I'll trade ya this '56 Frank Robinson for your '61 Boog Powell? ARE YOU CRAZY, Frank is a bonified HOF'er, Boog is some modicum, overweight, proably over-rated first baseman?
I liked Boog Powell. He was, yes, kinda round. Not protocol. I liked that. I'm intrigued by likes, dislikes, the diversity therein.
Just saw a Macy's commercial. Classic. Handsome young man walks in, is looking at some clothes - from behind the rack, he catches the eye of the beautiful sale's clerk... It was one of those flirtatious moments we've all experienced. The eyes meet, "hubba-dah-hubba-dah" happens, and in a millisecond you're in love. Mom saw this. Christmas came. Gifts traded. The young man, probably 5'10", 175 llbs, opened his package from his mother.. Size XXL sweatpants. "Mom? These won't fit!"...Slyly, she answers "Maybe you can trade 'em in?" His eyes light up, yes, he's soon back in the store face-to-face with "hubba-dah-hubba-dah." Life, and this commercial, is/are good. (I ain't really sure which to use there, IS or ARE? I try to be real careful, as I've got a wonderful cousin - retired English teacher, happens by on occasion, and I don't wanna disappoint... or is that dissappoint? Eh, you get the point.)
An old girlfriend. Well, she's younger than me, but, still, she's old! A recent trip to Italy - she bought her mother a very fine black leather purse. The very beautiful 83 year old mother opened it - knowing where it was purchased, said "I think I'll take it back." HA.
WHY? WHY? WHY? One ring on the ladder above Boog Powell was my favorite baseball player Charlie James, left-fielder, St. Louis Cardinals, circa 1964. I was 12. Twelve year olds are maybe the very best baseball fans. Twelve year olds are perked by "same ole, same ole", such as, reciting the batting order of your favorite major league team frontwards and backwards. You know: Flood, Groat, White, JAMES, Boyer, McCarver, Javier...etc... Trades? Trades, at age 12, are maybe worse than divorce... Then one day....
The Cardinals trade pitcher Ernie Broglio to the Cubs for some guy named Lou Brock. WHAT? He's a LEFT-FIELDER? No more Charlie James in leftfield?... NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!! Maybe this is where the saying "be careful what you wish for" originated.
A four bedroom house with a nice pool. A one bedroom apartment in an old two story house, split into three apartments.. paper thin walls, three very active rugrats living beside me, two young men living above me who very loudly Pandora nightly (morningly?) between 1am and 3am. (And you ask "whyinthehell are you up at 4am?")
Re, the above: Then/Now. It's ok. I wouldn't trade yesterday for the world. When the 'trade' happened, a 20 cube dumpster adorned the driveway. A large chunk of future "whatinthehell do we do with all this stuff now that dad passed?" was tossed into this dumpster. It's all good - it gave me a chance to re-visit every past memory.
Buck O'Neil. Former baseball player, coach. THE most optimistic outlook on life I've maybe ever witnessed. You could NEVER wipe the smile off Buck's face. Buck, due to the idiocy the day/people within, was denied the opportunity to play in the major leagues due to his color. He did become the first African American Coach in the Majors, still, ain't/wasn't fair. His take? "I was right on time." Translates, to me, to, I wouldn't trade it for the world.
There's a personal reason I abhor ALS.. but I will never forget Lou Gehrig's "Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth." Yesterday - I'll keep.
Long story, hopefully shortened - our family moved to Liberty around 1959. Looked at two houses. One, nice house, on Ridge by old HS, the other, nice house, across street from William Jewell College. Each, $17,000. Mom/dad opted for WJC house, a blessed place to grow up - nine Flanigan kids next door to play whatever game, whenever we wanted. No regrets.
Found out some years later, the house on Ridge included 14 acres behind it which is now Seaport, Westowne (high dollar commercial real estate property.) To think, I coulda been somebody! Wouldn't trade it for the world.
I write too much here. Frankly, I don't care. All given the opportunity to never eva' open - or, to simply bypass or delete. A nice friend recently wrote "You put feelings and thoughts right out there for the world to see that many of us are not willing to explore." I kinda liked that. Then the friend upped the ante even better with "Makes us see ourselves a little better Mr. Blogger."
Ya hear things like "we are what we eat," - "I'm a product of my environment," - "I am a part of all I have met." Farm out.
We've all messed up, made some goofy choices, messed in our skivvies (Don't lie to me, I know you have), turned left when we shoulda turned right, opted for that one when it shoulda maybe been the other one, took wrong job, college, path, house, neighborhood, town, State, yada.
As I/we age, I so delight in reading things like "Congrats on your 41st anniversary, we just had our 45th!".. Seeing concerned, lifelong mates, wish/pray/hope their loved ones back to good health. I don't/won't have that, and that's ok. At one time a former mate and I decided we'd add up all the years of each of our marriages (including to others) and at some point, celebrate a "50th"... hell, I forget where she went, so that one ain't happening, ha.
Bottomline, I wouldn't trade my life for anything. It's my hope you feel the same way.
Long live Boog, "hubba-dah hubba-dah", Charlie James, Buck, Lou, Miller Street, the Flanigans.
Love, Victurd.
Wednesday, November 29, 2017
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
The family reunion...
A buddy of mine grew up in a family of, I think 15 siblings. They had kids. The kids had kids. Those kids have begun to have kids, and a picture was taken. Just imagine. Yes, it was a wide angle lens. Yes, there were many. My buddy's folks - good, good people. All that, handed down - again, and again, and again.
Impact.
Our local High School/Junior High School just lost a literal legend.
A life devoted to kids. Those kids had kids (or will have kids). Their kids had kids and one day soon those kids will have kids.
Wildfire. Spread. Good.
Imagine the numbers. Four decades. Teaching filled classrooms however many hours there are in a school day. Topped off by coaching sports, both girls and boys, for the same four decades.
The picture of my buddy's family is truly awesome.
How awesome is it to picture the picture of the teacher's 'family'? Impactive.
Good spreads.
I just spent two hours reading tributes of this person. Students. Athletes. Fellow teachers. Administrators. Schoolmates. Parents. Men/women coaches from competing teams. Etc.
As I read this, and read about the impact of this person - I would 'click' on the person's name that had written about the impact - and it was truly easy to see, yes, there was and is impact. Many have become parents themselves, some, even educators, coaches. Common denominators were positive attitudes, smiles, and happiness.
"Hand me down" in and of itself has a bad connotation. Nuh uh, not here. This person very obviously made whatever moments he had with individuals - the most important thing in his life at that time. Think about that. Is it just me, or do you sometimes listen, but your brain is going a hunnerd miles and hour and you don't really listen? I know I sure do that. Not this guy. He paid attention. He gave. He asked. They delivered.
And so did their kids, and their kids, etc, into infinity. One in a million, impacting a million - or more.
Of course it's utterly sad - but it's also so very beautiful.
As I read these tributes - I reflected on my own human-ness and chided myself for I wish I was like this person one hunnerd percent of the time. Without ever professing of himself - that, was his intent -> Be good, it will be handed down.
In death comes life.
The tributes made me want to get off my hiney, see the world in a new way. A thirst for fun. A quest, self guided, for niceness. Happy. Spread it baby. Go, do, be. Again, his intent. Far, far out.
This is not about 'me', thus, not sharing the name here. Go on FB, search Liberty (MO) Schools, or "Old Liberty" and you can find the tributes too. The message here, and I ain't spouting it - I too have been caught up in the funnel of good - is simply good. Happy. Fun. Thirst. Go. Do. Be.
Positive breads positive. Love heeds love. While there is no one like this person - there are literally millions in education (and kajillions in life) promoting good.
Life is complicated as can be. It's darn hard. If we all were to borrow, spread, emulate this approach - pay attention/love/smile/live/happy/be good - one person at a time, think of the possibilities.:
And the picture. Google Earth, if you will. The infinity of love. Go. Do. Be. Have.
Love, Victurd.
Impact.
Our local High School/Junior High School just lost a literal legend.
A life devoted to kids. Those kids had kids (or will have kids). Their kids had kids and one day soon those kids will have kids.
Wildfire. Spread. Good.
Imagine the numbers. Four decades. Teaching filled classrooms however many hours there are in a school day. Topped off by coaching sports, both girls and boys, for the same four decades.
The picture of my buddy's family is truly awesome.
How awesome is it to picture the picture of the teacher's 'family'? Impactive.
Good spreads.
I just spent two hours reading tributes of this person. Students. Athletes. Fellow teachers. Administrators. Schoolmates. Parents. Men/women coaches from competing teams. Etc.
As I read this, and read about the impact of this person - I would 'click' on the person's name that had written about the impact - and it was truly easy to see, yes, there was and is impact. Many have become parents themselves, some, even educators, coaches. Common denominators were positive attitudes, smiles, and happiness.
"Hand me down" in and of itself has a bad connotation. Nuh uh, not here. This person very obviously made whatever moments he had with individuals - the most important thing in his life at that time. Think about that. Is it just me, or do you sometimes listen, but your brain is going a hunnerd miles and hour and you don't really listen? I know I sure do that. Not this guy. He paid attention. He gave. He asked. They delivered.
And so did their kids, and their kids, etc, into infinity. One in a million, impacting a million - or more.
Of course it's utterly sad - but it's also so very beautiful.
As I read these tributes - I reflected on my own human-ness and chided myself for I wish I was like this person one hunnerd percent of the time. Without ever professing of himself - that, was his intent -> Be good, it will be handed down.
In death comes life.
The tributes made me want to get off my hiney, see the world in a new way. A thirst for fun. A quest, self guided, for niceness. Happy. Spread it baby. Go, do, be. Again, his intent. Far, far out.
This is not about 'me', thus, not sharing the name here. Go on FB, search Liberty (MO) Schools, or "Old Liberty" and you can find the tributes too. The message here, and I ain't spouting it - I too have been caught up in the funnel of good - is simply good. Happy. Fun. Thirst. Go. Do. Be.
Positive breads positive. Love heeds love. While there is no one like this person - there are literally millions in education (and kajillions in life) promoting good.
Life is complicated as can be. It's darn hard. If we all were to borrow, spread, emulate this approach - pay attention/love/smile/live/happy/be good - one person at a time, think of the possibilities.:
And the picture. Google Earth, if you will. The infinity of love. Go. Do. Be. Have.
Love, Victurd.
Sunday, November 26, 2017
Human emotion......
Heavy. Deep. Let it all hang out.
"I wanted to connect my guitar to human emotions." B.B. King
The gamut. Human emotion runs that gamut. I reckon our innards, things like pulse, blood pressure, goosebumps/or lack thereof, lightheadedness, tears, laughter, self esteem, self doubt, happy, sad, mad, glad, PO'ed, lend: life, this is an interesting place.
"We all have human emotions that rob our lives." Jennifer O'Neill.
On the one hand Jennifer, yes. Recently visiting with a shrink friend of mine, "enneagram" (I think that's how you spell it) was brought up - a system to pigeonhole one's personality. "Maybe you are a 9! It's just that nobody hates a 9. Although nines worry a lot about being hated." Dangit, I was nailed. Well, certain some hate me, and as I age, getting better and better in ciphering "that's ok". Still, my emotions can be allover that map when that happens - and I suffer with being unable to control another's perception of me.
Jennifer, to the contrary as well - human emotions ENHANCE our lives. Dana Wright. She's a local radio talkshow person who has THE BEST LAUGH EVER. Her human emotion is UP 99.9% of the time. Fun, funny, happy. She dreamed and dreamed of going on The Price is Right. The day actually happened. She actually was picked. Up she went, to the chagrin of her radio co-host Scott Parks ("you'll never get on there.") . She, standing next to Drew Carey, made it to spin the Showcase Showdown "big wheel." As it spun, Drew asked her "anyone you want to say hello to?" "My babies, and to Scott Parks who said I WOULD NEVER get up here, BOOM!".. "Boom" Drew repeated, and laughed. Well, she won. Standing next to two supermodels, they announced, showed her prizes (A car, trips for two to two countries)... as they did, she jumped up and down like a junior high school cheerleader... it could be heard under her breath as she jumped "I'M PEEING MY PANTS!"... THAT's emotion, and, that ain't robbing, that's enhancing.
