Our mother, grandmother, great grandmother, great great grandmother recorded many a diddie in her Bible. It was given to her in 1940 by daughter Elva.. returned to Elva upon Grandma's death in 1976, and is now kept (for all family to see) by granddaughter Joyce in Liberty, MO.
Grandma was born June 6, 1899 in Callaway County, MO to Thomas David Hall (B April 14, 1867 in Hams Prairie, Callaway Co MO and Rosa Etta Rose ((B October 28, 1874 in Callaway County, MO. She married Arthur Loren Collins on December 23, 1916 in Fulton, Callaway County, MO...
Arthur and Bertie had three children:
Elva Francis Collins, B February 9, 1918 in Fulton, MO
Velma Pearl Collins, B March 17, 1921 in Steedman, MO
Nelda Lorene Collins, B September 1, 1927 in Fulton, MO.
Among Grandma's loves.. God, family, friends, cooking, Holidays, crossword puzzles, doing the right thing, going to downtown Fulton daily (they would let their dog Skip out a few minutes before, and Skip, before the days of leash laws, would walk to town and go lay down and 'reserve' their same ole same ole parking place for when they'd arrive), and of course, Arthur.
On Mother's Day, May 12th, 1940 she was given a Bible by her daughter Elva. Little known at the time, this Bible, in addition to the Old and the New Testaments, would include a virtual day to day recap of highlights until her death 36 years later, July 10, 1976...
In addition to circling, underscoring her favorites verses, the Ten Commandments, and of course studying the verses - she wrote personal items of interest, recordings of the day, in the margins, on the blank pages, on the maps of Jersulem, Palestine, the Dead Sea and the Sea of Galilee.
It is believed she studied this Bible often, witness her handwritten entry "66 Books, 1189 Chapters, 31,173 verses, 773,746 words, 3,586,460 letters."
She recorded items of recall that happened prior to the gift of the Bible in 1940, such as "Tornado hit Callaway County, May 8, 1927, really was severe", "Lyman Collins died in a car accident in July of 1926". Titanic sank on April14, 1912.
Of family:
These guys (Son in laws) came around:
Clifford Early McDaniel, B August 30, 1917
Edward Colby (Bud) Schultze, B August 5, 1922
Glenn Read Davis, September 22, 1925
These fine son inlaws would all become adept bowlers, particularly every Christmas Eve after they married...
They hitched up:
Elva & Cliff, July 13, 1940 in St. Louis, MO
Velma and Edward 'Bud' on August 30, 1941 in Camdenton, MO
Nelda and Glenn on March 21, 1946 in New Orleans, LA
(A little Birdy, not "Bertie", told me Velma and Bud eloped, along with cousin/best friends/best man/maid of honor, Earl and Eileen Studebaker - and finances were such they shared a motel room that night.. the beds separated by a clothsline with blankets strewn over!)
Grandchildren:
Roger Dale Davis, May 6, 1947
Joyce Elaine McDaniel, June 13, 1947
Vanda Kaye Schultze, June 22, 1947
Victor Kendal Schulze, October 13, 1952
Darrell Kent Davis, October 13, 1955
Kevin Clifford McDaniel, February 29, 1956..
Sooooooooo.. in roughly 44 days, the Collins's went from having no grandkids, to having three, one by each daughter!
And then, entries on GREAT grandchildren:
Valerie Kaye Adair, B December 8, 1968
Kimberly Diann Davis, B November 16, 1969
Alison Lea Davis, B April 17, 1972
Lisa Smithmier, B August 5, 1974
Vickie Frantz B May 11, 1974
Erin Smithmier B March 6, 1978
Amy Davis B December 1981
Adam Davis February 14, 1984
Tyler Allan Davis B March 22, 1985
Dru Schultze B July 3, 1985
Whitney Davis, B December 16 1987
Hilary Davis, B December 22nd, 1988
Katlyn McDaniel B March 20, 1990
This and that:
Arthur went to Hospital on August 9, 1969, came home August 22, 1969 (Heart attack)...
Dog bit me on July 21, 1971, had 5 stitches
Arthur's parents:
Jerome Fletcher Collins was born in Tennessee on March 1, 1862.. (died August 27, 1946) and mother Ida Flora (Wright) Collins was born East of Fulton on July 2, 1864 (Died Dec 29, 1931)
The Lords Prayer is circled..
