deserving of a confident, financial equal. Figured I'd never hear back from her again.
VICTOR? Why are you sharing this? Because I am sure there are other people out there who have been (maybe are) down, and that change is a comin'. (Please remember, I write to me, for me, to simply remember life ain't too damn bad, hitchhikers welcome, GOOD FOLLOWS BAD, ALWAYS.) She did email back. Said some really really nice things about "don't underestimate yourself.. but just work on that confidence because I think you have a ton to offer." Damn. That changed me, honestly. What'd Mr. Twain say? "I can live for two months on a good compliment." Hell to the yeah.
Sorry, kinda, to share this personal crap. To me though, it's the story of life. The more things change, the more change is coming.
Today is flip day. It's tomorrow I change, put on clean undies. May the changes in your life bring you joy, wonderment, smiles and laughter. As an aside, I did email the Professor lady back, she's cool.. who knows. At least there'd be 27% chance we'd make it if we got hitched. HA. Love, Victurd.
Reckon we do, that's what life does, it changes.
Dayton/David.. as much as I Love the work ethic, character, defense of Alex Gordon, you've got some change comin'.
Leaves, temps.. driving home in the dark.. slip sliding away.. . change a comin'.
I keep a pair of undies, and a pair of jeans in my trunk just in case a change is needed. VICTOR! Well heck, sorry, as we men age, shrink in height, weight, the dadgum prostate grows, and it PUSHES/taunts the bladder, and ya simply ain't got time to pull into Mickey D's, run/wiggle to the john and go. So, if you ever ride with me, don't drink from the Solo cup under the passenger seat. VICTOR! Sorry, kinda, the story just leaked out.
1961. My wonderful cousin was in 8th grade. (I think I've told this before, but I don't give a rats, because that's one thing that ain't gonna change, me, other old people telling the same story over and over and over again. Right Leroy?) Ha, inside joke. Where was I, oh yeah, 1961, my wonderful cousin in 8th grade. Teacher gave the assignment, "get with a friend, do a rough draft on an invention you could foresee in the future, and bring it in Monday." Monday comes, cousin and buddy proudly march up to teach's desk, present the rough draft about a phone, that you could see the person you were talking to. Teacher handed it back, said, "It'll never happen, work on a different invention."
We've all heard the horror stories about pulling up to the drive up window, snotnose (said lovingly) says "$2.57 please", you hand 'em a five dollar bill and a dime and..... crickets, that lost look. OMG, what do I do now? You make change, change is comin'.
Age, wrinkles, a harder damn time getting in and outta the car. Remembering, as you clip your toenails, "I swear they were much closer to me the last time I clipped them."
Change in cable, Hulu, Netflix, Amazon Prime, Sling, yada. Take your cable and $hove it... Stre-ee-ee-eam, stream stream stree-ee-am.
Marriage. Yep, all relationships end, but didya know 41% of first marriages end in divorce, 60% of second marriages and 73% of third marriages? Holy guacamole, I'm stopping at two, bless you longtime folks, or, even the ones that got it right a second or third (or more) time.
Change is comin' is music to the ears of a depressed person. Victor, how do you know that? Bite me, Tubthumping, I get knocked down, but I get up again, you are never gonna keep me down. Good follows bad.
I am on this dating site. Victor, are you gonna share dirty laundry? Ahm, no, I already did that, about the 5th paragraph down. I'm on this dating site. On dating sites, you see someone "hmmm, mebbe", ya wing 'em an email.. sometimes they read 'em, ya never hear back, you wing 'em, they never even open 'em. (Ok, maybe she was too young for me.).. This particular day, a really pretty lady, with a WONDERFUL smile, emailed ME. Damn daddy. Turns out, she's a college English professor, oh crap said he the English language butcher. And she's nice as all get out. Did I mention pretty? WONDERFUL smile? So, we winged 22 emails back and forth. Really? Uh huh, really. She's a golfer, likes MU and the Royals (I asked her to marry me in the first return email, ha)..
So.. she suggested golf, "there's a little par three course at such-n-such we could play, would Monday work?" So, being the tightwad I am, looked and it was $36, not bad, but I'm going on Social Security soon, every penny counts.. I went to a golf website, found a special offer for $25 at a regular ole regular course near the town she lives, suggested that. "Maybe we should just meet" she emailed back. Damn daddy. I went from kite to Hindenburg. Didn't respond for a day.. The town she lives in starts with an L as well, but, it ain't Liberty, it's the ritziest town in the Metro, she's probably got three stories, five bathrooms (Hey, that might be good what with my prostrate and all!), wants to travel, maybe move to Florida.. and then there's me.. a one bedroom apartment in an old rickety house, a measly 401K that I worked on way too late in life.. so,
I emailed her telling her how wonderful she is, that how many areas we are oh so similar in, but that I was struggling a bit with self image.. money, lack thereof.. and that she is deserving of a confident, financial equal. Figured I'd never hear back from her again.