Good gosh I love/hate emotion. Balance, I suppose, is best, needed - but man oh man, times can be trying. Then, one gets a feel good, oh baby oh baby, proud, happy, doting, YEAH BABY moment and ya want it to last forever and ever. Of course it doesn't, blood pressure goes down (or comes up) and the ticker settles somewhere around normal - if there is such a thing.
Weirdly, at times in life we think "I deserve so much more than this", as well as, other times, feeling "I'm not so sure I deserve this."
The pen, the mouth, the keyboard. I slip here, all too often - but trying. With pen and keyboard, I find if I get PO'ed, hurt, offended, mad, yada - I go ahead and draft an email...get 8 hours sleep (ok, you're right, 6).. and I take a full day to reconsider what I'd written - and it aways comes out more sugary 24 hours later. The drafted email, however, well serves the purpose of a much needed punching bag, "take THAT you......(enter AH, B, SOB, whatever, here)..."
Conversely, if I've experienced a very nice time, say, like going to World's of Fun and having lots of fun, speed-dial, fastforward, plan, "let's do this, do that..." WOAH Nellie Belle... calm down a bit! Give some time to bask in that feel good.
"I became an actress and studied human emotions so that I could give the gift of feelings to my son. This is what my whole journey has been about." Tisha Campbell-Martin
I really really like that. I am sure you have stories about your mom, or dad. Ben Roethlisberger, QB of the Pittsburgh Steelers really loves his dad. His dad, by demonstration, eskewed "taking care of your family first" on Ben. To the extreme of, his dad wouldn't take a bite at the dinner table until he was certain all had their food, and that they had picked up the fork to start first. My own mother, the kajillion times I coughed in my life, she would hold her breath until she heard me take a breath, then, and only then, would she exhale.
If you happened by today seeking attempts at humor, I'm sorry. This one is about our bodies, 5 hour energy drinks and Sominex all in the same.
Emote leads to exhaustion, self pity, hurt, anger, tears - but then again, to happy, glad, proud, good tears, heartthrob, the best. Either way, it seems you drop in bed - one, trying to get to sleep to get the damn day/thing behind you, the other (happy) you drop because you've stayed up all night stoked on the emotion - and your body simply tells you "you've GOT to go to bed." We need teeter to totter I guess. What fun would rollercoasters be if they weren't uphill or downhill?
"The emotion that can break your heart is sometimes the very one that heals it" Nicholas Sparks
I know, time to go.
Happy emoting. Love, Victurd.
"I wanted to connect my guitar to human emotions." B.B. King
The gamut. Human emotion runs that gamut. I reckon our innards, things like pulse, blood pressure, goosebumps/or lack thereof, lightheadedness, tears, laughter, self esteem, self doubt, happy, sad, mad, glad, PO'ed, lend: life, this is an interesting place.
"We all have human emotions that rob our lives." Jennifer O'Neill.
On the one hand Jennifer, yes. Recently visiting with a shrink friend of mine, "enneagram" (I think that's how you spell it) was brought up - a system to pigeonhole one's personality. "Maybe you are a 9! It's just that nobody hates a 9. Although nines worry a lot about being hated." Dangit, I was nailed. Well, certain some hate me, and as I age, getting better and better in ciphering "that's ok". Still, my emotions can be allover that map when that happens - and I suffer with being unable to control another's perception of me.
Jennifer, to the contrary as well - human emotions ENHANCE our lives. Dana Wright. She's a local radio talkshow person who has THE BEST LAUGH EVER. Her human emotion is UP 99.9% of the time. Fun, funny, happy. She dreamed and dreamed of going on The Price is Right. The day actually happened. She actually was picked. Up she went, to the chagrin of her radio co-host Scott Parks ("you'll never get on there.") . She, standing next to Drew Carey, made it to spin the Showcase Showdown "big wheel." As it spun, Drew asked her "anyone you want to say hello to?" "My babies, and to Scott Parks who said I WOULD NEVER get up here, BOOM!".. "Boom" Drew repeated, and laughed. Well, she won. Standing next to two supermodels, they announced, showed her prizes (A car, trips for two to two countries)... as they did, she jumped up and down like a junior high school cheerleader... it could be heard under her breath as she jumped "I'M PEEING MY PANTS!"... THAT's emotion, and, that ain't robbing, that's enhancing.
Good gosh I love/hate emotion. Balance, I suppose, is best, needed - but man oh man, times can be trying. Then, one gets a feel good, oh baby oh baby, proud, happy, doting, YEAH BABY moment and ya want it to last forever and ever. Of course it doesn't, blood pressure goes down (or comes up) and the ticker settles somewhere around normal - if there is such a thing.
Weirdly, at times in life we think "I deserve so much more than this", as well as, other times, feeling "I'm not so sure I deserve this."
The pen, the mouth, the keyboard. I slip here, all too often - but trying. With pen and keyboard, I find if I get PO'ed, hurt, offended, mad, yada - I go ahead and draft an email...get 8 hours sleep (ok, you're right, 6).. and I take a full day to reconsider what I'd written - and it aways comes out more sugary 24 hours later. The drafted email, however, well serves the purpose of a much needed punching bag, "take THAT you......(enter AH, B, SOB, whatever, here)..."
Conversely, if I've experienced a very nice time, say, like going to World's of Fun and having lots of fun, speed-dial, fastforward, plan, "let's do this, do that..." WOAH Nellie Belle... calm down a bit! Give some time to bask in that feel good.
"I became an actress and studied human emotions so that I could give the gift of feelings to my son. This is what my whole journey has been about." Tisha Campbell-Martin
I really really like that. I am sure you have stories about your mom, or dad. Ben Roethlisberger, QB of the Pittsburgh Steelers really loves his dad. His dad, by demonstration, eskewed "taking care of your family first" on Ben. To the extreme of, his dad wouldn't take a bite at the dinner table until he was certain all had their food, and that they had picked up the fork to start first. My own mother, the kajillion times I coughed in my life, she would hold her breath until she heard me take a breath, then, and only then, would she exhale.
If you happened by today seeking attempts at humor, I'm sorry. This one is about our bodies, 5 hour energy drinks and Sominex all in the same.
Emote leads to exhaustion, self pity, hurt, anger, tears - but then again, to happy, glad, proud, good tears, heartthrob, the best. Either way, it seems you drop in bed - one, trying to get to sleep to get the damn day/thing behind you, the other (happy) you drop because you've stayed up all night stoked on the emotion - and your body simply tells you "you've GOT to go to bed." We need teeter to totter I guess. What fun would rollercoasters be if they weren't uphill or downhill?
"The emotion that can break your heart is sometimes the very one that heals it" Nicholas Sparks
I know, time to go.
Happy emoting. Love, Victurd.
Saturday, November 25, 2017
The tagless shirt..........
Yep, how they make 'em nowadays. They're comfy, not itchy. Oh, sometimes it takes a bit for the old eyes to find the 'tag' to make sure yain't got it on bassackwards, or, inside out - but, a small price to pay for comfort.
Conform. Fit. Smooth. Quoting Austin Powers "YEAH BABY!"
I really didn't mind the old tags. They quickly letya know if cotton, poly, nylon, etc., and the percentage of each therein. Whether of not you haveta hand wash, wash in cold (or warm) water, or, if ya gotta dry clean. Of course, size matters. Ya can see XS,S, M, L XL, XXL, etc, Long, tall, +size, etc. (If/when I shop for women and find 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, yada - I get scared. How does one pick size [when told "Medium"], without really knowing, without getting in probable trouble?) Victor, this is pretty boring, get on with the gist of it all or I'm gonna turn on PBS. Ok.
Designers on the old tags got creative, uh huh, they did. "These T-Shirts were tested on animals. They didn't fit."
Or, "For best results: Machine wash, tumble dry low. Never iron design. For worst results: Drag thru puddle behind car. Blow dry on roof rack." Hey, whatever sells, and how else would Spencer's stay in business?
"Can be washed by both men and women." #ShareTheLoad. <-- I like it, mighta saved a lotta marriages (yes Your Honor, I was guilty)...
Then there's the jean maker that put a label down there and warn "This zipper may harm your penis. Zip with caution." Been there, blood curdling scream that certainly was heard way over in Lawn and Garden.
Among the add-ons I found after things like 'wash gentle cold', 'no bleach', 'no iron', 'do not dry clean' were things like "Do not wear for Sumo Wrestling", and "It's never so hot that you have to take off your shirt, don't be that guy." "Always wash your butt." "Or, give it to your mother, she knows how to do it." "Made on Earth." "Remove child before washing." "Made with love by really really pretty blonde girls."
How well do you have to know someone to tuck their tag in when it's sticking out? The stranger infronta ya at the movie theater? Does it OCD drive you nuts?
Ever bought a gift where the hanger was labeled size 4, ya give it, it's unwrapped and you realize it's actually a size 7? Ever buy a nice light top at a Thrift Store, ya get home and the damn buttons are bassackwards, you realize you bought a chick shirt? Every buy an XL shirt,
get home to try it on and damn if it ain't a kid's size? (Yes, to all of the above for me. Don't tell.)
Victor, if this blog were a funnel, whereinthehell are you going with it?
Glad you asked. This is about my favorite tag of all, the irregular tag that has a baby 'cut' in it. Ya don't see 'em any more. They had a bad stitch, or a double stitch on accident when there shoulda been a single stich, a tiny hole, SOME KINDA IMPERFECTION. Cause "that's life."
That's us. That's me. Color me human (machine wash warm.)
I've said "I do" when I shoulda said "I dunno." I've hit the gas when I shoulda looked left, right, then back left again. I've found my zipper to be down three hours after arriving at work. I've ordered Nachos "Hold the sour cream", got it, took a big bite only to find PATOOEY, hidden under the cheese, they forgot, I HATE sour cream, what do I do now?
I studied this in school when I shoulda studied that. I said "This" as a parent when I shoulda said "That" (or nothing.) I've inserted my foot in my mouth so many times I don't need no stinking label to deem my foot size.
IMPERFECTION. IRREGULAR TAG. That - is life. But, that kinda makes it fun. Like diving into a really deep pool, swooshing your way upward thinking "Damn, am I gonna make it?" Sweating profusely as one awakens from a dream, that moment when "whew", you realize it was a dream, you get up, you go about your day and something EVEN WEIRDER happens?
That's what I'm talking about. Life is irregular. It ain't tagless. It don't come with no 'structions like a regular ole regular tag.
I've ruined shirts, jeans, jackets, jammies, stuff that was dry clean only, marriages, friendships, jobs, drives, jogs, directions, yada, whilst paying no heed to GPS, tags, advice, Ann Landers, Billy Graham, Dr. Laura (Patooey), Dr. Oz, Dr. Phil (patooey), Mr. Rogers, Captain Kangaroo, textbooks, teachers, counselors.......etc.
Life - is irregular. That. That's the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it. YEAH BABY.
Tag, you're it. Love, Victurd.
Conform. Fit. Smooth. Quoting Austin Powers "YEAH BABY!"
I really didn't mind the old tags. They quickly letya know if cotton, poly, nylon, etc., and the percentage of each therein. Whether of not you haveta hand wash, wash in cold (or warm) water, or, if ya gotta dry clean. Of course, size matters. Ya can see XS,S, M, L XL, XXL, etc, Long, tall, +size, etc. (If/when I shop for women and find 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, 14, yada - I get scared. How does one pick size [when told "Medium"], without really knowing, without getting in probable trouble?) Victor, this is pretty boring, get on with the gist of it all or I'm gonna turn on PBS. Ok.
Designers on the old tags got creative, uh huh, they did. "These T-Shirts were tested on animals. They didn't fit."
Or, "For best results: Machine wash, tumble dry low. Never iron design. For worst results: Drag thru puddle behind car. Blow dry on roof rack." Hey, whatever sells, and how else would Spencer's stay in business?
"Can be washed by both men and women." #ShareTheLoad. <-- I like it, mighta saved a lotta marriages (yes Your Honor, I was guilty)...
Then there's the jean maker that put a label down there and warn "This zipper may harm your penis. Zip with caution." Been there, blood curdling scream that certainly was heard way over in Lawn and Garden.
