Whew, life is interesting.....
I liken it to an airplane ride.... Mosta the time, smooth sailing. Ya plop your feet out front, lean back.. nab the Delta Sky Magazine.. get all absorbed in a good read... plop the tray table down in hopes of them eventually getting to you for a cold soda and a bagga peanuts (if there ain't anyone onboard that's allergic... it's ok, I love their cookies too.)
Then.... it hits.. tUrBuLeNcE.... you bounce up.. you bounce down.. your leg muscles get taught to offset the up/down, as if that's going to do anything to help. It's airborne black ice. Color me guilty in not turning to God frequently enough - but when tUrBuLeNcE hits, I'm there.
Sometimes, even in smooth skies, we find something to complain about, like, how the seats are narrower but we're wider. Or, you're sitting in 7C, the feller in 6C has his seatback set so far back, he's actually in 6C and 1/2, and you fear getting his dander in your cold soda pop.
Back to smooth sailing. You peek to the left out the window, and marvel at God's handiwork below. You wonder what State you're in, but you really don't care as long as your 'state' ain't tUrBuLeNt.
Spring. It's peeks thru the winder' shades. Yum. You sit in your easy chair, watch the local morning news, see it's going to be 70 degrees today - and you wanna brag about it to your friends in AZ, CA, FL that live with that all year long. It's OK, life comes with goosebumps, but it's now our time. Yum, again,
Like the blinds on the winder' where the sun is peeking thru - so too do we dodge, try to blockout, the everyday yuck, tUrBuLeNcE that comes with it. Deaths, wrecks, shootings, payoffs, Political indigestion - that no higher or lower altitude will ease the pain, and our bodies ain't equipped with ailerons...so, we just gotta temporarily close the blinds, turn off all noisemaking electronics, grab a Rolaid... and take 30 seconds to study ones eyelids to block out the Skeletor, Wicked Witch of the West types of life...not to mention, dialing up God.
Good happens too. Here's my Final Four (ok, actually 5):
Watched a video where a Good Samaritan (a better man than I) took his pole with a noose to assist a mountain lion whose foot was stuck, being crushed by a metal trap. Risking life, limb and halfa hand, he managed to get the noose around the cat... after a few quick dodges of mountain lion 'snaps', he was able to open the trap, free the lion's leg, take the noose off, and not get eaten as the lion eventually ran off into the woods.
Another, a cop jumping a Trumplike, spiked wall to assist a large hound whose body was entangled by a tarp, thus, not allowing him escape. In a jiff, he mostly gained the frantic dog's trust.. was able to clip the tarp off.. and the happy ending had the dog hoisting his front paws on the cop's shoulders, only to then receive fifty or so licks of thanks.
Then, there was the article about the NWMSU basketball coach.. ten years ago, at AGE TWENTY-SEVEN, he was entrusted with the job. In 2011, on a bus ride home after suffering a defeat to move his team to a 10-16 record - he snuck to the backa the bus, quietly dialed his mom up to tell her he was done, quitting, giving up. Mom talked him outta that, suggested ways he could get his players thinking more positively. He stayed. Won the National Championship a few years ago, is presently 35-0 this year, and three wins from their second National Championship. They should change the song to "Thank heaven, for little girls AND MOMS." Without them what would little boys do?
And then our #1 KC Royal's draft choice from 6 years ago.. those long years filled with injury, disappointment, tUrBuLeNcE... Spring's hope is eternal. He stuck with it. He wasn't dead, but a year ago his baseball career had one foot in the mortuary door.. ABOUT FACE...FORWARD MARCH.. Yum, there's great likelihood he will make the roster this year... "I've dreamed about that since I was 2."
And yet another KC Royal who toiled, labored, survived the up, down, bus rides, low pay, failure, success, failure, success, also for 6 years.. and presto.. he's knocked the cover off the ball this Spring. George Brett let the cat outta the bag, announced to media "he made the roster" before he was supposed to announce that. Reporters asked Brett if the guy cried. Coincidentally, George had asked the guy the same question. "I didn't when they told me, but I did later."
Spring's hope is eternal.
Damnit, I can't get this pair of shorts to button at the waist.. Oh well.. I'll zip my zipper up as far as I can, wear my shirt out, buckle my belt, they'll never know. tUrBuLeNcE happens sometimes, whether you're in 7C, 6C and 1/2, or, when having a 38 and 1/2" waistline in pair of 38" shorts.
Opening day is tomorrow. Please put your tray tables in the upright position, and fasten your seat-belt just in case. I'll go the the gym next week,
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, March 27, 2019
Sunday, March 17, 2019
Light bulb.....
Many cartoons go about their way, lost in story... needing an answer, when allofasudden,
a lightbulb appears above the lead character - and an answer/solution is introduced.
We all see ugly. I don't mean the opposite of what's portrayed as physical beauty - I mean ugly, where's there's often little harmony in our world of differences...
I truly love/loved my ex wife, I did/do... but, occasions arose where I would get that lightbulb just above my scalp, she could sense.. and would offer "Victor, not everyone is as whoopie about your ideas as you." 99 times outta 100, she was right.
Still... I press on....
My idea (lightbulb) for a blog this morning was to tell the story of a gathering of people... one of every race, one of every religion, one of virtually every country.....meeting and getting along. Everyone was different, but no one noticed..
I thought about naming each, but then thought that too might come off as prejudiced, insensitive, labeling.
There would be conversation...happy conversation..smiles, laughs.. . sharing of a feast... more conversation...more smiles, laughs.. arms placed around... hugs.. kind words.. love.
Then, a teacher would say, "It's time to get everything out of your cubby... today is the last day of preschool - and at the end of this coming Summer, your true education will start."
That brought about an internal tear. My first thought was the old expression "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."
To assist in telling the story, I Googled "Children don't know about discrimination."
To my surprise, the suggestions were:
"What to tell your child about prejudice and discrimination."
"How to talk to your kids about racism."
"Seven ways to help your children discriminate against discrimination."
"Young kids take parent's word on prejudice."
It donned on me this is all bassackwards. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Kids don't know prejudice. Kids don't practice discrimination. In spite of the great efforts of many a well intended parent - it's all (discrimination/prejudice) learned.
It reminded me of a true story about a three year old little girl. Going to bed, she'd taken great care to line up 9 or 10 Barbies (of different colors/persuasions) neatly in a row next to her in her bed. The adult walks in some time later - and one by one places the Barbies in a box beside the bed.