VICTOR? Why are you sharing this? Because I am sure there are other people out there who have been (maybe are) down, and that change is a comin'. (Please remember, I write to me, for me, to simply remember life ain't too damn bad, hitchhikers welcome, GOOD FOLLOWS BAD, ALWAYS.) She did email back. Said some really really nice things about "don't underestimate yourself.. but just work on that confidence because I think you have a ton to offer." Damn. That changed me, honestly. What'd Mr. Twain say? "I can live for two months on a good compliment." Hell to the yeah.
Sorry, kinda, to share this personal crap. To me though, it's the story of life. The more things change, the more change is coming.
Today is flip day. It's tomorrow I change, put on clean undies. May the changes in your life bring you joy, wonderment, smiles and laughter. As an aside, I did email the Professor lady back, she's cool.. who knows. At least there'd be 27% chance we'd make it if we got hitched. HA. Love, Victurd.
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
In a rut..........
Rut, the periodically recurring sexual excitement of the deer, goat, sheep, etc (etc = man?)… Rut, the period of time when certain ruminants mate.
LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!!! (The hell is ruminant?).. “Mammals that are able to acquire nutrients from plant-based food by fermenting it in a specialized stomach prior to digestion. The process typically requires the fermented ingesta (known as cud) to be regurgitated and chewed again. (Cattle, goats, sheep, giraffes, deer and the antelope range, oh yeah, and yaks.) Yuck, yaks.
Although, I go out a lot of times for breakfast. I loves me some scrambled eggs, hash browns, wheat toast and sausage patties. I pay my bill… get in car, head home. Then, I get a toothpick out, and push out the remaining little sausage bits (cud?) lodged between the bicuspids and the molars and have seconds. Oh, and recurring sexual excitement? No comment.
I have slayed three Bambi’s in my day, and I’ve never shot a bow or a gun at one of ‘em. 92 highway, buck runs across infronta me. “Cool” I think, and slowdown. Then, “Mama” runs out, stops in the middle of the road.. and I think to myself “She ain’t a carnivore, I don’t see any dead critters anyways – finally she runs, jumps the fence, follows Mr. Buck. As I swivel my head to the left to watch, now down to about 40 mph, uh huh, you guessed it – the yearling comes across, and, well.. let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. Damn I felt bad, but so did my old silver bumper – as now it was in two pieces – yep, cracked completely in half.
They say (Victor, who is “They?”.. I dunno, some article I read), ahem, they say “more likely to crash at 6am and at 9pm.” I guess, thinking back to the married days, yeah, that aligns itself with “recurring sexual excitement” times (with the exception of an occasional skyrockets in sight, afternoon delight), .. oh, and yeah, sometimes it seemed ‘seasonal’, tsk, tsk… right deer? Er, dear?
“In the Northland, drivers hit the most deer on 152, 435 and 45.” Comforting, not, in that I travel two outta the three daily. “96,632 deer-related crashes were reported in Kansas and Missouri from 2006 to 2012.” Wowser, that’s a lotta jerky, and, to the tune of $77.8 MILLION in damages
per year, in each, Kansas and Missouri (there are no ties in the Border War are there?).
Anuther article “The whole purpose of the rut is to ensure that the hinds are mated with the best males, those stags that roar the loudest and are the best skirmishers and fighters.” So, when is this rut season again? Ahm, September thru November. Whew, good thing we humans don’t have rut.. I mean, it would get pretty damn lonely from December to August every year. And we’d only have June, July and August birthdays… And I’d NEVER stand a chance. Soft voice.. I go to the gym and try to find a weight machine hidden in the corner, far far away from those behemoths that could fling me 25 yards it they so desired. Oh yeah, and you remember I was labeled with “avoidance behavior”, I never wanna skirmish or fight. I’d be destined to a life of celibacy. Oh deer. Shoot.
Deer Xing. The old lady (ain’t that the slang we men are supposed to use?), the old lady grew tired of my “watch for deer, dear” from the passenger seat on a forested road. How do ya avoid them little cudsuckers?
Geico tells us 1) Watch for the rest of the gang (oh yeah, I coulda avoided that 92 highway incident), 2) Timing is everything (careful dusk and dawn) 3) Wear your seat belt. 4) Take a moment to reflect. Huh? “Watch for deer signs… deer eye reflections in your headlights.. 5) Stay center (as in lane I reckon).. 6) Stay the course.. “See a deer, brake firmly and calmly, and stay in your lane.” Uh huh, buddy o’ mine ended up in a ditch last year. 7) HONK!
“What happened mother? Why did we all run?” Bambi asked.. “Man was in the forest.”
Tune in tomorrow, same rut channel, we’ll explore the view from the deer stand.
“BAMBI! Quick! The thicket!”.. “Faster! Faster, Bambi! Don’t look back! Keep running! Keep running!”
With uncuditional love, Victurd.
LOOK OUT BEHIND YOU!!! (The hell is ruminant?).. “Mammals that are able to acquire nutrients from plant-based food by fermenting it in a specialized stomach prior to digestion. The process typically requires the fermented ingesta (known as cud) to be regurgitated and chewed again. (Cattle, goats, sheep, giraffes, deer and the antelope range, oh yeah, and yaks.) Yuck, yaks.