Among the add-ons I found after things like 'wash gentle cold', 'no bleach', 'no iron', 'do not dry clean' were things like "Do not wear for Sumo Wrestling", and "It's never so hot that you have to take off your shirt, don't be that guy." "Always wash your butt." "Or, give it to your mother, she knows how to do it." "Made on Earth." "Remove child before washing." "Made with love by really really pretty blonde girls."
How well do you have to know someone to tuck their tag in when it's sticking out? The stranger infronta ya at the movie theater? Does it OCD drive you nuts?
Ever bought a gift where the hanger was labeled size 4, ya give it, it's unwrapped and you realize it's actually a size 7? Ever buy a nice light top at a Thrift Store, ya get home and the damn buttons are bassackwards, you realize you bought a chick shirt? Every buy an XL shirt,
get home to try it on and damn if it ain't a kid's size? (Yes, to all of the above for me. Don't tell.)
Victor, if this blog were a funnel, whereinthehell are you going with it?
Glad you asked. This is about my favorite tag of all, the irregular tag that has a baby 'cut' in it. Ya don't see 'em any more. They had a bad stitch, or a double stitch on accident when there shoulda been a single stich, a tiny hole, SOME KINDA IMPERFECTION. Cause "that's life."
That's us. That's me. Color me human (machine wash warm.)
I've said "I do" when I shoulda said "I dunno." I've hit the gas when I shoulda looked left, right, then back left again. I've found my zipper to be down three hours after arriving at work. I've ordered Nachos "Hold the sour cream", got it, took a big bite only to find PATOOEY, hidden under the cheese, they forgot, I HATE sour cream, what do I do now?
I studied this in school when I shoulda studied that. I said "This" as a parent when I shoulda said "That" (or nothing.) I've inserted my foot in my mouth so many times I don't need no stinking label to deem my foot size.
IMPERFECTION. IRREGULAR TAG. That - is life. But, that kinda makes it fun. Like diving into a really deep pool, swooshing your way upward thinking "Damn, am I gonna make it?" Sweating profusely as one awakens from a dream, that moment when "whew", you realize it was a dream, you get up, you go about your day and something EVEN WEIRDER happens?
That's what I'm talking about. Life is irregular. It ain't tagless. It don't come with no 'structions like a regular ole regular tag.
I've ruined shirts, jeans, jackets, jammies, stuff that was dry clean only, marriages, friendships, jobs, drives, jogs, directions, yada, whilst paying no heed to GPS, tags, advice, Ann Landers, Billy Graham, Dr. Laura (Patooey), Dr. Oz, Dr. Phil (patooey), Mr. Rogers, Captain Kangaroo, textbooks, teachers, counselors.......etc.
Life - is irregular. That. That's the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it. YEAH BABY.
Tag, you're it. Love, Victurd.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Get ridda.......
Yes, it's Thanksgiving. Yes, we will see/hear oodles and oodles about "I'm thankful for"....
My brain is weird, but that's a known... I much prefer looking at it sdrawkcassab.
As in, "Let's get ridda (this/that), THEN, I'd be thankful."
Oak mites. God, we've taken a vote, and we cannot thinka one benefit of them lil' bastas. Mite you try?
Get ridda "Me too" and replace it with "I got him a good one in the balls, called the cops, he's in jail."
ISIS. Sorry/not. I buy my shoes at Savers/Goodwill, so I'm usually decent as seeing things from other's shoes, not so with ISIS.
The home plate umpire (for balls and strikes).. It's time. If we can build cars, trucks to go without human... If we can fly airplanes unmanned (no wait, that was different, sorry.. that was a SW Airline flight that had two chickies in the cockpit)... but, you get my drift. Forever replace the "you've got to be kidding me?" look.. (That was a strike?) and have the ball be somehow electronically outfitted so when it crosses the plate, it beeps if it's a strike.. and it's an absolute "yay/nay" strike or ball. I've hated in the past when electronics entered the sport's realm (I mean, is it just me, or DUH, when the football ref looks at 'further review' under a hood into a 6" monitor whilst we watch from our 60" screens at home, again, DUH.) Sorry blue, it's due.
Voice recognition at the drive thru of fast food joints. I mean, be for real, haven't you ever driven up, ordered "2 McDoubles ketchup and pickle only, 2 McDoubles everything except onions, a boy's hamburger happy meal with a Sprite, a girl's (Plain) cheeseburger happy meal with a Coke, a large order of fries and a regular order of fries, a large Dr. Pepper and a large Orange drink" only to hear hesitation, and then, "I'm sorry, would you remind repeating that?" (HOLY CUSSWORD!).. "I'm sorry, would you mind repeating that" is fancy for "well.. Tommy was textin' me, he's trying to decide between me and Shelly, so I COULDN'T listen, record, I HAD TO keep my eye on the phone to figure out "me or Shelly", sorry." Yes, we were all snotnoses at one time, but gimme a voice recorder.
Term limits.
Treble hooks hanging from the nostrils. Sure, showing my age, sorry, it just doesn't compute. Ya think they ever get their hands lodged up there after they clean up a sneeze?
Infomercials. Insomnia is hard enough, why must we be penalized further?
Dust on furniture, window sills, ceiling fans. God please scroll to oak mites.
"Until death do us part" in second marriage ceremonies. Preachers, ministers out there, please replace it with "By golly, this time, I'm gonna try my darndest." Thanks.
Ear wax (please see oak mite, dust from above.)
MAKE CELL PHONES INOPERABLE INSIDE A RUNNING CAR. If we can make it impossible to open the door with the keys in the ignition... If we can have sensors that display "please check the tire pressure of the left rear driver's side tire", can't we figure out a way to shutdown cell phones when the engine is running?
Please invent "Sorry about that - mini Tasers." They wouldn't have quite the jolt of a regular ole regular Taser, but, enough of a jolt that "I mean business" - and, they could LAWFULLY be used on: saggers... folks/their carts, who take up 8' (of 10') in the WalMart aisle and they ain't moving... bastas with 27 items in the "Speedy checkout, 10 items or less".. people at the 7-11 who take longer than 4 seconds to decide if they want Scratch off ticket #12 or #18.... the tailgaiter that is so close in the rear view mirror that you can tell if he/she has a treble hook in their nose... I mean, to be used on people who start a sentence with "I mean." (And apologies, I did it twice above. I mean, I'm sorry.)
Continuing (for a short) on the idea above - somehow rig 'em up so that they could be used in social media, allowing one to anonymously jolt someone who: invited you to play Candy Crush... a boss that's just sent a grumpy email because he/she gets off simply by letting you know you're "under my thumb"... the IT chap who spouts "have you tried restarting your computer?"... FB posts connotating "I can't believe it" (and that's all)..or, "I feel (sick, tired, terrible, yada)"... telemarketers... vendors who ask you for your account #, phone #, then figure out they ain't got the smarts to help you so they send you to a dude one technical level up and he asks you FOR ACCOUNT # And PHONE # <-- zap him!
I'm out of ideas (presently).. get ridda me.
I give thanks to thinking of ideas of things we should get ridda... Happy ThanksgetriddaThings to you, love, Victurd.
My brain is weird, but that's a known... I much prefer looking at it sdrawkcassab.
As in, "Let's get ridda (this/that), THEN, I'd be thankful."
Oak mites. God, we've taken a vote, and we cannot thinka one benefit of them lil' bastas. Mite you try?
Get ridda "Me too" and replace it with "I got him a good one in the balls, called the cops, he's in jail."
ISIS. Sorry/not. I buy my shoes at Savers/Goodwill, so I'm usually decent as seeing things from other's shoes, not so with ISIS.
The home plate umpire (for balls and strikes).. It's time. If we can build cars, trucks to go without human... If we can fly airplanes unmanned (no wait, that was different, sorry.. that was a SW Airline flight that had two chickies in the cockpit)... but, you get my drift. Forever replace the "you've got to be kidding me?" look.. (That was a strike?) and have the ball be somehow electronically outfitted so when it crosses the plate, it beeps if it's a strike.. and it's an absolute "yay/nay" strike or ball. I've hated in the past when electronics entered the sport's realm (I mean, is it just me, or DUH, when the football ref looks at 'further review' under a hood into a 6" monitor whilst we watch from our 60" screens at home, again, DUH.) Sorry blue, it's due.
Voice recognition at the drive thru of fast food joints. I mean, be for real, haven't you ever driven up, ordered "2 McDoubles ketchup and pickle only, 2 McDoubles everything except onions, a boy's hamburger happy meal with a Sprite, a girl's (Plain) cheeseburger happy meal with a Coke, a large order of fries and a regular order of fries, a large Dr. Pepper and a large Orange drink" only to hear hesitation, and then, "I'm sorry, would you remind repeating that?" (HOLY CUSSWORD!).. "I'm sorry, would you mind repeating that" is fancy for "well.. Tommy was textin' me, he's trying to decide between me and Shelly, so I COULDN'T listen, record, I HAD TO keep my eye on the phone to figure out "me or Shelly", sorry." Yes, we were all snotnoses at one time, but gimme a voice recorder.
Term limits.
Treble hooks hanging from the nostrils. Sure, showing my age, sorry, it just doesn't compute. Ya think they ever get their hands lodged up there after they clean up a sneeze?
Infomercials. Insomnia is hard enough, why must we be penalized further?
Dust on furniture, window sills, ceiling fans. God please scroll to oak mites.
"Until death do us part" in second marriage ceremonies. Preachers, ministers out there, please replace it with "By golly, this time, I'm gonna try my darndest." Thanks.
Ear wax (please see oak mite, dust from above.)
MAKE CELL PHONES INOPERABLE INSIDE A RUNNING CAR. If we can make it impossible to open the door with the keys in the ignition... If we can have sensors that display "please check the tire pressure of the left rear driver's side tire", can't we figure out a way to shutdown cell phones when the engine is running?
Please invent "Sorry about that - mini Tasers." They wouldn't have quite the jolt of a regular ole regular Taser, but, enough of a jolt that "I mean business" - and, they could LAWFULLY be used on: saggers... folks/their carts, who take up 8' (of 10') in the WalMart aisle and they ain't moving... bastas with 27 items in the "Speedy checkout, 10 items or less".. people at the 7-11 who take longer than 4 seconds to decide if they want Scratch off ticket #12 or #18.... the tailgaiter that is so close in the rear view mirror that you can tell if he/she has a treble hook in their nose... I mean, to be used on people who start a sentence with "I mean." (And apologies, I did it twice above. I mean, I'm sorry.)
Continuing (for a short) on the idea above - somehow rig 'em up so that they could be used in social media, allowing one to anonymously jolt someone who: invited you to play Candy Crush... a boss that's just sent a grumpy email because he/she gets off simply by letting you know you're "under my thumb"... the IT chap who spouts "have you tried restarting your computer?"... FB posts connotating "I can't believe it" (and that's all)..or, "I feel (sick, tired, terrible, yada)"... telemarketers... vendors who ask you for your account #, phone #, then figure out they ain't got the smarts to help you so they send you to a dude one technical level up and he asks you FOR ACCOUNT # And PHONE # <-- zap him!
I'm out of ideas (presently).. get ridda me.
I give thanks to thinking of ideas of things we should get ridda... Happy ThanksgetriddaThings to you, love, Victurd.
Monday, November 20, 2017
I'm in a relationship...
She's soft.... oh so soft..
She/me, comfy... oh so comfy.....
She's lucky (as am I) in that she's 'fetching' no matter the color she's wearing....
This time of year, she prefers flannel (or wool, or polyester)...and ya know, she looks good in all that as well.
We spoon. A LOT. In fact, all night long.
I admittedly slobber... DOESN'T BOTHER HER!
She never awakens in any of the 7 times I tip toe to go pee in the middle of the night.
My snoring doesn't bug her one iota either. Ne'er a terse word.
She's svelte, and ya know that's my preference... she's ne'er gained a pound in our time together...
She doesn't really cook.... nor clean for that matter....
In fact, she doesn't really like to get out of the house...
I'm good with all that, (Scroll to "ne'er a terse word.")....