No date: Only 6 white Christmas's in the last 20 years... 1913 to 1915, deep snow on these
Vanda and "Corky" were married July 26, 1966...Valerie Adair walked at 8 months... Developed Diabetes at the age of 3 1/2 years.. Valerie had the measles on April 11, 1970..
Kimberly Davis walked at 8 months.. Could say Pop Paw plain at 11 months.. Kimberly says "Tootie" for Cookie at 1 year..
Valerie can read her book by memory at 2 years, 3 months and can say her prayers and many other things so cute.
Roger Davis and Lynn Oestrich married April 5, 1969 at Fulton, MO..
Joyce McDaniel and Steve Smithmier married June 19, 1971 in Kansas City, MO..
Vanda and Dick Frantz married November 10, 1972..
Alison Lea Davis born April 17, 1972
73 Degrees in Jeff City on December 25, 1971
Alison Davis can say all her ABC's at age 1 year, 11 months and sings "Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so."
5 below zero January 5, 1972.
33 children here for Trick or Treat October, 1971.
I was in Warwick NY when Kevin was born in 1956.
Had 25 inches of snow there n March 20 of 1956.
Victor walked at 8 months.
Kevin had chicken pox in 1st grade.
MY PERSONAL FAVORITE ENTRY: Darrell Davis could dial his phone number (Rotary dial) at age 3 years, 9 months.
We went to Colorado Springs in October of 1956.
Lisa Smithmier born August 5, 1974.
Vickie Frantz born May 11, 1974.
Rained 22 days out of 30 days in June 1969.
Kimberly said "Eat, Eat, Eat" in Lane Meyer at age 10 months
(Mebbe my next to best favorite!) Alison Davis, our sweet little granddaughter told me "it was none of my business" when I asked her why she was in the sink in February 1975.!!!
83 degrees February 29, 1972
We sold 1404 Westminster in October of 1967 and moved to 212 W. 4th Street.
Snowed on May 4, 1944.
Christmas of 1969 was a white Christmas
Arthur went to work at Brick yard on Monday, October 20, 1924 and retired on April 28, 1961, was never laid off, not once in entire 36 and 1/2 years, and worked only twice on night shift, 3:30pm until midnight.
Our first freeze of 1965 was on November 13, yet it never killed florwers or castor beans, zero never hit all winter until January 28, 1966
Coldest in 25 years, 11 below zero on January 1, 1968.
Had only 3 inches of snow all winter in 1966 and 1967, hit zero twice.
Elva drove to Warwick, NY on Tuesday, February 21, 1967. Darrell Davis, Kevin McDaniel and I accompanied her.. we went to NYC on Saturday, to West Point on Easter Sunday March 26, also to Middletown to see Hospital where Kevin was born. Returned home Thursday, March 29, 1967.
Went to Hospital August 8, 1967, returned home August 18, 1967.
Roger's address in Viet Nam 1968: Sgt Roger D. Davis, US 56588124, Co, D. 11st Bn 36 Inf, 198 Inf Bde. A.P.O. San Francisco, CA 96219. Januery 1968 until February 1969.
Roger married Linda Pinkerton June 4th, 1984...
There is/was much, much more handwritten in the Bible. Names, birthdates, death dates of family members before us.. more tidbits about snow, heat, cold..visits from so and so, visits to so and so.. and so much more.
Grandma passed on July 10, 1976. Arthur (Grandpa) passed shortly after, January 11, 1977. Doctors said heart issues. We surmise, broken heart. Ends are never good. In this case, beginning to end was wonderful.
Sunday, November 17, 2019
Thursday, November 14, 2019
Life has learnt me..........
People are nice. Darn nice. Ya ever get in onea them "mad at the world" moods and someone comes along and sprinkles dadgum niceties allover the place? Uh huh, me too. Thank God for them.
Gingers are hardheaded. And blondes. And Brunettes.
Laughter helps. Laughing at one's self helps s'more. Having a friend who does something you can laugh at him/her for is THE BEST. Well, mebbe second place to great sex. Sorry. Kinda. Not really.