Although, I go out a lot of times for breakfast. I loves me some scrambled eggs, hash browns, wheat toast and sausage patties. I pay my bill… get in car, head home. Then, I get a toothpick out, and push out the remaining little sausage bits (cud?) lodged between the bicuspids and the molars and have seconds. Oh, and recurring sexual excitement? No comment.
I have slayed three Bambi’s in my day, and I’ve never shot a bow or a gun at one of ‘em. 92 highway, buck runs across infronta me. “Cool” I think, and slowdown. Then, “Mama” runs out, stops in the middle of the road.. and I think to myself “She ain’t a carnivore, I don’t see any dead critters anyways – finally she runs, jumps the fence, follows Mr. Buck. As I swivel my head to the left to watch, now down to about 40 mph, uh huh, you guessed it – the yearling comes across, and, well.. let’s just say it wasn’t pretty. Damn I felt bad, but so did my old silver bumper – as now it was in two pieces – yep, cracked completely in half.
They say (Victor, who is “They?”.. I dunno, some article I read), ahem, they say “more likely to crash at 6am and at 9pm.” I guess, thinking back to the married days, yeah, that aligns itself with “recurring sexual excitement” times (with the exception of an occasional skyrockets in sight, afternoon delight), .. oh, and yeah, sometimes it seemed ‘seasonal’, tsk, tsk… right deer? Er, dear?
“In the Northland, drivers hit the most deer on 152, 435 and 45.” Comforting, not, in that I travel two outta the three daily. “96,632 deer-related crashes were reported in Kansas and Missouri from 2006 to 2012.” Wowser, that’s a lotta jerky, and, to the tune of $77.8 MILLION in damages
per year, in each, Kansas and Missouri (there are no ties in the Border War are there?).
Anuther article “The whole purpose of the rut is to ensure that the hinds are mated with the best males, those stags that roar the loudest and are the best skirmishers and fighters.” So, when is this rut season again? Ahm, September thru November. Whew, good thing we humans don’t have rut.. I mean, it would get pretty damn lonely from December to August every year. And we’d only have June, July and August birthdays… And I’d NEVER stand a chance. Soft voice.. I go to the gym and try to find a weight machine hidden in the corner, far far away from those behemoths that could fling me 25 yards it they so desired. Oh yeah, and you remember I was labeled with “avoidance behavior”, I never wanna skirmish or fight. I’d be destined to a life of celibacy. Oh deer. Shoot.
Deer Xing. The old lady (ain’t that the slang we men are supposed to use?), the old lady grew tired of my “watch for deer, dear” from the passenger seat on a forested road. How do ya avoid them little cudsuckers?
Geico tells us 1) Watch for the rest of the gang (oh yeah, I coulda avoided that 92 highway incident), 2) Timing is everything (careful dusk and dawn) 3) Wear your seat belt. 4) Take a moment to reflect. Huh? “Watch for deer signs… deer eye reflections in your headlights.. 5) Stay center (as in lane I reckon).. 6) Stay the course.. “See a deer, brake firmly and calmly, and stay in your lane.” Uh huh, buddy o’ mine ended up in a ditch last year. 7) HONK!
“What happened mother? Why did we all run?” Bambi asked.. “Man was in the forest.”
Tune in tomorrow, same rut channel, we’ll explore the view from the deer stand.
“BAMBI! Quick! The thicket!”.. “Faster! Faster, Bambi! Don’t look back! Keep running! Keep running!”
With uncuditional love, Victurd.
Saturday, October 07, 2017
Nothing...
What are you gonna do today? "Nothing"....
The snotnose, said lovingly, with the quivered up lip... "What's wrong?"....."Nothing",or, "NOTHING!" (Or the wife...ok ok, or the husband.)
Victor, you have to write about something. No. No I don't, I'm gonna write about nothing.
I just logged into my bank account. Nothing. My agenda for today: nothing.
Telling them it wasn't as bad as Katrina, you cost us a lot of money, then throw paper towels at
them. I've got nothing.
VICTOR! THAT, was political, that's talking about SOMETHING! Think nothing of it.
If you were standing under the Eiffel Tower, and some ma Cherie amor ran up and laid one on ya, would there be a language barrier if you whispered sweet nothings in her ear? If she flew back to New York with you, and you were at the Statue of Liberty, you laid one on her, would it still be considered a French kiss? Nothing, nevermind.
Life, and baseball, start with nothing. Victor, sometimes when you blog I think "I wish he woulda thought of nothing instead." Hey, now you're getting it. This blog is about nothing.
"We can know only that we know nothing. And that is the highest degree of human wisdom." Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
Nothing. Nope. Nada. Zip. Void. Nought. Nuttin'. Goose Egg. Zilch. Zero. Diddly. Blank. Shutout. Crickets. Writer block.
"Yes, I deserve a spring - I owe nobody nothing." Virginia Woolf, A Writer's Diary. (Is that a double negative? I ain't afraid of her.")