Just as the last Barbie was being placed into the box, the little girl awakens, sits up, takes notice and proclaims "I knew you'd ass it up."
Why do we ass it up?
Why can't we be friends...
Why can't we be friends...
Why can't we be friends...
Why can't we be friends...
Love, Victurd
a lightbulb appears above the lead character - and an answer/solution is introduced.
We all see ugly. I don't mean the opposite of what's portrayed as physical beauty - I mean ugly, where's there's often little harmony in our world of differences...
I truly love/loved my ex wife, I did/do... but, occasions arose where I would get that lightbulb just above my scalp, she could sense.. and would offer "Victor, not everyone is as whoopie about your ideas as you." 99 times outta 100, she was right.
Still... I press on....
My idea (lightbulb) for a blog this morning was to tell the story of a gathering of people... one of every race, one of every religion, one of virtually every country.....meeting and getting along. Everyone was different, but no one noticed..
I thought about naming each, but then thought that too might come off as prejudiced, insensitive, labeling.
There would be conversation...happy conversation..smiles, laughs.. . sharing of a feast... more conversation...more smiles, laughs.. arms placed around... hugs.. kind words.. love.
Then, a teacher would say, "It's time to get everything out of your cubby... today is the last day of preschool - and at the end of this coming Summer, your true education will start."
That brought about an internal tear. My first thought was the old expression "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."
To assist in telling the story, I Googled "Children don't know about discrimination."
To my surprise, the suggestions were:
"What to tell your child about prejudice and discrimination."
"How to talk to your kids about racism."
"Seven ways to help your children discriminate against discrimination."
"Young kids take parent's word on prejudice."
It donned on me this is all bassackwards. If it ain't broke, don't fix it. Kids don't know prejudice. Kids don't practice discrimination. In spite of the great efforts of many a well intended parent - it's all (discrimination/prejudice) learned.
It reminded me of a true story about a three year old little girl. Going to bed, she'd taken great care to line up 9 or 10 Barbies (of different colors/persuasions) neatly in a row next to her in her bed. The adult walks in some time later - and one by one places the Barbies in a box beside the bed.
Just as the last Barbie was being placed into the box, the little girl awakens, sits up, takes notice and proclaims "I knew you'd ass it up."
Why do we ass it up?
Why can't we be friends...
Why can't we be friends...
Why can't we be friends...
Why can't we be friends...
Love, Victurd
Friday, March 15, 2019
Who askedya?
*S happens. Day in, day out.
Mentally ill, mad folks have gone into schools, theaters, churches, Mosques, workplaces, concerts and shot, maimed, killed, into oblivion.
With the exception of maybe the 60's, our own Country is so devisive- if it were a movie it would assuredly be named A River Runs Through It - and I ain't talking about the original movie, I'm talking about the shores of "this side" and "that side."
People hate road construction, potholes, progress, Monday, waiting in lines, traffic that only goes the speed limit, this President, that President, this color, that color, this Religion, that Religion, No Religion, this Country, that Country, this sex, that sex, that choice.
We go fast, unwittingly say "screw the scenery" to the scenery, my kid's better than your kid, this house ain't big enough, you don't make enough, you've aged, you've put on weight,............
STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A friend asked, that's who. As we awaken to the news of a nut obliterating 49 people, recording it all with a Go-Pro, laughing as it happens... sure, the question would be:
"DOES GOOD HAPPEN ANY MORE?
The answer is a rousing yes. I call BS Victor. Go ahead, do so, just know:
I've got a classmate who just returned from a dream trip Down Under. As I type, two more classmates are meeting up, also Down Under. I've got a cousin about to embark on a lifelong dream trip to Morocco, Spain, Egypt, Greece, and England.
I've got inlaws who've fostered, kept, more rescues than Carter has pills now living their dream, in a Room with a View overlooking a lake, mountains, God's easel in their chosen NW Arkansas. I've got an ex who rescued a dog that is blind and requires insulin shots daily - and it's the happiest pooch you ever seen. We attend the same grand kid birthday parties, and we can do so without yelling, screaming, badmouthing the other. (Talking about my ex, not the pooch, but, I think me and the pooch would get along too!)
I've got a cousin who, on April 5th, will return to his hometown where they are naming the High School Baseball Field in his honor. (The gym at the school is already named in his brother's honor.)
I've got a classmate who retired from a wonderful career doctoring children with cancer, then devoted years taking her mom (via planes, trains, autos and horseback) on so many bucket list quests.
I've got a classmate who completely lost consciousness for an extended time last year, we feared the worst, presto, she's back, better than ever and closing in on a 50 year marriage.
I've got a fraternity brother who retired, then bassackwardly 'retired in Phoenix, moved to KC' to return to his roots - to spend time with his aging parents. He got to spend time with his Father toward the end of his life, and he now looks in on his Mother frequently.
I've got a beautiful friend living on acreage with horse, cats, chicks - and by choice she debunks suitors knocking on her door as her life is full in the devotion to her children, their children, her Church.
I've got a buddy who just kicked cancer's ass. I've got friends raising their own grand-babies and I ain't never seen bigger smiles on their faces. I've got buddies who are lucky enough to share time between their two loves, the Lake and their Hometown.
I've got fraternity brothers from 40+ years ago I meet up with monthly, lifelong 'townie' friends I gather with weekly, and after a lot of years with some wasted moments, it's now Diet Coke (only) for me.
I've got friends painting, wine testing, making furniture for fun/hobby, traveling to/fro.. My cousin's grand kid, at age 9, raised a buncha money for Save the Manatees and personally delivered it in Florida whilst on vacation with her family. Some years back, my cousin's daughter was in a horrific car wreck, was milliseconds away from having her foot amputated, "you'll never run again", and happy to announce she's since run in a triathlon.
I've got a 'yag'. The hell is that Victor? Well, some years back I got intraocular lense implants when I had cataracts. Perfect, I could then see close up AND far away, goodbye readers. Now I've got a 'yag', which I understand is some kinda film like gunk that gets on your windshield, my vision is semi foggy, but I go Monday to get it lasered away, understand it's a 3 second procedure, and best of all, Medicare (combined with supplemental) pays for it.
I can see, smell, feel. I can walk, knock on doors, ha, breathe, move, stretch, moan, groan, nap, abuse the remote, bingewatch whatever I wanna, cheer the Royals, Chiefs, MU, Jewell, Liberty...and I don't even think I hate KU as much as I usedta. I HAVE GRANDCHILDREN!
