Hello Goodbye

You say yes, I say no
You say stop and I say go go go, oh no
You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello

Goodbye 2017, Hello 2018

Goodbye Tom, we're the Heartbroken, Fats, Chuck, Tulsa Time, Rhinestone Cowboy, A Sister Sledge, Gregg Allman, Cuba, J Geils, M-Mel, Della.

Why why why why why why do you say goodbye goodbye, oh no?

RIP Sally Rogers, Goll-leee, Mary Richards, Keith Partridge, Higgins, Phil Leotardo, Russell Huxtable, Benson, The Big Deal of The Day, Hef, The MD Telethon King, Rollin Hand - Mission Impossible, Flounder, Batman, Bond-James Bond, Jerry Gold, Dad - they're Home Alone now, Joanie Cunningham, Funny Man Don Rickles, The Dating Game/Gong Show guy, No minutes to Wapner, Mannix, Perry's Secretary

You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello

Raging Bull, Yordano, "OH MY", Deford, Yale, Mr Palermo, Cortez, Bunning, Piersall, Babe P, The end of an Ara, Baylor, Jud, Rollie, Broyles, YA, Pancho, Roy Halladay, Connie, Dallas, Mr. Steeler

You say yes (I say yes) I say no (But I may mean no)
You say stop (I can stay) and I say go go go (Till it's time to go), oh
Oh no
You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello hello

Out of a job: Flynn, Bharara, Harvey, Welsh, Comey, Priebus, Dubke, Shaub, Scaramucci, Spicer, Short, Bannon, Gorke, Price, Manigault, me!

Hela heba helloa
Hela heba helloa, cha cha cha
Hela heba helloa, wooo
Hela heba helloa, hela
Hela heba helloa, cha cha cha
Hela heba helloa, wooo
Hela heba helloa, cha cah cah

Hello , to the first baby born in Iceland in 2017 - son, to mom Katrin Guojonsdottir - who, by chance, was the first baby born in Iceland in 1980.

Welcome Kylie Ray Tesalona, first baby born in the US, seconds after the ball had dropped in NYC to ring in the New Year....

In the world, there were 131,400,000 born in 2017, which, added to the already population totals 7,731,400,000. There were 118,000 babies born in The Czech Republic this year, adding to the total population makes that 10,739,983. SO, if Santa were make a list, check it twice, that would be 15,462,800,000 checks (21,479,966 Czech checks)

Hello firsts: France bans "too-thin" models (based on BMI), Canada mint releases a glow in the dark coin, Beware the 'borgs'? -> A Swedish and a US Company are equipping their employees with technology inside their bodies, enabling them to, among other things, open doors and log into computers... June, 2018, Saudi Arabia to grant women driver's licenses...

Hello more firsts.. tallest sandcastle (ever) in Germany... 20th Century Fox produces Largest Underpants (76'10" across waist, 45'3" from waistband to crotch)... The Harlem Globetrotters made 348 baskets from half court in an hour... Mark Kenny walked on his hands WHILE AT THE SAME TIME PULLING a Mini Cooper for 16'4"... At 101 years, 38 days, Bryson William Verdun Hayes became the world's oldest skydiver... India's Army Service Corps set the record for most men on a single moving motorcycle - 58!!!

Dare to predict 2018? Kerry-Marie Callander, New Zealand psychic will: "Storms, bad weather... tumultuous events from the sky, not the earth... a year of hope and coming together: people who have been alone may be meeting new people, new marriages and new commitments" (hmmm, 2017 was goodbye two R's, eh, you know... 2018 then, hello fill in the blank?)... Ha.

2017 work, 2018 Social Security...

Happy New Year, have some fun, I planta, the Good Lord willing... Love, Victurd

Put another nickel in....

In the nickelodeon
All I want is having you
And music, music, music

Written in 1949 by Stephen Weiss and Bernie Baum, sung by Teresa Brewer.

A month, six months, two years from now - no one will remember -
but it's a December to put another log on. The three day forecast here lists a high of 10
and a low of minus 9. Shiver me timbers.

Ya get those memories that pop up on Facebook... a year ago.. three years ago... further...
Oft times I'm anxious to re-share - then I see a comment or a like from someone that is no longer here. Chilling. Stops me. Shouldn't.

Writers Weiss, Baum, singer Brewer - long gone.

The music can't stop.

As much dread, tragedy, illness, death has happened this year - we've got to keep putting nickels in.

I've ridden the "like me, don't like me, love me, don't love me" rollercoaster my entire life - so please know this ain't written as "do as I say, look at me." The intent is pats on others backs, not mine.

I'm gonna keep putting nickels in. I'm gonna keep feeding the fire.

Good things can, do happen. Recently, we almost lost another classmate. I have a family member that a few months back was diagnosed with ALS, "ten years max."

Both of the above afforded many, many prayers. Happy to relate, the classmate is back, out of coma, organs kickstarted, bigger, brighter than ever. Relative, not long ago, left me a voicemail. "They misdiagnosed me." She has a form of neuropathy that is TREATABLE, certainly not deathly.

The power of prayers.... and nickels... and logs on the fire.

Yes, pardon my French, shit happens. Ends happen. Life changes in a heartbeat.

We're in the 'tween' of our life.

This honestly didn't start as a New Years Resolution post, but I guess it's going to end up as one.

I resolve to tell those I love, I love you. I plan to pet every wagging tail I see. I plan to listen, really listen, to the grandkid tugging on my sleeve whilst I'm entrenched in a ballgame, movie, book, newspaper, yada.

If I see two people in the grocery store emoting happy, I'm gonna tell 'em "I love seeing happy people."

I planta give every "Bubba" at our old fart "Bubba table" meetings, knuckles, or, a pat on the back, maybe even just a telling nod.

I will try - to find, tell, those I ain't seen in some time - from a happy day/era of yesteryear - a simple "Hey, long time, been thinking of you, how are you?"

See, think, say.

If I see a beautiful child with proud parent, I will try to tell them "what a beautiful child."

If I see a pair all googly eyed at each other, I plan on letting them know how good it is to see that.

Life is good, if I/we let it be.

It's for sure short - that we know.

Trust me, I get in bad moods, down, mad at the world - I blurt, and cuss my own butt more times than you will ever know - but I've got to remember this is the 'tween' time. I am human but I hope to roar.

More knuckles. More pats on the back. More introverts extroverting. More logs on the fire.

More nickels in....
In the nickelodeon
All I want is having you
And music, music, music

Prayers, the power of, to you...

Happy New Year, Victor

Oh well.....

I can't help about the shape I'm in
I can't sing I ain't pretty and my legs are thin
But don't ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to

Now when I talk to God you know he understands
He said stick by me and I'll be your guidin' hand
But don't ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to

Who's Peter Green? In 1967, Peter Green left the band "Bluesbreakers" and formed Fleetwood Mac, later wrote Oh Well. (Originally called "Peter Greens Fleetwood Mac featuring Jeremy Spencer.") This was pre Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham. Green kinda weirded out, by 1970 he'd doted on LSD, grew a beard, wore robes and a crucifix,went to a commune, wouldn't leave, left the band. Oh well.

As a kid, I played this song, album, over and over and over again. Oh well. Ain't that kinda like life? Ground Hog Day? Christmas, Summer, Winter, any year, any morning?

Oh Well part one was fast, electric blues with vocal.. Part II, the B side, was entirely different - an instrumental piece with a classical influence.

I loved both.

"Oh well", verbally, not necessarily the lyrics - is kinda sorta - my take on life.

It was recently suggested I write too much about the past. Also, at times I've had difficulty accepting constructive criticism. CAN'T YOU PEOPLE SEE I'M A PPPPEEEOOOPPPPLLLE PERSON?!!!. Just kidding. Oh well.

Victor, this is weird, boring. Yeah, mebbe to you, but not me.

To me, "Oh well" is in lieu of Xanax, Valium, Buspar, Prozac, Paxil, Wellbutrin, Buproban, Meditation, vacation on the French Riviera - instead, all condensed into two words, oh well.

Took second place? Had a decent job interview but didn't get the job? Studied your hiney off for days on that all critical 'final' only to score an 83? Royals lose. Chiefs lose. It's Monday?..............

Oh well.

In a hurry, every light - upon approach, turns yellow.

Paid the final bill of the month... logged into the bank website. Uh oh.

Oh well.

Both said "Until Death Do I Part" but one forgot that part and Parted anyways?

Oh well, Part 1.

Both said "Until Death Do I Part" but one forgot that part and Parted anyways?

Oh well, Part II.

Life lends everyone those falling off the cliff moments. Grasp as we may.. pinch ourselves "Is this a dream?"... them there moments happen. Whatta ya do? Wet the bed? Go pee in someone else's Corn Flakes? Fire the GM? Burn all your Chief's clothing? Move to Costa Rica? Self medicate?

I much prefer the "Oh well", deep breath method.

To me, Oh Well lifts the chin, restores faith, pushes one that very much needed next step. Bill Buckner has made quite a few bucks off interviews about the routine ground ball that rolled thru his legs in the 10th inning and ended Game 6 of the World Series. The last I could find on MLB Umpire retirement pay shows Don Denkinger making $104,000 a year. Lin Elliot, at the time, was the Chiefs 2nd most accurate field goal kicker.

Don't worry, be happy, bird poop - oh well.

In every life we have some trouble, but when we worry we make it double. Stepped in doggy do. Oh well.

Why me? Why NOT me? Oh well.

Fitting, Fleetwood Mac named the Album "Then Play On" in 1969. Oops, there we go talking about yesterday again...

Oh well.

Trust me, I completely understand reading about the past, all the time, gets old. That said, I've loved my past. And my now. Why God selected me as the only survivor of my/our nuclear family to continue on, I'll never know. Mention of yesterday brings my family back to life and I certainly don't apologize for same.

Love, Victurd

Now what?

The reindeer are back in the barn - fed and watered by the helpers... The sleigh is in the garage - awaiting it's annual overhaul... Mrs. Claus has the red suit in the Biz bag, and will soon attempt to clean, remove all the creosote, dirt, milk stains, and whatever else might get on Big Red's suit, as he flies for miles behind the rear ends of all those reindeer. Santa has taken four Lactaid tablets before jumping into bed - will snooze into late morning - then, prepare for his 2pm Massage Envy appointment.

The World has exhaled. Amazon delivery drivers have thrown up the white flag. Trash men are frightened, but yet to be determined if they are more or less frightened than the reps manning WallyWorld's Customer Service Returns desk. Old man Winter has made the ground hard for us in the upper half of the US.

NOW WHAT? Well, we could make our New Year's Resolutions... Ahm, Victor, you do that almost every year... you go from Fat to kinda Fat in the months that begin with JFM, then, you once again expand in AMJJASOND, perhaps the correlation for the symbol for Libra: a scale.