"I know nothing." My second cousin, Sgt. Schultze.
1 + 1 = 2. 2 - 1 = nothing. Damnit, you used that a couple blogs ago. Here, try this 4 inch piece of duct tape on.
In this search on the internet, to learn about nothing, I found 20 different artists have a song called "Nothing." Janet Jackson, Dwight Yoakam, even The Fugs.
There is a town, Nothing, Arizona. I wonder if they have a Casey's?
I understand, to be a good ump or referee, would mean after the game: nothing. You didn't really notice them. Did I ever tell you about the time I cussed at a coach when I was refereeing 1st and 2nd grade basketball? Nevermind. It was nothing. AW COME ON, you CAN'T do that, tell us?!!
Ok, there was this dude. It was easy to tell, he knew nothing about the game, pun intended I guess. He was a very large man, the biggest dimension at his beltline. He kept walking out on the court shouting instructions, admonishments, yada. I asked him politely to please, don't get on the court. He kept doing it. The sideline is where refs run. OK damnit, jog. I kept envisioning my then 63 year old 200 lb creaky old body colliding with his rotund 300 lb frame. I would have been reduced to nothing. A little firmer, with a tad bit of pissofidness, I said, STAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE LINE.
So. He plants his toes RIGHT behind the line, much of his body hanging over in play, looks at me with a SE'in grin as if to say, "ha ha, I complied." This went on for three quarters. I think once I even gave him a glancing blow simply due to his smartassedness. Then, he kept stepping onto the court. By now I was aggravated just like ya usedta get when your child has pushed you to the limits and you'd just smoked your fourth consecutive cig, and they start in again...
Finally.. I went over and said "You have GOT to stay off the court!" (I ain't very stern, but I was there.) He gave me that grin again and said "WHY?".. My patience was gone, as in nothing left. My already ginger red face was even redder. I said "Because I don't F-in wanna get hurt".. DID YOU JUST CUSS AT ME? DID YOU JUST CUSS AT ME? To the gym supervisor he waddled, er, marched. The supervisor, a lifelong buddy, smiled at me as we were aside, "Vic, trust me, I understand your frustration with this guy, but you can't cuss." Sorry Deke, I shoulda said nothing. (The next week, uh huh, two sides to the gym, and I get him again. This time, he was adorned in a bright red sweatshirt with a picture of the bird from a college I abhor. Upchuck.)
Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothing
You gotta have something; if you want to be with me
Nothin' from somethin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin' if you want to be with me.
When I was 8 year old, in the basement of Mattinglys with one of my buddies, onea the ladies thought we stole a football needle. She put her hands in my buddies pockets, nothing. She put her hands in my pockets, nothing. Nothing was done. Me thinks nowadays if something like that were to occur she'd be in the slammer. Then, nothing.
You know those people that simply don't know when to shutup? I wonder if they can ever think of nothing to say?
Think nothing of it.
“…But what I like doing best is Nothing.” “How do you do Nothing?” asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time. “Well, it’s when people call out at you just as you’re going off to do it, What are you going to do Christopher Robin, and you say, Oh, nothing, and you go and do it.” “Oh, I see,” said Pooh. “This is a nothing sort of thing that we’re doing right now.” “Oh, I see,” said Pooh again. “It means just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear and not bothering.” “Oh!” said Pooh.”
Ok, I'm out. I've got nothing. (You should've written about something.)
Much ado about nothing, sorry, love, Victurd
The snotnose, said lovingly, with the quivered up lip... "What's wrong?"....."Nothing",or, "NOTHING!" (Or the wife...ok ok, or the husband.)
Victor, you have to write about something. No. No I don't, I'm gonna write about nothing.
I just logged into my bank account. Nothing. My agenda for today: nothing.
Telling them it wasn't as bad as Katrina, you cost us a lot of money, then throw paper towels at
them. I've got nothing.
VICTOR! THAT, was political, that's talking about SOMETHING! Think nothing of it.
If you were standing under the Eiffel Tower, and some ma Cherie amor ran up and laid one on ya, would there be a language barrier if you whispered sweet nothings in her ear? If she flew back to New York with you, and you were at the Statue of Liberty, you laid one on her, would it still be considered a French kiss? Nothing, nevermind.
Life, and baseball, start with nothing. Victor, sometimes when you blog I think "I wish he woulda thought of nothing instead." Hey, now you're getting it. This blog is about nothing.
"We can know only that we know nothing. And that is the highest degree of human wisdom." Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace
Nothing. Nope. Nada. Zip. Void. Nought. Nuttin'. Goose Egg. Zilch. Zero. Diddly. Blank. Shutout. Crickets. Writer block.
"Yes, I deserve a spring - I owe nobody nothing." Virginia Woolf, A Writer's Diary. (Is that a double negative? I ain't afraid of her.")
"I know nothing." My second cousin, Sgt. Schultze.
1 + 1 = 2. 2 - 1 = nothing. Damnit, you used that a couple blogs ago. Here, try this 4 inch piece of duct tape on.