Yes, life is good. Damn good.
So in closing, yes. Yes, good is out there. Around every corner. Under every nook, cranny. Uh huh, *S happens, but, when delivered the plate of life I've been lucky enough to have been delivered, I ain't gonna complain and send it back to the chef.
Love, Victurd
Mentally ill, mad folks have gone into schools, theaters, churches, Mosques, workplaces, concerts and shot, maimed, killed, into oblivion.
With the exception of maybe the 60's, our own Country is so devisive- if it were a movie it would assuredly be named A River Runs Through It - and I ain't talking about the original movie, I'm talking about the shores of "this side" and "that side."
People hate road construction, potholes, progress, Monday, waiting in lines, traffic that only goes the speed limit, this President, that President, this color, that color, this Religion, that Religion, No Religion, this Country, that Country, this sex, that sex, that choice.
We go fast, unwittingly say "screw the scenery" to the scenery, my kid's better than your kid, this house ain't big enough, you don't make enough, you've aged, you've put on weight,............
STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
A friend asked, that's who. As we awaken to the news of a nut obliterating 49 people, recording it all with a Go-Pro, laughing as it happens... sure, the question would be:
"DOES GOOD HAPPEN ANY MORE?
The answer is a rousing yes. I call BS Victor. Go ahead, do so, just know:
I've got a classmate who just returned from a dream trip Down Under. As I type, two more classmates are meeting up, also Down Under. I've got a cousin about to embark on a lifelong dream trip to Morocco, Spain, Egypt, Greece, and England.
I've got inlaws who've fostered, kept, more rescues than Carter has pills now living their dream, in a Room with a View overlooking a lake, mountains, God's easel in their chosen NW Arkansas. I've got an ex who rescued a dog that is blind and requires insulin shots daily - and it's the happiest pooch you ever seen. We attend the same grand kid birthday parties, and we can do so without yelling, screaming, badmouthing the other. (Talking about my ex, not the pooch, but, I think me and the pooch would get along too!)
I've got a cousin who, on April 5th, will return to his hometown where they are naming the High School Baseball Field in his honor. (The gym at the school is already named in his brother's honor.)
I've got a classmate who retired from a wonderful career doctoring children with cancer, then devoted years taking her mom (via planes, trains, autos and horseback) on so many bucket list quests.
I've got a classmate who completely lost consciousness for an extended time last year, we feared the worst, presto, she's back, better than ever and closing in on a 50 year marriage.
I've got a fraternity brother who retired, then bassackwardly 'retired in Phoenix, moved to KC' to return to his roots - to spend time with his aging parents. He got to spend time with his Father toward the end of his life, and he now looks in on his Mother frequently.
I've got a beautiful friend living on acreage with horse, cats, chicks - and by choice she debunks suitors knocking on her door as her life is full in the devotion to her children, their children, her Church.
I've got a buddy who just kicked cancer's ass. I've got friends raising their own grand-babies and I ain't never seen bigger smiles on their faces. I've got buddies who are lucky enough to share time between their two loves, the Lake and their Hometown.
I've got fraternity brothers from 40+ years ago I meet up with monthly, lifelong 'townie' friends I gather with weekly, and after a lot of years with some wasted moments, it's now Diet Coke (only) for me.
I've got friends painting, wine testing, making furniture for fun/hobby, traveling to/fro.. My cousin's grand kid, at age 9, raised a buncha money for Save the Manatees and personally delivered it in Florida whilst on vacation with her family. Some years back, my cousin's daughter was in a horrific car wreck, was milliseconds away from having her foot amputated, "you'll never run again", and happy to announce she's since run in a triathlon.
I've got a 'yag'. The hell is that Victor? Well, some years back I got intraocular lense implants when I had cataracts. Perfect, I could then see close up AND far away, goodbye readers. Now I've got a 'yag', which I understand is some kinda film like gunk that gets on your windshield, my vision is semi foggy, but I go Monday to get it lasered away, understand it's a 3 second procedure, and best of all, Medicare (combined with supplemental) pays for it.
I can see, smell, feel. I can walk, knock on doors, ha, breathe, move, stretch, moan, groan, nap, abuse the remote, bingewatch whatever I wanna, cheer the Royals, Chiefs, MU, Jewell, Liberty...and I don't even think I hate KU as much as I usedta. I HAVE GRANDCHILDREN!
Yes, life is good. Damn good.
So in closing, yes. Yes, good is out there. Around every corner. Under every nook, cranny. Uh huh, *S happens, but, when delivered the plate of life I've been lucky enough to have been delivered, I ain't gonna complain and send it back to the chef.
Love, Victurd
Thursday, March 14, 2019
Yummy.....
Six baby blue eyeballs keep me here (the frozen tundra) year round. Otherwise, I'd be in Arizona or Florida and that has everything to do with clime and nothing to do with female/male ratio,
Sucker.
I/we, have friends who live in these climates. Can you imagine sandals, shorts, sunscreen 12 months a year? Yum. Yummy.....
But....
Victor, we've talked time and time again about how ya can't start a sentence with 'but.'
But, butt.. I'll take this frozen tundra, love it until they steam me up, place me in an urn, then dump me on the City Park ball field.
You see... that guy Pavlov... he studied them hounds. He teased 'em, again, and again, and again, and again,. He conditioned em.. He gave em, and gave em, and gave em... and then when he didn't give em, they frothed. Growled. Sneered. Scratched with their paws. They were conditioned to the point of "holy shit, what have I done?"
That's us Midwesterners long about this timea year. From our slumber, we crack one eyeball open, snarling as we do. It's still kinda grey out, but.... WAIT! WAIT! IS THAT A CROCUS? And just down yonder a Pansy? And was that...was that... he rocks in the treetops all day long, hoppin' anda boppin' anda singin' his song, ROCKIN' ROBIN, tweet-tweet-tweet? YES, it was! (And what a refreshing change to all the other damn tweets we've heard for two years, sorry, kinda, not really.)
YUMMY!
The crack of the bat! OK damnit, the ping of the bat, but it's inching closer to that time! College basketball tourneys guiding us to selection Sunday, "The Dance..." Strange dudes, dudettes, all loitering in the street, plastered in green, toting a Guinness... I love a parade! (Not to mention St. Pattys Day, my mom's BD... poor lady, nuttin' but green outfits for her BD for years.. she never complained, as, one, she never would, and two, her BD was the YUMMY time of year - here. In Liberty, Misery.)