If fact, it's rare she gets out of bed - but, there are times she is with me in the easy chair as
we both work on the comfort of my aching back...
She's weathered a bit, but hey, me too, and that's what happens to us all with age, over time.
All this time, all this looking, and I had her all along.
Her ONLY downfall..... she's not a tax deduction.
I highly recommend to any/all single men to purchase a five foot long pillow.
Love, Victurd.
She/me, comfy... oh so comfy.....
She's lucky (as am I) in that she's 'fetching' no matter the color she's wearing....
This time of year, she prefers flannel (or wool, or polyester)...and ya know, she looks good in all that as well.
We spoon. A LOT. In fact, all night long.
I admittedly slobber... DOESN'T BOTHER HER!
She never awakens in any of the 7 times I tip toe to go pee in the middle of the night.
My snoring doesn't bug her one iota either. Ne'er a terse word.
She's svelte, and ya know that's my preference... she's ne'er gained a pound in our time together...
She doesn't really cook.... nor clean for that matter....
In fact, she doesn't really like to get out of the house...
I'm good with all that, (Scroll to "ne'er a terse word.")....
If fact, it's rare she gets out of bed - but, there are times she is with me in the easy chair as
we both work on the comfort of my aching back...
She's weathered a bit, but hey, me too, and that's what happens to us all with age, over time.
All this time, all this looking, and I had her all along.
Her ONLY downfall..... she's not a tax deduction.
I highly recommend to any/all single men to purchase a five foot long pillow.
Love, Victurd.
Sunday, November 19, 2017
Why ask 'Why?'... Why not?
Things that make me, at least... ask 'Why?' (Warning, some of you might not like all of 'dem.)
Colt sold the first AR-15 to civilians in 1964. Why?
A beautiful, gorgeous little gal, 9, in the obits this morning...
A hound on a chain, 24/7...
I'm turning right on a red light, onto a road with two lanes in each direction. A car, facing me, turns left on their green left turn light. As they turn left, I turn right (onto the right lane, of two.). Why do they honk at me as I do?
Statute of limitations on bringing to fore sexual offenses.
Lawmakers who think they have the right to put themselves in above victim's shoes..
Temps less than 32 degrees.
Any form of discrimination.
Why?
Divorce without swinging by the 'salvage yard' in attempt at repair...
Mullets...
Old way:
32 - 12 = 20
New way:
12 + 3 = 15
15 + 5 = 20
20 + 10 = 30
30 + 2 = 32
Solution, add the middle #'s 3 + 5 + 10 + 2 to attain 20.
Paying a penalty due to not being able to afford healthcare.
Lifestyles, tax breaks of the rich and famous.
Superdelegates.
IT upgrades requiring six more clicks upon completion.
Auto correct for someone who uses slang a lotta the time.
The cost of Coach purses.
Someone who buys a Coach purse.
Entitlement.
Lobbyists.
Each softball team shall hit their own ball.
Bloggers who go on.... And on...
Love, Victurd
Saturday, November 18, 2017
A recipe.....
Danger danger, warning warning... this one is personal, turn left here if ya like....
Ya might recognize a couple. We all have our "kitchens" in life. What's your recipe?
Tork, presence on the mound. Nothing fazed this man. You couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
Why is it, the ones with the most zest are taken the earliest?
My beloved boss Tommy... "Assholes and elbows, that's what I wanna see" <-- we were maintenance workers in the view of, paid by,local citizens. "Busy hands are happy hands." Marital advise: "Find ya one you ain't gotta shake the sheets to find."
Richard J. Demonstrated breakout in song whenever, wherever. Ya don't need an invite, or to ask for permission. Laugh loudly, anywhere, anytime. It's a feel good.
Irene D. "Catch 'em being good."
Uncle G, maybe the nicest man on the planet with a smile to match... to waitress "Can I get a little sugar?"
Uncle D (or was it C?). Walked thru doorway with whomever the most recently newborn family member was cradled in his arms, purposely hitting his elbow on the door frame making a loud noise, eliciting "OH NO!'s". Got us every time.
My g-ma. G-pa driving down Court Street @ 27 mph, us three cousins tucked in the backseat. "MAN! MAN! SLOW DOWN! YOU'RE GONNA KILL THESE CHILDREN!"
The 80-something year old mortician, driving six of us pallbearers and a casket to the gravesite. If oncoming traffic did not pull over, show the deserved brief moment of respect, he swerved at 'em.
Woody and his pricing tactics. 1 = A, 2 = B, 3 = C, 4 = D, etcetera, thru 9 and 0. Boxes marked accordingly. Say, cost on a TV was $213, his box would be labeled in magic marker "BAC". Folks were amazed when he (added his profit, and) tossed figures of cost to the potential buyer on appliances with no number markings on them? How did he store all that in his brain?
BA "Going like 60."
Dr. D, after making a point in Logic class... "Dig?"
Vic R. Demonstrating "why let a moment pass without a smile on your face?"
Steven F. "Yes, I'll admit sometimes life has been a little rough, but, it's been blessed life with great big thanks to God."
Mom, "the secret to success in life is how you handle Plan B."
Dad... I'm going to make up a story, tell it to you all, and end it with a punch line, and at that point you will realize I've been 'fishing'. I like fishing. I'm pretty good at it, because halfway through the story you will be thinking "This is Bud Schultze, and we know 99% of the times his stories are, pardon the pun, "BS", but this one sounds real, gonna listen to see how it ends." Almost always ends with a smile and the thought "Oh S___, got me again."
Dad (again).. in song.. "She's got freckles on her BUT(T?) she's pretty."
Sister, without saying so, "I'm going to give you something, do something for you, and after I've done it, I'm going to praise you so highly I will convince you that YOU have done for ME." (And she was the best at that.)
Harry.. "HOLY COW!"
BLR, the most gracias giver without ever asking for anything in return.
Mary R.G.: Watch me life, I'm gonna smile at you NO MATTER WHAT!
Fred G. "Well, I was painting a classroom in Jewell Hall. I farted. Aloud. I heard a giggle. Little did I know there was a coed studying quietly in the back of the room. I scraped the toe of my shoe on the tile, hoping to make a similar noise to fool her into thinking that's what happened. Don't think it worked." A life lived with/in humor.
George F. "I/we spend of lot of my/our classtime laughing, but I'm good with that. There's a lot to be learned there." He never said that, but he lived it.
David D. "You know, I know, I'm gonna hit a line drive down the third baseline. Stop me if you can." And they usually didn't.
George B. "Having sex at age 90 is like trying to shoot pool with a rope." "Goodnight Gracie."
A partial list of ingredients.
I/we area part of all we've met. Sad, but what a yummy recipe. Love, Victurd.
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Juuuuuussssst a bit outside...............
Why, back in MY DAY, we forged creeks, jumped brooks, skipped rocks across the pond, climbed trees... found four leaf clovers... played whiffle ball, football, soccer, tag, red rover red rover... mom patched the knees of our jeans... we chased the ice cream truck... we made skateboards from plywood and our older sister's roller skates... we'd get to exhaustion, finally chiming in "FIRST ONE TO SEE THE STREELIGHTS ON!"....... then, we got our second wind:
We chased lightning bugs, put 'em in mason jars for some ungodly reason.. we kicked the can...one would finally give up and holler "Alllleeee alllleeee innnn freeeeee." We told ghost stories to try to scare the behoogity outta the youngest punks in the neighborhood... we built forts with blankets on the clothesline... and without verbally sharing with our fort-mates, we all wondered if there was sucha thing as The Boogie Man....
We touched: frogs, snakes, worms, butterflies, chalk, glass, charcoal, pop bottles, dead squirrels, gnarly stuff...
Why... why... KIDS NOWADAYS? They touch screens. YEP, they do. They're little inspector Gadgets. Nerds? They go from born, turn over, formula, crawl, baby food from those small jars (ain't sure whatya call em), to I-PADS. They've each got their own IPhone before the training wheels are ever taken off of the bike stored in the garage. They've Atari'ed, Nintendo'ed, Game Boy'ed, Kindle'ed, , Tivo'ed, DVD'ed, Wii'ed, Palm Pilot'ed, GoPro'ed......... whew. All that, surely their fingerprints no longer exist eh?
"My cell phone is my best friend. It's my lifeline to the outside world." Carrie Underwood.
And...
And...
And...
One day, the vast majority of 'em'll probably be halfway to a million on their 401K's by the time they're 30. HA! TAKE THAT you old geezer with the tin cans/string!
Oh well. I kinda likes outside. Or, as my mom, who grew up in the Depression, "we grew up playing outside... poor, but didn't know it."
Baby it's cold outside.
"Get outside. Watch the sunrise. How does that make you feel? Does it make you feel big or tiny? Because there's something good about both." Amy Grant.
"A good vacation for me is going outside to warm weather. Being able to go outside, in the sun, hit the beach, play outdoor sports. Being active outside. Going swimming, hanging by the pool, having a couple drinks, having a couple of your buddies around, and just having a blast." Rob Gronkowski.
"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature, and God. Only then does one feel that all as it should be." Anne Frank.
Just singin' in the rain... I see skies of blue, red roses too... Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right... Rocky Mountain High... On the road again.. I've been through the desert on a horse with no name.. Well I'm standin' on the corner of Winslow Arizona and it's such a fine sight to see... From the Kentucky coal mines to the California sun... And we're rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.. Sunshine on my shoulders.. Sitting in the morning sun, I'll be sitting when the evening comes..
We, my take anyways, allow the value of being outdoors diminish as we age. From memory, outdoor is happy. Free. Diverse. Godly. Smiley. Yummy.
Ending with a very poor pun... this year, I'm gonna try to think outside (of the box.) No more resolutions to promise to workout daily starting January 1 (and forget about that by Valentine's day.)
I planta get outside. Daily. Such wonder. So many feelings come over the body.. the brain..
It's too damn late for a "hella" 401K anyways.
Join me?
Love, Victurd
We chased lightning bugs, put 'em in mason jars for some ungodly reason.. we kicked the can...one would finally give up and holler "Alllleeee alllleeee innnn freeeeee." We told ghost stories to try to scare the behoogity outta the youngest punks in the neighborhood... we built forts with blankets on the clothesline... and without verbally sharing with our fort-mates, we all wondered if there was sucha thing as The Boogie Man....
We touched: frogs, snakes, worms, butterflies, chalk, glass, charcoal, pop bottles, dead squirrels, gnarly stuff...
Why... why... KIDS NOWADAYS? They touch screens. YEP, they do. They're little inspector Gadgets. Nerds? They go from born, turn over, formula, crawl, baby food from those small jars (ain't sure whatya call em), to I-PADS. They've each got their own IPhone before the training wheels are ever taken off of the bike stored in the garage. They've Atari'ed, Nintendo'ed, Game Boy'ed, Kindle'ed, , Tivo'ed, DVD'ed, Wii'ed, Palm Pilot'ed, GoPro'ed......... whew. All that, surely their fingerprints no longer exist eh?
"My cell phone is my best friend. It's my lifeline to the outside world." Carrie Underwood.
And...
And...
And...
One day, the vast majority of 'em'll probably be halfway to a million on their 401K's by the time they're 30. HA! TAKE THAT you old geezer with the tin cans/string!
Oh well. I kinda likes outside. Or, as my mom, who grew up in the Depression, "we grew up playing outside... poor, but didn't know it."
Baby it's cold outside.
"Get outside. Watch the sunrise. How does that make you feel? Does it make you feel big or tiny? Because there's something good about both." Amy Grant.
"A good vacation for me is going outside to warm weather. Being able to go outside, in the sun, hit the beach, play outdoor sports. Being active outside. Going swimming, hanging by the pool, having a couple drinks, having a couple of your buddies around, and just having a blast." Rob Gronkowski.
"The best remedy for those who are afraid, lonely or unhappy is to go outside, somewhere where they can be quiet, alone with the heavens, nature, and God. Only then does one feel that all as it should be." Anne Frank.
