When I grow up I wanna be.....

If Art Stinkletter (sorry, slipped) were still here - he'd share fun things kids want to be when they grow up, but he ain't, so maybe I will:

"A dog... I will never get married....I will one day be a potatoe.. Michael Jordan.. Get a girlfriend, kiss her, rule the world.. A mailbox.. I want to be eight... Succeed in herpetology, have a wife and kids, breed dragons."

"Be like mommy (complete with pole dancer stick figure drawing).. Famous ginger.. Burger King.. teacher.. Ninja chef.. I'm going to work with rocks, for example, to throw them in the water to make a big splash.. I want to get a hat and put it on... Some guy who is a person who does nothing." <-- Now THAT's what I'm talking about!

Oh sure, I wanted to be a teacher/coach.. did that for awhile, shoulda never quit.. I wanted to be a professional baseball player (closest I got is when my buddy paid for our gas at Apco to drive to a softball tourney in Pleasant Hill).. Psychologist - I got a minor in psychology, closest I ever came - but, I've had my share of dealing with crazy folks - even to include myself within that group on occasion.

The main thing I want to be is: retired.

Yep, that's right. Live so damn far out in the country I can get my newspaper in my undies. I'm not real fond of bon bons, but I every much enjoy plopping in my easy chair frequently pressing a new button on my remote. I'm not a king, have no kingdom (or queen for that matter) but, it gives me a sense of "heck yeah, I'm in control here!"

I've dabbled, tossed about getting a part-time job.. "Please attach your resume' ", ahm, sorry - that goal went out the door way before I even knew what a PDF was.. LinkedIn request in my email inbox? <-- sorry, he moved, no forwarding address known..

Working 9 to 5 (Stuff it Dolly.. I ain't going there again.. and HOW did I miss, working 8 to 5 all those years, a job that didn't start until 9 but ya STILL got off at 5? I coulda had eggs insteada cereal.. I coulda watched an additional hour of Kathy Smith's exercise show, oops, sorry, slipped.. I coulda had more sex.. nah, scratch that one - I struck out a lot (scroll to professional baseball aspirations).. I coulda avoided 90% of the tailgaters I cussed at... I coulda driven to work in DAYLIGHT when they switched the clocks.. where Dolly, WHERE do they work 9 to 5? (I jest, I love Dolly.. so too does a dude who attended her recent concert here.. middle of the show a guy cranks out "I LOVE YOU DOLLY" and without skipping a heartbeat she replied "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO WAIT IN THE TRUCK!".. ah, 9 to 5, it woulda been great.

All this (wonderful) crap now in the rear view mirror.. Big Chief tablet, arithmetic tables, all that ink on the butt of my hand (it's hell writing, being lefthanded, swathing thru what you just wrote, getting the paper back "try to be neater next time"), anatomy and kinesiology (HOW did I EVER pass that?), my Volkswagen convertible - top rendered useless by frat bros who broke it by sitting atop like Homecoming Queens as we rode - awakening a couple times a month to find my Biology textbook floating in the back floorboard in 3 inches of water." Those dogs, musta been before leash laws, er, I mean seatbelt laws. Ah, memories.

That's it, I wanna be neat when I grow up. Presently, I get most of my exercise from "Oh shit" when I hear the doorbell - and I clean three rooms in 47 seconds. Nevermind, I will never be neat. Make my bed? WHY? I'll just get back in it tonight (Ok, that's a lie, I'm retired, I get back in it once or twice during the day now.)

I wanna be idle. You know, like at a stoplight, and ya peek in the rear view mirror to see where ya been. Howinthehell did I have the energy to have done that, then? I dunno Victor, but howabout a nap? Ok, cool.

So.. getting paper in undies.. Master of the remote.. Sending LinkedIn requests to the spam file.. taking naps.. THINKING ABOUT getting a job, taking a self improvement class, checking Mr. Clean's Wikipedia page, head to the gym twelve days in a row... nah, no thanks. We old farts must give in to following the lead of our future generation:

Yeah, like "Some guy who is a person who does nothing." YES! YES! YES!... or maybe a dog.. a Ninja chef.. throw rocks in the water to make a big splash.. spud aspirations.

I simply want to be. Reflect. Daily, peek in that rear view mirror and remember what a nice ride it's been. Hopefully, simply be nice (Editor's note: forgive me Father for the things I've said about DT, but I really really do not like him. Burma Shave.)

Tumble outta bed
and I stumble to the kitchen,
Pour myself a cup of ambition,
And yawn and stretch
and try to come to life
jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin'
Out on the street
The traffic starts jumpin'
The folks like me on the job from 9 to 5.

"Honey, can you turn off the radio?" Victor, you're not married. Oh yeah, forgot. Headed for nap now, happy day.

Love, Victurd

Fore play......

Pervert, this is about golf, cow pasture pool if you will.. or, even if you won't.

My life has been relegated to "C": Grades, car, house, savings account, clothes, golf 'ability', yada. Average, very average.

I am probably closer to a "D" in golfing skills, but, will stick to "C" for blog purpose.

I love me some golf. I am, frankly, not very good - and, there is little hope that will change - and as I age, it's expected I'll get even worse. Don't care. I loves me some golf.

Why? Because you see stuff. Like? Well... we were playing in Cameron, MO one day.. nice little smaller town golf course, surrounded by homes... Uphill par four. My buddy tees off... it starts to slice.. (Slice is what all C, D golfers do, we strike the ball with a wicked right to left swing, and, predictably, the ball moves in a wicked left to right motion.).. So he tees off. It ain't looking good. In fact, it's headed for a brick house atop the hill, WAY out of bounds on the right. As it soars, the double door garage is opened by a lady who's probably backing out to head to the Piggly Wiggly. It seemed like the ball, moving West to East, stayed in the air forever and ever. Just as the lady bound for Piggly Wiggly got her car completely backed out of the garage, my buddy's ball bounded into the garage. It looked like a super ball as it entered, bounced off the ceiling, side wall, other side wall, ceiling, etc again and again - all, unbeknownst to the lady headed to the grocery store. She presses the button, the garage door comes down, and my buddy's ball is probably still in that garage today. I abhor naming names, but I will never forget this shot Dale Hoy.

Ya see stuff ya just don't see elsewhere. I remember seeing, hearing, two squirrels, some 40 feet in the air, making a baby squirrel. If memory serves, it can get quite frantic. This one got frantic to the point they suddenly fell 40 feet to the ground, both, made a thud thud noise - and off they went, unhurt. I think he musta said something about marriage or weight or something.

I remember anudder buddy. All tee off areas have ball markers from where you are to hit from. The blue pair is usually where experienced golfers tee off from - the furthest ones from the green one is trying to reach. Then, white markers a little closer for us C/D type players, and red markers, for women. They now even have gold tee markers, even a tad closer - for us old farts. These specific tee markers were round, solid balls, approximately 6" in diameter. Teeing off from white, buddy hits ball. It barely gets off ground, immediately hits a circular red marker ahead, and then it makes a beeline 180 STRAIGHT BACK for his head. He ducked, fell to ground, it barely missed him, we too fell to ground in side splitting laughter. Hard to recreate in a blog, you'da had to have been there I guess.

Another day, I'd hit no less than a half dozen balls into the forest, ne'er to be found again. Not too worry, I buy very cheap golf balls (Amazon, to my door, a dozen, in two days, for $8.94.) I also play with golf balls lost by others. Frustrating though, to see six golf balls laughing their way out of bounds. As we golfers do, we play for four hours, then gather for three hours to talk about what just transpired. A lady in our group, twenty times a better golfer than I, was sitting next to me at the bar. As we visited, she bounced the golf ball in her hand off the wooden bar time and again. Finally, she looks at her golf ball, says, "This one has been good to me.. third round in a row using it" (meaning it never went out of bounds, into forest.) Were it not for some very good anxiety medicine, I woulda slapped her off the barstool.

Par 3 course, Kearney, MO. Four of us. We noticed a lad (snotnose, said lovingly) behind us. We could tell he was a pretty decent golfer. In fact, once we'd turned as he teed off - his ball went straight into the hole for a hole-in-one, and there we were jumping up and down, high-fiving each other, yelling, shouting at the opportunity to have seen this. Kid walks up, no emotion shown, bends down, picks up his ball from the hole. Astonished (we'd waited for him) we said "AREN'T YOU EXCITED? I MEAN, YOU JUST GOT A HOLE IN ONE!"...... "Eh, it's my 5th one" the 15 year old said. Scroll to anxiety medicine/the want of slap.