Soon, garden centers will be fuller than church pews. Flattened bike tires will be aired up. HEY LOOK! THERE'S A CONVERTIBLE!
I've ironed all my shorts! YIPPEE! I've tried on all my shorts... damnit darnit... Kohls, here I come.
It's March Madness in the Midwest, and I don't just mean basketball. It's our Final Four.. You know, Summer1, Fall2, Winter3, SPRING4!!!!!
Sure, we're envious of those of you living in tropical climes all year round... uh huh, and we too are jealous of the croc tanlines on your bare feet.
That said, it's SPRING BABY...YUM AND HALLELUJAH!
Both eyeballs now wide open. I think I'll go to church.. or Lowes... or for a bike ride... sumpin.
By Henry O'Sullivan Gibson,
Love, Victurd
Sucker.
I/we, have friends who live in these climates. Can you imagine sandals, shorts, sunscreen 12 months a year? Yum. Yummy.....
But....
Victor, we've talked time and time again about how ya can't start a sentence with 'but.'
But, butt.. I'll take this frozen tundra, love it until they steam me up, place me in an urn, then dump me on the City Park ball field.
You see... that guy Pavlov... he studied them hounds. He teased 'em, again, and again, and again, and again,. He conditioned em.. He gave em, and gave em, and gave em... and then when he didn't give em, they frothed. Growled. Sneered. Scratched with their paws. They were conditioned to the point of "holy shit, what have I done?"
That's us Midwesterners long about this timea year. From our slumber, we crack one eyeball open, snarling as we do. It's still kinda grey out, but.... WAIT! WAIT! IS THAT A CROCUS? And just down yonder a Pansy? And was that...was that... he rocks in the treetops all day long, hoppin' anda boppin' anda singin' his song, ROCKIN' ROBIN, tweet-tweet-tweet? YES, it was! (And what a refreshing change to all the other damn tweets we've heard for two years, sorry, kinda, not really.)
YUMMY!
The crack of the bat! OK damnit, the ping of the bat, but it's inching closer to that time! College basketball tourneys guiding us to selection Sunday, "The Dance..." Strange dudes, dudettes, all loitering in the street, plastered in green, toting a Guinness... I love a parade! (Not to mention St. Pattys Day, my mom's BD... poor lady, nuttin' but green outfits for her BD for years.. she never complained, as, one, she never would, and two, her BD was the YUMMY time of year - here. In Liberty, Misery.)
Soon, garden centers will be fuller than church pews. Flattened bike tires will be aired up. HEY LOOK! THERE'S A CONVERTIBLE!
I've ironed all my shorts! YIPPEE! I've tried on all my shorts... damnit darnit... Kohls, here I come.
It's March Madness in the Midwest, and I don't just mean basketball. It's our Final Four.. You know, Summer1, Fall2, Winter3, SPRING4!!!!!
Sure, we're envious of those of you living in tropical climes all year round... uh huh, and we too are jealous of the croc tanlines on your bare feet.
That said, it's SPRING BABY...YUM AND HALLELUJAH!
Both eyeballs now wide open. I think I'll go to church.. or Lowes... or for a bike ride... sumpin.
By Henry O'Sullivan Gibson,
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, March 13, 2019
Bulky Item Pickup....
I, along with millions across the land, awakened last night after two, three, four hours sleep, and then spent a full, solid, contentious hour fighting me, the fact I/we hadn't had enough sleep... many same ole same ole arguments where I beat myself up over things past, more frequently than the calendar flips to a new page.
Some of us were lucky enough to eventually go back to sleep, many argued on, belittling, demeaning, berating, the very person we should actually love the most.
On a positive note, I've started making coffee aheada time, so all I gotta do is hit the start button. This happened to coincide with the time the morning paper hit the sidewalk. Yes, I should get the damn clock to the indicate the correct time, and set the timer so I don't even have to push the button - but, between laziness and not knowing when exactly my contentious, interrupted sleep will end, there's no point to set it on auto. Windy, sorry.
Then, after perusing the Sport's page - I swing by my Horoscope daily to ascertain what kinda day this will be perceived to be.....
I really liked my Horoscope this morning. Insteada it being specifically for me - I'd prefer it be something we ALL could rejoice in:
"Be realistic about what you can do. Trust facts and use common sense when it comes to your health and well-being. Put your efforts into peace and harmony, not friction and chaos,"
Yo Adrian. I'm a prize fighter. You?
That is, I spend countless, frequent, way too damn many hours beating myself up for events of the past.
Ya know, we just had the "Spring Forward" time change, and yes, yes, yes, it's that semi-annual reminder to put a new battery in the smoke alarm... Our secret (please). Long ago I was cooking something, smoke alarm went off, I took it down. Finally bought a new battery a month or so ago.. Maybe by the time "Fall back" rolls around, i'll find it and get my lazy butt in action to put the battery in, re-hang the smoke detector.
BUT... I likes me the semi-annual reminders. Speakinowhich (and remember, I write to me, come along if you like)... BULKY ITEM PICKUP happens in our fine City in April, and then again, in October.
Bulky item pickup allows one to get rid of large, unwanted, problem-some items, no questions asked.
I do hereby promise (are you with me?) to put any/every damn thing I've beaten myself up over, out on the curb, ne'er to punch myself again over it. And I'll do it again in October, my Birthday month (it's the 13th, and that's Schultz-with-an-E if you're writing a check.)
Serious though - I think the vast majority of us beat ourselves up way too much, and way too often. Time to kick it to the curb, "put your efforts into peace and harmony, not friction and chaos."
We are human, hear us roar (but not to/at ourselves any longer.)
Stealing 5 easy steps from Psychology Today on exactly how to stop beating ourselves up, and to set our past woes on the curb:
1) Focus more on positive self-talk.
2) Practice kindness to yourself.
3) Stop comparing yourself to others.
4) Think of mistakes as learning opportunities.
5) Be patient with yourself.
Sure, it'll take practice learning to love ourselves and stop beating our person up - but, usiing Bulky /Item Pickup (or, drop-off woes) it will become habit if we do it annually a couple of times a year.
"Love yourself, it's important to stay positive because beauty comes from the inside out." Jenn Proske
Put your efforts into peace and harmony, not friction and chaos.......