Just singin' in the rain... I see skies of blue, red roses too... Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right... Rocky Mountain High... On the road again.. I've been through the desert on a horse with no name.. Well I'm standin' on the corner of Winslow Arizona and it's such a fine sight to see... From the Kentucky coal mines to the California sun... And we're rollin, rollin, rollin on the river.. Sunshine on my shoulders.. Sitting in the morning sun, I'll be sitting when the evening comes..
We, my take anyways, allow the value of being outdoors diminish as we age. From memory, outdoor is happy. Free. Diverse. Godly. Smiley. Yummy.
Ending with a very poor pun... this year, I'm gonna try to think outside (of the box.) No more resolutions to promise to workout daily starting January 1 (and forget about that by Valentine's day.)
I planta get outside. Daily. Such wonder. So many feelings come over the body.. the brain..
It's too damn late for a "hella" 401K anyways.
Join me?
Love, Victurd
Sunday, November 12, 2017
Lub dub......
Things that make me 'tick'......
A love interest, showing reciprocal interest (I'm quite practiced in that starting over crap!)
Ron Wilson's video on Facebook where he's feeding pizza to his 8 year old, beautiful white Lab..., in the front seat of his truck. He speaks to her (Lucy) as he holds a piece of pizza in his hand, she lifts her head and howls, each and every time, between bites. This nails down the relationship, the love of the pet owner, the pet and the reciprocalness. (My heart also goes lub dub when I type a word like 'reciprocalness', Blogger underlines it in red as if to say "you idiot, left click and I'll show you how to spell it", so, I left click, there ain't no options, asks if I wanna "add to dictionary?", so....... I Google 'reciprocal' to learn the forms of the word, and right there in black and white you red line underlining ass is the very word, the very spelling: reciprocalness. Lub dub. There are undoubtedly a kajillion Ron Wilson's on FB, but should you search, find, the one in Liberty, MO its' a nice testimony of owner/mankind, or, pet/owner, depending on how you look at that!
A flash mob.
The whistling of the Andy Griffith theme song. Anything Tim Conway does. Ray Charles coming thru the speakers. Lub dub.
A couple I know, 45 years bethrothed (I think) of continued lub dub, she got VERY VERY sick, organs shutting down, life support, unresponsive for a time...we, the people of life, have been thru this crap one too many times, PLEASE NO!... prayers were said, delivered.. recently, said wife was able to write a thank you for those prayers. Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub, thank you Lord (and Doctors, Nurses, technology).
Damn near any pic of a little kid. Modeling clay, being molded into it's own unique persona. Bumps, bruises, broken wings along the way, encompassed by strokes of love - fun all around, learning the hard way, the right way. Teeth to fall out, but too, they do come back. (Well, that is until you get to be an old fart like me, so here's today's dental lesson Sparky: "BRUSH them choppers daily (twice)! Floss!" WHISTLE! Whistle? Hell to the yes, take it from someone who didn't take the best of care of his teeth, has a 3-tooth partial, and now CANNOT whistle, oh, and now has trouble saying things like 'whithle' and 'sthit'. Oh, and tune in again in ten or so years when the topic will be "Pay yourself first and don't touch that damn 401K"... Ha.
I am consumed by Facebook. My friends run the gamut from "Nah, I don't do that, ain't on there", to "yeah.. but I don't get on there very much" to, "I'm just as addicted as you are Victor." Facebook has posts of beautiful, wonderful scenery, from afar, and from folks actually being there, lub dub. Facebook demonstrates people, very nice people, complimenting, saying something of love, to another very nice person, lub dub.
Facebook is a consortium against wrong, ugly, prejudice. Folks, not preaching it, living it. Lub dub. Pictures of those no longer here, yet, our posting only goes to show lub dub never stops, quits, lessens. Discussions about folks either side of the net "agreeing to disagree", but with grace. An example you ask? OK, Ron Cottingham. Even though I'm on the side trying to wing the tennis ball past him, I've never encountered hatrid, namecalling, yada. Nuttin' but respect, the abiity to listen, retort, and do so wisely, maturely. Kudos, and lub dub for folks like that.
Whether you agree or not, weather gives me lub dub (any kind WITHOUT destruction). It's beauty, how it owns your body, the magnitude of it, and certainly the serenity of it . Lub dub.
Coworkers, people that wave at you to go even though they might have arrived at the four-way stop seconds ahead of you. Doorholders, cashiers who lookya in the eye, say thanks and smile, as if they were saying "thanks, I know your dollars spent here help me feed my family." Lub dub.
People who have much, and give to many. People who have little, but find a way to give. Lub dub.
Compliment passer-outers. Teachers that care. Parents that care. Care, in and of itself.
The words "I'm sorry." ALL OF US will one day wing those words. It's ok. Life is full of imperfection, unless of course you are Kirk Gibson sternly telling my 12 year old niece to "HURRY UP" as she nervously points her shaky camera at him. Oops, slipped. I'm sorry. Lub dub to you Valerie.
Oh there's more, tons of it. Thoughts, mems of yesteryear, photo albums, running across a child's 3rd grade Grade Card.
Even seeing an ex out in public, remembering better, fun moments. Lub dub.
Forgive me Father for I have miscalculated. Is it just me, or is there anyone else out there to fess up to being admittedly shallow, hold a person you don't like -for this reason or that reason, for quite some time, then, actually get to know them one day and you admonish yourself with "Damn, you idiot, he/she is a pretty good dude/dudette!" Lub dub, with a baby flub.
Seems to be common themes: care, reciprocality, unconditional, genuine, patience, value of the spoken word, love for mankind (and petkind), and oh yeah, God.
Love, lub dub, Victurd.
A love interest, showing reciprocal interest (I'm quite practiced in that starting over crap!)
Ron Wilson's video on Facebook where he's feeding pizza to his 8 year old, beautiful white Lab..., in the front seat of his truck. He speaks to her (Lucy) as he holds a piece of pizza in his hand, she lifts her head and howls, each and every time, between bites. This nails down the relationship, the love of the pet owner, the pet and the reciprocalness. (My heart also goes lub dub when I type a word like 'reciprocalness', Blogger underlines it in red as if to say "you idiot, left click and I'll show you how to spell it", so, I left click, there ain't no options, asks if I wanna "add to dictionary?", so....... I Google 'reciprocal' to learn the forms of the word, and right there in black and white you red line underlining ass is the very word, the very spelling: reciprocalness. Lub dub. There are undoubtedly a kajillion Ron Wilson's on FB, but should you search, find, the one in Liberty, MO its' a nice testimony of owner/mankind, or, pet/owner, depending on how you look at that!
A flash mob.
The whistling of the Andy Griffith theme song. Anything Tim Conway does. Ray Charles coming thru the speakers. Lub dub.
A couple I know, 45 years bethrothed (I think) of continued lub dub, she got VERY VERY sick, organs shutting down, life support, unresponsive for a time...we, the people of life, have been thru this crap one too many times, PLEASE NO!... prayers were said, delivered.. recently, said wife was able to write a thank you for those prayers. Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub, thank you Lord (and Doctors, Nurses, technology).
Damn near any pic of a little kid. Modeling clay, being molded into it's own unique persona. Bumps, bruises, broken wings along the way, encompassed by strokes of love - fun all around, learning the hard way, the right way. Teeth to fall out, but too, they do come back. (Well, that is until you get to be an old fart like me, so here's today's dental lesson Sparky: "BRUSH them choppers daily (twice)! Floss!" WHISTLE! Whistle? Hell to the yes, take it from someone who didn't take the best of care of his teeth, has a 3-tooth partial, and now CANNOT whistle, oh, and now has trouble saying things like 'whithle' and 'sthit'. Oh, and tune in again in ten or so years when the topic will be "Pay yourself first and don't touch that damn 401K"... Ha.
I am consumed by Facebook. My friends run the gamut from "Nah, I don't do that, ain't on there", to "yeah.. but I don't get on there very much" to, "I'm just as addicted as you are Victor." Facebook has posts of beautiful, wonderful scenery, from afar, and from folks actually being there, lub dub. Facebook demonstrates people, very nice people, complimenting, saying something of love, to another very nice person, lub dub.
Facebook is a consortium against wrong, ugly, prejudice. Folks, not preaching it, living it. Lub dub. Pictures of those no longer here, yet, our posting only goes to show lub dub never stops, quits, lessens. Discussions about folks either side of the net "agreeing to disagree", but with grace. An example you ask? OK, Ron Cottingham. Even though I'm on the side trying to wing the tennis ball past him, I've never encountered hatrid, namecalling, yada. Nuttin' but respect, the abiity to listen, retort, and do so wisely, maturely. Kudos, and lub dub for folks like that.
Whether you agree or not, weather gives me lub dub (any kind WITHOUT destruction). It's beauty, how it owns your body, the magnitude of it, and certainly the serenity of it . Lub dub.
Coworkers, people that wave at you to go even though they might have arrived at the four-way stop seconds ahead of you. Doorholders, cashiers who lookya in the eye, say thanks and smile, as if they were saying "thanks, I know your dollars spent here help me feed my family." Lub dub.
People who have much, and give to many. People who have little, but find a way to give. Lub dub.
Compliment passer-outers. Teachers that care. Parents that care. Care, in and of itself.
The words "I'm sorry." ALL OF US will one day wing those words. It's ok. Life is full of imperfection, unless of course you are Kirk Gibson sternly telling my 12 year old niece to "HURRY UP" as she nervously points her shaky camera at him. Oops, slipped. I'm sorry. Lub dub to you Valerie.
Oh there's more, tons of it. Thoughts, mems of yesteryear, photo albums, running across a child's 3rd grade Grade Card.
Even seeing an ex out in public, remembering better, fun moments. Lub dub.
Forgive me Father for I have miscalculated. Is it just me, or is there anyone else out there to fess up to being admittedly shallow, hold a person you don't like -for this reason or that reason, for quite some time, then, actually get to know them one day and you admonish yourself with "Damn, you idiot, he/she is a pretty good dude/dudette!" Lub dub, with a baby flub.
Seems to be common themes: care, reciprocality, unconditional, genuine, patience, value of the spoken word, love for mankind (and petkind), and oh yeah, God.
Love, lub dub, Victurd.
Saturday, November 11, 2017
Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.
Somea' the below stolen, and ain't notated whotheheck said it. No likey? Sue me!
"Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart. Don't look back, there is nothing in past, look into the future and win it. Don't waste your time looking back at what you've lost. Move on, life is not meant to be traveled backwards."
"Looking back isn't going to help you. Moving forward is the thing you have to do."
"It's not possible to go forward while looking back."
"Ever since I've made tomorrow my favorite day, I've been uncomfortable looking back."
Wait... Stymie halt... Just a gol' durn moment.
I disagree.
Sure, ya can't make any progress if you waller in a pool of jello all your life, but I'm of the ilk ya take your spoon out, scoop up, sample some of that delectable yesteryear - all the while "matriculating" down the field of life. Them past objects ARE large in life.
Woven. Quilts. Fabric.
A very pretty lady that I once upon a time lived with, slept with (her and her dog, it's cool, he's a fantastic little dude)... anyways, we were covered up with --> this lady's daughter made her a quilt out of T Shirts she'd worn from yesteryear. Places she'd traveled to, joints where she'd fed her face, places of employ, schools she'd attended.. and fun sayings that brought smile in recollect.
THAT'S what I'm talkin' about. Hell to the yes. Yesterday, with maybe pushing it thru the old kitchen strainer, is YUMMY.
This retirement. This Facebook. This box of old photos. I've selfishly plant myself in the easy chair, a throw atop me, a furnace set at 59 degrees, (bite me, fixed income), wooly slippers, TV on but ignored, feet plopped on the ottoman - and I divulge. I laugh. I smile. I emote. I cry. I love. YESTERDAY is the thread, the patch, the weaving, the quilt, of life.
To me anyways. Sure, there's ugly. (One of my favorite ugly quotes is from back in the day the Los Angeles Lakers would come to town to play the NBA team we in Kansas City had for a millisecond, The Kings. Kareem Abdul Jabbar and Sam Lacey, centers for those corresponding teams - had some wonderful, hard fought, sweaty battles over the years. It was the day and age "the beeper" was our social media. Anyways, Kareem, on a flight leaving LAX headed for MCI said "Watchout Sam, I'm coming to knock some of the ugly off your face." HA, fun, and yes, sorry/not, a part of yesteryear, why even ugly can be a fun memory!)