As frustrating as golf can be, it's also so very relaxing. Ya get away from Dodge. You are amidst nature, beauty - and on rare occasions, you even hit a good one that makes it all worth it. I'm long past throwing clubs, muttering "oh shits", slamming my putter into the turf of the green. Yes, anxiety meds, but also, the realization - I'm here for fun, and I'll be damned I'm going to have that, even when it affords having the worst score of the foursome.

I'm often glued to the Golf Channel, NBC, CBS - where, usually at least once per 3-4 hour viewing time, I see someone hit a really really crappy shot - and it affords inward thinking, "Ha, I coulda done that!"

I've probably written about all of the above before, so, apologies. Age, I blame it on age. A final tale, and quite certain I've shared this before - but what the hey. I was working in a Sporting Goods store. In walks two men, beaming from ear to ear. At the counter, guy announces "I'm here to buy my brother (patting him on the shoulder) a trophy!".. "Cool, we can do that, what for?".. Excitedly he offers "He JUST got a hole in one!" "NICE!! Can I ask though, don't they usually give you something at the golf course when that happens?".. "Yeah, but, we snuck on so we couldn't tell them."

Tune in tomorrow, same golf channel, where we might discuss non-golf things us friends have done on the golf course in the past. We'll keep it PGa rated.

Love, Victurd.

Spirit..............

I've hesitated writing about this for fear of people thinking I'm nuts, then I remembered I really don't care.

My, like all grandbabies, are the best. I have three. When it was announced the second was to be born, I thought "there's no way you're going to love this kid like the first grandbaby." You do. You just do.

I'm not good at bonding during infancy. For whatever reason, holding an infant who appears to have no cognizance of your togetherness - while sure, it's awesome - to me, there's nothing like that bonding when they are up on two feet - ya get down on the floor and it's katy bar the door fun, for each.

Such is the case of my newest grandbaby - Bella, she will be two in July.

Bella is special, just like your kids, grandkids, my other two grandkids.

She really is unique though. There are literally only two times when she grumps: when she's hungry, and when she's tired/in need of a nap/rest. That's it (at least this far into her life.)

She takes off, she falls, she turns to peek to see if you saw - you smile, she returns a 'melt me' happy smile. I get there, she runs to grab, hand me anything that ain't attached to anything. I know I've written of her before, but you're stuck. Her smiles affords "forget all the ills of land, life is good, fun, I'm going 60 mph until I eventually drop."

Her smile erases anyone watching's bad mood instantaneously - and it is there, All. The. Time..

Here's where I'm maybe nuts. When she runs and does something, then turns to look and flashes that smile, I "see, sense, my sister." My sister has been deceased for quite some time. When she was around a little one, her eyes opened very, very wide, her face drew wonderfully long, her lips 'talked' to whatever little one was present - it was quite a sight to behold, just watching her, watching little ones. Perhaps why she made a career out of La Petite Academy. A child's happiness was her happiness, and it was tenfold when it was blood.

I 'see her', I 'feel her', I sense her. Nuts, maybe I am, I dunno.

In a virtual 'battle' as to who liked little ones more, my former mother inlaw (also deceased quite some time) ran neck and neck with my sister. I loved her like blood. She had a fun, mischievous side - and she ALWAYS 'teamed' in favor of the little one(s). She would get down on the floor with the best of them until the very day her body stopped affording her to do so.

Bella, the special, wonderful, killer smile grandbaby of mine (I know, I remember, YOURS TOO are that) does this thing where she runs, presses her lips together and sends out a "phhhffttt". Hard to type it out, but, it's a quick retort, I suppose similar to a baby fart - it speaks (very funly) 'hogwash, nonsense' - and I "see", "feel", Granny (my former mother inlaw) there, smiling, returning a "phhhffttt" for each and every mischievous "phhhffttt" Bella evokes. Why, she (Granny) even instigates 'em. She's "there", I "see her", I "feel her."

I've not Googled anything about spirits, ghosts (and I hate the word 'ghost', an immediate negative connotation - and my sister and my mother inlaw were NOT negative at all - they spiced up life, and they each put the child in the forefront.)

Am I simply (and wonderfully) stuck in memory... do you believe in spirits?... Wishful thinking?.. Maybe it's the comparable "WOO WHOO" take on life. Has this ('seeing', sensing', 'feeling' the presence of a loved one gone), happened to anyone else? Even if it is simply a memory of good times past - to me it's wonderful...

Bella is very much like two of my favorite people EVER. I think of Folger's "good to the last drop" when I think of her take on life. My sister and my mother inlaw shared, demonstrated that take as well.

Neither ever met Bella, but somehow I feel they have.

I 'see', I 'feel', maybe I'm nuts.

A hundred kajillion times better than the "cardinal from heaven" they talk about that lands in one's backyard.

Love, Victurd

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza

"Retirement is great, but be careful - if you are sedentary, it'll end quick."

Call me a 'tweener.' I like sedentary, mixed with occasionally losing 3 or 7 golf balls on the friendly course I play. My bucket list probably ain't like the bucket list of many....

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole
Then mend it, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, dear Goofy
Then mend it, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, then mend it

I hear "Cancun, an all inclusive... Niagra Falls, viewed from the Canadian side... Rome, Paris, Venice, London..."

With what shall I mend it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I mend it, dear Liza, with what?
With some straw, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, dear Goofy
With some straw, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, some straw

I wake up daily thinking "when is my 18 year old body coming back?"... I go to the gym (some days, scroll to sedentary/mix) and I see other fellow raisins grunting, groaning, frowning, sweating... crunches, upper body machines, lower body machines, treadmill pitter patter at Wile E. Coyote pace, mountain climbers, MOUNTAIN CLIMBERS? Nuttin' personal Grundy Newton, but I had enough of them in HS I NEVER wanna do another - ever.

The straw is too long, dear Liza, dear Liza
The straw is too long, dear Liza, too long
Then cut it, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, dear Goofy
Then cut it, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, then cut it

More bucket (of most) Run a marathon, take an African Safari, Write a story, Walk along the Great Wall of China, learn to play in instrument, Snorkel the Great Barrier Reef...

With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I cut it, dear Liza, with what?
With a knife, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, dear Goofy
With a knife, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, with a knife

Ahm, marathon will never happen, sorry... Safari? I have a great fear of being gored by a Rhino, eaten by a lion, having my bag of Fritos stolen by an elephant - no thanks... Write a story? Oh sure, I love to write - but I don't think anyone can correctly pen the final chapter.. Great Walls have falls.. I flunked out on the tonette in 7th grade, I've already snorkeled, was cool, but done that...

The knife is too dull, dear Liza, dear Liza
The knife is too dull, dear Liza, too dull
Then sharpen it, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, dear Goofy
Then sharpen it, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, sharpen it

Skydiving, Own a dog, See the pyramids of Giza, learn another language, ride a Venetian Gondola...

With what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I sharpen it, dear Liza, with what?
With a stone, dear Goofy, dear goofy, dear Goofy
With a stone, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, with a stone

Skydive, are you crazy? Own a dog? I WOULD like that one, but somehow gotta make the move from Apartment to house, Pyramids? - No thanks, the Baldknobbers works for me.. Learn another language? Hell, I'm still butchering this one after 65 years, why would I do that?..Venetian Gondola? Canoe rapids gimme heart palpatations, no thanks.

The stone is too dry, dear Liza, dear Liza
The stone is too dry, dear Liza, too dry
Then wet it, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, dear Goofy
Then wet it, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, then wet it

Drive across the country, hike the Pacific Crest Trail, take an Alaskan Cruise, See your favorite band...

With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
With what shall I wet it, dear Liza, with what?
With water, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, dear Goofy
With water, dear Goofy, dear Goofy, with water

I WOULD like to drive across the country - but, needs me a more dependable car that I know will take me beyond Liberal, KS. (Liberal thrown in simply to irritate you Trump kinda folks, hehe).. Hike that fancy trail? No thanks, Watkins Mill works for me.. Alaskan Cruise? Sure, it'd be nice, but I remember that I keep 'throw's on every chair in the winter, I ain't got one of those fancy "start my car in my PJ's from the inside", cold is poopy.. See my favorite band? 4-5 years ago, the Rolling Stones came to NY, I asked a chick at work, actually had the funds to fly, go do it, she thought long hard, but, you can't always get what you want.. Then, a couple years ago they came to KC, had a GF, she thought, offered "nah, but thanks" - so, no Tuesday Ruby.