In this search on the internet, to learn about nothing, I found 20 different artists have a song called "Nothing." Janet Jackson, Dwight Yoakam, even The Fugs.
There is a town, Nothing, Arizona. I wonder if they have a Casey's?
I understand, to be a good ump or referee, would mean after the game: nothing. You didn't really notice them. Did I ever tell you about the time I cussed at a coach when I was refereeing 1st and 2nd grade basketball? Nevermind. It was nothing. AW COME ON, you CAN'T do that, tell us?!!
Ok, there was this dude. It was easy to tell, he knew nothing about the game, pun intended I guess. He was a very large man, the biggest dimension at his beltline. He kept walking out on the court shouting instructions, admonishments, yada. I asked him politely to please, don't get on the court. He kept doing it. The sideline is where refs run. OK damnit, jog. I kept envisioning my then 63 year old 200 lb creaky old body colliding with his rotund 300 lb frame. I would have been reduced to nothing. A little firmer, with a tad bit of pissofidness, I said, STAY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE LINE.
So. He plants his toes RIGHT behind the line, much of his body hanging over in play, looks at me with a SE'in grin as if to say, "ha ha, I complied." This went on for three quarters. I think once I even gave him a glancing blow simply due to his smartassedness. Then, he kept stepping onto the court. By now I was aggravated just like ya usedta get when your child has pushed you to the limits and you'd just smoked your fourth consecutive cig, and they start in again...
Finally.. I went over and said "You have GOT to stay off the court!" (I ain't very stern, but I was there.) He gave me that grin again and said "WHY?".. My patience was gone, as in nothing left. My already ginger red face was even redder. I said "Because I don't F-in wanna get hurt".. DID YOU JUST CUSS AT ME? DID YOU JUST CUSS AT ME? To the gym supervisor he waddled, er, marched. The supervisor, a lifelong buddy, smiled at me as we were aside, "Vic, trust me, I understand your frustration with this guy, but you can't cuss." Sorry Deke, I shoulda said nothing. (The next week, uh huh, two sides to the gym, and I get him again. This time, he was adorned in a bright red sweatshirt with a picture of the bird from a college I abhor. Upchuck.)
Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothing
You gotta have something; if you want to be with me
Nothin' from somethin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin' if you want to be with me.
When I was 8 year old, in the basement of Mattinglys with one of my buddies, onea the ladies thought we stole a football needle. She put her hands in my buddies pockets, nothing. She put her hands in my pockets, nothing. Nothing was done. Me thinks nowadays if something like that were to occur she'd be in the slammer. Then, nothing.
You know those people that simply don't know when to shutup? I wonder if they can ever think of nothing to say?
Think nothing of it.
“…But what I like doing best is Nothing.” “How do you do Nothing?” asked Pooh, after he had wondered for a long time. “Well, it’s when people call out at you just as you’re going off to do it, What are you going to do Christopher Robin, and you say, Oh, nothing, and you go and do it.” “Oh, I see,” said Pooh. “This is a nothing sort of thing that we’re doing right now.” “Oh, I see,” said Pooh again. “It means just going along, listening to all the things you can’t hear and not bothering.” “Oh!” said Pooh.”
Ok, I'm out. I've got nothing. (You should've written about something.)
Much ado about nothing, sorry, love, Victurd
Thursday, October 05, 2017
What? Me worry?
I terribly miss Vanda K. Schultze, my sister. When siblings are youths, the teasing can be 'something'. When she was nine-ish (I was four), due to my red hair and freckles, the 'given right' to poke fun at a younger sibling, and the popularity of Mad Magazine, she called me Alfred E. Newman - infamous for his red-headed, freckled faced googy looking mug on the cover of Mad, with the moniker "What? Me Worry?"
I only wish she were here today to call me that again. Oh I usedto run to mom, cry, feel bad, get mad - but looking back now, I treasure that.
Recently, after a blog, I received a very nice thank you from someone who said they'd been down - but something I'd written lifted them. Incredibly nice of this person to take the time to tell me that. If only they knew.
If only they knew I DO write for me, to me, hitchhikers welcome.
A buddy had a post on FB, something to the effect of "How many people hate me?" It was onea those 'tests' you take, you know like "what flower are you?".. "what does your name mean?".. "How will you die", yada. His was at 78. "Wow, I thought, that's a lot." So, of course, I did mine, BEGGING that it didn't show up on my page for everyone to see.
278. Holy Rusted Metal BatMan! So, loving math as I do, I went to subtraction. 564 friend minus 278 that hate me = 286, whew, at least I've got a slightly better percentage than the 2017 Royals.
This bugged me. All my life a goal has been to simply be liked by others. Oh, I know there are those that no matter what, they ain't gonna like ya. (When I was a Freshman in HS, this skinny Senior guy stalked me daily, purposely instilling the fear of God in me. He even pulled a knife on me in the 3rd floor bathroom, I guess to see me piss my pants before I reached the urinal. After awhile, I'd decided I wasn't going to be bullied - showing no discern to his speech, actions - and soon, the embers grew cold, he stopped.)