OK OK... I see.. hear.. and agree. Now what though? Victor, you always need help, as in self help. Why don't you Google "How should I/we live our lives?"

OK, brb.

OK, let's see... no.. wait.. Alexa? Who is Quora?.. "Quora is a question-and-answer site where questions are asked, answered, edited and organized by its community of users." Thanks.........

Quora says:

"Don't live for others: Don't choose your path in the life based on the expectations of anyone whether it is your parents, friends or relatives." I kinda like that one Quora. You know, us old fart hippy wanna-be's, we tend to rebel a tad. Yes Victor, we're aware...

"Don't live with jealousy." Hmmm... that one rings a bell.. ha... too old for jealousy anyways, what's next?

"Be happy"... Ok, reckon that is/can be a choice.

"Don't be the crab in the bucket." Whaddaya mean by that? It's an expression. It's a tendency crabs have for pulling other crabs back down right when they're about to climb out. When you break from norm, you'll get pushback from your loved ones. Good intent, it can be harmful, create a culture of conformity, mediocrity, and quiet desperation. You mean kinda like that picture I used to have on the wall at the place I usedta work at, you know, the dog with his happy face on, tongue out, running thru the gate, entitled "Live life as if they left the gate open?" Yes Victor, like that, you old crab.

"Be proactive." OK, I'll start tomorrow. jk.

"Stop complaining." I HAVE WAITED DECADES AND DECADES AND DECADES AND DECADES AND DECADES AND DECADES AND DEC (ahm, I think that's 6 and 1/2) for this Old Age, where complaining is an entitlement. You mean I don't getta? Won't getta? Victor, don't you remember the view from your younger shoes when you used to witness that? OK, right maybe you are.. I'll gripe about politics, traffic, rising costs, damn whippersnappers, the weather, bursitis, yada, whilst I shower.

"Set your goals." OK, I will.. tomorrow.. JUST KIDDING!

"Build genuine relationships." Ok, that I will try. I've fortunately been welcomed at "The Bubba Table" this past year - all good men - and quite honestly, there are a couple I'd really like to emulate in that department. We all have a good friend who IS a good friend, maybe we can 'ape' those traits.

"Block out haters and accept constructive criticism." Can I be serious for a sec? Victor, I've read your blog for quite some time.. why would you start being serious now? Har, har, very funny. It's just that I might struggle with blocking out haters.. and, struggle too with accepting constructive criticism. Victor, haters show us our weakness, you'll likely recognize a constructive criticisms when you feel the sting of cognitive dissonance - you want to dismiss the thought because it comes from someone critical of you, but you can't help but shake that pit in your stomach. Instead of burying that feeling, accept that you might be in the wrong, and work to improve yourself so you don't make the same mistake in the future......... Hmmm, ok, I'll TRY.

"Review your life"... oh man, a lotta pretty women, great times with my softball buddies.. VICTOR, I meant from now on, say in 3-6 months from now, see how you're doing. Oh, ok.

"Keep learning." This one I do try, thanks.

"Try new things." Hmm.. I have my comfort zones, but I'll try.

"The only person you can change is yourself." Fer sure, and I once heard "The only time you can change a man is when he's a baby, ha!"

"Express gratitude." Honest, I've been working on this one. It's been a recent goal, to where in past times I would not say anything, now I try to "catch someone doing good", wing a genuine compliment, and try my darndest - when I see happy, to let someone know "I like you being happy." Somehow, it then kinda makes me happy. Yes, Victor, you're a slow learner, but I see you can learn. WAS THAT CONSTRUCTIVE CRITICISM? Oh, nevermind.

"Love yourself." Thanks, that's one we all sometimes need help with.

THANKS for all of those! So does this mean I ain't gotta go to the gym to try to get ridda fat? Victor, with all of the above, and, in relation to your question about 'the fat', take things one day at a time. Revisit this. Yes, move, get out, get going - combined with healthier eating habits... being serious, you've lost some friends, loved ones this past year.. take better care of yourself now.

Hey, thanks - I appreciate your concern.

Six days until 2018,
Fitty-nine days until Spring Training..
One-fitty-seven days until Summer...
364 shopping days.........

The Good Lord willing, we've got a chance at all of the above,
Love, Victurd

Do you see what I see.....

Lights around town... a fresh blanket of white on the ground.. Driveways normally filled with one car now have four - and on the street, three more..

Grocery store lines filled to the gills, carts fulla potatoes, cranberry sauce, carrots, parsnips, chicken, beef, hams, yams.. pie, puddings, or the ingredients to create within..

Happiness.. well wishes.. the weight of the world parked somewhere else..

A star, a star, dancing in the night - with a tail as big as a kite..

Do you hear what I hear...

Clark, Rusty, Audrey, cousin Eddy, Ralphie, Miracle on 34th, Jimmie Stewart, Ebenezer, Bing, Elvis, Springsteen, Sinatra, Christmas Island/Leon, Brenda Lee, Burl Ives, TSO...

The 5am pitter patter of children shout and about - when normally it's like pulling teeth to get them on the 7:50am bus.

Cars started in the drive - windows unfrosted whilst watching from hearth...

The crinkling of wrapping paper in reverse... a thrifty granny, grabbing the big pieces, folding neatly...

Excitement -the once a year variety..

Kids outside, trying out new sleds, Frisbee's, balls/bats, winter coats/hats - gloves.. Hot chocolate - marshmallows..

Hand held prayer.. Pass the biscuits please... More ham?... Oh, not sure if I've got room for that apple pie and ice cream.. well, ok!

Hugs, love, family, some new, some in memory..

The annual exhale - wasn't sure if we could make it happen - but, like every year, somehow we do....

Do you know what I know..

Said the king to the people everywhere, listen to what I say..
The Child, the Child, sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light
He will bring us goodness and light...

Merry Christmas,
Victor

Starry starry night.....

Painting helps.... kinda

For fun, I ran to WalMart, bought some acrylic paint, three 12" x 16" canvas frames, and attempted to mimic the cute from grandbaby faces to canvas.

Painting, a least for some, allows one to live/look for/toward, tomorrow. "This canvas is blank - it's all up to you" it says as you peek at it from under the bright light.

Every move you make.... every step you take...

You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I'm telling you why....

Well... I guess this is a tad bit about Christmas... it's more, though, about life.

When one paints (or states, acts, lives, behaves, parents, advises, blogs, posts, yada) - ain't it great to think you've got COMPLETE control of that/life/canvas! Oh yeah, but, one is subject to everyone else in the world throwing their two cents in - with no control as to the content.

Start... just start.. take that first stroke... pick a color.. mark, set, go... do....

It's our life to create.. our canvas to fill (or not fill so much)... we can pick bright... dull... drab... shiny... opaque.. transparent...

We can be neat, tidy, clean-up-after-yourself in painting (life) - or, we can drag our shirtsleeve in it - muddle the canvas, redo.. then think "eh, I'll get to the sleeve later." (A hoarders last words)...

We can (breathe, live, parent, grandparent, write, type, talk, blog, walk, model, follow) paint - and have folks watch as we do. "Pretty good, but I think if I were you I might....." "Why did you pick those colors? Don't you think they're 1960-ish, kinda outdated? Why do you always paint about the past?"... "So, when you stand that easel up, are you pretty much saying you're better than us/me?"....

It's what one risks when they paint, live, breathe, act, yada. Can prick any hint of creativity out of it - as if a needle had just introduced itself to a balloon - UNLESS ya got the chutzpah to rise above, see/work through/past.

"Just don't listen." (Can't - ears)..

"Forget what they say".. (Can't - heart.)

"Be brave, don't stop, that's their want." (And, they're doing a pretty good job at that.)

Some of the people like you all of the time, all of the people like you some time, but not all people will like you all the time.

You can like some of the people all of the time, all of the people some of the time, but you won't like all of the people all of the time.

I'm old, grumpy I guess.. I mean, if you don't like, why do you visit? Victor, you take things too personally, you always have.

Paint away, but stay within the borders, or else....

Or else what?

Love, Victurd

1975........

I started this blog in 2005. Below is one of my first. It's recollection from college days - and very sadly, three within the story below are now gone (Whale, little Dix, Stinger)... I don't think they would mind me posting - for we all (I'm pretty sure) truly had love for this time, this era. The other day, I wrote about # of reads this blog has had. Well, the joke is on me. The blog below has had a total of TWO reads.. I apologize, kinda, to "Big Dix" regarding the below. He's a friend in life and on Facebook - but then again Dixie mebbe you earned it! Happy day to all.........

Posted 7/21/2005:

"The 3am Class":


I absolutely loved where I lived in 1975. (Shit, is he gonna tell another story from 30 years ago?) Yes, I think he is. It was a special time in my life. There were four fraternities at our small Liberal Art's College. From biased shoes, one was the "Do-gooders"...... One was "fun, KINDA like us, mebbe not as wild"... Another was the "I won't get my damn fingernails dirty" 'pretty boys"...... and then there was us... Animal House.

I'm sorry, I fit. Studies WERE of importance... but that time came approximately 6pm Sunday night, or, around ten-ish during the week. Somehow, we juggled fun and school, and occasionally a girlfriend.

We lived in a turn of the century brick house with 10 bedrooms that had been converted into 23 bedrooms, or thereabouts. My own particular abode was an angular 45 degree "cranny" underneath the attic, chopped out one summer - maybe 6' by 5', appeared to be a closet with a curtain adorning - and for that very reason I really lived a pretty decent life of seclusion.

I think I mentioned pinhead before. Simpleton. Call me that, it's Ok, I resemble that.

Among my favorite memories of that house: A Friday evening where my buddy "Whale" (6'1", 290) came literally rolling down the steps...... and our 80-something French House Mother came running out, reaching the panic stage of "Tooooo much Al-Kee-Hol!!!"

Normally, things were cool. The 'rats' lived in the basement, they had no windows - so it was tough down there to know when it was time to actually end a party.

Big Dix. Dix was a great guy. (We called him Big Dix not due to his parts, but due to the fact he had a younger brother that was our brother as well) Dix was a great singer, as well as a "shirt off my back"/I'll help" kinda feller. Dix lived in the darkened basement - along with 13 other Sigma Nu's... well, maybe 14, but we never figured out where Strobbe lived.

Most of us planned our schedule where the earliest Mon-Wed-Fri class we had was 9:50am.(We generally slept in on Tue-Thur!) Not Dix. Dix had the ability to stay up until 2am, and be worth his salt for Monday thru Friday 8am classes.

What's more, the bastard liked eggs....... Sooooooooooooooooo. His very loud alarm was always set for 6am..... so he'd have plenty of time for the three S's.. (Only in his case, it wasn't Shit-Shower-Shave........ it was Shit-Shower-Serenade) .... and breakfast on the quad at the College.