In what shall I get it, dear Liza, dear Liza?
In what shall I get it, dear Liza, in what?
In a bucket dear Goofy, dear Goofy, dear Goofy
In a bucket dear Goofy, dear Goofy, in a bucket

Quite frankly, I kinda like being here, plain ole Liberty, MO. The eyeballs (my take) can see amazement anywhere. Victor, is that fancy for "you can't afford all that crap 'cause you didn't plan ahead?" Hehe, kinda - but I really am fine here.

There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, dear Liza
There's a hole in my bucket, dear Liza, a hole

My bucket list simply desires an uneventful ride out, where I am no burden to anyone. Thoughts, prayers moreso for a happy world, healthy grandbabies, an occasional beer with fellow "Bubbas" (Bubbas are a group of old fart men who've butchered previous relationships, we gather fairly frequently to diss the women in the relationships we butchered.) Play golf. Click 'like' on fellow old fart's postings of their grandbabies... family time. 'Bout it.

There's a hole in my bucket list dear Lisa, but I'm cool with that.

Love, Victurd

Fruit flies and mandarin oranges....

At Sprouts the other day. If ya ain't got Sprouts in your neck of the woods, they are "neighborhood grocery stores that offer thousands of natural, organic & gluten-free foods."

I've noticed, looking down of late - my belly growing in increasing size. I love me some oranges. Tangerines are the favorite, but the only ones I've seen this time year must be gold filled as they are darn, darn, expensive. Poor planning and a measly Social Security check tell me "dream on Victor", so, I pass on them.

Mandarins, "2 bags for $5." THAT, I can handle. I didn't wanna buy two as I can't eat that many that fast and them little critters get squishy and rotten pretty darn fast. That said, I bought the "2 for". As anticipated, I'd eaten a little over half of them - kept 'em in a bowl in the living room reminding me "Eat these Victor or they will spoil."

They eventually did, I eventually tossed them in the trash in the kitchen.

Not long after, fruit flies. Do they like traverse up and down the block and one finally yells to the resta the crew "Hey, DOWN HERE Ralph, this house has tons of rotten fruit!"?? Ralph and the boys have been flying around for a few days, and I'd forgotten I'd tossed the mandarins in the trash in the kitchen, versus getting off my butt to take them out to the real trash.

Googling "howinthehell do you get ridda fruit flies" I was astonished to learn "Create a trap by mixing apple cider vinegar with a few drops of dish soap." Not trusting Al Gore's invention all that much, I tried several more links, only to learn, "uh huh, works."

So, to the Piggly Wiggly. "Ahm, what aisle is vinegar on?" "Number 1, about halfway down on the right." Already low on dish soap, I stopped there along the way. There is Primo (help pay for my National ads) Dish Soap, Best Choice Dish Soap, and Always Save Dish Soap. Oh for the day cost didn't matter - but, again, fixed income... I once bought a box of Always Save Vanilla Wafers (the cheapest of the brands) and they literally tasted like cardboard, so I opted for the next step up, Best Choice. Also got a small bottle of Best Choice Apple Cider Vinegar. (A buddy and his wife had recommended I drink that, "helps your health, digestion, yada." We shall see. I don't have any clothespins (Does anyone still?) so I might buy some and try that one day as the smell of it makes me wanna upchuck.

I gleefully sped home, knowing, in a matter of minutes, I'd have them little bastards swimming (for a minute or so anyways) in the cider/soap Sea.

I just walked by, there are 8 of them. Idiots. They are the Vic Schultze's of the fruit fly world. Why do you say that? Because I have a tendency to jump into an idea, a suggestion, a want, without first thinking over the ramifications of that jump.. Bit me in the butt more than a time or two in my life. So, ye 8 of little regard for temptation, are now floating in the Cider Soap Sea.

Others, hovering around, observing.. "Did you see what that dumb ass Ralph did? He jumped right into that poison concoction. Jeesh, idiot." I will ultimately buy some kinda spray to kill the resta them critters. I ain't got any pets it might harm. I can't have dogs here, and they want a $300 deposit for a cat, scroll to measly Social Security Check.

That's it. That's all for today. The message is, if you see, hear of an idea that sounds really cool - hover your ass above it for awhile, look out to see if there are dumbass Ralph's anywhere in view - and what he/they might do, before you make your decision to jump.

There are now fitteen of 'em in there. Followers. My father, whom I loved dearly, always said to me "you seem to be a follower."

Don't follow too close (one car length per ten mph), keep your eyes wide open, watch for Ralph (and falling rock). If you go to Vegas, ignore the lights, music, cha ching noise.. fold your money in half to double it, and don't stay at The Mirage.

Love, Victurd

"There are no extra pieces in the universe. Everyone is here because he or she has a place to fill, and every piece must fit itself into the big jigsaw puzzle." Deepak Chopra

Fill is an interesting word.

As one who likes to blog, I really know what it means to figure out whatintheheck to fill a page with.

*Run, for one second, if political goodies bug you.* I don't think it's a secret there are a good amount of folks who aren't too fond of DT, myself included, "had our fill" so to speak. I think he's a narcissist, I do believe I used the verbiage 'hate' (To feel intense or passionate dislike for someone)...one person told me (again and again) I was a hypocrite to "preach nice and respect" and say that I hated him - assuming he was speaking of blog. First, I hope you know I don't MEAN to preach if it comes across that way. Purpose of this blog, hopefully, is to uplift, make this sometimes crappy game of life light. So, I decided to rethink my position on DT and I've reached the conclusion I think he's a narcissist, I do believe I will (continue to) use the verbiage 'hate' (To feel intense or passionate dislike for someone)... Nanny nanny boo boo stick your head in Trump doo.

Sorry.

Kinda.

Deepak, while I am amazed by much of what you say, not real fond of your quote up there. We, the old farts still kicking with reasonably sound mind.. you know, the ones of the "Huh? Why? NO, ain't gonna/gotta do that" era - think "must fit itself into the big jigsaw puzzle" is a bit restrictive.

Side note, a company I worked for had the idea - to give every employee one piece of a jigsaw puzzle which would eventually be one big pic of our the company logo..... the outline was posted on a wall where everyone would see during routine traffic of the joint. We were all to find where our piece of puzzle was to go, put some glue on it, affix to puzzle, so we could attain that rah rah "all for one, one for all" kinda feeling. Everyone, EXCEPT one, complied. While my blood type I THINK is "B positive", turn left here for it's my second 'negative' of this blog: it was very symbolic of that place I worked, the empty space, the lack of cohesiveness. (And NO, it wasn't me.)

Wow Victor, you are fill of it today.

Yeah, that kinda fill "to put into as much as can be held or conveniently contained * fill a cup with water" begs the old half full, half empty question. Next fill diddy.

Fill: to cause to swell or billow * wind filled the sails. Is there anyone else out there besides me, that whenya go to an All You Can Eat Buffet, that's exactly what you do? I hate love when that happens. Slovenly walk to the car after, but damn it, gluttonism was fun whilst doing. Red line under gluttonism, don't care, should be a word.

Fill in the blanks. What the heck, let's continue negativity. Have you run across the experience where you deal with a new company, be it health provider, newspaper, something you're ordering, personal interest group, yada - and you painstakingly (on the computer) fill in every dadgum blank they have.. hit "send" and it takes you back to the original page (ALL THE GD, gosh darn, BLANKS EMPTY AGAIN because you forgot to fill in so-and-so.. so, you must start again..re-fill.. and this can happen - at least it does has to me, time and time again. I usually take a time out to grab an extra blood pressure pill around the third time.

Fill an office (please no more politics Victor).. Fill, as in gold filled bracelet. Fill one's shoes, please no, reminds me of Hosmer, Cain, etc.. Fill: as in to draw the playing cards necessary to complete - fill a straight of flush in poker.

Smoke filled the room. Someone's in the kitchen with Dinah and they've obviously taken their eyeballs off the pot roast.

Fill cavities. Did I ever tell you about the time I went to the dentist, had hella work done, boo koo shots to numb me.. It was mid-day, I didn't eat prior cause I didn't want the Doc/hygienist to say "yuck, look at all that crap." So.. starving, I was starving. I drove straight to McDonalds, hadn't talked to a soul.. the snotnose (said lovingly) asked "May I help you sir?" and I replied "I waaaaa.. ah.. I waaahhhnnnntt" -> my mouth was still numb, I made an idiot of myself, thirteen people were staring, twelve of them laughing, but I finally spit it out (filled my order, so to speak)... Yes Victor, you told us that one before. Sorry. Kinda.

Fill, it's all how you look at it. There's a difference between "they filled the conference room" and "his fart filled the conference room." The glass is half full. The bastard leaks. I'm old, I've had my fill of high cable bills, arthritis, taxes, Uncle Sam, millennials (some, sorry, kinda), the price of crude, crude people, discrimination, and filling in more things that old people get tired of. It IS our right to gripe though, we're entitled, oops, there's that word.