But, the 278 really did bug me. So, since it's 2017, I Googled the site and wrote "why do so many people hate me?"
1) Too many pictures. And true, a person dear to me tags me daily in pics - I know for a fact I lost some friends over this, so I changed a setting where I had to approve first.
2) "Too many friends", or so it said.. people with 100 friends had a better friend rating than ones over 300. "Friending out of desperation." I don't think that's me. Hope not anyways.
3) Disclosing something too intimate. Well, with this damn blog, probably so. The more I studied this (the hate, and why it bugs me I've learned I have something called Approval Seeking Syndrome, or, ASS, HA!).. So, my ASS, to boost me up, went and found that this goofy blog has been looked at 47,886 times. "Victor, you're an ASS, up that hate number by one to 279." Hehe.
4)5)6) Posting a close up photo... Hiding emotion (ha, not me).. Acting too nice.
All my life I think I've cared too much about what others think. One time, I heard a guy say "I wouldn't walk across the street to keep from pissing someone off." I needs me a happy medium! One former girl said I had "avoidance behavior" and she was right. I abhor conflict, thus, I run from it. Another term I found befitting my 'problem', "Approval addiction."
Stealing from a nifty article I found "To put it simply, addiction to approval puts your happiness in control of others."
The inner critic says "You're not good enough." "You’re nothing compared to these people around you. If you give yourself approval, you’re being selfish.” to that end, the article says:
"You also have a part of yourself that says, “You’re worthy. You’re good enough. You’re just as valuable as anyone else.” The question becomes: “Which voice do I choose to align to?” And lastly:
"Finally, there is the ultimate key to overcoming approval addiction. It’s by using the greatest motivator— unconditional love."
Back to square one. I blog, to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. We ALL have problems out here. If Google were a woman, I'd ask her to marry me in a heartbeat.
Ever leave your car SO messy, it really upsets you but you squalor in it for days upon end insteada taking five minutes to clean it? Me too. Ever wake up and think "Do I really haveta?" Me too. Ever have a relationship end, not your choice, and think the sky was falling? Me too. (I have seen this happen also to two of my best friends. They BOTH found another, and their relationship now is WAY better than one they've ever had. Uh huh, keeps me going baby!)..
The point is, again, we all have problems. We are human, hear us err (and roar, at ourselves.) This goofy blog, filled with self deprication, is yes, for me - but also for you. I've had two people message me about me being positive here. I gotta, to keep the "I hate me" mongers outta my brain.
I do confide in others, and I've gotten some very, very sane, needed advice. I honestly do Google, research, when I have a problem, set out to write a blog, yada. You can too. It helps. It's helped me anyways.
To get ridda this ASS, not worry about the 278 (oops, now 279), to hurdle "Approval Addiction" it really (so I read) kinda boils down to one thing, and that's simply liking yourself. I do, in spite of the flaws within.
So to the 279, I say "What? Me Worry?" I like myself.
I so, so miss my sister. Yes, she teased the heck out of me, but she was SO GOOD TO ME. She was literally, my biggest booster as years went on. I hope you have that someone in your life too.
Love, Alfred E. Newmanturd.
I only wish she were here today to call me that again. Oh I usedto run to mom, cry, feel bad, get mad - but looking back now, I treasure that.
Recently, after a blog, I received a very nice thank you from someone who said they'd been down - but something I'd written lifted them. Incredibly nice of this person to take the time to tell me that. If only they knew.
If only they knew I DO write for me, to me, hitchhikers welcome.
A buddy had a post on FB, something to the effect of "How many people hate me?" It was onea those 'tests' you take, you know like "what flower are you?".. "what does your name mean?".. "How will you die", yada. His was at 78. "Wow, I thought, that's a lot." So, of course, I did mine, BEGGING that it didn't show up on my page for everyone to see.
278. Holy Rusted Metal BatMan! So, loving math as I do, I went to subtraction. 564 friend minus 278 that hate me = 286, whew, at least I've got a slightly better percentage than the 2017 Royals.
This bugged me. All my life a goal has been to simply be liked by others. Oh, I know there are those that no matter what, they ain't gonna like ya. (When I was a Freshman in HS, this skinny Senior guy stalked me daily, purposely instilling the fear of God in me. He even pulled a knife on me in the 3rd floor bathroom, I guess to see me piss my pants before I reached the urinal. After awhile, I'd decided I wasn't going to be bullied - showing no discern to his speech, actions - and soon, the embers grew cold, he stopped.)
But, the 278 really did bug me. So, since it's 2017, I Googled the site and wrote "why do so many people hate me?"
1) Too many pictures. And true, a person dear to me tags me daily in pics - I know for a fact I lost some friends over this, so I changed a setting where I had to approve first.
2) "Too many friends", or so it said.. people with 100 friends had a better friend rating than ones over 300. "Friending out of desperation." I don't think that's me. Hope not anyways.