Not much more disconcerting than to constantly be awakened at 6am by Dix's rendition of Carlos Santana's latest tune, Motown, or Chicago (a song where they actually sang.) Just what we all wanted to wake-up to, a white dude, with a halfass Hispanic Karaoke. Dix's logic kinda said "Well hell, if I'm up, that's all that matters." --- so in effect, "screw you other guys." I really don't think he knew what a pain in the ass his early hours were to us.

We all loved Dix...... but by March, we'd had enough. With his scheming brother at the controls - we had a plan. Due to the darkness of the basement - we decided to (after Dix fell asleep) move his clock up three hours. Sooooooo, when his alarm went off at "SIX", it was really "THREE".

Twas worth staying up one night (morning) to see this. BEEEEEEP-BEEEEEEP-BEEEEEP, Dix's alarm went off. In a moment, he was on his feet, shutting the alarm off... grabbing his towel, heading off to the shower singing "You've got to change your evil ways........ BAAAAAYBEEEEE".....

Dix was Dix. He continued to shower... compile his books... dress.... and head out the back steps to take on another day. (Double Take)...... Normally, it's light out.... But this day it ain't...... Insteada 6:15 am, it was actually only 3:15am... but what the hey, he was ready to take on the day.

About all I remember was a plethora of cussing from Dix.... He woke up everyone within sight..... (Hell, we were mostly all still awake anyways.....) BUT, I think, as the clock ticked from 3am until 6am, he mighta gotten a silent message as to why this happened.. Living with Dix the remainder of that semester was a cinch..... I reckon he learned to respect your neighbors that day.

College is a very good teacher.

Tune in tomorrow where the topic will be (either) the night we shaved off one of Chuck's eyebrows while he slept... the time we put powdered sugar in Gibby's bed (undetectable on a white sheet, body heat during sleep turns it into a gooey muck).. or, what Stinger looked like the day he went to class after we'd dumped the Johnson's Baby Shampoo and filled it with Maple Syrup. (Earned, it wasn't his JB Shampoo and he ALWAYS borrowed it without asking).

Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga, Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga, Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga, Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga

I can't stop this feeling,
Deep inside of me,
Posting nonsensical lyrics,
It's what you do to me..........

Nuttin personal... seems this blog is mainly viewed by folks on Facebook... Adding them two things together means you're probably old..ha, sorry, kinda. A good portion of you have undoubtedly been hand-held since forever (and kudos on that)... You can turn left here if ya wanna, or, ride along and pretend it's 1960-something.

Remember your favorite LP album, and how you spun it time, after time, after time? Then, one day, Jonesy and Smitty were horsing around, bumped into the stereo cabinet - and now, that fav album would skip, and skip, so - time and again - you'd move the needle back to the start, go again until it got to the skipping point.

Victor? Pray tell you're not going liken that to your coupled history and that's what this blog is about?

Ahm, the LP thingy, it kinda resembles my dating history. Oh, there were some long plays, 8 years here, 20 years there... "Girl you got me thirsty, for another cup of wine" Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga, Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga, Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga, Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga...

Ok, stymie halt. I won't make it about me, how's that? I'll do a little research, plagiarize a buncha stuff, and hopefully we'll have some fun!

Guy/gal stories:

"EHarmony matched me with my ex, AFTER we were divorced."

"Initial meet and greet fine.. went to a movie on our second meeting. He asked if he could suck my toes (Ewww)... of course "NO!"... later, he dropped something on the floor.. tried to put the toes of my crossed legs in his mouth.. I kicked him in the face.. excused myself to the restroom, ran out the door and left him."

"Dude kept telling me about the flowers he grew, how they told him secrets/expanded his mind.. finally figured out he grew pot, consumed inordinate amounts daily.. came time for the tab.. "Oh, I forgot my wallet.".. End."

"Gal I met in class.. hit it off.. decided to meet for dinner.. when she sat down she farted.. REALLY LOUD... unavoidably loud. Excused herself to the restroom, never came back."

"Date was so bad I gave the waiter $20 to spill my drink on me."

"While at dinner, date looks at me and says "If you'd just lose 10 lbs, you'd be a ten." I asked for dessert."

Ok, there were better, weirder ones.. VICTOR! PLEASE SHARE ONE OF THOSE... ok.. guy/gal had dinner. She got sick on Freeway. Asked him to pullover. (We're talking gastrointestinal sick).. no toilet paper... he opened trunk, gave her a French-cuff shirt that was destined for dry cleaners.. used it, left it.. he called her "Freeway.".. just celebrated 17th anniversary in April, he still calls her "Freeway".."

Ok, nuff... Dating is like jail. Once you're in, you can't wait to get out. (Yeah, I've heard tell sometimes marriage can be that way as well.)

Seriously though, your emotions run thru every text message (or not), every meeting.. reading few words trying to ascertain big picture - difficult. Ups, downs, whats, ifs, maybes, could I, would I, yada. It's fun, scary, tiring, emotional, yummy - lots.

Love means... never... never... never having to ask one out again! (Sorry Ali/Ryan, oops)..

I'm outta here.. gonna go stare at my Messenger, hehe...

I said I'm hooked on a feeling,
And I'm high on believin'
That you're in love with me

Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga, Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga, Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga, Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga

Love, Victurd

Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.....

Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do actually has nothing to do with this blog. It simply ran thru my head and I typed it. You too can start a blog, make the title anything ya wanna.

Local news guy stated this morning "Now here's an interesting story."

Me no likey that. Whilst I halve paid attention in English class, I think "interesting" is an adjective.

Learn "An adjective is a kind of word that modifies a noun.... a word that gives more information about the noun that goes with it... adjectives are something that describes something and makes the thing sound better."

Manfred Mann sang Do Wah Diddy Diddy Dum Diddy Do in 1964, which, if you remember that - means you too are old so you might remember "Ed Sullivan" saying "Tonight we have a REALLY BIG show." (Actually sounded kinda like "really big shoe" when he said it.) Ed, please, just get on with the show, intersperse with "Oh I wish I were an Oscar Meyer Weiner" and "That's what you get in Cracker Jack" commercials, but we'll decide if the show is "REALLY BIG" or not. Victor, are you not aware Elvis AND The Beatles were on Ed's show? Uh huh, sometimes he did have a really big show. (If Wilt Chamberlin was ever on there, he did in fact have a really big shoe.)

She/he might say "I've got a funny story." If someone I don't know says that, I remain silent. If I know them well, I'll chime in "you tell it, we'll decide if it's funny or not."

Sometimes adjectives come before the noun, sometimes they come after. You might say "your baby is adorable," or, "what an adorable baby!" I know too, sometimes babies just ain't very attractive... whilst your brain might think to yourself "Good gosh that is the ugliest (<- adjective) baby I've ever seen" it's better to concede to "adorable" or proud daddy might give you a massive (<- adjective) shiner.

I actually, get lost with the 8 parts of speech (noun, verb, adjective, pronoun, adverb, preposition, conjunction, interjection) so I should keep my trap shut. If you care to adorn that with an adjective, "Victor, you should keep your BIG trap shut." I completely understand, if I post, I'm subject to scrutiny. Yesterday I posted something, it was pointed out I should Wiki what I'd posted, I did, and I apologize if I offended anyone - wasn't my intent at all.

Trust me, I'm not giving an English lesson here because I was a PE major who literally BARELY graduated (Best six years of my life, Hi Rickety Siga Manu!). My mother was the bomb with English. I know I know bomb might be a verb, but in the case of my mom, I meant it as an adjective. I've got a cousin who might read this - she's a retired English teacher... A buddy of mine writes a column for the Kansas City Star - so whotheheck am I to give a lesson on English?

I ain't, but that don't mean I can't blog, express my opine.

It's weird (I think) all the things "Blogger" keeps track of. For example, since I started this stupid (adjective, self deprecating, that type is ok, ha) blog, 200 people from Romania have read it. 1,423 from the Ukraine, 2,701 from France, and 2,973 from Russia (uh oh.)

For example, I expose myself to disagreement (if I were to say "Here's my funny (<- adjective) blog" with someone in the Ukraine. They might write something like "Віктор, ідіот, я прийшов перевіряти двигун світло намагатися фіксувати мої чорт автомобіля" which of course translates to "Victor, you idiot, I came to check engine light to try to fix my damn car!"

55 have browsed this from Bing Preview, 660 from Mobile Safari, 9,635 from Chrome, 10,521 via Firefox (I downloaded that crap, can't get it to work), and most (22,218) using Internet Explorer. They (Blogger) even track Operating System views (39 via LG <-- that's what I got, no likey), 879 from iPad, 3,419 from Linux (What's that?) and 37,014 from Windows.

So, someone from Russia, via BingPreview, using Linux (what's that?) might write "Виктор, Вы идиот, я пришел на Свет двигателя проверки, чтобы попытаться исправить мои чертовски машину" and freetranslation.com tells me that means "Victor, your breath stinks, do you think you are somebody because of all those views? Remember, we have a direct line to the White House."

So, wet concrete. I think wet is an adjective. Be careful what you say. (Victor, are you talking to me, or to you?... "Both")..

"Say what you mean, but don't say it mean." Andrea Wachter, marriage counselor, HA..

"Wise men speak because they have something to say. Fools speak because they have to say something." Plato. HEY PLATO, I resemble that remark! But (Victor, this is Plato and I established the first institution of higher learning in the Western World around 390 BC, and you can't start a sentence with but.) BUT, I bet you woulda blogged back then if you coulda!

"You're going to go through tough times - that's life. But I say 'Nothing happens to you, it happens for you.' See the positive in negative events." Joel Osteen.... Hey Joel, honest I try to be positive here. Speakinowhich, waters have been rough of late, I see you're coming to the Sprint Center in Kansas City. Upper deck tickets are $87, can you catch me a break?

If Ernie Harwell was in a Marriott in Poland (yes, even 583 view from there) he might say "Nadchodzi czas, aby się pożegnać, ale myślę goodbyes smutni i chciałbym raczej odjeść przywitaj się. Witaj w nowej przygodzie" ahm, and that's "It's time to say goodbye, but I think goodbyes are sad and I'd much rather say hello. Hello to a new adventure."

"You say yes, I say no,
You say stop and I say go go go, oh no,
You say goodbye and I say hello,
Hello hello,
I don't know why you say goodbye, I say hello,
Hello hello
I don't know why you say goodby, I say hello." Lennon-McCartney

I need to get outta here somehow. All those damn numbers, those prolific English folks, the different languages, operating systems, browsers - it all makes me nervous.

"Listen more, talk (blog) less. What a dumb (adjective) blog." Burma Shave.

Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do.....

Love, Victurd

Dan needed help..........

Dan was a pillar in our Community, his Church, the Institution of his employ (A small, Liberal Arts College in the Midwest, he/Vice President,) my next door neighbor, my Head Assistant T-Ball Coach, and Buzzy's dad - not necessarily in order of importance. He was calm, unassuming, dedicated - spoke softly...Circa 1984..