Fill Me Up - Buttercup.

Ok, outta here. Gonna make a list of "to do's" to fill my day that I won't do today and will transfer over to tomorrow. Time to fill my size 36" shorts with size 38" of body. (sorry about the visual).

I've had my fill of fill. You?

As the beloved children's radio show host Cowboy Bob, after giving his all to fill the kiddos with a fun hour show, once signed off, kinda sorta forgot to turn off the microphone and added, "There, that oughta please the little bastards."

Until next time, when I once again will preach "nice" and "respect",

Love, Victurd

They're coming to take me away ha ha, they're coming to take me away ho ho hee hee ha haaa...

I'm weird, sorry, kinda, not really...
I'm nuts, but that's well known I guess.. Well, 'well known' by the 6 or 7 folks that stop by here every now and again.

Today's blog is about stuff I think is fun to say/hear....

Victor, what fun is that? We're all different, maybe it won't be fun to us?

Fair enough... roll on, skip over, click that X in the upper right hand corner right now, tain't no sweat off my back! I'm a hoarder, in the sense this crap stays with me, cobwebs in the brain, scary.. .. I hear it often, so, I gotta get it out, sorry, kinda, not really..

Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga
Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga
Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga
Ooga-chaka Ooga-Ooga
I can't stop this feeling...

How can you have any cake if you don't eat your pudding?

Damnit darnit.

A-well-a don't you know about the bird?
Well, everybody knows that the bird is a word
A-well, a bird, bird, b-bird's a word
A-well-a mow, mow, pa-pa, ma-ma-mow, pa-pa
Ma-ma-mow, ma-ma, mow, pa-pa
Ma-ma-mow, ma-ma, mow, pa-pa
Ma-ma-mow, ma-ma, mow, pa-pa
(You want fun? Youtube "Surfin Bird" by the Trashmen..watch him dance, sing.. weirdly, it makes you wanna forget, but you remember it forever)

It's bad you know (YOU tell 'em RL!)

Sweet Caroline.. (pah pah pah pah)
Good times never seemed so good.
SO GOOD, SO GOOD, SO GOOD...
(I will never forget... baseball, some sense of normalcy, returned to Boston/Fenway Park after the Marathon bombings.. Neil drove from NY to Boston on his own, showed up, called upstairs, asked if he could sing this that night [traditionally sung before the Sox bat in the 8th inning every game]... farm out. (Need a feel good? Youtube Neil Diamond Singing Sweet Caroline in Fenway Park 4/20/13)

Bom ba ba bom ba bom ba bom bom
Bom ba ba bom ba bom ba bom bom
Dang a dang dang, ding a dong ding
Blue moon, moon, moon, moon, moon
Di, Di, Di, Di, Di, moon, moon, moon, blue moon
Di, Di, Di, Di, Di

Victor, somea this crap is over 60 years old?

Uh huh, is. Sorry, kinda, not really.

Here, this one's only 40 years old - stick it up your Funk and Wagnall:

I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand
Walking through the streets of SoHo in the rain
He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook's
Gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein

Aaoooooo
Werewolves of London
Aaoooooo

Aaoooooo
Werewolves of London
Aaoooooo........

There was long one's, tall ones, short ones, brown ones
Black ones, round ones, big ones, crazy ones
Out of the middle, came a lady
She whispered in my ear something crazy, she said

Spill the wine and take that pearl
Spill the wine and take that pearl
Spill the wine and take that pearl
Spill the wine and take that pearl

Thanks Eric... hey Edwin, tell us about War:

(War) h'uh
Yeah!
(What is it good for?)
Absolutely (nothin) uh-huh, uh-huh

It might be, it could be, IT IS, a home run......

There's no crying in baseball....

I see a little silhouetto of a man,
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?
Thunderbolt and lightning,
Very, very frightening me.
(Galileo) Galileo.
(Galileo) Galileo,
Galileo Figaro
Magnifico-o-o-o-o.

Let's go to Luckenbach, Texas
With Waylon and Willie and the boys
This successful life we're livin'
Got us feuding like the Hatfields and McCoys
Between Hank Williams' pain songs and
Newberry's train songs and Blue Eyes Cryin' in the Rain
Out in Luckenbach, Texas ain't nobody feelin' no pain

Victor, this is some boring stuff......

"There's no excuse for being bored. Sad, yes. Angry, yes. Depressed, yes. Crazy, yes. But there's no excuse for boredom, ever." Viggo Morensen

You tell 'em Viggo, I'll pat ma' foot.

They're coming to take me away ha-haaa ho-ho hee-hee
To the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time

Sadly, I could go on, and on, and on... for your sake, I won't...

Finish it off for us Patsy, wouldya?

"I'm crazy..."

Love, Victurd
Scaramouche, Scaramouche...
Nonsensical makes sense, to me anyways...

If only..........

If only life came with auto-correct WHILST living, behaving in life.

If only life's moments were on video or print, and we had the ability to cut, edit, backspace, yada before the final edition eeked out.

If only it were as simple to coach/teach/parent/advise our own self, as it is to do so for others.

I think I'm gonna cut and paste this one on my pillbox:

"The mark of a wise person isn't never making mistakes - everyone makes plenty of them. Rather, it's the ability to quickly admit - and fix - them!" Whitney Tilson

If only........

Victor, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MAKE YOU WRITE THIS?

No one thing:

I've lived, I reckon that's what. I've erred, aplenty. I've gone down roads only to rethink "damnit Victor, why did you go down that road?".. I've stared at the mirror (aplenty) and chastised "You stupid idiot, why did you say/do that?"

I think maybe you're being to tough on yourself?

Nope. I think though, it's all of us. We all have regrets - we are all imperfect. Some of us, get do-overs and have even demonstrated butchering that as well.

Sorry this blog ain't about farts, rulers tattooed on penises, 10" tall male dogs that live their entire life with a 20" tall female dog and are never able to make whoopy. This is more about making oops. Oh shit moments. I have 'em. You have 'em. We regret 'em. We all deal with it differently.

The sternest sounding board, to me, IS the mirror. Sometimes it's hazy, got streaks allover it, sometimes the lighting ain't so good to see it - other times it's magnified and it lets you know "Yep...see that? That was an EAR HAIR moment in life.... you proceeded to make a pretty big ass of yourself so live with the consequences."

Consolation. When I think of consolation, my coaching days remind me "damnit, you lost the first game of the tournament, you'll never be champions." Thus, the reminder "So, you giving up? Is it all over? Or, you gonna buck up and do your damn best from here on out?"

Pigpen. Pigpen walks in the mess he's created throughout life. It follows him, it exudes from him, patooey. (I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome) - remember that Victor - you can't be like Pigpen.

I guess there is consolation eh? If one didn't care - held no remorse for butchered actions, words, choices, yada - life would be pretty sad. Sadness comes to us all - but it comes back to Whitney's quote above.. "admit/fix."

I ain't down - just remembering, pointing out to myself - rose bushes have thorns, be careful, tread lightly.. if I/one errs, it's ok, just have remorse, try to do better, so you ain't gonna be in the championship game - the resta the way, show the fans you got guts, care, concern, fortitude, fight - but most importantly, the will to admit, correct one's mistakes. With life's glory, come the (real) story - never lose sight of that fact.

That sounding board.. yeah, the mirror. Kiss it occasionally - as we are all beautiful. Human, but beautiful.

By Henry Gibson.....

Love, Victurd

Give 'em an inch.....

Measurement, to me, is kinda interesting. (You can measure one's age by how many times they repeat something. Somea the below is repeated from past blogs. Sorry, kinda, again - it's what old people do.)

The inch is 1/36 of a yard, 1/12 of a foot, derived from the Roman "uncla" (twelfth).. and is usually understood as deriving from the width of the human thumb. I looked too. Not fake news, Wiki told me. An inch is 2.54 cm.

"The most important 6 inches on the battlefield is between your ears." James Mattis

If you're so gol' dang smart, tell me how long a "Smoot" is? I'll save you time. Oliver R. Smoot was an MIT undergrad - and during his fraternity pledge he was used to measure the length of the Harvard Bridge between Boston and Cambridge, MA. Oliver was 5'7", they laid him down, on the bridge, placed a mark by his head, lifted him up, placed him down, made another mark, and repeated this the entire exercise along the bridge. The bridge is 364.4 smoots plus or minus one ear.

Of course we all file into Home Depot, Lowes, Menards, yada to buy a 2x4, 1x6, 2x12, 4x4, etc.. but I never understood why a 2x4 is in actuality 1.5"x3.5", which of course, gives one the urge to run to Lowes, find one seemingly wet behind the ears and ask where the 1.5x3.5's are...