Looking back affords hounds, cats that are buried in the backyard to once again be puppies, kittens. Yesterday fills the Thanksgiving table up, fills the chairs of those now gone that we desperately miss.
As I occasionally cuss at my far, far away toenails that need clipping, but the belly donelapped over, and the flexibility has gone from very good to the present stiff board... where was I? Oh yeah.. bemoaning old age, body change, but it ALLOWS me to remember sledding down the biggest damn hill at William Jewell next to a herd of Flanigans. I can go back to Ridgeview and remember "I ain't real sure what's come over me, going on, but damn she's pretty." Hey, I remember when I usedta be able to slide! Not only going first to second, but down the entire length of the slip-n-slide! Hell, I once climbed that tree over there! Remember cross country? Running 2 miles, REALLY FAST? (Well, to me fast anyways.)
Speakin' o' Cross Country. Doc wouldn't pass me for physical to play football, long/short/oblong/ha story. Close your ears, I had one testicle that was bigger than the other, he feared if I got hit, I'd neva' eva' be able to be a dad. Ha. ("Object in the mirror", oh, nevermind!) So, I ran cross country. I was a Freshman. There was no Freshman team or JV, so EVERYONE ran varsity. I was so damn proud after my first race, I burst in the living room to tell mom/dad "I FINISHED 52ND!" They, remaining in their comfy chairs, barely looking up, said (ho-humly) "yeah?" HA. PLEASE don't take the wrong, I HAD THE BEST (I'm biased) parents ever. It was simply a fun moment from... oh yeah, yesteryear.
I CAN DRIVE! YUM! From crawl, to bearwalk, to walk, to run, to skateboard, to bike/training wheels, to pedaling allover the damn town to I CAN DRIVE! Yep, it's yesterday, but I'll NEVER forget that '61 Chevy Biscayne. (And I even forgot to mention the, probably worth thousands of dollars now, baseball cards that I/we affixed to our bike spokes with clothespins to make really cool 'puttering/motorlike' sounds as we pedaled.)
"Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with manly heart. Don't look back, there is nothing in the past."..... Manly's ass, there's all kinds of good stuff in the past.
Life, to me anyways, likens Netflix in that you can go back, stream, any damn age, era, friend, loved one, pet, car, food, movie, memory you have. Is "Shit" French? Pardon my French, the past is good shit, I'm gonna 'bingewatch' for awhile.
"Looking back isn't going to help you. Moving forward is the thing you have to do." I'm a simpleton, and I ain't afeared to admit that. My first thought, when rereading those two sentences was "Hogwash." Tweren't real sure what Webster says about 'hogwash' so I ran up the hill to Wllliam Jewell where I usedta to all my research back in the day, got halfway up the hill and said "to hell with that, I'll Google it." SWILL. SLOP. NONSENSE. BALDERDASH. (YOU tell 'em, I'll pat ma' foot!).. YESTERDAY IS YUMMY! Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.
1985 Royals? 1969 Chiefs (I'm old, I remember.) 2015 Royals? FORGET ABOUT IT, don't look back!
Victor, you dumbass, tomorrow is where it's at.
Yes, yes. Correct you are. However, tomorrow soon becomes yesterday. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.
To me, that's damn yummy.
Enjoy the day, and yesterday, love Victurd.
"Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with a manly heart. Don't look back, there is nothing in past, look into the future and win it. Don't waste your time looking back at what you've lost. Move on, life is not meant to be traveled backwards."
"Looking back isn't going to help you. Moving forward is the thing you have to do."
"It's not possible to go forward while looking back."
"Ever since I've made tomorrow my favorite day, I've been uncomfortable looking back."
Wait... Stymie halt... Just a gol' durn moment.
I disagree.
Sure, ya can't make any progress if you waller in a pool of jello all your life, but I'm of the ilk ya take your spoon out, scoop up, sample some of that delectable yesteryear - all the while "matriculating" down the field of life. Them past objects ARE large in life.
Woven. Quilts. Fabric.
A very pretty lady that I once upon a time lived with, slept with (her and her dog, it's cool, he's a fantastic little dude)... anyways, we were covered up with --> this lady's daughter made her a quilt out of T Shirts she'd worn from yesteryear. Places she'd traveled to, joints where she'd fed her face, places of employ, schools she'd attended.. and fun sayings that brought smile in recollect.
THAT'S what I'm talkin' about. Hell to the yes. Yesterday, with maybe pushing it thru the old kitchen strainer, is YUMMY.
This retirement. This Facebook. This box of old photos. I've selfishly plant myself in the easy chair, a throw atop me, a furnace set at 59 degrees, (bite me, fixed income), wooly slippers, TV on but ignored, feet plopped on the ottoman - and I divulge. I laugh. I smile. I emote. I cry. I love. YESTERDAY is the thread, the patch, the weaving, the quilt, of life.
To me anyways. Sure, there's ugly. (One of my favorite ugly quotes is from back in the day the Los Angeles Lakers would come to town to play the NBA team we in Kansas City had for a millisecond, The Kings. Kareem Abdul Jabbar and Sam Lacey, centers for those corresponding teams - had some wonderful, hard fought, sweaty battles over the years. It was the day and age "the beeper" was our social media. Anyways, Kareem, on a flight leaving LAX headed for MCI said "Watchout Sam, I'm coming to knock some of the ugly off your face." HA, fun, and yes, sorry/not, a part of yesteryear, why even ugly can be a fun memory!)
Looking back affords hounds, cats that are buried in the backyard to once again be puppies, kittens. Yesterday fills the Thanksgiving table up, fills the chairs of those now gone that we desperately miss.
As I occasionally cuss at my far, far away toenails that need clipping, but the belly donelapped over, and the flexibility has gone from very good to the present stiff board... where was I? Oh yeah.. bemoaning old age, body change, but it ALLOWS me to remember sledding down the biggest damn hill at William Jewell next to a herd of Flanigans. I can go back to Ridgeview and remember "I ain't real sure what's come over me, going on, but damn she's pretty." Hey, I remember when I usedta be able to slide! Not only going first to second, but down the entire length of the slip-n-slide! Hell, I once climbed that tree over there! Remember cross country? Running 2 miles, REALLY FAST? (Well, to me fast anyways.)
Speakin' o' Cross Country. Doc wouldn't pass me for physical to play football, long/short/oblong/ha story. Close your ears, I had one testicle that was bigger than the other, he feared if I got hit, I'd neva' eva' be able to be a dad. Ha. ("Object in the mirror", oh, nevermind!) So, I ran cross country. I was a Freshman. There was no Freshman team or JV, so EVERYONE ran varsity. I was so damn proud after my first race, I burst in the living room to tell mom/dad "I FINISHED 52ND!" They, remaining in their comfy chairs, barely looking up, said (ho-humly) "yeah?" HA. PLEASE don't take the wrong, I HAD THE BEST (I'm biased) parents ever. It was simply a fun moment from... oh yeah, yesteryear.
I CAN DRIVE! YUM! From crawl, to bearwalk, to walk, to run, to skateboard, to bike/training wheels, to pedaling allover the damn town to I CAN DRIVE! Yep, it's yesterday, but I'll NEVER forget that '61 Chevy Biscayne. (And I even forgot to mention the, probably worth thousands of dollars now, baseball cards that I/we affixed to our bike spokes with clothespins to make really cool 'puttering/motorlike' sounds as we pedaled.)
"Go forth to meet the shadowy future without fear and with manly heart. Don't look back, there is nothing in the past."..... Manly's ass, there's all kinds of good stuff in the past.
Life, to me anyways, likens Netflix in that you can go back, stream, any damn age, era, friend, loved one, pet, car, food, movie, memory you have. Is "Shit" French? Pardon my French, the past is good shit, I'm gonna 'bingewatch' for awhile.
"Looking back isn't going to help you. Moving forward is the thing you have to do." I'm a simpleton, and I ain't afeared to admit that. My first thought, when rereading those two sentences was "Hogwash." Tweren't real sure what Webster says about 'hogwash' so I ran up the hill to Wllliam Jewell where I usedta to all my research back in the day, got halfway up the hill and said "to hell with that, I'll Google it." SWILL. SLOP. NONSENSE. BALDERDASH. (YOU tell 'em, I'll pat ma' foot!).. YESTERDAY IS YUMMY! Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away.
1985 Royals? 1969 Chiefs (I'm old, I remember.) 2015 Royals? FORGET ABOUT IT, don't look back!
Victor, you dumbass, tomorrow is where it's at.
Yes, yes. Correct you are. However, tomorrow soon becomes yesterday. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear.
To me, that's damn yummy.
Enjoy the day, and yesterday, love Victurd.
Thursday, November 09, 2017
Tether ball anyone?..
Tether ball is in the rear view mirror..... Or is it?
The playground 'wayside': tether ball.. red rover... dodgeball... king of the hill... crack the whip.. snowball fights.. duck duck goose (yes, 'tap' is "too violent".. and the possibility of today's chubby children running around as the 'goose' subtly programs kids to want foie gras. < I KNOW, I had to look it up too.
Tether: the utmost length to which one can go into action. to fasten or confine. a rope, chain, or the like, by which an (animal, kid, wife, hubby, alchy, user, depressed person, anthropophobia <- I KNOW, I had to look it up too.
Tethered can be a good thing. Like the wedding ring. A circle has no beginning or end and is therefore a symbol of infinity. Sure, overkill. Sure, sometime the 'ball' flies off the rope..."Heather no tether" forgets the circular path home.. Uh huh, sometimes "Bing no string" too.
I've noticed... people are tethered to their God... their hound/cat... their job... alcohol.. tobacco... opioids (we didn't haveta look up that one, but we mighta 15 years ago).. cocaine... cannabis... food.. 7 come 11...sex...shopping (Amazon Prime YIPPEE!).. work... exercise.. video games... cell phone.. yada.
No, not all tethers are bad.
Sometimes though, ya miss the ball with your hand and it hits that damn metal connector on the rope and it hurts like hell, hence, why Patty(or Paul) Principal deemed "huh uh, no more, yank the damn pole outta the ground, store it over there by the merry go round."
Sometimes too, in life, and in tether, it gets too damn tough and ya ain't got it inya. Remember those times, jumping as high as you could, only to see the ball rise higher higher, the string grow shorter and shorter, speed faster and faster - and kabaam, it suddenly stops and you're duck duck goose is cooked? Can happen in ANY of the tethers above.
Whilst sure, I play tether ball in life.. I'd much rather 'the connecter' be like the chain on a porch swing - back and forth, any damn speed I like. Or, like the kids amusement park ride..you're tethered to the pole, but instead up wrapping up, shortening the path, ya go round and round, ya take it all in, you say "wow" on the inside, and life, that kinda tethered, is pretty damn good, scenic, thrilling, amazing.
Rides end, damnit. Ya gotta get off, back to reality. No tether, heaven help me/us. Life? Sometimes I want, need, lean on, addict (can addict be a verb?) on tether.
Then, there are the untethered... I'll wear what I want, when I want. I'll go, do, see as I please (say, canya loan me a hunnerd?).hehe.. ya run, like they left the gate open. Ya fly, like you're mylar. Ya swim, like you're Michael Phelps. Hell, you maybe enjoy both, freedom/tether, like the lazy river ride.
Remember standing in line at recess, awaiting your turn to tether? Heck, little did we know we had a lifetime of it, or not, ahead.
I am finding, this untethered thing called retirement can be pretty damn nice. (Don't get excited, I WILL work again, somewhere, hopefully not tethered).. but, after a few weeks untethered I find:
I get in my car when I wanna, or not. I go to bed, awaken, no matter the time, the Daylight Savings (or not), the day of the week, I'll go get fast food, when I want, eat what I want, oh, and I try to go during working folks lunch hour, stare at the drive up menu for a minute or seven, simply as a payback.
Contrary to what Sammy Hagar says, I CAN drive 55. I've only tried the middle lane on Interstate thus far, can't do the left lane, fear of crotch-rockets.
Again though, many enjoy the tether, for obvious, varied reason. You know, like the couple in their own confines of their bedroom. Perverts. jk.
