Something in the way she moves....

Move = what a wonderful, ucky word.

As I retired, fellow AARP members warned me "Move... or die." Wonderful advice.

When a relationship, a stay, a job, a downsize, maybe even an opportunity happens, you move. I'm allergic to cardboard boxes and I'd like to think I will never move again, but, realize it's probable in the future. Hello Two Men and a Truck. That kinda move is ucky.

Waiting in line at Wallyword, ya want the line to move. I do love that they now have those "Scan it yourself and go" thingies (with 87 cameras trained on you)... but I oh so love corn on the cob. And the dadgum scanners haven't figured out how to scan a piece of corn on the cob.

Move... from birth... the eyes.. the legs.. the arms... the fingers... on a blanket - ya turn over... and back.. ya scoot... ya crawl..ya bear walk.. ya stand.. and fall... and fall.. and walk.. and fall... before you know it, ya run... and run... and fall.. and run s'more.. They say, ya move 172,440,600 steps in a lifetime. (They also say wolves move, on average, 25 miles a day, even with a lifespan of only 5.5 years, that's still 100,375,000 Steppinwolf(s).. sorry, kinda.)

As we age, we go back to walking. Run? Sorry, won't. Ok damnit, can't. We lean. We fall. Moving is a cycle.

Move, as in emotions. YUM. Whilst I love me some animals - what better than watching a dog play, a cat swipe? Well, people watching, that's what. Kids. Sports. A swim pool. An open air market. Old folks. Young folks. Single folks. Coupled folks. Highs, lows. Shock, predicted. Yummy. Sudden rain, heat, snow, wind. People watching is yummy. It moves me. "If you don't move, you die."

My Southern speaking buddy Norm, from "Greenvulle, South Care-olinah", at work on break, when someone got up.. "Ya move ya feet, ya lose yah seat" and he'd jump smilingly into their chair.

"If the sight of the blue skies fills you with joy, if a blade of grass springing up in the fields has the power to move you, if the simple things in nature have a message that you understand, rejoice, for your soul is alive." Eleonora Duse.

I so love laughter. That too is moving. Our bodies are silent, we hear, see something that makes us emote/laugh - and it's a complete euphoric moment. I know a couple days ago, I blogged about not being so happy with what our leader had said. So, color me a hypocrite as I laughed this morning. A friend posted a cartoon. First frame. It was a bear, and a rabbit, immense size difference. They were, close your ears, (both) squatting and pooping in the woods. Thus, big pile/little 'pellets'. Caption, mid-poop, Bear asks Rabbit "Does it bother you to have poo on your fur?"... "Nope" answered the rabbit. Next frame of cartoon shows the bear holding the tiny rabbit, wiping himself. Maybe ya had to be there. I GOL'ed (Giggled). Move is surprise, change, happy, fun, face muscle changing, belly moving - just plain yummy "help me forget the yuck that comes with life!"

We think of people who make us laugh. Our class clown (Yes you Mr. Webb). Maybe a HS Speech teacher (Yes you Mr. Franck). Comedians. Late night talk dudes. Move = escape. Laughter to get away, if only periodically, from same ole same ole.

Remember Gomer's Sergeant Carter and his "MOVE IT MOVE IT MOVE IT"? Gyall-lee I do.

Tears, oh man.

My very worn leather comfy chair literally has tear stains on it. Those from both laughter, and from sadness. Of course the laughter 'move' is better... but the 'sad' moves are necessary 'evils' to remind us of good, past times. Of happiness insteada sadness. "I'm sorry" kinda tears. Tears, in a way, are out of body experiences. Outta control sometimes. Just shoot me, I think tears are an extremely healthy thing.

"In the winter, I plot and plan. In spring, I move." Henry Rollins

I hate Parkinsons. It decimated my father. Seeking any good - it was that he didn't emote tears (he was hella great with laughter) but - back in that day, men didn't show emotions - so he didn't. At least, Parkinsons afforded him showing emotions. I/we knew they were "in there" the entire time, and sad to think a disease allowed them to finally escape - but it did. I loved/hated seeing my father cry.

I wanna go see "The Leisure Seeker." (Comes out 1/19/2018). It's a movie about a very old couple - Ella (Helen Mirren) and John (Donald Sutherland) Spencer. He, beginning stages of Alzheimer's, and she - terminal cancer.. take their rickety ole 1970-something RV on one last road trip - just as they used to as kids. Ella arranged their plight from the Northeast to Key West - to see Hemmingway's home (John was once a much-beloved English professor who adored Hemminway.) The movie ain't getting that gooda reviews in spite of some treasurable moments - but they say it's a guaranteed cry. I want that. I need that. Crying = move. "If you don't move, you die."

I kinda tire of same ole same ole. Ya needs those cardiac monitor "beeps" to move. I very much enjoy my first "move" of the day, yes, in the bathroom - but not THAT kinda move - it's actually me staring at bedhead in the mirror - lubdub. Picking up, staring at Facebook affords - yes, some crap, but also some fun, and sometimes even sad years.

I reckon we need crap in our lives to make fun/sad so moving.

Push ups, every morning (TEN TIMES), not just now and then, give that chicken fat back to the chicken, and don't be chicken again.

Time to move on.
Let me move you.
Move it on over..
Night moves.
Something in the way she moves.
Well we're movin' on up.
I feel the earth move..

Move............. or die.

My hair is sadly in place, I'm going for a nap. Love, Victurd.