Funny ha ha are all the jokes regarding men/size. Frienda mine worked in the ER at a local hospital. Guy came into the ER - I forget his ailment, but it necessitated completely disrobing. Lo and behold, he had a ruler tattooed on his you-know-what, I-kid-you-not. It was onea those moments where nurse Sally ran back into the break area, hollered at Susie, "C'mere, you gotta see this - and please try to keep a straight face." Friend was female, and no, I didn't ask ruler size - sketchy anyways as other 'conditions' wouldn't make it as accurate as a Smoot.

"Oscar is the exact opposite of how I think you should behave. I just think of it as a negative view of the postitive mind I have. Big Bird is sweet and nice and also sympathetic, as kids can identify even though he looks like such a bizarre character - great 8 feet 2 inches, a beak 18 inches long." Caroll Spinney

Until this blog, I never knew how booby size is detected. I guess, you take a measurement around your rib cage, let's say it's 34", then you take a measurement (and place the tape measure over the boobies), let's say it's 35", so - there's a one inch difference, which makes the booby size 34A. 36/34 would be 34B, 37/34 is 34C, etc... I get all that, but what about them Double D suckers? Xplain Lucy...

Scruffy. A pitiful measurement story. Ever heard of a 'teasing stallion'? I DO NOT KNOW horses, but kinda sorta reading, a teaser stallion is used as a 'barometer' to find out if a mare is in 'estrus' (heat). I dunno know how they do this, I suppose there is some kind of barrier between the teasing stallion and the mare in heat, but, the poor guy never gets to have any 'fun', and the most dominant stallion is called in once it's been ciphered "yes, in heat." The story of my dating.. oh, nevermind.

Back to Scruffy. Scruffy was a male dog, not a horse, stallion, mare. Please close your ears as I DO NOT want my reputation of being a dog lover tainted: Scruffy wasn't very likeable. First, he was ugly. He was mixed breed, and I think he got the ugly portion of each of the parents. He was a stump of a dog, maybe ten or twelve inches tall, ALL BODY, hardly any legs. He was uncoordinated. He'd run up to you, misjudge, and clobber your bod - then, he would lick you like crazy after he did. Again, our secret, just not very likeable.

Sadie, on the other hand, was a BEAUTIFUL white lab mix, TWICE the height of Scruffy. Sadie and Scruffy shared the same back yard for many a year. Poor Scruffy, much like the teaser stallion, tried and tried and tried and tried to 'befriend' Sadie, it just logistically wasn't going to happen - in spite of how entertaining it was to watch. We'd have friends over, "Watch Scruffy!" and sure enough, in 5 or 10 minutes he was air humping away... poor guy.

"I'm not overweight, I'm just nine inches too short." Shelley Winters.

Wellness day at work - they bend you shape you anyway they want to.. prick your skin.. test for this, measure for that. "Body Mass Index", first time I'd ever heard of it, and I majored in Physical Education, oh well. I ain't real sure how it's (BMI) formally derived, but it has something to do with your waist circumference, your height, and your weight. Lady measured my height. Weighed me, then said "OK, we've got to measure your waist." Ma'am, you don't need to do that, I've worn 36"x30" jeans for like 20 years. "Yes, but we don't actually measure right at your waist, we measure around the belly button." Damnit darnit, 41", I'm destined for BMI hell. Retirement = Medicare = don't care about BMI. Hell to the yes, pass the Fritos. I. Will. Never. Attain. My. Desired. BMI. And. I. Am. AOK. With. That. Burma Shave.

OK, I, like you, am getting bored. I measured, blog is long enough to be formally considered a blog.

One last gripe. Obits, and their length, upset me. It's all about $'s and who had them (and I understand newspaper prerogative.) Certain you probably do like me and go to the funeral home site - usually a beautiful recap there of one's life.

"What's 6 inches long, 2 inches wide and drives women wild?"

No pervert, it's a $100 bill.

Tune in next week.. we'll discuss Measurement,Part B.. my friend that worked in ER.. and the guy who came in to get a table leg that was up his (yeah, sorry) removed. We'll find out if they measured. Here's a teaser though - he came back two weeks later to retrieve it.

Love, Victurd.

A short, half-ass blog........

When one thinks of role models - of course parents come to mind... older brother/sister... older cousins... older neighborhood friends... but, for many of us, the very best role models were our teachers......

For purpose of this story, we'll call this role model teacher 'JS'. JS taught shop. Teachers have rough jobs. Tough, frustrating trying to teach/relate algorithms, dangling participles, or Espanol. To me though, that's all kid stuff in comparison to being in charge of thirty 15, 16, 17 & 18 year olds working with grinders, drill presses, and virtually every type of saw known to man.

JS didn't let any of that phase him. He was calm, quick-witted, fair, helpful and simply a very, very nice man.

I didn't really know our librarian. Let's call her 'CR' for short. The few times I did go in the library, I found her to be kinda mean (you know, looked over the top of her glasses judgingly at you), and you got the feeling she was simply there to look for 'shoplifters', aka, book thieves. She seemingly liked to complain and I honestly do not ever remember her smiling. CR was also a VERY, VERY LARGE person.

'VA', let's call him, was in charge of maintenance for the school district. Nice man, walked with a bit of a limp, took pride in his job, and he too (like JS) had a pretty decent size sense of humor.

Summertime, I was lucky enough to be employed on JS's crew to fix any/all things in and around the school buildings.

One morning, as we were all sitting, awaiting our assignments for the day from VA - he looked at JS (and me) and said "I want you to go to the library.. there's a six foot tall bookcase right by the front door and CR is just as sure as she can be kids are stealing books and that it's blocking her view. She wants it cut in half so it's only three feet tall."

As VA was assigning JS and I, JS peeked over after hearing the word 'library', kinda rolled his eyes, so I got the impression too that he also thought CR was kinda mean, grumpy, just not a very happy person.

We grabbed up our tools, saws, sandpaper, stain, broom, dustpan - and we were off to the library.

JS, of course, had preached the rule "measure twice, cut once" to us saplings. I wasn't the greatest with tools, but, being with JS, I knew our job would be cinchy and well done.

He took great strides in making sure that was just the case. We measured (twice), cut (he did it, I didn't wanna), sanded where we'd cut, re-stained, swept up all the sawdust - laid the now three foot tall bookcases side by side, so CR's view of kids entering, exiting the library would be unobstructed. Perfect. A job well done (we thought anyways.)

The next morning, we once again were there awaiting VA to shout out our daily assignments. Before he started talking, JS proudly asked "so what did ole CR think about her new bookcases?"... VA smiled, and then he said, "Well.. she told me to 'tell those HALF ASS carpenters'...... (and I don't remember the rest, wasn't good, and I just remember looking over at the normally calm JS, and I was thinking "uh oh!")

JS took a moment to collect his thoughts, looked at VA in they eyes and calmly replied, "Well.. you tell that ASS AND A HALF Librarian...." and I didn't hear the rest because I was on the floor rolling. Even VA laughed.

I sadly learned JS passed a couple years back. Nice, nice man - and I will never forget this story.

Love, Victurd

The long and winding road........

Life, for most, is a long and winding road...

As we traverse that road, we do so at different speeds, different types of roads, different (or no) passengers..

And, different destinations.. Much of the below is from an article from The Guardian (no author listed) and another article by Grace Bluerock - apologizes for borrowing, but I think it looms large for us today, my opine.

Hospice is a tough word to hear, swallow...

Taking a positive, how can we learn from those that have experienced it?

Studies relate, the number one misgiving about the road behind, particularly among men, was "I wish I wouldn't have worked so hard." There is much to be said for this - sure, for many, it's a choice - but for most, I think anyways, the realization of same doesn't come until it's too late. "I missed ball games, birthdays, events with friends, school functions, even plain ole middle of the week dinners - due to work. Yes, there is 'material' to show for it, but right here, right now, how important is that?"

"I wish I'd had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me." Dreams passed up, sidestepped, while health was good, the realization of same much too late.

"I wish I'd had the courage to express my feelings." This is not a problem for some, but I feel suffice to say, we see this day in, day out - and, then again, we CAN'T see it festering within from some folks. Lessen learned though.

"I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends." Color me guilty. I do have friends that scoff at the fact I'm on Facebook - and quite frankly, I don't really care. For me, it's a rush to see a post, remember that person, remember moments we had together - a great rear view mirror for the long and winding road.