Buzzy was 7, maybe 8, I don't remember. Buzzy was, combined, like a top that had been spun/thrown, a balloon that had been pricked, and bacon - that would make any reciprocating move to get away from the heat. He was, literally, motion, energy, continual, unending. Buzzy was playing Center Field.. and Right, and Left, occasionally Shortstop, and Second Base - ALL, from his assigned/designated position of Center Field.

Buzzy would, run to the Right Fielder (game was in play) do a Chinese Fire Drill around him.. skip to the Second Baseman, tickle his ribs, somersault/cartwheel his way back to Center, jog (fastly) to help the lost Left Fielder find that allusive 4 leaf clover, chatter, giggle, smile, laugh.. you get the idea.

To top this little spinning top off, he was cute as could be, matching dimples on either side, big ole adoring brown eyes, a hat two times too big, and a smile that could light up life...

Shortly after the Chinese Fire Drill, Dan, Buzzy's father, my assistant T-Ball Coach, Community pillar - stated in a voice just a hair above normal conversation, "Buzzy, stop it!"... I'm not certain Buzzy heard it, and I am certain he paid no heed as he was skipping toward the 2nd baseman. After Buzzy tickled him, Dan's voice changed from reasonably soft, to mildly loud, "BUZZY! STOP!"...

Pretty sure Buzzy heard that one, but it's kinda hard to reply when you're doing forward rolls/cartwheels back to your position in Center. Dan's voice, the second time, had gathered the attention of our bench, and the parents bench behind us. After the 2nd cartwheel, Dan, by now some baby veins bulging from his neck, hollered "BUZZY!!!!! STOP IT!!!!." This obtained the attention of the ump, the opposing bench, their parents behind, and the three outfielders from the adjacent field.

Unfazed, Buzzy had continued on to Left Field, was on his knees assisting little Jennifer - who knew not/cared not what T-Ball/Baseball was about, to find that allusive 4 leaf clover. The ball was hit just past the 3rd baseman who had his back to the infield, staring at Jennifer and Buzzy, wondering what all Dan's fuss was about. 3rd baseman ran, retrieved the ball, tossed it to the first baseman to try to put out the runner who was on his way to 3rd from 2nd, because, that's the way T-Ball works...

Buzzy (and Jennifer) were still on their 4 leaf quest. Dan, now stuck to make a decision harder than anything his College, Church, Community, wife had presented him - rose out of his cocoon, yelling at the top of his lungs, "BUZZY!!!! STOP IT!!!! OR ELSE!!!!" Buzzy did hear this, ran and high-fived the Shortstop, stepped on 2nd Base, returned to Center Field, then started again toward Right Field for another Chinese Fire Drill.

Dan, his complexion now vividly matching our Fire Department red uni's, yelled again (BUZZY! STOP! OR ELSE!)... and again BUZZY! STOP! OR ELSE!!!!)... Upon completion of the Chinese Fire Drill, Buzzy, dimples and all, finally caught eyeballs with his father Dan, and at an equally loud voice, returned to his father "OR ELSE WHAT DAD?" (Emphasis on the WHAT)...

Have you had moments in your life when you simultaneously wanted to laugh, pee your paints, AND take a picture/video so you'd remember it for the rest of your life? Uh huh, me too, and this was one. I moved to the other end of the bench from Dan. I turned my head away, saw the smiles, covered mouths of the awaiting parents behind our bench.. I honestly do not remember the outcome, Dan's reply, or the end. My side hurt, for both me and Dan, but I knew at that moment Buzzy would grow up to be a salesman, marry the prettiest smartest cheerleader, move to Hallbrook, retire at age 49, and have second homes in both Florida and Arizona. If, at age 7 (or 8), you can do that, to that man - you can do, go, be anything you wanna. I'm certain he probably did, I'd love to find out. At that very moment, I knew Dan wouldn't believe that, but I did. Easy to tell that future.

I was gonna make this blog about prognostication, make a list of all the tools available for Dan to come up with his "OR ELSE WHAT DAD?" answer, predict Buzzy's ultimate way in life.. (You know, Google, Siri, Ask Alexa, Ouija Board, Fortune Cookie, Fortune teller, priest/Pastor, wife, yada) but I made this too long, sorry. I know I have shared, via different words, a snippet of this story before - but Siri, Alexa, Ouija would all tell you that as well, sorry, kinda. It's what old people do, we repeat ourselves. It's what old people do, we repeat ourselves.

BUZZY? Your turn to bat.

Dan, can you coach first?

I, thankfully, have a lifetime of fun, really really good sport's memories from my life (The above, among my favorites). I am certain you have your own life lists, things, stories, tales too.

We all die. I have but pictures, writings from my mother. Some awards, pictures, the folded flag from my father... too much of my own junk. And memories.

I vote, why not keep some alive? Love, Victurd.

Run, he's a word nerd.

Yes, self-professed I am. I love words, letters - so, reckon this could be connoted as a love letter, ha.

Words are our everything. They can mean something, nothing, huge, tiny, worthless, valuable - sometimes even have two, three plus meanings.

Words provoke thought, profess love, hatrid... cause riot, peace, comfort, uncomfortable.

Words are silent, aloud, can be loud, soft, foreign, nearby, free, costly, damaging, uplifting.

Might we peek at 'secure' for example?.....

SECURE: Free from or not exposed to danger or harm, safe.
Dependable, firm, not liable to fail, yield, become displaced, etc.
Confident.

Place an "IN" infronta that (INSECURE) and one would think the "word maker-uppers"...would make that to mean, at first glance,: "IN" (a state of being... "I AM (THAT-THERE)"...) "SECURE". As in I am secure, or, 'in-secure.'

Nuh huh. Word maker-uppers say that INSECURE means just the opposite: Not confident or assured, uncertain and anxious.

I, perhaps we, sometimes struggle with 'insecure', insecurity.

Older I get, honestly, I believe the less I struggle with it. Oh sure, who wants to be thought of as unkept, unaware, unknowing, nerdly, different, don't-make-fun-of-me... don't like me? OH NO!

Nuh uh, insteada "OH NO", I lean nowadays more toward "OH WHO CARES?"

I am unique, just like you.

The times, they are'a changin'. Verbatim, a buddy o' mine posted:

"Admit you cry. No need to say weak shit like 'Who's chopping onions?' or 'There's dust in my eyes.' If you find reason to weep once in a while, admit it. There are plenty of reasons these days, whether of anger or sorrow." (And I'll add to that, even happiness. Sorry, kinda, just watched the flash mob "Hallelujah.")

The most interesting reply regarding crying (to me) was "Be found the strongest and most SECURE men just straight up admit it and grab a tissue."

I liked that. It's OK, even secure, to cry. Yes, they say "dare to be different" - but I much prefer "dare to accept yourself, no matter how different."

Sure, hang, go, do with 'similar' if your choice, but, be secure, don't fear to take an occasional (maybe even often) walk in the neighborhood of 'different.' You can, all the while maintain your own difference - securely. I think I've even heard a time or two, opposites attract. (Just ask a magnet, ha.)

We need both oil, water. Dem/Repub. Differing opines, lifestyles doesn't have to lead to separation. Don't change, or wanna change, to fit in, "go with the flow."

Status quo works, and sure, striving for growth, betterment, doesn't mean letting loose of your principles, ideas, thoughts, beliefs. Might enhance 'em even.

The most important person to like you is readily available in any nearby mirror.

The world needs you, me - as we are - for the quilt of secure.

That's all, love, Victurd

Way up in the air in my beautiful balloon.........

Hot air, ha, I know.....

Topsy, turvy
Up, down
Goofus, Gallant
Hot, cold
Full, empty
Good, bad
Light, dark
Smooth, rough
Right, wrong
Happy, sad
Easy, difficult
Strong, weak
Long, short

Kind of a horoscope of life eh?

For grins, and yes, perhaps lowered blood pressure - I Googled "How to deal with ups and downs"

It was suggested:

Uno) "RELAX".......... Relax? Have you seen my ashtray? Right you are though.. My excuse, it's difficult, when trying to focus on the big picture, in that 11 years ago I had "lens implants", one eye to see close-up, and one eye to see far away. (Catching a fly ball now has nothing to do with the fact I'm hella old, belly dunlapped over, "she ain't what she usedta be, ain't what she usedta be" <-- Victor, whoever said you were? Right you are, back in my day I could make a routine fly ball interesting!)

Back to my excuse of lens implants. It's fake news, in a way. With the one eye I look into the future and worry... the problems add up, thoughts of them create a snowball effect - and soon I've decided upon a pity party - fit for no one to see......

Then, I see close up. I see the obituary of a friend. I see a husband/father laying in the Hospital when he should be afforded being at home, playing late night Santa Claus. I open the newspaper, atrocity everywhere. Our city, the next State, East Coast, West Coast, this Country, that Country... and it all helps focus - I scold my own butt and remind myself to man up.

Dos) Put on your track shoes, or your dancing shoes and get moving... I likes that one. Two weeks ago I joined a small, par 3 golf course.. I've played every day but two (Frigid, and frigider)... speakinowhich - can anyone explain why there's a "D" in Fridge, but there ain't one in Refrigerator? Me neither........ on the fat scale, I'd dipped below 200 for the first time since Clinton was in office (thanks to five months of hitting the gym pretty hard), - but golf now has me sidestepping working out... reckon it ain't a bad trade off... I mean what the hey, John Daly has a big belly, why can't I? Point being, go, MOVE, have some fun. VICTOR? Are you preaching? NO, learning.

Tres) Socialize. That, I do. Maybe too much, but I still like me. This week. jk.

Cuatro) Commune with Nature. That's a good one, and I have to try to remember. Thankfully, a recently added friend lives off the beaten path. I kinda likes the drive to that house - the middle of nowhere. Plan on continuing to drive there until I hear "beat if off the path", ha. VICTOR? Don't you know thoughts like that ADD to your stress.. premonition ya know? Yeah, you're right.. if that road ends - I'll takes me anuther drive somewhere in the country........

I'd kinda like to continue on that one. Sometimes I write as if I were "high and mighty", ha. I know I ain't. Wrote about not letting standing in a long line get to me the other day. It has, it do, sometimes. But (Victor, I've told you 37 times now you can't start a sentence with "BUT"!).. ahm, but (you butt), I am trying. Close your ears: in traffic I cuss. I do. I get flustered. I get mad. I stop just short of stupid. The other day, I was in a hurry. DAMN yellow light. Delayed maybe another 47 seconds. Then I thought, "how can I make this a positive?".. so, I looked around, tried (and did) find beauty whilst I waited. Kinda worked for me that time anyways..

Cinco) Laugh regularly. Nope, can't do that one. Who would want fun? Just kidding. I have, in the past, seen the really really serious types (ALL THE TIME) and their scorn at my/anyone else's "happy".. Screw that. Like a FB suggestion the other day, leave a yellow sticky note affixed to their monitor "I farted in your chair." Hehe.