Rope a dope. Ya got me going in circles, bomp bomp bomp,ohhh oh around and around I go... keep turning left Earnhardt Jr... do whatever Ethel says Fred... Tie me kangaroo down sport...
Lose your blues, everybody cut, everybody cut
Everybody cut, everybody cut
Everybody cut, everybody cut
Everybody, everybody cut footloose
Got the runs, er, I mean I gotta run. Gonna grab a bite to eat, maybe take a nap, walk around the block (turning right).. or maybe even take a drive to Loose Park.
Happy tethers to you, happy tethers to you, happy TETHERS dear people, happy tethers to you.
Love, the one tethered to this damn keyboard, Victurd.
The playground 'wayside': tether ball.. red rover... dodgeball... king of the hill... crack the whip.. snowball fights.. duck duck goose (yes, 'tap' is "too violent".. and the possibility of today's chubby children running around as the 'goose' subtly programs kids to want foie gras. < I KNOW, I had to look it up too.
Tether: the utmost length to which one can go into action. to fasten or confine. a rope, chain, or the like, by which an (animal, kid, wife, hubby, alchy, user, depressed person, anthropophobia <- I KNOW, I had to look it up too.
Tethered can be a good thing. Like the wedding ring. A circle has no beginning or end and is therefore a symbol of infinity. Sure, overkill. Sure, sometime the 'ball' flies off the rope..."Heather no tether" forgets the circular path home.. Uh huh, sometimes "Bing no string" too.
I've noticed... people are tethered to their God... their hound/cat... their job... alcohol.. tobacco... opioids (we didn't haveta look up that one, but we mighta 15 years ago).. cocaine... cannabis... food.. 7 come 11...sex...shopping (Amazon Prime YIPPEE!).. work... exercise.. video games... cell phone.. yada.
No, not all tethers are bad.
Sometimes though, ya miss the ball with your hand and it hits that damn metal connector on the rope and it hurts like hell, hence, why Patty(or Paul) Principal deemed "huh uh, no more, yank the damn pole outta the ground, store it over there by the merry go round."
Sometimes too, in life, and in tether, it gets too damn tough and ya ain't got it inya. Remember those times, jumping as high as you could, only to see the ball rise higher higher, the string grow shorter and shorter, speed faster and faster - and kabaam, it suddenly stops and you're duck duck goose is cooked? Can happen in ANY of the tethers above.
Whilst sure, I play tether ball in life.. I'd much rather 'the connecter' be like the chain on a porch swing - back and forth, any damn speed I like. Or, like the kids amusement park ride..you're tethered to the pole, but instead up wrapping up, shortening the path, ya go round and round, ya take it all in, you say "wow" on the inside, and life, that kinda tethered, is pretty damn good, scenic, thrilling, amazing.
Rides end, damnit. Ya gotta get off, back to reality. No tether, heaven help me/us. Life? Sometimes I want, need, lean on, addict (can addict be a verb?) on tether.
Then, there are the untethered... I'll wear what I want, when I want. I'll go, do, see as I please (say, canya loan me a hunnerd?).hehe.. ya run, like they left the gate open. Ya fly, like you're mylar. Ya swim, like you're Michael Phelps. Hell, you maybe enjoy both, freedom/tether, like the lazy river ride.
Remember standing in line at recess, awaiting your turn to tether? Heck, little did we know we had a lifetime of it, or not, ahead.
I am finding, this untethered thing called retirement can be pretty damn nice. (Don't get excited, I WILL work again, somewhere, hopefully not tethered).. but, after a few weeks untethered I find:
I get in my car when I wanna, or not. I go to bed, awaken, no matter the time, the Daylight Savings (or not), the day of the week, I'll go get fast food, when I want, eat what I want, oh, and I try to go during working folks lunch hour, stare at the drive up menu for a minute or seven, simply as a payback.
Contrary to what Sammy Hagar says, I CAN drive 55. I've only tried the middle lane on Interstate thus far, can't do the left lane, fear of crotch-rockets.
Again though, many enjoy the tether, for obvious, varied reason. You know, like the couple in their own confines of their bedroom. Perverts. jk.
Rope a dope. Ya got me going in circles, bomp bomp bomp,ohhh oh around and around I go... keep turning left Earnhardt Jr... do whatever Ethel says Fred... Tie me kangaroo down sport...
Lose your blues, everybody cut, everybody cut
Everybody cut, everybody cut
Everybody cut, everybody cut
Everybody, everybody cut footloose
Got the runs, er, I mean I gotta run. Gonna grab a bite to eat, maybe take a nap, walk around the block (turning right).. or maybe even take a drive to Loose Park.
Happy tethers to you, happy tethers to you, happy TETHERS dear people, happy tethers to you.
Love, the one tethered to this damn keyboard, Victurd.
Tuesday, November 07, 2017
Fun with numbers.......
Victor, you tell it, we'll decide if it's fun or not.
Ahm, ok.
Fun,to me, hogbreath - is hearing a preschool grandkid count to thirty, only to omit 19 - which is cool,because 19 is no fun. You're finally old enough to vote, gradugated, ya ain't of legal age, so, who needs 19? The skipping of 19 causes a fun, understanding smile.. "I know one day he/she will get there, repeat 'em fluently... and the proudness of reaching 30 mirrors on us old grandparent's face.
One is the loneliest number. I ain't so sure about that. Tell that to the lady with the humongous smile as she crossed the finish line of the NYC Marathon becoming the first American in 40 years.. Or, to Jack Sock, local kid done good with win (first American in 18 years) of the Paris Masters Tennis Tournament. Or mebbe to the mom in the delivery room hearing 'cry #1' from the dude/dudette that's been in the belly for nine months. Or, howabout the Astros, and what it meant to the City that's been thru one helluva year?
Two. Victor? Are you going to go thru every dadgum number like this? Nope, I was getting bored 'two', so I won't. Instead, let's take a look at numbers:
28,762 days. That's the average number of days we are given. Kinda makes one think. Precious they are.
We: Sneeze 115,048 times in our life. $1,400,000 --> the average an American earns in a lifetime. I just peeked at checking/savings account, no further comment on that.
Ok, let's see... ave male (191), ave female (159), makes average person 175 lbs, we go #2 an average of once a day ("some people three times a day, some, once every three days, so, average is once a day"), we "#2" an average of 1 oz per every 12 lbs of body weight... so.. the formula is 175 divided by 12 = 14.583, times 28,762 = 419,445,8333 oz, which, divided by 16 = 26,215.36 bs of poop we leave 'behind' in our life. Holy crapalot! I know, I know, some readers turned left here. All good.
The average American drives 664,738 miles in their life. That's 26.69 times around the equator. For us old people, many of those miles are spent hurrying to find the closest public restroom.
We kiss (and apparently tell)an average of "28 first kisses" in our lifetime. The average kiss is 7 seconds long (barring halitosis, inebriation, or, those first few years when they can go on, and on, and on).. assuming we start this around 17 (average) and we kiss, on average 7.5 times per day, that means we spend just about two entire weeks of our life, kissing. A French kiss moves 29 muscles in the face. A real kiss quickens your pulse to 100 beats per minute, burns 3 calories. Men who kiss their wives every morning live five years longer, PUCKER UP!
What's wrong with this picture? Kids smile 400 times per day, happy people 40-50 times a day, we average smiling only 20 times a day. I wonder what those numbers would be if they could record 'dog smiles?'
We walk 110,000 miles in our lifetime, yep, that's 4.417 times around the equator, or, that's 19.72 times from NY to LA (AND BACK).
5,332 infants are born yearly having more than ten toes. Lee Redmond, a woman from Utah, had not cut her fingernails since 1979, amassing a total of 28 feet, 4 and 1/2 inches of nails. Sadly, she lost them in a car crash in 2009.
The average US marriage lasts 8.2 years. Wow. I feel better! We speak 860 million words in our lifetime (assuming we don't cuss until age 20, and we cuss, on average of 80 times a day, that's 1,716,960 curse words in our lifetime. I usedtda work the counter at United Airlines. I noticed, those people (the fliers) averaged more than 80 a day.
We write 45 million words (Victor, you can double that damnit).
22.82 million of us take a nap every day. (World population 7.6 billion, 30% of us, take naps).
Clayton Kershaw is the highest paid baseball player at $33,000,000 this year. We open/close our eyes (blink) and average of 20 times per minute. There are 1,440 minutes in a day. That's 525,600 minutes per year, times 20 = 10,512,000 eye blinks a year. Dividing that into Kershaw's salary, he makes $3.14 every time he blinks his eyes. Holy guacamole, nothing to bat an eye at. I'll be on Social Security in January of 2018. If I did the math correctly, I will have to blink 1,529 times to make $3.14.
Oldest man ever (unverified), 146 (Mbah Gotho, Indonesia), oldest woman ever (verified) 122 years, 164 days (Jeanne Calment (France). Based on average number of farts per day (14), that's 746,000 for him, 625,436 for her. See? Told you this would be a gas... (We're still not impressed Victor)
Adwaita, an Aldabra giant tortoise that was in a zoo in India, is believed to be the oldest terrestrial animal in the world, dying in 2006 at age 255. The Mayfly, on the other hand, has the shortest lifespan of an animal at about 24 hours.
Vesna Vulovic on January 26th 1972, survived the longest (non-parachute) fall (without dying) when the DC-9 she was working exploded. She was the lone survivor, after a fall of 33,333 feet (that's 6.31 miles.)
I know, I should run. Gotta lotta farts, poop, walking, driving, kissing, falling, blinking to do. Happy 311th day of the year, love, Victurd.
VICTOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU FORGOT SEX! WHAT ABOUT SEX? "The average person will have sex 5,778 times in their life." YIPEE, I'VE GOT 4,962 MORE COMING, I'M GONNA ENJOY RETIREMENT!
Ahm, ok.
Fun,to me, hogbreath - is hearing a preschool grandkid count to thirty, only to omit 19 - which is cool,because 19 is no fun. You're finally old enough to vote, gradugated, ya ain't of legal age, so, who needs 19? The skipping of 19 causes a fun, understanding smile.. "I know one day he/she will get there, repeat 'em fluently... and the proudness of reaching 30 mirrors on us old grandparent's face.
One is the loneliest number. I ain't so sure about that. Tell that to the lady with the humongous smile as she crossed the finish line of the NYC Marathon becoming the first American in 40 years.. Or, to Jack Sock, local kid done good with win (first American in 18 years) of the Paris Masters Tennis Tournament. Or mebbe to the mom in the delivery room hearing 'cry #1' from the dude/dudette that's been in the belly for nine months. Or, howabout the Astros, and what it meant to the City that's been thru one helluva year?
Two. Victor? Are you going to go thru every dadgum number like this? Nope, I was getting bored 'two', so I won't. Instead, let's take a look at numbers:
28,762 days. That's the average number of days we are given. Kinda makes one think. Precious they are.
We: Sneeze 115,048 times in our life. $1,400,000 --> the average an American earns in a lifetime. I just peeked at checking/savings account, no further comment on that.
Ok, let's see... ave male (191), ave female (159), makes average person 175 lbs, we go #2 an average of once a day ("some people three times a day, some, once every three days, so, average is once a day"), we "#2" an average of 1 oz per every 12 lbs of body weight... so.. the formula is 175 divided by 12 = 14.583, times 28,762 = 419,445,8333 oz, which, divided by 16 = 26,215.36 bs of poop we leave 'behind' in our life. Holy crapalot! I know, I know, some readers turned left here. All good.
The average American drives 664,738 miles in their life. That's 26.69 times around the equator. For us old people, many of those miles are spent hurrying to find the closest public restroom.
We kiss (and apparently tell)an average of "28 first kisses" in our lifetime. The average kiss is 7 seconds long (barring halitosis, inebriation, or, those first few years when they can go on, and on, and on).. assuming we start this around 17 (average) and we kiss, on average 7.5 times per day, that means we spend just about two entire weeks of our life, kissing. A French kiss moves 29 muscles in the face. A real kiss quickens your pulse to 100 beats per minute, burns 3 calories. Men who kiss their wives every morning live five years longer, PUCKER UP!