"I wish I that I had let myself be happier." The author went on to say "Fear of change had them pretending to others, and to their selves, that they were content, when deep within, they longed to laugh properly and have silliness in their life again." There is maybe a touch of "I wish I would have been mated differently" - but to me, MORESO, I wish I woulda had the watoosies to allow me to be me, even within my relationship - or any relationship.

"I wish I had been more loving to the people who matter the most." This is huge, and the majority of us are guilty. It's said "we talk the worst to the ones we love the most" - which, from my shoes, after finding a cure for cancer, next on the list should be a 'tonic' to stop us from blurting. Blurt rhymes with hurt, we all do it, and when we do it not only hurts the person we blurted ugly to - but, we tear our own selves up - sometimes for years - in regret.

"I wish I had been a better spouse, parent, or child." The good news is, it's "NOW", so we all can (re)start on this one today.

"I wish I had taken more risks." Fear of failure grabs us all (or at least the vast majority.) One patient Grace spoke of, learned his terminal diagnosis, 60-something year old man with prosthetic leg, a desire for adventure, then jumped from an airplane at 15,000 feet at a rate of 115 mph. "Greater than anything I've done before." Adding to that, it's suggested we make a list, and one by one conquer, cross off. Our happiness, and comfort zones should expand dramatically.

"I wish I had taken better care of myself." Wow, I know that one. I've been a victim (due to my own doings) of "Oh, I'll start (eating better, sleeping more, pay more attention to my health, etc) TOMORROW." For most, it then becomes too late, hence the advice of the hospice person.

"I wish I'd have done more for others." We all need work here - but, all of us have done something good for others, and not only does it make them feel better, it works that way on us too. Doesn't have to be a monetary thing... words, nifty ones, can (and do) loom large.

I rambled on and on with the above, was gonna stop - then I read the last one, so figured I'd share

"I wish I had chosen a work field that was meaningful for me." Thankfully, I did that (teaching/coaching) and then I left the field. Duh me. I do feels this plays large... besides the punch,cake, well wishes - most occupational ends aren't all that meaningful to ourselves. And this is where I get to play grumpy old man - this is all the more magnified when one is displaced.

Regrets, we all have a few - but, we ain't none to old to learn from experience of those who near the end of the long and winding road.

Old dogs, new tricks........

Love, Victurd

Green Acres is the place to be... Parsely, Sage, Rosemary and tines.....

Watch them tiller tines, that would hurt (Small hands, disregard warning).

Thanks to global warming, some wiseacre came up with the idea of Naked Gardening Day, today, Saturday, May 5th, 2018.

We, farmers included, are born naked. How we've perceived nudity has changed over the years. Grab your mate, toss your clothes, but fair warning:

NUDITY law:

NYC - 90 days in jail.

Show all them pores in Singapore: 90 days in jail AND a $2000 fine.

UAE (Dubai)... naked gardening? BONZI, YOU DIE. jk, but it would be 6 months in prison. (Plus, it gets up to a hunnerd degrees frequently there, Chet's nuts roasting on an open fire)...

When I think of Brazil, please don't shoot me, but "thong bikini, kinda wit dat big booty" comes to mind, HOWEVER, don't take that thong off: ONE YEAR IN JAIL.

Khartoum: 50 lashings (wow).. Damascus: Lashings to execution (lettuce, turnip and pray).. Bonzi, you dead.

Thanks, Hank Kimball...

Vern/Charlotte: Have some preliminary fun with vernacular... aheada time, discuss things like balled and burlapped.. bare root.. climbing.. dead-head (more common in Damascus).. Slow release.. Mounded... Spreading.. Victor you are a pervert, I know, but it's fun.. root rot... leeks (these need to be washed well)..

Have a lil fun picking out things to plant aheada time: artichoke... peas... rhubarb... ginger (redheads out there, garden an hour, go inside an hour, rotate that throughout day).. banana squash... bitter melon (is there sucha thing?).. beat roots... mangos.. melons.. nuts... raisins (more attune to AARP gardeners).. that cross between a grapefruit and a mandarin: Ugli fruit (hey, some of us ARE ugly, it'll make it more fun).. watermelon (The FDA recommends this for 'underwired' women only)... CUCUMBERS, sorry ladies, almost forgot.

To aptly prepare for this undertaking... Play a game or two of Cards Against Humanity... Make up and down a few Jello Shot Oranges (A little pot sometimes helps in gardening as well). ... getya a fun glossery all made out aheada time: Pinch.. bolt... companion planting (even more fun done whilst on a Twister mat)... Fertilizing (careful, the penalties for this are even greater than plain ole nudity).. worm casting.. Naked jumping jacks facing each other help enable introverts to extro....

Consider spiffing up the garden by planting flowers around the exterior: Gladiolus, tulips, Bachelor's button, Bleeding Heart (recommended for Democrats), Bush Morning Glory (perverts), Cuckoo Flower, Everlasting Daisy (not recommended for those over 50), Honeysuckle, Impatiens (will you love me til the end of time?), Love in the Mist (use sprinkler), Morning Glory (again, penalties even worse than nudity), Nymphea (sounds like a perennial), Passion Flower, Wallflower (save for party poopers that won't declothe), Wild Rose, Wild Violet).

Have fun in the bed... Remember: Garden-variety (this ain't for the lighthearted), know where the fertile spots are.. the rules, they ain't cut-and-dried..

Yummy yummy yummy I've got love in my tummy....

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With Pa's ole bells and cockleshells,
And our mutual seeds, all in a row

Farm out, love, Victurd

Oh I wonder, wonder, who,, mmbadoo-ooh, who..... who wrote the book of love..

That song sounds really nice. Why is it by the Monotones?

There's a lot I wonder about.

All those people on Facebook, you know the ones, they take those damn hard 10 or 25 question quizzes and they always answer "Aced it", or, "25 out of 25," - oh I wonder wonder wonder how, how much they REALLY scored?

Why is the foul pole in fair territory?

Do people who flip the bird on Interstate go to church services?

Has an employee ever been fired for not washing their hands after peeing?

Who (oh I wonder wonder wonder wonder who) who invented the word menstruation and WHY did they start it with those three letters?

Do criminals get to click and select their profile photo?

Who said it was bad luck to pickup a "tail's up" penny? Had I not listened, and had I found one a day, I'd have an extra $239.44.

If we're doing away with gender discrimination, wouldn't it then be fair if - when walking coupled, the woman walks on the inside nearest the traffic fitty percenta the time?

Why can you crack your knuckles more than once?

Has anyone really had their head up their ass? If not, why, why, why do we tell them to get it out?

Why are bigger boobies assigned letters like DD? Shouldn't the biggest ones be A?

When you win a company's drawing for "$1,000 a week for life" and they go outta business, then whaddya do?

If you go to hell in a handbasket, whadda they do to the resta ya?

Why is beautiful writing called cursive?

What would one blog about when you can't thinka one single thing to write about? Hmmmmmm.

If someone who is bilingual talks out of both sides of their mouth, would that make them quadlingual?

Why don't they call palindromes "Bob" or "Madam" or sumpin like that huh?

˙sıɥʇ pɐǝɹ uɐɔ uoıʇɐlndod ǝɥʇ ɟo ʇuǝɔɹǝd ǝuo ʎluo ʎɐs ʇɐɥʇ sʇsod ǝsoɥʇ ǝʌǝılǝq noʎ ɟı ʇoıpı uɐ ʎllɐǝɹ ǝɹɐ noʎ

Why do they still have sewers on dead end streets? (Sorry, I'll go now)

Oh I wonder, wonder, who,, mmbadoo-ooh, who..... who wrote the book of love..

Love, Victurd

Gomer, Tarzan and a little Flair.........

Mostly for no reason, I'd love to climb to a mountaintop and belt out some kinda "signature scream/yell/saying"... only because I could.......

Imagine being Gomer - backpacking up a scajillion feet, reaching the top and letting out "WELLLLL GYOLLLLLLL EEEEEEE"...

Or Tarzan... showing off those abs, that skimpy loincloth... climbing to the summit, screeching out “AAH-EEH-AH-EEH-AAAAAH-EEH-AH-EEH-AAAAAH!".... Man that would feel good. Poor kids nowadays... they'll never know 1) whointhehell Tarzan even was, and 2) what his jungle scream sounded like... If by chance, someone nowadays was watching an old Tarzan on onea Spectrum's 15,384 "B Channels" and neighbors heard the “AAH-EEH-AH-EEH-AAAAAH-EEH-AH-EEH-AAAAAH!" one could only guess the convo: "What the hell was that?"... "I dunno, but I think the Fitzgeralds might be fooling around."