Where are we? Ahm, Victor, you're giving us a lecture on how to deal with life's ups and downs... Ahm, NO. No I wasn't. It's Christmas time for behoogity sakes. Stress naturally sets in. There are empty chairs. There are drivers with no one in the passenger seat (One dude I know even sleeps with a five foot long pillow, ha).. I'm being serious, I ain't teaching/lecturing/pedestal placing/nada, noneathat.. I'm right here with you learning how to deal with the Tubthumping, whac-a-mole of life, just like you.

Sies) Eat Well. (Handled, plz scroll to John Daly comparison)... and ty Google, I wasn't quite sure how to spell sies.

Siete) Sleep. I've noticed, most of these goofy blogs are posted at a crazy early hour, so yeah, maybe I need some work here. You? And thanks again G on help with spelling Spanish numbers.

Ocho) Become a "glass half-full" kind of person. (Speakin' of spelling of Spanish numbers, on a side note to the football player who legally changed his name to "Ocho Cinco" - he wore #85, the yoke is on you sir, 85 in Spanish is Ochenta y cinco. I'm thinkin' I mighta looked that one up before I changed my name.)

Back to "Glass half-full"... I've loved all the others, Uno thru Siete. This one kinda speaks to "look at me" and I ain't real fonda that. I get the drift, but just reading that somehow gives me the impression of "Be like me" - and to me, all people are even. Obits should be the EXACT same length in inches.

Anyways, the article I read on 'half-full' quoted Quentin Vennie "I'm a firm believer in constant affirmations. If I can focus my attention on that one positive, no matter how difficult it is for me to find it, if I dig deep and find that one positive to focus on, nothing else around is real." Ok, so I did kinda like that. Maybe finding beauty when screeching/cussing to a halt at the yellow light ain't a bad idea after all...

Nueve) Find meaning... that one bores me, sorry. Somehow I pictured a group of stoners lazily seated in loungers discussing this in a living room. WHAT'S TEN?

Diez) and I thought you'd never ask. Diez is ten. and it's "Keep in mind nothing is forever. This too shall pass and the seas will once again be calm and the sun will shine again." I'll give diez a ten, I like that one.

Thankfully for you, this blog will not last forever either.

I love you. My initials are VS, as in Very Stupid attempts at humor above. It's serious crap though. Depression is real. It's ever-present at Christmas time - aside the Blessed celebration. Thanks for hitchhiking along. You are a much better partner than that damn pillow.

Up, up and away
My beautiful, my beautiful balloon
Balloon
Up, up, and away...

Love, Victurd

Things that have always confused me......

Julia and Lyle. Sorry, just my take.

IT Personnel

Cats (There was no intent in putting this one just under IT Personnel.)

What if a liar starts a sentence with "I mean........"?

Why are there Interstate highways in Hawaii?

Why didn't BJ Thomas simply buy an umbrella?

Why they call it "a hot water heater."

The New York Times crossword puzzle.

Why, when you purchase a reasonably expensive electronic thingy, you automatically have a two year warranty, you file the receipt away, and in 7 weeks, you go back and look, and the ink on the receipt has faded to the point you can't read it.

When eight construction workers are standing around a big hole in the ground, how do they pick the one who digs?

The phrase "God awful."

Whyintheheck, when listening to a football or basketball game on the radio, does the announcer always mention "moving left to right." It's radio, who cares?

A Department Store rack of clothes with no price tags or signs indicating price.

A laptop with no mouse. Sorry, I'm a simpleton.

How does the guy who drives the snowplow get to work?

Math, religion, Furbies, Minions, Justin Bieber, Magic, The Kardashians, Love, Technology, the love of Zombie movies.

An entrepreneur who owns a construction company and hires 8 guys to do the job of one.

High heels.

Folding a fitted sheet.

Why there are 14 schools in the Big 10, and 10 schools in the Big 12.

Excited 50 years olds who've just captured another Pokémon.

Life.

Affect/effect.

Is there a Mrs. Tesla and if so does she tell Tesla to slow down, turn here, pass that guy?

Sorghum, probiotic, gluten free, parsley sage rosemary and whey.

How to flush an automatic toilet when it don't automatically flush.

When she says she wears medium, you find an item you think she'd look really good wearing but it's labeled 10, or 8, or 4, or 6, or 2, or 22.

Never mind the putting the lid back down, why, in WallyWorld, do men never raise the lid to pee?

Ig-pay-atin-lay.

Why aren't undertakers called lessticians?

Women.

Love, Victurd

STOP, in the name of love..........

You've done it haven't you? It's dark-thirty...Twas the day before payday, gas gauge was low, not a creature was stirring, you just pulled up to turn onto Interstate, it's an ungodly hour.. there ain't a car within two counties... but the engineer who put the settings on the lights at the intersection didn't account for that... so... you're stuck for 47 seconds awaiting red to turn green... they say, for every second you wait, it seems like three... so, let's see... you take the 3 times 7, carry the 2.. and... ahm.. well, it's a long time.

And you go. Blatantly (I never knew that was spelled with two 'A's), so blatantly, you run it. I probably have, but I don't really remember. When I get in situations like that, I envision my parents (yes, I'm 65), I see them sitting in the living room observing me, my behavior. So I don't, won't. Again, I probably have, but I don't remember.

We've all heard "West Virginia Sheriff pulls over hot shot NYC lawyer. "License and registration please." "What for?".. "You didn't come to a complete stop at the stop sign."... "I slowed down, and no one was coming." A bit more aggravated (I never know that word had two 'A's,) "Yes, but you still didn't come to a complete stop, license and registration please."

The lawyer says, "If you can show me the legal difference between slow down and stop, I'll give you my license and registration and you can give me the ticket. If not, you let me go and don't give me the ticket." The sheriff says, "That sounds fair, please exit your vehicle." The lawyer steps out and the sheriff takes out his nightstick and starts beating the lawyer with it. The sheriff says, "Do you want me to stop or just slow down?"

Stop: Come to an end; cease to happen. A cessation of movement or operation.

November 22nd, 1963, Dallas, TX. Everything stopped. A Country, a World, in shock.

September 11, 2001, Lower Manhattan, NY. Everything stopped. A Country, a World, a way of life.

Life has it's "Energizer Bunnies" - but much happens to bring us to a complete halt.

"I no longer have feelings for you." "I'm sorry, we tried everything we could to save her." "In effort to keep up with bank demands, we're forced to make changes.. please take this box and clean out your desk.. and oh yeah, gimme your door Fob."

"We love you, and congratulate you on your degree. Now that school is over (stopped), what are you going to do, where are you going to go live?" "HUH?"

My favorite Psychology prof once recounted a day in WallyWorld when he found himself wondering the same aisles as a mom with two mischievous snotnoses.. in kid's clothes "STOP IT!"... an aisle over in the hat/glove aisle "STOP IT!"... Back in Notions.. "STOP IT!"... finally in Kitchenware "STOP IT, I AM NOT GOING TO TELL YOU AGAIN!" At that point, my prof buddy chimed in "I bet you do."

Tickling, "STOP!"

Even Ty Cobb, Brett Favre, Cal Ripken Jr, Wayne Gretzky, Lance Armstrong, The Harlem Globetrotters, and yes, even Buttkicker: streaks eventually stops.

Actors, reporters, Congressmen, 45, producers, seducers - STOP!

I wanna quit smoking. I wanna lose 20 pounds. I want help with cleaning, dishes, laundry, the kids - you've got to stop and help me - or else.

Thirty years ago, I knew this lad/his mate who started up a business. Made $60 the first month - he/wife were living off of it by the third month. Company entailed being on call 24/7. A few years later he heard "me or the business, one of them has to stop." Hmmm... I heard somehow one day they both eventually stopped anyways, it was the order that was a tad disconcerting to him.

Teacher: Stop it! Some kids hear this more than others. It's usually the silent ones that go on, have their 401 K's up to snuff by age 52, stop work and live happily ever after in Scottsdale.

To bully: Stop it! "Make me." With no regard for his eyes, eyeglasses, praise be the day Ralphie stood up to Scut Farkus. Bullying stopped.

Stop and smell the roses. Slower is ok, just don't stop moving.

DAMN POP-UPS, STOP!

Can we please stop doing push-ups Grundy, we're sorry!

"Even though you're growing up, never stop having fun." Nina Dubrev (Like)...

"We don't stop going to school when we graduate." Carol Burnett

"A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous." Ingrid Bergman

"Be grateful for what you have and stop complaining, it bores everybody else, does you no good, and doesn't solve any problems." Zig Ziglar. (Zig's parents got darn near thru the book of names before they stopped, decided.)

Even Forrest Gump eventually stopped.

Can this Chief's defense stop ANYONE?... What Bill Self said...

Many stops, FedEx/UPS dudes, trash men, bus drivers, Jehovah's, toll booth guys, TSA folks, Interstates in DC, LAX, SFO, ATL, ORD, HOU.
Worst ever traffic stopping jam: Bejing-Tibet Expressways in August of 2010, lasted 12 days, trip took as long as three days. So have patience, don't run that damn light in the dark if there ain't no Barney's around.

Happy ending.

Pervert(s).

"If you want a happy ending, that depends, or course, on where you stop your story." Orson Welles

Stop, do not pass go. Do not collect $200. Don't stop the music.

Stopping here (before you break my heart, think it oh-oh-ver), love, Victurd.

Things that happened at 4am I'm at liberty to discuss...

(A sucker is born at 4am every day)

Actually, it's "Things that happen at 4am I'm IN Liberty to discuss"....

It's dark. Not a creature is stirring.

Drove by the Fire Department, our tax dollars at sleep. I KNOW I KNOW the crappy schedules they have to keep, and why, I LOVE our Fire Department - just a stupid attempt at humor at their expense.

People make stupid attempts at humor.

Using the 17% National Average figure, approximately 5,204 people in Liberty are naked. (Who compiles those figures, are they hiring, and what does it pay - I'm unemployed.)

A Ford F-150 is rolling off the line. In fact, they manufacture one a minute.

You have no idea how many Ford F-150's are made in an hour because you're still thinking about naked people in Liberty.

At 4:00am in Liberty it's 3:30pm in New Delhi, India. Uh huh, it is - look it up. Has something to do with the Equator.

You can drive from the Square to WalMart and not hit a single red light.

It's 97 steps from the North Entrance of WalMart to the South Entrance. (If you ever go at 4am, don't park on the North side, it don't open until 6am.)

The WalMart cashier to patron ratio is 1 to 1.

WalMart greeters don't get up that early.

WalMart is likely out of what you are wanting at 4am anyways. I mean, who buys white acrylic paint at 4am? (Grandpa's that paint pics of their grandbabies, that's who!)

The path to WalMart takes one by the local bar. Seven people either Uber'ed or got laid, or both. (Victor? 7 is an odd number?.. I know, it's an odd day and age.) Using that 17% National Average figure - 1 of those 7 are naked. Me thinks that number may be just a tad higher for them.