Don't curb your enthusiasm, curb any and everything you've beaten yourself up on since forever, every April, and every October. Allow yourself to get rid of large, unwanted, problem-some items, no questions asked.
Happy day... now whereinthehell did I put that 9 Volt battery.......
Love, Victurd
Some of us were lucky enough to eventually go back to sleep, many argued on, belittling, demeaning, berating, the very person we should actually love the most.
On a positive note, I've started making coffee aheada time, so all I gotta do is hit the start button. This happened to coincide with the time the morning paper hit the sidewalk. Yes, I should get the damn clock to the indicate the correct time, and set the timer so I don't even have to push the button - but, between laziness and not knowing when exactly my contentious, interrupted sleep will end, there's no point to set it on auto. Windy, sorry.
Then, after perusing the Sport's page - I swing by my Horoscope daily to ascertain what kinda day this will be perceived to be.....
I really liked my Horoscope this morning. Insteada it being specifically for me - I'd prefer it be something we ALL could rejoice in:
"Be realistic about what you can do. Trust facts and use common sense when it comes to your health and well-being. Put your efforts into peace and harmony, not friction and chaos,"
Yo Adrian. I'm a prize fighter. You?
That is, I spend countless, frequent, way too damn many hours beating myself up for events of the past.
Ya know, we just had the "Spring Forward" time change, and yes, yes, yes, it's that semi-annual reminder to put a new battery in the smoke alarm... Our secret (please). Long ago I was cooking something, smoke alarm went off, I took it down. Finally bought a new battery a month or so ago.. Maybe by the time "Fall back" rolls around, i'll find it and get my lazy butt in action to put the battery in, re-hang the smoke detector.
BUT... I likes me the semi-annual reminders. Speakinowhich (and remember, I write to me, come along if you like)... BULKY ITEM PICKUP happens in our fine City in April, and then again, in October.
Bulky item pickup allows one to get rid of large, unwanted, problem-some items, no questions asked.
I do hereby promise (are you with me?) to put any/every damn thing I've beaten myself up over, out on the curb, ne'er to punch myself again over it. And I'll do it again in October, my Birthday month (it's the 13th, and that's Schultz-with-an-E if you're writing a check.)
Serious though - I think the vast majority of us beat ourselves up way too much, and way too often. Time to kick it to the curb, "put your efforts into peace and harmony, not friction and chaos."
We are human, hear us roar (but not to/at ourselves any longer.)
Stealing 5 easy steps from Psychology Today on exactly how to stop beating ourselves up, and to set our past woes on the curb:
1) Focus more on positive self-talk.
2) Practice kindness to yourself.
3) Stop comparing yourself to others.
4) Think of mistakes as learning opportunities.
5) Be patient with yourself.
Sure, it'll take practice learning to love ourselves and stop beating our person up - but, usiing Bulky /Item Pickup (or, drop-off woes) it will become habit if we do it annually a couple of times a year.
"Love yourself, it's important to stay positive because beauty comes from the inside out." Jenn Proske
Put your efforts into peace and harmony, not friction and chaos.......
Don't curb your enthusiasm, curb any and everything you've beaten yourself up on since forever, every April, and every October. Allow yourself to get rid of large, unwanted, problem-some items, no questions asked.
Happy day... now whereinthehell did I put that 9 Volt battery.......
Love, Victurd
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Age as a teacher....
Age has taught me.....
There will always be those older, wiser.... sometimes, even younger, wiser.
Overtime, do-overs, under further review, usually only happens in sports.
"Get it right the first time" is impossible as a human, but it ain't a bad aspiration.
It's impossible to 'un-say' something... the hurt it causes haunts, no matter which end one is on. The hard part, is remembering the human part.
Bananas that show age, same as humans, aren't worthless. (Freeze 'em, use 'em later in smoothies.. bananas that is, not humans.... indulge in those older, freeze the lessons learned, pull 'em out for later use, life'll go smoother.)
If you notice, there are people you don't notice any more. Life is so damn fleeting, treat every departure when ending a visit with a loved one, great friend - with a hug and a smile, a word of thanks, encouragement - as we never know if it's the last opportunity we might get.
Don't fear using the word love. Ever. Even big boys.
Don't ever fear using the words "I'm sorry." Like suturing a cut, yes, it's likely to leave a mark, but it sure helps prevent further, future infection.
No matter how pissed one is, when you hear the words "I'm sorry", smile, take them to heart, and realize how difficult that must have been to say.
If 'getting to the beach' would solve all woes, be the end all, be all, remember you'll eventually get sand in your crack.
When driving, if there's certainty it won't cause an accident, always stop to see: if the Tee-baller gets on base.. if the 5 year old on a soccer breakaway scores... both ends of the rainbow... the deer until it's hidden in the forest... the elderly couple walking, holding hands..
Come to grips with the fact that not all will like Chevys, seafood, the Chiefs, The Rolling Stones, hockey, beer, your Party, your Religion, your outfit...you. Much is out of one's control, and that's OK.
Enduring love is wonderful, difficult, rewarding, heart palpitating, full of perfect moments but never perfection, and always ends. Try to remember that along the path, and treasure en route until that end.
In moments of despair, seek out children, pets, music, good friends, family, God.
When the day, the week, the month, the year are rolling along perfectly, relax, enjoy, breath normally, but always be ready to brake, slow down, turn around, but if the passing lane is clear - by all means do so if you so wish,
If you don't move, you die.
Whether your glass is half-full or half-empty, remember there are others without one.
There will be many, many times when one doesn't think so fondly of one's self. Play your favorite song, look at old photos of happy, call an old friend, wing a compliment, buy the Happy Meal for the guy behind you in line, go to the mirror and force a smile - even if it must be precipitated by picking one's nose...for when you don't think of yourself fondly, always recognize many, many do.
Please stay one car length behind per every 10 mph as you'll never know when you're behind a blogger with high blood pressure, anxiety issues.
Don't ever write a blog professing you know everything. Please know I don't. I think too much. I worry too much. I write stuff like this to remind me, no matter, life is pretty damn good. Pretty damn pretty, and pretty damn fleeting.
There will always be those older, wiser.... sometimes, even younger, wiser.
Overtime, do-overs, under further review, usually only happens in sports.
"Get it right the first time" is impossible as a human, but it ain't a bad aspiration.