3) Disclosing something too intimate. Well, with this damn blog, probably so. The more I studied this (the hate, and why it bugs me I've learned I have something called Approval Seeking Syndrome, or, ASS, HA!).. So, my ASS, to boost me up, went and found that this goofy blog has been looked at 47,886 times. "Victor, you're an ASS, up that hate number by one to 279." Hehe.
4)5)6) Posting a close up photo... Hiding emotion (ha, not me).. Acting too nice.
All my life I think I've cared too much about what others think. One time, I heard a guy say "I wouldn't walk across the street to keep from pissing someone off." I needs me a happy medium! One former girl said I had "avoidance behavior" and she was right. I abhor conflict, thus, I run from it. Another term I found befitting my 'problem', "Approval addiction."
Stealing from a nifty article I found "To put it simply, addiction to approval puts your happiness in control of others."
The inner critic says "You're not good enough." "You’re nothing compared to these people around you. If you give yourself approval, you’re being selfish.” to that end, the article says:
"You also have a part of yourself that says, “You’re worthy. You’re good enough. You’re just as valuable as anyone else.” The question becomes: “Which voice do I choose to align to?” And lastly:
"Finally, there is the ultimate key to overcoming approval addiction. It’s by using the greatest motivator— unconditional love."
Back to square one. I blog, to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome. We ALL have problems out here. If Google were a woman, I'd ask her to marry me in a heartbeat.
Ever leave your car SO messy, it really upsets you but you squalor in it for days upon end insteada taking five minutes to clean it? Me too. Ever wake up and think "Do I really haveta?" Me too. Ever have a relationship end, not your choice, and think the sky was falling? Me too. (I have seen this happen also to two of my best friends. They BOTH found another, and their relationship now is WAY better than one they've ever had. Uh huh, keeps me going baby!)..
The point is, again, we all have problems. We are human, hear us err (and roar, at ourselves.) This goofy blog, filled with self deprication, is yes, for me - but also for you. I've had two people message me about me being positive here. I gotta, to keep the "I hate me" mongers outta my brain.
I do confide in others, and I've gotten some very, very sane, needed advice. I honestly do Google, research, when I have a problem, set out to write a blog, yada. You can too. It helps. It's helped me anyways.
To get ridda this ASS, not worry about the 278 (oops, now 279), to hurdle "Approval Addiction" it really (so I read) kinda boils down to one thing, and that's simply liking yourself. I do, in spite of the flaws within.
So to the 279, I say "What? Me Worry?" I like myself.
I so, so miss my sister. Yes, she teased the heck out of me, but she was SO GOOD TO ME. She was literally, my biggest booster as years went on. I hope you have that someone in your life too.
Love, Alfred E. Newmanturd.
Wednesday, October 04, 2017
Oh Beautiful.......
There are two ways to look at things. My way, your way, ha. DemWay RepubWay. Every which way but loose.
Nah, I mean.. I mean we can choose to smile... or not. We can chose to love unconditionally, or not. We can decide to enjoy life, see it as a thing of beauty - or, drop into a cocoon and fade away. Most, I really believe, see life as a thing of beauty.
Oh, I bitch, moan, groan about management/their decisions/mandates/thinking process - but other than that, (and mebbe a few on FB that have blinders on regarding their view - and they press on AND ON, oh yeah and vendors with an attitude.. damn Victor, chill, life is good) - Ok, but, but, but, I try to do/be ok, happy... see life as beautiful.
I've (maybe you've) loved and lost. But, there's hella winning there within. All beauties, each in their own way.
As the mems fade, so do the looks. I dunno how old your eyeballs are that have passed by this blog today - but, the definition of beautiful has changed as I've aged.
Today, I see beauty, perfection in a lotta things. Grandma's hands. My 2nd cousin laying in bed with her 90-something mom. A feller up the road in an assisted care living facility, a tad of forgetfulness setting in - but, he's recently announced he's 'getting married' to a lady he dated before starting his 60 year marriage with another.. he's gone from 24 hour recluse, to awaiting in the lobby daily, reciting "I hope I gave her the right directions." Whilst sad in that it's a façade, it too is beautiful as now he gets out, talks to people, has a renewed thirst for life.
The list goes on. Mother Earth. Oh, think back to some orgasmic views you've had out there. For me, the road to Hana in Maui and the endless natural waterfalls on damn near every hairpin turn. The Rockies. Any lake. The plush lawn of Kaufman Stadium. The old homestead. The two-lane country drive.
A few days ago, I was at my 5 year old grandson's birthday party, a couple of hours before the last chance to see Hos, Moose, Cain, Esky play together. I related to my baseball loving niece "man I wish I was going to the game." "Why don'tya?".. Didn't really have anyone to go with. Presto, not five minutes later, a friend of 50 years texted, "you want to go the the game?" Hell to the yes, let's go. Those four, the day, the fellowship, the weather, all things of beauty.
Whilst at this ballpark, I'd stopped to visit with a fellow brother of color, his just a little darker than mine, and this guy had the most incredible (beautiful) smile.. we talked Hos, Moose, yada, the recent few years.. then we switched to life, prayer, beauty.. it was only a few minutes, but it was truly a beautiful conversation. As I walked away, I shook his hand, said "I pray for peace".. "Me too, me too" he replied. Beautiful, at least to me.