If the above are still drinking, they must be quoting Alan Jackson's "It's 5 o'clock somewhere" (yes, Bankgkok, Thailand.)

Being out at 4am is scary to some, but Google indicates most criminals sleep until 9am. (How do they know? Google Earth)

Omega XL cures damn near anything (just ask Larry King). Makes one wonder what Omega L doesn't cure that Omega XL does?

Even disc jockeys are sleeping.

Wall Street calls 4am THE most productive hour.

Dolly Parton starts work in 5 hours.

"Shocking Benefits of waking up at 4am":
You'll be motivated to go to they gym (No Engleshe')
Your body will physically improve. (Thus, the above makes no logical sense.)
More time to plan your day.
Proper breakfast.
No stress, you won't be running late.
More free time later in the day.
Happier, more positive attitude.
New perspective about the world.

Chinese Organ Body Clock say "4am is the time of the lungs. Should be asleep. If woken, recommend nerve soothing exercises. (Too early, don't wanna Google those.) The lungs are associated with grief and sadness."

Recent gradjugates man (and woman) the local news, weather, sports, traffic. Chirpy they are. Who wants chirpy at 4am?

If you're late to work at 4am can you then call it rush hour?

Does 4am make you wonder what time the newspaper delivery dude gets to read the paper?

A feller purposely awakened at 4am for a month to "find out about that." His suggestions:
Make a "to do list" (ahm, and don't leave it on the coffee table if you go to WalMart)
You'll have to adjust your entire day "When friends were ready for Tuesday night bar trivia, I was yawning and ready for bed."
It kept me from behaving badly at night.
Getting up early will not make you successful.
Changing body clock ain't easy.

It's soon 5am, the coffee pot is drained, WHAT NOW?

It's said 4am is a wonderful time to be creative, but this specific blog is pretty boring.

THE very best thing about 4am (coupled with retirement), one can go back to bed and nap. Victor? Will you be... naked? Hell to the no, my thermostat is on 62 degrees in the Winter. Toodles,

Love, Victurd.

I have a dream....

No, this one isn't referring to MLK - but please know, I love his dream... may we press on for peace and happiness emulating his lead - and hopefully all of us will eventually end up like the final verse of a good book - "and they lived happily ever after." As often happens, I reread, edit, rethink before I ever 'punch the button.' Scratch "they". It gets in our way. It's prejudiced. Please change the thought to "and WE lived happily ever after."

Succumbing to weariness - I retired early last night - thus, the peepers opened at an ungodly hour, nonetheless, coffee was made, drank.

There was a movie about a Prince (Denmark) who'd come anonymously to the US (Wisconsin) to study. He met, fell in love. I (happily) cried like crazy at their bliss before I ever knew he was a Prince.

One day he/she were studying in the college library - both having a difficult time at that - finger touching, eye ogling, hand holding. In a flash, they sprinted to the third floor - picked a desolate, deserted aisle.. began smooching. Finals, yes, they're important - but in a way, this hinted at final.

Paparazzi crashed the party - his secret was out - she was allover the tabloids - confession happened.

His father fell ill...summoned immediately home.. left before proper goodbyes were possible - but a note professed his never ending love for her. She had dreamed of a medical degree, traveling the world to impoverished places to lend a hand. Yet, 'final' got in her way.

Off she soon followed to Denmark - a beautiful lady - daughter of Wisconsin dairy farmers - yet, to a few of the stately, an ugly duckling. She tried. Breakfasts were brought into her room. Beautiful gowns woven for her.. jewels bestowed upon her. After observation of their devotion, her character, she ultimately won over stately ("I'm not much on change, but I now feel you would so be change for the better.")

She tried. And tried. She then saw a globe and remembered her dreams. She, the soon perhaps to be Queen, related to the soon to be King "I can't do it.... I still have my dreams..." Of course he was very sad - but he let his butterfly fly. Home. She graduated weeks later....

At the ceremony - after hugging her mom, she turned and heard her man, Denmark's man, dressed in a regular ole regular suit - saying wonderfully loving things. They embraced, not so desolately.

"Denmark is not ready for a queen like me." "You go, do, I will wait, and Denmark will be ready for you."

I'm a wuss, wimp, putz. Two-thirty AM and I'm balling like a baby. Make fun if you wish - I love feel, final.

If you have this 'final' in your life - first, walk to the mirror (on second thought, RUN), smile, and hopefully realize how lucky you are. Then, go find her/him and profess your luckiness. You can't paint it, wish it, expedite it, snap your fingers to make it appear, Match.com it, have it. It just has to happen.

I cherish my lifelong friends, families living in their 'finality.' I do see ends (divorce) happen occasionally - and it really saddens me - but, those kind of ends mean it wasn't meant to happen. Been there, mutual 'responsibility', done that.

Only Marty and Doc can predict the future. If you await the arrival of your Queen (or King) - don't give up.

I know I won't. I'm aware some will read this and think to themselves "Victor? Really?".. Yes, really, and I'm way past worrying (too awfully much) about other's thoughts, opines. I have a dream - and we lived happily ever after.

Love, Victurd

Slip sliding away....

Winter.

Whadda ya think of when you think of winter? Victor, you idiot, this is a blog, you know we can't answer so whyintheheck even ask? We know though, that you are going to give us your thoughts about it, so you might as well go ahead....

Cool (pun mebbe intended), thought mebbe you'd never ask.

While there are some admitted nice things about winter, in general, I ain't a fan.

Unless you live somewhere down South where it's never cold (Please know, reports of substantial snow in Corpus Christi yesterday, fake news, it never snows that far South... the pics they posted had to be from Quebec)... again, not a fan... a list of how I feel, what I think of? OK:

Brrrrrrr
Dark
Shiver
Blankets, blankets, comforter and more blankets
House slippers
Pretty - shiny - but only looking out from inside the house
Don't get out as much
Whereintheheck did I put my gloves?
Whilst life is about learning, progressing, getting better - walking on ice - as one ages - is instant Karma to all that. Don't go Mildred, you'll break your hip.
"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom" PLEASE don't bring me that damn gas bill!
Flick's tongue stuck to the light pole.

I remember loading airplanes. Victor, why do you always talk about 'yesterday'? Good question. I love my yesterdays (winter yesterdays even kinda sorta.) In the summer, loading airplanes made one sweat. A lot. When it's 95 degrees out, it's at least 110 inside the belly of an aircraft. It's very small, compact in there - even Tattoo (remember? Yes, YESTERDAY, "De plane de plane!).. so small, even Tattoo would have to duck. Being in the bins in the Summer stunk.. you worked on your knees, stacking suitcases... just when you gots room to load one more on the stack, up the belt comes a bag certainly headed to the Far East (so heavy, it was undoubtedly filled with all the tea in China). It would take two to put it on the belt loader, but now, it's you - just you, that has to hoist it up and place it atop. Sometimes things don't sink in, but it just now has - no wonder I have persistent back pain.

Victor? Where you going with this? Larrie Jo. That's where I'm going. Color this gender biased if you must (Eh, what the hey, I ain't in no relationship anyways!), but Larrie Jo feared breaking a fingernail. In the summer, I would ALWAYS jump up in the bin to load - it was the job that stunk the most - but, now having learned from some psychology test I'm the type that "really really wants to be liked" - I would jump in the bin to take the worst job in the summer.

That's all fabricated, because I really jumped in the bin in the summer so I could then be justified jumping in the bin in the winter. When wind chills on the ground were 10 below, it was a toasty 60 degrees in the belly of the aircraft. I think, as the year progressed, Larrie Jo musta really worked out harder and harder at the gym from Spring to Summer to Fall to - finally Winter - as, she became SO FAST to hop up in the 60 degree bin it was amazing, she ALWAYS beat us up there. Impressed I was that she even know where the bin was.

Scraping ice off the windshield
Damn I'm outta washer fluid
FREEZING the first twelve minutes every morning of my 35 minute commute.

One Winter, my car heater went out. (Kinda getting the grasp of why this blog is named what it is?).. So, I would take a small propane tank with me to stay warm (NO, you didn't?.. yes, yes I did.)... Then how did you keep the windshield from getting foggy/freezing up? Candles. (NO, you didn't?... yes, yes I did. And yes, abandoned that one after my windshield cracked).. THIS - and that are my memories of Winter.

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo..... as if I were standing in line to have Oral Roberts heal me of this "Winter Depression" - I Googled "Positive things about winter."

First, up popped a list of "Ten things to love about Winter.".. Ok.. .and right underneath it "Fifty things I love about Winter." No way, yes, way.. there really is a blogger who wrote fitty things to love about Winter. So,

"The smell, unapologetically stodgy food" (Being a simpleton and having a vocabulary not nearly expansive as David Moffitt I had to Google stodgy, then stodgy foods and I learned it's basically stuff from the slow cooker, prolly ain't good for ya, but delicious nonetheless).. where was I? Oh yeah, reasons to like Winter:

Christmas Markets
Carol services
The light on a freezing cold morning
Winter woolies
Binge watching and Victorian novels (One outta two ain't bad)
Glitter
The Opera and Ballet (I understand they have these at someplace called the Kauffman Center, which, near as I can tell, should be somewhere around second base I guess.)

The frozen blogger wrote about:

Turtle neck sweaters, hot chocolate, pajama days, frizz-free hair, Christmas Trees, Presents, Hot apple cider, Egg nog (patooey), Homemade soup (Stodgy), fuzzy socks, making snow angels, tobogganing (uh huh, I'm 65 for behoogity sakes), no bees (gotta point, no oak mites either), no humidity, tights and leggings (I'd rate that one an A+), heated car seats (not invented by the time my '08 Pontiac rolled out), red wine, making snowmen, Christmas lights, bubble baths (I LOVE baths, my apartment has a shower only), gingerbread houses, scarves, ear muffs, trees covered in snow.

OK OK, maybe there are some nice things about Winter. The first that comes to mind is December 21. Why Victor? Is that when you start shopping? Heck no, I never start that early. On 12/21 the days get longer and we inch closer and closer to Spring, as in Play Ball, not play snowball.

I do love Christmas, not only due to the reason for the season - but because everyone gets to be a kid again at Christmas. (There you go again, living in the past.) I loved my past. And I loved my Christmas's past (and present.)

I'm thinking about Arizona. (Why Victor, the temps? Yeah, but probably moreso due to the 9 females for every male ratio there). Or maybe Florida, Alabama.

Instead, I think I'll take a nap. Nap. YEAH, that's a Winter positive. Having a small, one bedroom apartment, bed ain't that far away.

You know the nearer your destination the more you're slip sliding away.

C'mon March. Love, Victurd.

DIY........

This will be an abbreviated blog. ("THANK GOODNESS" they rejoice!)

Hubba hubba. Hurry. C'mon... No time left for you.