It's impossible to 'un-say' something... the hurt it causes haunts, no matter which end one is on. The hard part, is remembering the human part.
Bananas that show age, same as humans, aren't worthless. (Freeze 'em, use 'em later in smoothies.. bananas that is, not humans.... indulge in those older, freeze the lessons learned, pull 'em out for later use, life'll go smoother.)
If you notice, there are people you don't notice any more. Life is so damn fleeting, treat every departure when ending a visit with a loved one, great friend - with a hug and a smile, a word of thanks, encouragement - as we never know if it's the last opportunity we might get.
Don't fear using the word love. Ever. Even big boys.
Don't ever fear using the words "I'm sorry." Like suturing a cut, yes, it's likely to leave a mark, but it sure helps prevent further, future infection.
No matter how pissed one is, when you hear the words "I'm sorry", smile, take them to heart, and realize how difficult that must have been to say.
If 'getting to the beach' would solve all woes, be the end all, be all, remember you'll eventually get sand in your crack.
When driving, if there's certainty it won't cause an accident, always stop to see: if the Tee-baller gets on base.. if the 5 year old on a soccer breakaway scores... both ends of the rainbow... the deer until it's hidden in the forest... the elderly couple walking, holding hands..
Come to grips with the fact that not all will like Chevys, seafood, the Chiefs, The Rolling Stones, hockey, beer, your Party, your Religion, your outfit...you. Much is out of one's control, and that's OK.
Enduring love is wonderful, difficult, rewarding, heart palpitating, full of perfect moments but never perfection, and always ends. Try to remember that along the path, and treasure en route until that end.
In moments of despair, seek out children, pets, music, good friends, family, God.
When the day, the week, the month, the year are rolling along perfectly, relax, enjoy, breath normally, but always be ready to brake, slow down, turn around, but if the passing lane is clear - by all means do so if you so wish,
If you don't move, you die.
Whether your glass is half-full or half-empty, remember there are others without one.
There will be many, many times when one doesn't think so fondly of one's self. Play your favorite song, look at old photos of happy, call an old friend, wing a compliment, buy the Happy Meal for the guy behind you in line, go to the mirror and force a smile - even if it must be precipitated by picking one's nose...for when you don't think of yourself fondly, always recognize many, many do.
Please stay one car length behind per every 10 mph as you'll never know when you're behind a blogger with high blood pressure, anxiety issues.
Don't ever write a blog professing you know everything. Please know I don't. I think too much. I worry too much. I write stuff like this to remind me, no matter, life is pretty damn good. Pretty damn pretty, and pretty damn fleeting.
Friday, March 08, 2019
New High Schoolers on the Block.....
As I tuned in Good Morning America this morning, the NKOTB (New Kids On The Block) were performing. I ain't got any idea as to exactly what year those guys began, but it was very clear to me, they ain't kids any more.
So, I Google-Wiki'ed, only to find they were aged 47-52, hence, born between 1968 and 1972. Their name kinda reminded me of my current lacka 401K situation, as in, who thinks of being an old fart when you're a young fart? Thus, they still traversed around the stage as if they were "Kids" in spite of thinning hair, bulging waistlines, and hints of wrinkles.
So.. I envisioned them, as all aging bands do, having "Final", reunion, last-one money making tours around the US. You know, like, "NKOTB last dance, just Kidding"... or... "Here it is, NKOTB, you're not a Kid any more"... and then maybe a final final, "NKOTB, last one, we're not KIDDING"...
Then, I was reminded, in the late 60's, I/we were in HS, so why don't we stage our upcoming reunion as "NHSOTB", or, New High Schoolers On The Block."
It would be a wonderful 3 day extravaganza... It'd begin by actually having school Friday in the Old High School. First thing, we'd go to the Auditorium where roll would be taken. Given the fact many of us don't hear like we used to, this would be an assisted roll call.. and after one's name was called, it would be completely permissible for anyone to say "He's in the next to the last row on the right", or "Second row, fourth person over on the East side."
Then, we'd proceed to the gym. Insteada an open floor, there would be padded cots. Of course a nap would be in order, especially for those who live East of the school and had to walk up all those damn flights of stairs to the front door.
Second hour would be a social time where we NHSOTB could catch up with fellow NHSOTB, dote on one's grandbaby pics, and share bursitis, arthritis, hip replacement stories.
Lunch, first come, first served, with plenty of food available and extra slices of pizza, as well as extra cinnamon rolls could be purchased..
Then, early out, for us NHSOTB to retire to area hotels or family member's homes to catch up on perhaps a nap, a bowel movement, and maybe even Days of Our Lives..
Early that evening, we'd all return to the gym (cots moved outta the place... a basketball court, the size of a pickleball court, with 6' goals, would be put in place) for a game between the Seniors, pun maybe intended, versus the NUOTB (New Underclassmen On the Block)...
There would be a Pep (to Bismol) Club, but gained entry would require wearing Depends spray painted in Bluejay blue. The guys would be in the basement with their walkers and canes, while the Pep-to-Bismol-Club chanted "Waitin'..waitin;.. waitin' for the Bluejays" for fifteen minutes whilst the players made their way up the stairs.
After everyone was winded, we'd march to the Square with our Garden Seats in hand to prepare to Whitewash the Square. Lights and music would be supplied by those two guys in the class of 69 that always did all the electrical junk. Rodney and Robbie I think it was.
Saturday, the Parade. Football players would gather at the base of the Hill by the football field at the old high school, a firetruck with scads of pairs of bolted on jeans awaited them at the top of the hill. A race would be held to the top of the hill, and anyone who makes it would be considered a winner.
The cheerleaders would ready themselves to ride in the... nevermind, I forgot nonea you guys tried out for cheerleader. Band members would be battened down in chairs on Petty's hay truck, and the Pep-to-Bismol-Club, with an extra pair of Depends just in case, will lead the way.
Saturday night, late, say 6pm.. we'll gather at the base of "Mattinglys" and one by one ride the "Stair Glide" up those horrible metal stairs to the old JC Hall. (Stair Glide would be setup like the carts at Aldi's, you stick a quarter in for the ride up, and retrieve it later that night at the base of the stairs.) Hey, we, the NHSOTB, we're having a "Sock Slide." Not a sock hop? Be for real, at our age, a hop? (Last word Johnny Dolan was retired somewhere in Florida, so volunteers are asked to bring turntables and albums for the party.)