Ric Flair, strut yourself up there to the top, jump off the top ring, show us that knife edge drop and belt out the biggest "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO" ever!

I'm weird, I just likes me some guttural sound....... you know the one Austin Powers, YEAH BABY I do!

Take me to the mountaintop, I'm taking the day off.. I just wanna holler, hear the echo.. and LAUGH: "WELLLLL GYOLLLLLLL EEEEEEE"... “AAH-EEH-AH-EEH-AAAAAH-EEH-AH-EEH-AAAAAH!".... "WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO"... YEAH BABY!

Mr. Zevon, might we borrow your Werewolf "AAAAAAAH_HOOOOOOO"?.... THANKS!... "AAAAAAAH_HOOOOOOO"....

Scream it! I GET KNOCKED DOWN, BUT I GET UP AGAIN.....

As I see it.. there are three stages in life where you ride around in your car with the music turned up sooo loud it might tear up onea those cheapy paper speaker thingies:

1) As a kid (fitteen,sixteen)... windows are down... true, no AC back then, but moreso done as an expression.. rebellion.. HOW CAN YOU HAVE ANY PUDDING IF YOU DON'T EAT YOUR MEAT you ask.. well, "you can't make me turn it down!"...

2) At some age, one has children. Upon the occasion they don't happen to be in the car.. a YEAH BABY guttural song comes on (You know, like the Isley Brothers "WE-EEEE-EEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL... YOU KNOW YOU MAKE ME WANT TO SHOUT...) and you do some, BUT... The windows are up because - of course - you want to be recognized as an adult - and sure, the preacher, the banker, the neighbor might hear..

3) Old fart age. I saw a meme yesterday "Yes, I rock out in my car. Yes, I'm aware people can see me. No, I don't care." Up with the volume, down with the windows: Good times never seemed so good, SO GOOD, SO GOOD, SO GOOD!

Band camp, a couple years back. At a friend's condo in Chicago. 7 or 8 of us. Chick we were staying with (1st floor) owned the entire building, which included the 3 stories above her. Twenty or sixty-three times on that visit, we were lovingly reminded "CONDO VOICE.. PLEASE USE YOUR CONDO VOICE."

Go ahead, park by that sewer sign, buy a new razor, I don't care, let it all hang out.........

Get to the top Sly, please holler out "YO' ADRIANNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

My doctor, awhile back.. looked at my BP.. and it was one-fitty over sumpin. 50 mg of some damn pill.. a bit later it was stil one-forty over sumpin. "We'll double that dose." Two weeks later, nope, still too high, here's this small pill, it will fine tune your BP..... NO!!!!!!!! I WANNA GET THAT BP UP.. I WANNA SHOUT.. I WANNA YODEL.. I WANNNA TARZAN, GOMER, RIC, WARREN Z, HAVE MY PUDDING WITHOUT EATING MY DAMN MEAT! I want that BP to temporarily rock out at one-sixty, TYVM.

Am I the only one that ain't a great fan or normal, mundane, "you can't do that"? We're of the question authority era, holler if ya wanna holler, climb to the mountaintop (OK, driving the Jeep up works too) and HOLLER OUT "BOOM SHACKA LACKA LACKA"... or "OYE COMO VA"... BOP IT BIG BOPPER "HELLLO BAAAAYYYYBY!"...

If the music is cranked, you can't hear your spouse (hehe), your annoying friend, or "are we there yet, are we there yet"... screw it all, WE WON'T GET FOOLED AGAIN!

Borrowing the Modus operandi from my two year old granddaughter (and mebbe from Bonita Allen) I wanna "go like 60"... I wanna be the mylar balloon that accidentally got let go.. I wanna yell, I wanna scream, I wanna headbang - while I still can.

GOODNESS GRACIOUS GREAT BALLS OF FIRE....

Whew.

Love, Victurd

Gimme a break... gimme a break... break me offa piece of that Kit Kat Bar.....

I read the news today oh boy... and it wasn't about a lucky man..

It was about our Governor, our President, the FBI, witch hunts, bombings in Syria, local shootings, car wrecks, missing kids.. a trip thru the obits (I know, people think it's goofy to look at them.. I do so because I don't want to be embarrassed into the future and ask "How's so and so?" only to learn "Didn't you hear?".. and in the obits this morning THE most beautiful smile ever, and the sadness that accompanies the reality this smile will never grace the earth again (but, how lucky they are in Heaven today)...

Anyways... I got a belly full of yuck... like, just after downing a bowl of cereal only to learn the milk expired 6 days ago.. the hamburger you just had sat out too long, and now you must pay... find the nearest trash can, porcelain, shade tree to hide behind.

Jaded, I guess the message is.

Repeating (I'm old, I certainly do that) "do not blog about yourself, it's boring to others." SO, FAIR WARNING. This is kinda sorta about me, but moreso about Bella. Who's Bella?

Bella is my youngest grandchild - she will be 2 July 27... Victor, why the 180 degree turn to talk about her?

Well, because she ain't jaded. She hasn't read the news. It's made sure her milk is current, fresh... She ain't been exposed to yuck.

So then tell me Victor, how does this Bella act? (Danger danger warning warning, bias ahead)...

Well, before we go there, I'd like to share my conversation I had with my oldest grandkid, Aubrie, 1st grade, as I was taking her to school yesterday. It's only 4 blocks, so we gotta visit fast:

"Hey Aub... do you realize how special it is to be the oldest sibling, you know, older than your little brother Kendal (5) and Bella (not quite 2)?"

"No Papa Vic, what do you mean?"

"I mean you set the example, and that's huge."

"What do you mean, and how would I do that?"

"Well, you can teach them to be nice.. like Bella, she can't really talk yet, so you can teach her things to say and show her how to be nice."

"BELLA'S ALREADY NICE." And she's right, she is. A very prejudiced grandfather relates "the only time she is cranky is when she's hungry or when she's tired - you absolutely couldn't mail order for anyone better."

Jaded, she ain't jaded. For her, hearing Greitens, Trump, Mueller, FBI, car wreck, bombings, losing Sprint jobs is akin to hearing Elmo, Bert and Ernie, Big Bird, Cookie Monster and yeah, I guess even Oscar the Grouch.

To the park we go. Are there any other grandparents out there who have taken an hour and a half to safely hook up an infant carseat? After finally getting it in, I attempt to put the two thingybobs over her shoulders and there's no way in hell they're gonna be long enough. Fifteen minutes later and an "I give up" knock on the door to get mom ("Can you help?") I learn there's a simple button you push to make the harness straps longer.

All the while, doesn't effect (or is that affect?) Bella. She's all smiles. This is only the 2nd time she's been in a car without mom/dad.

So, we're strapped in, off we go. Discussion about which park to go to flies right over Bella's head just as Trump, Mueller, Greitens, witch hunt, ISIS, yada do. We settle on "The treehouse park."

We pull in, and before I can get outta the dadgum car the two older ones are unstrapped, out, and a football field away at the play equipment. I get to Bella, firmly strapped in the backseat, and she shoots another smile that melts. She's unaware she's a football field behind, she has no idea if we're in Missouri, Kansas or Saskatchewan.

She's unleashed, and off she goes. Of course, in the complete opposite direction of the play equipment. I hail her down. The little shit (said lovingly) is not yet two, but she already runs faster than me. I grab her hand, turn toward the play equipment, that doesn't work, so I pick her up and tote here. I had minor surgery last Friday, ain't supposed to lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk until this Friday, but hey, this is my grandbaby, sorry doc.

The park is complete with climbing goodies, a treehouse, swings, a huge sandbox, a huge rope geosphere where you (well, they) can climb 12' high...

The Park Department has just been to Lowes and purchased a hunnerd thousand bags of mulch. Bella's first mission is to pickup a piece of mulch, one at a time, and fetch to Papa Vic. (She ain't jaded, I'm loving this.)

Next, she finds a bigger stick, maybe a foot long. She now takes it to find any kind of object to clank it on to discover what sound it makes. You know, kinda "to heck with the $5,000 swingset, I wanna clank this stick on stuff." Perfect though, unjaded, learning, discovering.

To the sandbox next. "WOW, this is cool" Bella says, without saying. She tosses it from one hand to the other, digs a bit, throws some up in the air only to learn "no, that ain't so fun" (Doesn't frown though) and has a blast going her own way, doing her own thing. By now she's fallen maybe 24 times, and has giggled each and every time she has done so.

Brief boredom sets in (Wait till you get older kiddo and read the morning newspaper, it gets worse) so, she finds another stick and proceeds to pound the neighbor kid's bike to ascertain what noise it makes. "NO honey, we can't do that." Which again, I coulda said Mueller, Trump, Elmo, Cookie Monster and she wouldn't have had a clue.