For the two of you that read this blog, apologies for yesterday, I was admittedly grumpy. Sorry. Kinda. Never understood why they say "Get it offa my chest" when in actuality it's "Get it outta my brain", done, said. Victor, that was grumpy. Sorry. Kinda.

As I did abbreviated research as to why we shorten things nowadays, why we are in sucha hurry... I got grumpy again. Tailgaters. Patooey. You know the feeling. There's a car on Interstate in the right lane going under the speed limit, you're in the left lane passing, and from 7 miles back allofasudden comes this dude who is soon inches from your bumper. Close enough you can see his nose hair. You know, Trailers for sale or rent, King of the road.

Me no likey this, that. So..... sometimes I slow down, then I remember road rage - and the fact that maybe the Air Force forgot to turn in the paperwork on the guy that went mental and purchased a gun anywho - so, I continue to pass... then take my molasses time moving from the left lane to the right lane so King of the Road can get around. Frustrates King so, you can see his nose hairs twitching.

Whatintheheck does this have to do with abbreviation? ITYNA (I thought you'd never ask, thanks).... We be in a hurry nowadays. Why, I ain't go the foggiest - but we are. Lines frustrate. Speed limits restrict (most). We gradjugate from HS or College and want/expect a job making boo koo bucks right away. SMH. My son used to text me that (about this and that) and I hadn't the foggiest. Finally looked it up, "Shaking my head."

Just the other day, a friend typed LOL and told me they'd never typed that. Me neither. Me no likey it (personally), others, have at.

Eighth grade. Eighth grade is an interesting age. You're caught somewhere between sandbox and Masters and Johnson. Your body is growing, changing, and usually the brain don't keep up. Victor, what's this got to do with abbreviation? GYA. Glad you asked. In 8th grade, circa 1966, why, I don't know - but the catchword (abbreviation) was "COC", as in 'cool' I suppose. There are undoubtedly 500 Senior Citizens living in Liberty, MO that have, in their basement - their 8th grade yearbook FILLED with "COC" written allover the faces of many. Kinda changes the view of old fart table at HyVee huh? WIT. (What I thought)....

RR. Roadrunner. He was always in a hurry. Remember BB? (No, not Bed and Breakfast, but Beep Beep) Well, like the retort to King of the Road, BBMA (Beep beep my ass), TYVM.

Victor, this is kind of dragging. I've got clothes to wash, dishes to put away, shower, and get on with my day. HURRY. OK.... OK, which it's debated, comes from the Greek phrase 'olla kalla', or.. the Choctaw word 'okeh', or some think it's from the telegraph coming from the term 'open key.'... Or, it could be BS. BS? Uh huh, you know, OK = Boomer Sooner.

Since you're in a hurry, here's a few: *$ (Starbucks).. DEGT (Don't even go there).. RMLB (Read my lips baby).. SITCOM (Single income, two children, oppressive mortgage)... TTG, TTT, TTTH, TTTT, TTYOB, TU, TWHE, TWIT, TWITA, which, we all know means Time To Go; That's The Ticket; Talk To The Hand, To Tell The Truth; Tend To Your Own Business, Toes Up (as in dead); The Walls Have Ears, That's What I Thought; That's What I'm Talking About.... and, TMMD (That Made Me Dizzy). THAT'S because you're in a hurry, we're in a hurry. "Where ya goin'?" I dunno, but hurry up and get in the car.

DC, which, means I either went to our Capitol, or got my back cracked.

UV, ultra violet.. or.. Unpleasant View, scroll to the dudes drinking coffee at HyVee with COC allover their 8th grade yearbooks in the basement.

Hubba hubba, c'mon: BOGO, XOXO, TTYL, SOL, RSVP (which I had no idea, just learned means Respondez S'il Vous Plait, huh?), OMG, LGBT, MYOB, ILY, FSBO, GR8, FIL, MIL, DUI, BRB, BBW, WHEW (whew ain't an abbreviation for nuttin', it's just that I'm kinda glad that's over.)

Victor, what's your 20? I'm at home, but IM2BZ2P (I'm too busy to pee), gonna make a BLT, swing by QT, then off to the DR to get an MRI, but having a party tonight, BYOB, then, tomorrow I will pack, take my shoes off when the TSA requests (SBINWS: stand back, I never wear socks), fly DL to MSY.

WITH (whatintheheck) is MSY? New Orleans of course. Long ago I worked for an airline. We had to remember 3-letter city codes for a kajillion aiports.. You know, ORD, LAX, LGA, MIA, ATL, SEA, STL, yada. I remember saying HITH (howintheheck) am I gonna remember MSY? Our teach said, "Victor, just think, New Orleans is MesSY after Mardis Gras." I will now never forget MSY.

Don't hurry, be happy.....TGIF...... LV (Love, Victurd)

Siri, we're lost... I think we took a wrong turn somewhere....

From Noland Smith (#1) thru Aaron Brown (#87), I could tellya the name/# of every player on the 1969-70 Kansas City Chiefs roster. I knew their position, what college they went to, when their rookie year was, and I studied (lived for) them so much, if you showed me any of their faces - I could tellya their name.

Same year. Same stadium, baseball, Municipal Stadium. Pristine. Green - all round. It was beauty. Yes, a scoreboard alit (we had to know how many hits Dick Drago had given up, how many times Jackie Hernandez [who?] had struck out - but the rest was green.) The wall, all the way around - green. What better than to turn the focus on what happened on the field between the green wall and the fun wooden right field bleachers.

We got lost.

Bonus baby was soon shortened to baby. Oh sure, I enjoyed the antics of Joe Gordon getting in the face of blue for a ball thrown in the dirt being called strike three - not to mention absorbing, kinda funly, the TV antics of Solly Hemus, Billy Martin, Bobby Cox toe to toe, nose to nose an ump, ultimately getting thumbed, THEN, the real fun started. If by chance I'd snuck down from my $1.50 right field seat to an empty seat right behind home plate - it was ok. I'd heard all those words they were saying, calling, spouting. Fervor, to win. I loved it.

I still subscribe to the Kansas City Star. Sadly, the box scores no longer appear. ("Well, folks can, and do, get that off the internet.") That's kinda sorta fancy for "no one any longer purchases want ads, thus we have insufficient funds to print them", which in turn is fancy for "We've got to save space to report players punting the football into the stands, throwing the ref's flag into the stands, relating the story where the guy disciplined his 4 year old son with a 'switch', juicing, domestic battery, stand/don't stand, "I want out", yada, yada.

Patooey.

Are you aware the vertical length of a newspaper page is 21"? I awakened early today - this is a recording. One of my favorite, oh favorite sounds is the newspaper delivery guy's car (damn he needs a new muffler) and the delight when I hear the newspaper hit the sidewalk. Yum. I slipped the string off that bound the paper, quickly set aside the front page (I'll read it next) and plopped back, hot coffee by my side - and anxiously dug into Sports for today.

Patooey. 15" (of the allotted 21" front Sport's page) is filled with (turn your head) shit. Nothing sport's related. About a tantrum. About "me". Yes, there is 'me' in team - but I'd much prefer the 'me' in "MebbE you need to get the hell outta here if you ain't happy. Sorry the game, calls, didn't turn out for YOU."

Whilst fun, I could give a rat's about ketchup, mustard, relish... who was gonna kiss who (then end up in divorce court soon), the Wave - and fer sure the 87' tall BLUE MOON sign taking up half of right field. Blue Moon Odum, hell yeah, BLUE MOON so big you can read it from Shawnee Mission, no thanks.

QB didn't see you when you were open? Threw your hands up in disgust? Oh that does wonders for the remainder of the team. (Remember YOUR only pass?)You gotta first down? HEY, DANCE, celebrate, celebrate, dance to YOUR own music (mebbe your can get your own reality show) - after all, it had nothing to do with the other ten players around you.

Hand the ball to the ref has been replaced by potato sack races, bowling, leap frog, flips, dances (I think that's what they call 'em), yada.

Patooey.

Color me old school I don't care, but gimme GREEN. Gimme a broken up double play where the 2nd baseman comes to take a swing at the guy who just jeopardized the career of his shortstop teammate. Gimme Whitey, Ozzie, Tony, redfaced, albeit with probable bad breath, in the face of blue. Sweat, bruises, maybe a spot of blood on the uni - even mebbe a tiny brawl when some 5'6" idiot whizzes one at 98 MPH behind the batter's head(who by virtue of the Designated Hitter rule won't have to stand up [bat] and be a man.)

I wanna know what Whit is batting. What Buttkicker's FG% is. How former Chiefs/Royals are doing with their new teams. I could care less about Scott Boras, no trade clauses, gold chains - so heavy that, once put on, broadcast "That's what speed usedta do." Gimme a day where when you thought of Donna, you thought of the usher, not the Prima. Long ago at a place I once worked, I happened to use the restroom right after some high ranking dude just departed. SHOOOOO-WEEEEEE. It DO TO stink!

Siri, we're lost - but you've now saved me time. I can finish the sport's page in half the time now.

Sorry for the soapbox, but I'm certain they'll figure out some way to adorn it with ads, hire it an agent, and charge $63 to park to come see it.

I'm old, I know. I'm grumpy, or can be. I don't care. Gimme "The game", not all the other crap. Tame the ME as if you'll notice the E comes before the M in team.

I can just hear Harry... HOLY COW!

Love, Victurd.

When it's least expected.......

You're elected - it's your lucky day.................. SMILE

I am addicted to smile. Truly. I discriminate. Not consciously, but I do. Every friend, girlfriend, fav' coworker, fav' teammate, yada, has always had the most infectious smile. Infectious ain't got no negative meaning here. (Victor, ain't that a double negative?) Heck, I dunno, I just mean that smiles spread. They do. You see one, you get one. It's the way of the lucky world.

MUCH makes me smile. First and foremost, another's smile. The list, however, is perty long.

Many goofy memes on FB. Seeing someone trip. I know, goofy humor, but humor is the keyword.

I'll take "Fun stuff" for $100 Alex:

My 15 month old granddaughter and her newly learned "phhfffffbbb" (that's, tongue out, lips together, blowing, you know - kinda pretending to be a fart.)

Farts. Farts are fun, cause smile. Entertaining (I'm weird) for me to hear one in a place like WallyWorld, witness the "farter" and their immediate reaction as to "Did anyone hear that?" - turning this way, that way, sometimes doing a 360. I fart more now that I'm older. I'm good with that. Sometimes, say, in a place like Wallyworld, I'll be walking and as if on command, every step produces a phhffffbb - rhythmic even. Nonetheless, a machine gun of smiles.

Animals. Animals, my take, smile because they are born "retired". Sure, there are examples that ain't, but the vast majority are 'retired' at birth. No gotta work? AWESOME! I'm gonna chase my tail, that damn redlight pointer thing you got, you, your kid, your kid's kids, anything that moves. I'm gonna wag my tail, my version of a smile - because life rocks, it's fun. Just imagine never having to spend a day at work (or the gol durn commute heretofore), pay for rent/electricity/gas/tax/groceries/yada... I'D SMILE TOO IF I WERE AN ANIMAL!