At 8pm sharp, we've got the OATS bus reserved.. for those of you that ain't in Missouri, that's the "Older Adults Transportation Service".. to take us all to Kansas. We're pretending the drinking age in Missouri is 69, but Kansas is 66, thus, we're going to Pub Crawl to One Block West, Shakeys, Pirate Inn, and finish off by all going to Sammys to sing our Alma Mater.
Back to Liberty, bedtime.
Classmates may not leave Liberty until Sunday after 12pm. We had to come up with a way to finance all of the above. Late, late, Saturday evening, David Moffitt and Stephen Webb volunteered to gather orange cones, and on Sunday morning, the cones will be aligned on the lanes of the Christopher Kit Bond Bridge (Paseo) where we each will take a one hour turn collecting dimes from commuters North and South.
Last 'tour', I'm not kidding, maybe.
So, I Google-Wiki'ed, only to find they were aged 47-52, hence, born between 1968 and 1972. Their name kinda reminded me of my current lacka 401K situation, as in, who thinks of being an old fart when you're a young fart? Thus, they still traversed around the stage as if they were "Kids" in spite of thinning hair, bulging waistlines, and hints of wrinkles.
So.. I envisioned them, as all aging bands do, having "Final", reunion, last-one money making tours around the US. You know, like, "NKOTB last dance, just Kidding"... or... "Here it is, NKOTB, you're not a Kid any more"... and then maybe a final final, "NKOTB, last one, we're not KIDDING"...
Then, I was reminded, in the late 60's, I/we were in HS, so why don't we stage our upcoming reunion as "NHSOTB", or, New High Schoolers On The Block."
It would be a wonderful 3 day extravaganza... It'd begin by actually having school Friday in the Old High School. First thing, we'd go to the Auditorium where roll would be taken. Given the fact many of us don't hear like we used to, this would be an assisted roll call.. and after one's name was called, it would be completely permissible for anyone to say "He's in the next to the last row on the right", or "Second row, fourth person over on the East side."
Then, we'd proceed to the gym. Insteada an open floor, there would be padded cots. Of course a nap would be in order, especially for those who live East of the school and had to walk up all those damn flights of stairs to the front door.
Second hour would be a social time where we NHSOTB could catch up with fellow NHSOTB, dote on one's grandbaby pics, and share bursitis, arthritis, hip replacement stories.
Lunch, first come, first served, with plenty of food available and extra slices of pizza, as well as extra cinnamon rolls could be purchased..
Then, early out, for us NHSOTB to retire to area hotels or family member's homes to catch up on perhaps a nap, a bowel movement, and maybe even Days of Our Lives..
Early that evening, we'd all return to the gym (cots moved outta the place... a basketball court, the size of a pickleball court, with 6' goals, would be put in place) for a game between the Seniors, pun maybe intended, versus the NUOTB (New Underclassmen On the Block)...
There would be a Pep (to Bismol) Club, but gained entry would require wearing Depends spray painted in Bluejay blue. The guys would be in the basement with their walkers and canes, while the Pep-to-Bismol-Club chanted "Waitin'..waitin;.. waitin' for the Bluejays" for fifteen minutes whilst the players made their way up the stairs.
After everyone was winded, we'd march to the Square with our Garden Seats in hand to prepare to Whitewash the Square. Lights and music would be supplied by those two guys in the class of 69 that always did all the electrical junk. Rodney and Robbie I think it was.
Saturday, the Parade. Football players would gather at the base of the Hill by the football field at the old high school, a firetruck with scads of pairs of bolted on jeans awaited them at the top of the hill. A race would be held to the top of the hill, and anyone who makes it would be considered a winner.
The cheerleaders would ready themselves to ride in the... nevermind, I forgot nonea you guys tried out for cheerleader. Band members would be battened down in chairs on Petty's hay truck, and the Pep-to-Bismol-Club, with an extra pair of Depends just in case, will lead the way.
Saturday night, late, say 6pm.. we'll gather at the base of "Mattinglys" and one by one ride the "Stair Glide" up those horrible metal stairs to the old JC Hall. (Stair Glide would be setup like the carts at Aldi's, you stick a quarter in for the ride up, and retrieve it later that night at the base of the stairs.) Hey, we, the NHSOTB, we're having a "Sock Slide." Not a sock hop? Be for real, at our age, a hop? (Last word Johnny Dolan was retired somewhere in Florida, so volunteers are asked to bring turntables and albums for the party.)
At 8pm sharp, we've got the OATS bus reserved.. for those of you that ain't in Missouri, that's the "Older Adults Transportation Service".. to take us all to Kansas. We're pretending the drinking age in Missouri is 69, but Kansas is 66, thus, we're going to Pub Crawl to One Block West, Shakeys, Pirate Inn, and finish off by all going to Sammys to sing our Alma Mater.
Back to Liberty, bedtime.
Classmates may not leave Liberty until Sunday after 12pm. We had to come up with a way to finance all of the above. Late, late, Saturday evening, David Moffitt and Stephen Webb volunteered to gather orange cones, and on Sunday morning, the cones will be aligned on the lanes of the Christopher Kit Bond Bridge (Paseo) where we each will take a one hour turn collecting dimes from commuters North and South.
Last 'tour', I'm not kidding, maybe.
Wednesday, March 06, 2019
Dirt....
As in older than.
Your age? Close to me? High School class of 1970 or thereabouts? Color us lucky, I guess.
Aunt Bee was 58 when The Andy Griffith Show aired. Granny, of Beverly Hillbillies, was 60. That's Uncle Joe he was moving kinda slow at the Junction, Petticoat Junction - at age 60. Sanford & Son? Redd was 50 when that started. Feel old?
Ya outlived The Babe (George Herman Ruth) 53, The Mick (Mantle...63).. . The King, Elvis, 42... JFK 46...
Did you think of these as old when they took office? LBJ was 55... Harry S for Nothing Truman, 60.... Don't change Dicks (Nixon, was 56 when he took office)...
You're rich aren't you? If you subscribed to the "Pay yourself first" theory, and you dumped, say, 10% for 40+ years into a "no touchy" retirement account, then no doubt you've moved to Cabo San Lucas and you're not stuck in the frozen tundra, in, say, a one-bedroom apartment, HA.