What's wrong with this picture? Kids smile 400 times per day, happy people 40-50 times a day, we average smiling only 20 times a day. I wonder what those numbers would be if they could record 'dog smiles?'
We walk 110,000 miles in our lifetime, yep, that's 4.417 times around the equator, or, that's 19.72 times from NY to LA (AND BACK).
5,332 infants are born yearly having more than ten toes. Lee Redmond, a woman from Utah, had not cut her fingernails since 1979, amassing a total of 28 feet, 4 and 1/2 inches of nails. Sadly, she lost them in a car crash in 2009.
The average US marriage lasts 8.2 years. Wow. I feel better! We speak 860 million words in our lifetime (assuming we don't cuss until age 20, and we cuss, on average of 80 times a day, that's 1,716,960 curse words in our lifetime. I usedtda work the counter at United Airlines. I noticed, those people (the fliers) averaged more than 80 a day.
We write 45 million words (Victor, you can double that damnit).
22.82 million of us take a nap every day. (World population 7.6 billion, 30% of us, take naps).
Clayton Kershaw is the highest paid baseball player at $33,000,000 this year. We open/close our eyes (blink) and average of 20 times per minute. There are 1,440 minutes in a day. That's 525,600 minutes per year, times 20 = 10,512,000 eye blinks a year. Dividing that into Kershaw's salary, he makes $3.14 every time he blinks his eyes. Holy guacamole, nothing to bat an eye at. I'll be on Social Security in January of 2018. If I did the math correctly, I will have to blink 1,529 times to make $3.14.
Oldest man ever (unverified), 146 (Mbah Gotho, Indonesia), oldest woman ever (verified) 122 years, 164 days (Jeanne Calment (France). Based on average number of farts per day (14), that's 746,000 for him, 625,436 for her. See? Told you this would be a gas... (We're still not impressed Victor)
Adwaita, an Aldabra giant tortoise that was in a zoo in India, is believed to be the oldest terrestrial animal in the world, dying in 2006 at age 255. The Mayfly, on the other hand, has the shortest lifespan of an animal at about 24 hours.
Vesna Vulovic on January 26th 1972, survived the longest (non-parachute) fall (without dying) when the DC-9 she was working exploded. She was the lone survivor, after a fall of 33,333 feet (that's 6.31 miles.)
I know, I should run. Gotta lotta farts, poop, walking, driving, kissing, falling, blinking to do. Happy 311th day of the year, love, Victurd.
VICTOR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YOU FORGOT SEX! WHAT ABOUT SEX? "The average person will have sex 5,778 times in their life." YIPEE, I'VE GOT 4,962 MORE COMING, I'M GONNA ENJOY RETIREMENT!
Friday, November 03, 2017
Of moms... leaders... life's lessons... and the Funny Little Clown...
The mom here is a good one, a very good one.
The leader here is new MU Basketball Coach Cuonzo Martin. Before any Jayhawks turn left here, please remember I like to write about good people doing good things, witness two past articles about Mark Mangino.
The Funny Little Clown is.. me, maybe. We all know the song... I think we all have probably worn that mask of happiness when the innards don't necessarily match... bottomline, why I like to share good stuff (my opine anyways) like this.
I dunno about legalities of reposting this, I don't think the writer, Vahe Gregorian, would mind. Nice article Vahe, thank you.
If you subscribe, you're probably read.. if not, please read on by all means:
From this Morning's Kansas City Star.. reprinted with admiration:
"The grim East St. Louis, Ill., housing project in which Cuonzo Martin grew up was known as “The Hole.” Not knowing what he was missing when he was very young, though, he’ll say, “For me, it was like Beverly Hills.”
But his mother, Sandra, wanted him and his siblings to understand there was so much more beyond the poverty, violence, drugs and gangs that surrounded them.
So as she worked multiple jobs to raise four children, she’d also take them on simple but profound field trips a few times a year.
Since she didn’t have a car, they’d bus over to affluent St. Louis suburbs like Clayton and Chesterfield and visit open houses.
As they got their glimpses of what comfort looked like, every so often they might even lie down on a luxurious bed just to experience the sensation — even as people asked, “What are you doing?”
Martin laughed as he told the story on Wednesday night at The Kansas City Marriott, where he was the keynote speaker for “High Aspirations,” a mentoring organization for African-American males.
But it’s also an emotional tale for Martin, the first-year University of Missouri coach whose team opens the much-anticipated season against Iowa State on Nov. 10 in Columbia.
Because of what his mother was trying to establish:
“Dream big,” she’d tell them. “This can happen for you one day.”
Martin wanted to drive home the same point on Wednesday, so much so that he took off practice to be here.
“I owe it to (the youths) to give them everything I have,” he said.
As he spoke, his sincerity and strength and eloquence were as evident and compelling as his rich, deep voice.
It was easy to see how he can lead young men, and why you’d want him to, especially because he’s living testimony to the power of character to navigate adversity.
Beyond growing up in a tight-knit but perilous environment, one that doubtless was a factor in how his brother Dale spent 10 years in prison before straightening himself out, Martin also endured four knee operations and is a cancer survivor 20 years this month after being diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma.
“‘I don’t know if you’re going to die, but this is life-threatening,’” the doctor told him that night.
It was, he added, “a powerful, powerful thing to go through.”
So was listening to Martin on Wednesday.
Among the messages he delivered, tailored to the young men in the audience but telling of something more:
▪ “Your greatness is in the mirror,” he said, invoking a term his late grandmother used to use and that took him years to grasp.
▪ “Value your parents, value your moms, especially when you get a little older, little bigger … I can’t live without my mom to this day,” he said, then asking the audience to give a hand for all the mothers.
▪ Under the recurring theme of don’t give up, Martin offered a light version of that: his disappointment during the 1995 NBA Draft. As he waited to hear his name called, he was dismayed to hear the first syllable of his name called by the Los Angeles Clippers at No. 53 overall … only for them to have picked Constantin Popa. But the Atlanta Hawks selected him four picks later.
But the essence of a riveting talk that commanded the room was at the end.
“Everyone’s journey in life will have periods of adversity, sometimes one obstacle after another and also some changing events that will bring you to your knees,” he said. “You cannot allow them to force you to give up.
“Because some things in life will bring you to your knees. But you have to stand strong. …”
With no excuses.
“I think it’s an excuse when you say, ‘Well my dad wasn’t around,’” he said. “You still have an opportunity because you can control whatever it is you can control. You can control that. … Don’t make excuses. …
“The other thing is you are not defined by your failures or your mistakes but instead by how you behave during those times of adversity and despair. You can’t give up.”
Leaning again on the wisdom of his grandmother (with a dose of Friedrich Nietzsche), he added, “What doesn’t destroy you will only make you stronger, more resilient and make you a better person. IF you continue to fight. If you continue to fight.”
Then there was this important thought: He urged the youth not to let their gauge of success be a pat on the back, because not everyone wants to see you succeed and not everyone is encouraging and because you need to learn for yourself what is right and good.
“Because when you look in the mirror,” he said again, “there’s your greatness.”
He closed with this burst of four traits he holds important — and that make for mighty fine words to live by for anybody.
“You can have character – you can fight for your character,” he said. “Fight for a level of toughness, because you need that (to get through) hard times.
“Also have humility. Doesn’t matter where you come from, the level, stats, money, whatever you have — have a level of humility to you.
“And even in your bad days, have some compassion. Because somebody else is going through something too.”
Happy day, thanks again Vahe, Cuonzo...... Victor
The leader here is new MU Basketball Coach Cuonzo Martin. Before any Jayhawks turn left here, please remember I like to write about good people doing good things, witness two past articles about Mark Mangino.
The Funny Little Clown is.. me, maybe. We all know the song... I think we all have probably worn that mask of happiness when the innards don't necessarily match... bottomline, why I like to share good stuff (my opine anyways) like this.
I dunno about legalities of reposting this, I don't think the writer, Vahe Gregorian, would mind. Nice article Vahe, thank you.
If you subscribe, you're probably read.. if not, please read on by all means:
From this Morning's Kansas City Star.. reprinted with admiration:
"The grim East St. Louis, Ill., housing project in which Cuonzo Martin grew up was known as “The Hole.” Not knowing what he was missing when he was very young, though, he’ll say, “For me, it was like Beverly Hills.”
But his mother, Sandra, wanted him and his siblings to understand there was so much more beyond the poverty, violence, drugs and gangs that surrounded them.
So as she worked multiple jobs to raise four children, she’d also take them on simple but profound field trips a few times a year.
Since she didn’t have a car, they’d bus over to affluent St. Louis suburbs like Clayton and Chesterfield and visit open houses.
As they got their glimpses of what comfort looked like, every so often they might even lie down on a luxurious bed just to experience the sensation — even as people asked, “What are you doing?”
Martin laughed as he told the story on Wednesday night at The Kansas City Marriott, where he was the keynote speaker for “High Aspirations,” a mentoring organization for African-American males.
But it’s also an emotional tale for Martin, the first-year University of Missouri coach whose team opens the much-anticipated season against Iowa State on Nov. 10 in Columbia.
Because of what his mother was trying to establish:
“Dream big,” she’d tell them. “This can happen for you one day.”
Martin wanted to drive home the same point on Wednesday, so much so that he took off practice to be here.
“I owe it to (the youths) to give them everything I have,” he said.
As he spoke, his sincerity and strength and eloquence were as evident and compelling as his rich, deep voice.
It was easy to see how he can lead young men, and why you’d want him to, especially because he’s living testimony to the power of character to navigate adversity.
Beyond growing up in a tight-knit but perilous environment, one that doubtless was a factor in how his brother Dale spent 10 years in prison before straightening himself out, Martin also endured four knee operations and is a cancer survivor 20 years this month after being diagnosed with non-Hodgkin lymphoma.
“‘I don’t know if you’re going to die, but this is life-threatening,’” the doctor told him that night.
It was, he added, “a powerful, powerful thing to go through.”
So was listening to Martin on Wednesday.
Among the messages he delivered, tailored to the young men in the audience but telling of something more:
▪ “Your greatness is in the mirror,” he said, invoking a term his late grandmother used to use and that took him years to grasp.
▪ “Value your parents, value your moms, especially when you get a little older, little bigger … I can’t live without my mom to this day,” he said, then asking the audience to give a hand for all the mothers.
▪ Under the recurring theme of don’t give up, Martin offered a light version of that: his disappointment during the 1995 NBA Draft. As he waited to hear his name called, he was dismayed to hear the first syllable of his name called by the Los Angeles Clippers at No. 53 overall … only for them to have picked Constantin Popa. But the Atlanta Hawks selected him four picks later.
But the essence of a riveting talk that commanded the room was at the end.
“Everyone’s journey in life will have periods of adversity, sometimes one obstacle after another and also some changing events that will bring you to your knees,” he said. “You cannot allow them to force you to give up.
“Because some things in life will bring you to your knees. But you have to stand strong. …”
With no excuses.
“I think it’s an excuse when you say, ‘Well my dad wasn’t around,’” he said. “You still have an opportunity because you can control whatever it is you can control. You can control that. … Don’t make excuses. …
“The other thing is you are not defined by your failures or your mistakes but instead by how you behave during those times of adversity and despair. You can’t give up.”
Leaning again on the wisdom of his grandmother (with a dose of Friedrich Nietzsche), he added, “What doesn’t destroy you will only make you stronger, more resilient and make you a better person. IF you continue to fight. If you continue to fight.”
Then there was this important thought: He urged the youth not to let their gauge of success be a pat on the back, because not everyone wants to see you succeed and not everyone is encouraging and because you need to learn for yourself what is right and good.
“Because when you look in the mirror,” he said again, “there’s your greatness.”
He closed with this burst of four traits he holds important — and that make for mighty fine words to live by for anybody.
“You can have character – you can fight for your character,” he said. “Fight for a level of toughness, because you need that (to get through) hard times.
“Also have humility. Doesn’t matter where you come from, the level, stats, money, whatever you have — have a level of humility to you.
“And even in your bad days, have some compassion. Because somebody else is going through something too.”
Happy day, thanks again Vahe, Cuonzo...... Victor
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