The kid on the bike whose training wheels were just wrenched off. The toddler whose just made the transition from crawl to walk and the excitable look in their eyes. The reunion - where years have past, but hooking up eyeballs brings back the beauty of past memories. The entire family, a prayer said around the table preceding dinner.
The affixed eyeballs of a mutt. Watching them run like someone left the gate open in the backyard. Calling the name of your cat, seeing them look at you with the same disgust a bonifide superstar celebrity would, then turn their head away in a flash. Still, beautiful. Sometimes attitude is even beautiful.
Close your ears. Shit's gonna happen, to us all. I pray we wade thru it. Act above it. See past it. Life is a highway. Good follows bad <-- maybe the best advice I've ever received.
I peeked at the forecast. Perfect temps. A beautiful day, just like any other. 10/4?
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
Whose stern impassion’d stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America! God mend thine ev’ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!
O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev’ry gain divine!
O Beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam,
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
Love, Henry Gibson and Victurd.
Nah, I mean.. I mean we can choose to smile... or not. We can chose to love unconditionally, or not. We can decide to enjoy life, see it as a thing of beauty - or, drop into a cocoon and fade away. Most, I really believe, see life as a thing of beauty.
Oh, I bitch, moan, groan about management/their decisions/mandates/thinking process - but other than that, (and mebbe a few on FB that have blinders on regarding their view - and they press on AND ON, oh yeah and vendors with an attitude.. damn Victor, chill, life is good) - Ok, but, but, but, I try to do/be ok, happy... see life as beautiful.
I've (maybe you've) loved and lost. But, there's hella winning there within. All beauties, each in their own way.
As the mems fade, so do the looks. I dunno how old your eyeballs are that have passed by this blog today - but, the definition of beautiful has changed as I've aged.
Today, I see beauty, perfection in a lotta things. Grandma's hands. My 2nd cousin laying in bed with her 90-something mom. A feller up the road in an assisted care living facility, a tad of forgetfulness setting in - but, he's recently announced he's 'getting married' to a lady he dated before starting his 60 year marriage with another.. he's gone from 24 hour recluse, to awaiting in the lobby daily, reciting "I hope I gave her the right directions." Whilst sad in that it's a façade, it too is beautiful as now he gets out, talks to people, has a renewed thirst for life.
The list goes on. Mother Earth. Oh, think back to some orgasmic views you've had out there. For me, the road to Hana in Maui and the endless natural waterfalls on damn near every hairpin turn. The Rockies. Any lake. The plush lawn of Kaufman Stadium. The old homestead. The two-lane country drive.
A few days ago, I was at my 5 year old grandson's birthday party, a couple of hours before the last chance to see Hos, Moose, Cain, Esky play together. I related to my baseball loving niece "man I wish I was going to the game." "Why don'tya?".. Didn't really have anyone to go with. Presto, not five minutes later, a friend of 50 years texted, "you want to go the the game?" Hell to the yes, let's go. Those four, the day, the fellowship, the weather, all things of beauty.
Whilst at this ballpark, I'd stopped to visit with a fellow brother of color, his just a little darker than mine, and this guy had the most incredible (beautiful) smile.. we talked Hos, Moose, yada, the recent few years.. then we switched to life, prayer, beauty.. it was only a few minutes, but it was truly a beautiful conversation. As I walked away, I shook his hand, said "I pray for peace".. "Me too, me too" he replied. Beautiful, at least to me.
The kid on the bike whose training wheels were just wrenched off. The toddler whose just made the transition from crawl to walk and the excitable look in their eyes. The reunion - where years have past, but hooking up eyeballs brings back the beauty of past memories. The entire family, a prayer said around the table preceding dinner.
The affixed eyeballs of a mutt. Watching them run like someone left the gate open in the backyard. Calling the name of your cat, seeing them look at you with the same disgust a bonifide superstar celebrity would, then turn their head away in a flash. Still, beautiful. Sometimes attitude is even beautiful.
Close your ears. Shit's gonna happen, to us all. I pray we wade thru it. Act above it. See past it. Life is a highway. Good follows bad <-- maybe the best advice I've ever received.
I peeked at the forecast. Perfect temps. A beautiful day, just like any other. 10/4?
O beautiful for spacious skies,
For amber waves of grain,
For purple mountain majesties
Above the fruited plain!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
O beautiful for pilgrim feet,
Whose stern impassion’d stress
A thoroughfare for freedom beat
Across the wilderness!
America! America! God mend thine ev’ry flaw,
Confirm thy soul in self-control,
Thy liberty in law!
O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife,
Who more than self their country loved,
And mercy more than life!
America! America! May God thy gold refine
Till all success be nobleness,
And ev’ry gain divine!
O Beautiful for patriot dream
That sees beyond the years
Thine alabaster cities gleam,
Undimmed by human tears!
America! America! God shed His grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea!
Love, Henry Gibson and Victurd.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)