If planted on your birth, you've outlived any apple, cherry, plum and pear tree from that time. Also Birch, Locust and Persimmon. Not to mention any Antelopes, Bats, Bears, Buffaloes, Carp, Cats, Chimps, Crocs, Deer, Dogs, Giraffes, Geese, Horses, Lions, Mules, Owls, Pigeons, Rattlesnakes, Rhinos, Seals, Sheep, and even Sturgeon born on your birthday. Damn you're old.
Suzie and Johnny, sittin in a tree, k-i-s-s, i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage. As in, 5,083,992,539 more since you were born.
Are you a perv? Survey says 20-somethings average having sex 112 times a year, 30-something 86 times, 40-somethings 69 times, could find no stats on old farts, so, took the average decrease of 19% per decade, and it computes that you've had sex 3,660 times. It's no wonder you're tired.
Your heart has beaten 2,601,720,000 times.. you've blinked 693,792,000 times. Band camp, I did a study when Clayton Kershaw (Pitcher for the Los Angeles Dodgers) signed his big contract, and it computed he would get paid $86 (for the length of his contract) each and ever time he blinked. Not bad pay.
It's snowed over 103 feet in your lifetime, well, if you stayed in the Midwest anyways. You've seen 1,333 guys play for the Kansas City Royals, 1,383 for the Chiefs (I know, I thought it woulda been higher too)...
We've spent 180 days exercising, and 7,709 sitting down, 92 of which are on the toilet,,, well, maybe women a tad more. Ha. We've laughed 578,160 times. We've slept for 8,030 days (that's 22 years)...
We are the same age as The Today Show... not to mention Open Heart Surgery, Christine Jorgenson's sexual reassignment operation, the first separation of Siamese twins....
Born roughly the same time as our HS Class... Rex Tillerson, Paul Stanley of Kiss, John Kasich, John Goodman, David Hasselhoff, Patrick Swayze, Christopher Reeve, Jeff Goldblum, Vladimir Putin Ha!, Mr. T, George Strait, Liam Neeson, Sharon Osbourne, Roseanne, Floyd Mayweather, Pee Wee Herman, Pervy Harvey Weinstein, Steven Seagal, Dan Aykroyd, Marilu Henner...
Most popular baby names way back then, for boys James, Robert, John, Michael, David, and for chicks Linda, Mary, Patricia, Deborah, Susan,,, Fast forward to today, Liam, Noah, Elijah, Logan and Mason... and, Olivia, Sophia, Ameilia, Lily and Emily...
1952 was a leap year,,If you were a Leap Year baby then, you were eligible to drive finally in 2016.....you can vote soon in 2024... and you can have a martini in 2036...
Sorry, kinda.. I was real bored, and yes, time on my hands, and yes, I know, I need a hobby.
Happy day and I pray for further longevity for you....
Victor
Your age? Close to me? High School class of 1970 or thereabouts? Color us lucky, I guess.
Aunt Bee was 58 when The Andy Griffith Show aired. Granny, of Beverly Hillbillies, was 60. That's Uncle Joe he was moving kinda slow at the Junction, Petticoat Junction - at age 60. Sanford & Son? Redd was 50 when that started. Feel old?
Ya outlived The Babe (George Herman Ruth) 53, The Mick (Mantle...63).. . The King, Elvis, 42... JFK 46...
Did you think of these as old when they took office? LBJ was 55... Harry S for Nothing Truman, 60.... Don't change Dicks (Nixon, was 56 when he took office)...
You're rich aren't you? If you subscribed to the "Pay yourself first" theory, and you dumped, say, 10% for 40+ years into a "no touchy" retirement account, then no doubt you've moved to Cabo San Lucas and you're not stuck in the frozen tundra, in, say, a one-bedroom apartment, HA.
If planted on your birth, you've outlived any apple, cherry, plum and pear tree from that time. Also Birch, Locust and Persimmon. Not to mention any Antelopes, Bats, Bears, Buffaloes, Carp, Cats, Chimps, Crocs, Deer, Dogs, Giraffes, Geese, Horses, Lions, Mules, Owls, Pigeons, Rattlesnakes, Rhinos, Seals, Sheep, and even Sturgeon born on your birthday. Damn you're old.
Suzie and Johnny, sittin in a tree, k-i-s-s, i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage. As in, 5,083,992,539 more since you were born.
Are you a perv? Survey says 20-somethings average having sex 112 times a year, 30-something 86 times, 40-somethings 69 times, could find no stats on old farts, so, took the average decrease of 19% per decade, and it computes that you've had sex 3,660 times. It's no wonder you're tired.
Your heart has beaten 2,601,720,000 times.. you've blinked 693,792,000 times. Band camp, I did a study when Clayton Kershaw (Pitcher for the Los Angeles Dodgers) signed his big contract, and it computed he would get paid $86 (for the length of his contract) each and ever time he blinked. Not bad pay.
It's snowed over 103 feet in your lifetime, well, if you stayed in the Midwest anyways. You've seen 1,333 guys play for the Kansas City Royals, 1,383 for the Chiefs (I know, I thought it woulda been higher too)...
We've spent 180 days exercising, and 7,709 sitting down, 92 of which are on the toilet,,, well, maybe women a tad more. Ha. We've laughed 578,160 times. We've slept for 8,030 days (that's 22 years)...
We are the same age as The Today Show... not to mention Open Heart Surgery, Christine Jorgenson's sexual reassignment operation, the first separation of Siamese twins....
Born roughly the same time as our HS Class... Rex Tillerson, Paul Stanley of Kiss, John Kasich, John Goodman, David Hasselhoff, Patrick Swayze, Christopher Reeve, Jeff Goldblum, Vladimir Putin Ha!, Mr. T, George Strait, Liam Neeson, Sharon Osbourne, Roseanne, Floyd Mayweather, Pee Wee Herman, Pervy Harvey Weinstein, Steven Seagal, Dan Aykroyd, Marilu Henner...
Most popular baby names way back then, for boys James, Robert, John, Michael, David, and for chicks Linda, Mary, Patricia, Deborah, Susan,,, Fast forward to today, Liam, Noah, Elijah, Logan and Mason... and, Olivia, Sophia, Ameilia, Lily and Emily...
1952 was a leap year,,If you were a Leap Year baby then, you were eligible to drive finally in 2016.....you can vote soon in 2024... and you can have a martini in 2036...
Sorry, kinda.. I was real bored, and yes, time on my hands, and yes, I know, I need a hobby.
Happy day and I pray for further longevity for you....
Victor
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)