So, remembering the "Don't lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk" I pick her up, tote her down to the swing, safely away from the kid's bike. She loves swinging, so I pick her up to set her inside one... she started mumbling (I think it was the song "I'm Free" by The Who, not sure) wants no part of swinging, but, being Bella she doesn't complain, she simply gets her way, so I put her down.

There was a 2 foot round puddle under one swing, and this would be our game of choice for the next half hour. Hitting it with the stick didn't really make a cool sound, but it did send yucky splatters allover her beautiful dress, so of course, "I'm gonna do that." I thought about being Nurse Retched ("Your mom and dad will shoot me") but then again, I remembered occasional consternation her dad put me through so I simply cheer led from the side "You go girl!")

Splash, giggle, splash, giggle, sit in it, giggle, stomp it, giggle. Forty minutes later, there's but a trace of water left in the puddle. The other kids are behaving, we've had a few smidgits "I'm afraid of heights, can you help me down from this thing" (The geosphere).. sure kid, hop on my back, sorry again doc... grandson was playing with a toy gun some kid had left.. kid came back to park looking for it, grandson hid it somewhere.. "Where is it?.. thought he was in trouble, wasn't.. wouldn't go show me where he hid it, a bit stress, finally found it - and all this time Bella was splashing, giggling, trying to get dirt on the parts of her dress that didn't yet have dirt on them.

I'll fast forward. By now I've lifted her 17 times, moved her to safer grounds. She hasn't fussed one iota. Us three kids (me and the two older grands) were by now ready for ice cream. Bella, the budding Ringo Starr, has clanged every object there is to clang, gotten ridda all the puddle, rearranged the sandpit to look like Bigfoot had been there - time to head.

The olders quickly sped to the car, 100 yards away, buckled themselves in, were awaiting Bella and I. I fetched her (sorry Doc) halfway down the hill.. put her down, walked ahead. After a few, the older kids hollered "Are you coming?".. I hear a faint giggle, turned around, Miss Bella was now some 60 yards UP the hill (opposite direction of the car) clanging her stick on the geosphere frame. "BELLA, come on!" I called out, which might as well have been "Mueller? Big Bird? Elmo? Let's go!" As usual, she was mid-giggle/smile, so, I go fetch her (sorry doc), carry her halfway down the hill.. put her down for a brief respite..

Of course, off she tries to head back up the hill, I grab her arm, she's laughing almost hysterically as I pull while she tugs to go back up to our unjaded play area... I finally, again, tote her (sorry Doc).. in a jiffy (ten minutes) I've got her all snapped in the carseat. We're off for ice cream.

Papa Vic plays dealmaker: Bella is in the middle. "Aubrie, we're gonna get 4 cups of ice cream.. I'll keep one up here for you, but I'd like for you to take Bella's, help her to eat some - you can have some of hers too - and when we get home, I'll give you "the new one".. She figures out this is a good deal.. "Ok Papa Vic."

McDonalds line is huge, taking a long time. Off to Wendy's.. Frostys are cheaper anyways.. Line there too, but not as bad.

I hear Aub say "Papa Vic, do you still want me to feed Bella hers? She's zonked."

And she was. Reading the newspaper, watching the news, seeing obits, Mueller, Trump, Greitens, Sprint, car wrecks, shootings, bombings - ALL lead me to wanna take a nap.

Not Bella. She's unjaded. She had hella fun en route to her snooze - it was great cause for a grandparent smile thinking of same. Clink, splash, throw, run, grab, sit, jump, stomp, wet, sandy, dirt, dirty, clank, run (the other way).. unjaded.

Papa Vic? Can we get some Gummies too? (Now there's a twenty minute ordeal unsnapping/snapping those little termites to go into the store).."Not today guys, maybe tomorrow."

Give me a break, give me a break.

Bella, thank you for the break - if only the world was as unjaded as you. Your Papa Vic loves you.

Love, Victurd

You should always go to other people’s funerals, otherwise, they won’t come to yours...

I came to the computer with a blank mind today. Victor, no one cares. I know, just xplainin'.

There is MUCH good. Today is May Day, not to be confused with mayday. The weather is yummy. Them sprouts that sprouted last year are sprouting again... The morel to the story is Spring has Sprung, thus, it's mushroom season.

Levity. Some, no likey fun, funny. I happen to be a fan. So, as I sat down, I thought about typing something fun... I thought about doing a Green Eggs and Ham, but changing the words to Don and the Tam, but that would piss half the people off and that's a lotta pee, so didn't.

I thought about writing about Sports and what it's taught me, how someone has to lose, someone has to win, what that teaches, what I've learned from winning, how to be a winner, what I've learned from losing, and how to be a good loser ---- then I remembered, "To keep interest in a blog, don't write about yourself, unless there's tons of self deprecation." Nah, not today.

BUT... sports did turn me to Yogi, as in Berra - not the cartoon, but, he was funnier than a cartoon. A quick Google turned up "Yogi Berra, considered one of the best catchers in major league history, died of natural causes at the age of 90 Tuesday, September 22nd, 2015. The Yankees legend and Hall of Famer may be better known for the way he creatively butchered the English language, with what became known as Yogi-isms."

For me, Yogi is just what the doctor ordered for today. Light, fun, semi nonsensical - bring it on life, you can't wipe this smile offa MY face.

"Nobody goes there anymore, it's too crowded," which, reminded me of 152 Highway traveling West outta Liberty.

"He hits from both sides of the plate. He's amphibious," which, of course, reminded me of a friend who, once after partying, accidentally drove his VW into a pond.. managed to get out, watched, observed "A Volkswagon will definitely float, but it won't float indefinitely."

"Pair up in threes," which, is kinda like life. It ain't always perfect. Foursomes aren't always gathered in golf.. 5th wheels often make for a perfect friend dinner/outing.

"A nickel ain't worth a dime anymore," hell, ain't that the truth. Is there anyone else out there who pulls up to gas pump, does all the preliminaries, sticks the handle in the tank and regurgitates as the damn $ numbers keep scrolling, and scrolling?

"The future ain't what it used to be," hell to the yes. Me no understand (most) millennials. Me remember when treble hook was used to ensnare a catfish, not used as a facial adornment.

"It gets late early out there," wow, Yogi we old farts understand this one completely. We have enough trouble spelling "Auld Laing Syne" let alone staying up to hear it. Thank goodness for networks adding a 9pm newscast.. "Here's Johnny" has turned into "Who's Jimmy?"

"It's deja vu all over again," yep.. I never understood pillboxes labeled SMTWTF. How can one forget whether or not they've taken their damn pills every day? Adding to my 'grocery list' - pillbox. I will put it in my short's pocket, change to jeans cause it's supposed to rain, get to WallyWorld, not have my shopping list, and it's deja vu all over again. I do know what you mean Yogi.

"I usually take a two-hour nap from 1 to 4," ME TOO Yogi! I usedta have an extension cord by my bed so I could plug my phone in to see how long my nap was.. it shorted out.. now I just go nap and don't give a rats if it was 30 minutes, and hour, or from 1 to 4. I hearya brother.

"If you don't know where you are going, you might wind up someplace else,"... what amazes me about Yogi is that he said all of this whilst young... but Yogi, we old farts can REALLY relate to what you said there.

"I never said most of the things I said,"... Life is, can be, about editing. Yogi, I know I've done what you said.

"When you come to a fork in the road, take it." Oh Yogi, if you only knew. I remember driving to Metro North one day, thinking, "I know the way like the back of my hand" and I wound up in Buckner.

"The towels were so thick, I could hardly close my suitcase," Yogi, this is where I tell on a friend. She stayed in Marriots for work. She always took a cheap, crappy pillow with her on the airplane, and upon her return, she had a fluffy, perfect Marriot pillow on the airplane.

"Take it with a grin of salt," the older we get, the more we understand this. What once used to make us huff and puff, now, causes us to sit back and laugh - even when the joke is on us. You got it Yogi.

"I don't know if they were men or women fans running naked across the field, they had bags over their heads," this one was added as a simple reminder that Saturday, May 5th is Worldwide Naked Gardening Day, so get your carrots/spuds and melons out there.

"We made too many wrong mistakes,".. we can relate Yogi, grin of salt though.

"You can observe a lot by watching." Another hell to the yes Yog', we know that one. The older we get, the more we sit, so there ain't much else to do besides watch - thanks for the reminder.

"It ain't over till it's over." Ah Yogi, thanks, beats the hell outa Green Eggs and Ham, Don and the Tam.

It's over.

Love, Victurd