Where were we.. oh yeah, we're up to $800 Alex, thanks.

TV. TV makes me laugh. Like people, I hold the dadgum remote. They no makey me smile, I git ridda them (ie, turn channel, or don't befriend.) "Turn channel" in and of itself makes me smile, for, whippersnappers have never figured out "whatinthehell are you talking about "TURNING THE CHANNEL?" You just push a dad gum button, you don't turn nuttin'! (Enter smile here).

Favorites. This is a very wide ranged category. Smile not only equals fun, it can equal love too. I am not sure if there is anything better than to smile at your mate - or have your mate smile at you, and getting it returned - or you returning it to them. It speaks to "I'm where I wanna be, thank you, and I really enjoy your company." Yep, one three second smile says all that. That's what make smiles unique.

Included in "favorites" that make one smile - of course friends/family.. then there's Tim Conway, Steve Martin, Carol Burnett, Letterman, Leno, Kimmel, Frasier, Sheen, Ellen - the list, thankfully, is long. Yours?

A friend recently said "I love laughter (ie, smiles) but that doesn't necessarily mean one is happy." Agreed, and sad to think of. I kinda relate it (Smiling, but not necessarily happy) to going to the batting cages - or - taking a practice swing with your golf club. Even if your smile is a 'pretend', or, a 'coverup' - 'practice' in doing so it puts one that much closer to a true, heartfelt smile. Smiles are yummy, no matter the disposition that lies beneath.

Ok, I'm about outta my own words about smile (I know, that makes you smile).. so, I'd better do s'more plagiarizing"

"Let us always meet each other with smile, for the smile is the beginning of love." Mother Theresa

"Because of your smile, you make life more beautiful." Thich Nhat Hanh <-- say THAT three times real fast, that'll make you smile! It didn't? Ok asshat, try saying "Unique New York" three times REAL fast - and if you can get thru that without smile, then I will kiss your... ahm, your... your beautiful fitty-eight year old aunt. HA.

"Smile, it's the key that fits the lock of everybody's heart." Anthony J. D'Angelo. I hearya brother Anthony - but there was this one Sunday I decided to feast on a Sausage Egg and Cheese biscuit (smile) and the drive thru had 112 cars lined up so I went inside instead. Got my biscuit, back to my car, glanced, and waived at my keys that were in the ignition, ie, locked out, notta nuther key for the car. I figured, locksmith, Sunday, it's gonna cost me half my rent. Ate my biscuit, smiled, called locksmith. In a flash he opened the car. Smile. Uh oh, the bill. "That'll be $40." I smiled, reasonably bigly, but not too big 'cause I didn't wanna let him know "you idiot I woulda paid four times that amount." Sometimes small smiles are good too.

Ok, seriously, I am so thankful for the place of smiles in my life - both on my face and on those of others. Life is hard enough. Smiles are the oars to the canoe. (Victor that was really corny, but I guess whatever floats your boat.) Truly, smiles are infectious - in a good way. I can't wait to see 'em today (oh,and especially tonight <- ha, you won't find that one in your Funk and Wagnel!)...

It's your lucky day........ SMILE!

Love, Victurd.

Just like Romeo and Juliet.........

One might find it odd that an old man would write a blog on "how couples meet."

To many that would start to write that blog, be offended, they might take their ball and go home. Me? Not so much. Coming to fore "Bite me, it intrigues me, I never asked for your opine, and..as history has indicated, I'll do whatever in the heck I want." HA. (Mebbe why still single eh?)

Statistics. Certain there are many articles of same, one of 'em had 39% meeting through friends in common, 22% out in a social setting.. 18% through work, 9% via online dating, 6% via Social media(e.g. Facebook, Twitter), and 6% other. Huh? Other?

When it comes to turning initial connections into romantic relationships, friendships still yield the best results - 40% of 'em said they were platonic friends first versus 35% who started as a series of formal dates and 24% who were introduced (setup) by a friend. Ahm, that adds up to 99%. What about the other 1%? Oh, never mind, they're busy getting all the new tax cuts, ha.

Victor, you are writing this and most of us are coupled, ain't that kinda selfish?

Continuing on, WHERE? WHERE do people meet their SO?

I kinda enjoy strange answers... and found a few:

"Accidentally killed him while playing a video game, started talking, then he moved from Washington to Florida to be with me :)"

"I met my wife because I farted. True story. In line at coffee shop and letting some serious silent-but-deadlies. (Was on hefty raw broccoli kick after reading 'good for hairline').. Right behind me, a beautiful gal steps up and asks me 'Do you smell that?'.. I pretend to sniff the air, point to someone a few paces ahead of us. We ended up spending the afternoon together, just celebrated our 3rd year wedding anniversary, and I've never had the heart, to tell her about that fart." HA.

"My friend went on a blind date and accidentally approached the wrong guy. They ended up hitting it off!"

"Freshman year of high school I accidentally punched a girl in the boob. That was 7 years ago. We're getting married this summer."

"I was waitressing. Knocked the lid off a pitcher and spilled it's contents on my patron's lap. I frantically applied napkins to the drenched area - which he apparently "liked" - laughing the entire time. Left me a $20 tip and his phone number. I never called. He continued to come back in, always asking for me, leaving large tips - and of course his number. I eventually called him and we've been dating for 15 months."

"Hitchhiking across Europe, I joined the circus as a dancing girl in Spain - the zookeeper was gorgeous. It was lust at first site, which developed into love. We left Spain, joined Italy's famed Circo Moira Orfei where I became an ostrich riding, shark taming showgirl. We celebrate our 25th anniversary next month."

"From brother and sister to husband and wife" HUH? "Yeah,we met on the set of a movie filming in my hometown and I was cast to play his sister. I joked the first time I saw him 'we must have good-looking parents' - we hit it off, dated, married. I know it sounds terrible, but I get a kick out of relating 'From Brother and Sister to Husband and Wife.' "

"Got groceries at Publix, walked to my car, a white Jeep Cherokee, hit the unlock, opened the door - noticed my back passenger door open and there was a guy unloading groceries into my backseat. At first I thought he was robbing me, I hesitantly approached him and said "Um, hi." He said "Hi," and continued to unload his groceries. I said "Um, this is my car." He laughed at me like I was crazy. "No it's not, it's mine." I hit the lock button to show him it was my car - his face turned white, completely disorientated. He apologized and explained that he too drove a white Jeep Cherokee. He clicked the lock, and it was parked right next to mine. We started laughing and then I said "You can leave your groceries though, I'll be happy to take them." He said "Only if you're going to make me dinner with them." A few weeks later, I did, and the rest is history. People don't always believe our story, but we can't make this stuff up - it was meant to be."

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.......

Tiring of singledom, I've decided to kill someone in a video game, fart in every line I'm in, arrange a blind date, walk in, sit by the prettiest single lady I see, accidentally punch chicks in the boobs, seek fumble-fingered waitresses (or ostrich riding ladies), get cast in a movie - and stalk grocery stores looking for a hottie that also drives a gray 2008 Pontiac Grand Prix.

With apologies to Dr. Hook: I've been in the right place, but I musta farted in the wrong line.

VICTOR? You're so damn weird, who would want you? I know, that's what I'm finding out.

Happy dating, mating, farting......Love, Victurd

I yust go nuts at Christmas.......

Color me lazy, I'll accept that hat. The below was written three years ago ("What I've learned in 62 years about Christmas").. DANG VICTOR, you're getting up there. Uh huh Ebenezer, I am. Funny, kinda, how sometimes things change. Life, like Christmas, is all about that. Families come apart, families come together, families begin anew. Faces (some/most) remain the same. Some, change. Some, lost, but still out there. Some, sadly, lost forever.

Sorry it's a repeat, but ain't that what Christmas is all about? I think it was Steve Allen that featured "The man on the street" - and questions he/they would ask. If ya asked the man (or woman) on the street - it's a safe bet 8 outta 10 would list Christmas as their favorite Holiday. It's mine too. The joy of giving. The joy of living. The joy of seeing. Joy. Joy to/for, the world.

The year was 2014. For me, much has changed. You? Maybe it's a good time to stop/think about who was here in 2014 but not now - close the eyes and give 'em some moments of love and thanks. Mebbe, just mebbe, we can take a look at 2014 to 2017 - and envision what 2017 to 2020 will bring. Baby pun, 2020/enVISION, mebbe intended. Spectacled, not spectacular, I know.

I have a thirst for Christmas. This one, the hopeful next one, next one, yada. I'm thinking this will be the last year for organized Christmas Caroling at area nursing homes. Tired I reckon. Comes with age. So, with your help - hopefully we'll make it a very good Caroling time for the residents. More to come later, meanwhile - a harkening back to 2014 and "What I've learned in 62 years about Christmas":

It doesn't discriminate on age. It's fun at 2, 12, 22, 32, 42, 52, 62.

Some unexpected car/house repair, sickness or otherwise will happen, and happen shortly after you'd just counted all your beans and thought "I think I can purchase all I want to purchase this year!"

WalMart is filled with folks whose cart/person take up 6 (of 8) feet of aisle space, they're oblivious to it, so you turn around, take another aisle, go around 'em. The checkout aisle you select will need a price check, a scanner repair, or a management approval.

Will hear: I can't believe you've already got your tree up.... Christmas Carols so soon, really? We just went to your folks LAST year!

My cousin Roger had good hands (was QB and Point Guard in HS) and was telepathic. He could grab a present, feel it and know exactly what was inside. He NEVER missed, sometimes even relating the color.

Turns out, my father, and my two uncles were horrible bowlers. For years, we little ones would await to unwrap gifts (mostly patiently) until their Christmas Eve arrival at Grannies - as they annually 'bowled', which later we learned was the bar, adjacent to the lanes.

Snow will happen, on or around. Cold will happen. Car doors will freeze. Travel will be rough, sliding on roads, flights cancelled/delayed, connections missed.

With every generation comes a period where the bottom third of the Christmas tree gets torn to smithereens. (Double that, if you own cats.)

Cedar, evergreen and fireplaces smell heavenly.

It's all about the kids, no matter your age or the age of the 'kid'. Love happens. There is a family bonding that can't be duplicated.

It takes 1/60th the amount of time to unwrap a present as it does to wrap it. Piles of paper happen, parts to toys will get lost. Parents who ain't mechanically inclined later will boil in frustration reading directions, putting together this or that.

Annually, I say a prayer for whomever has to work in the Customer Service Department 12/26.

Whatever was spent, however many miles were traveled, the woes within, in the end: all worth it.

Two more things: Oh yeah, the reason for the season. And.... Santa HAS to be a woman. No man could accomplish what 'he' does in a 24 hour period.

Merry Christmas, Victurd