For every Mick Jagger 'Please allow me to introduce myself', it takes the other lads singing "doo - doo... doo-doo" to make it work. Same with Blue Suede's Hooked on a Feeling's "Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka." If there were no batboys, there'd be wood allover the damn field. Can a female be a mailman? If so, which restroom would they go into at Mickey D's?
Righty tighty ain't nuttin' without Lefty Loosey. Odds are 50% u plug the USB cord in the right way the first time.. the coin lands on heads.. you get divorced.. Ha. You can't live in Tahiti and sing "Baby it's cold outside." You can't gain warmth if you only rub one hand (although I do have a first cousin who can clap with one hand. Honest. It's quite entertaining.
If you live in Barrow, Alaska, from November 18 until January 22nd you can't blame darkness on her or the song "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone."
Right field. I am a lover of right field. As in, coming out of right field. Abby Normal. Imagine food with no spice.. Twinkies with no gooey junk.. a BL sandwich.. or a PB sandwich. (Actually, never was a fan of PBJ sandwiches.. PB and Banana, hell to the yes, but not PBJ. Band camp, basketball road trips long ago, when players were eager but meal money was meager - we had THE MOST hideous PB&J sandwiches. Patooey.)
Right field is where we parked after softball. We'd play for two hours, then spend four hours laughing, making fun of one another, letting the kids run so they'd go to bed at 8pm, have a few beers and enjoy the heck outta life and each other.
Cold makes one appreciate warm. So does a $1 mini bottle of Hot Damn.
God purposely plants some people in your life, I know He does. There was an older guy I worked with for years. Ya know the type of person, that no matter when you see 'em, they smile and it in turn makes you happy? That was him. Yeah, was. He's gone, but reminders abound. He gave me a Tony Gonzales Chief's jersey of the most different color Gold ya ever seen. Boo koo times I've worn in it public and it always brings a complement.
The other day, yep, the freezing day, furnace went out. 3am. Electricity, most, was out. This is where you promise to please not tell anyone how stupid I am. PROMISE? Thanks to my son, we found the damn fuse box. Only the outlets in the kitchen worked. In fact, the fridge light was the only damn light in the house that worked. My son had flipped all the fuses (two rows, 6 on top, 6 on bottom) one direction. I flipped 'em the other way to see if that would help. Nope, fridge light out, so, went back and flipped them the other way - yep, fridge light on. Furnace, all else, nuh uh.
Apartment maintenance dude came around 9:30-ish - showed me "you have half the switches wrong.. the top ones go up and the bottom ones go down." About that time, the damn furnace came on. Remember, you said you wouldn't tell. Well that was nice but we still didn't have any lights. "Gotta go to City to get a breaker, OK if I come back tomorrow?" Uh huh. He did. Put the new breaker in the box outside the house, barged in the door smiling, only to have his smile defrocked when he saw the damn lights were still out. Turns out, he replaced the breaker in Apartment #1 and I live in Apartment #2. The fact he be stupid too kinda made me feel better.
Sooooooooooooooooooooooo...... for two days I lived with 16' extension cords allover the damn house. Today, as I undid them, pushed, pulled everything back in place (including this computer/computer desk I'm using now), a wooden MU Christmas ornament was somehow on the floor. Uh huh, same old dude, my beloved buddy Leon, had given to me years ago. There is a God and he placed Leon in my life. Toes, smile, heart, warm now.
We are all, can be, grumpy. Which brings us back to those two things - best friends and sex. It's a wunnferful cycle ain't it?
This has nothing to do with that.. but I thought of it, so fingers moved. Family Fued. I ain't vomited in quite awhile, but whenever one of the team members shouts an answer and the 5 remaining family members, in unison, shout "GOOD ANSWER CHARLIE" I wanna vomit. Once, JUST once, I'd love to hear the guy shout his answer, and the 5 remaining family members chime in "Charlie you are a friggin' idiot, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Better ratings I bet.
I recently had a beloved family member living with me. Forty-two consecutive times I got up to go somewhere (pee, to put my coat on, to grab a Coke, yada) this beloved family member asked "Where ya going?" Solved that on time number 43.. "Where ya goin?" Crazy. I'm going crazy.
In my life time, work, play, yada, for years I've been around a few, only a few, folks that don't/won't/can't have fun. I usedta just think "Eh, that's the way it is." Now, I wouldn't care if they fell in the urinal and never surfaced - but then again, mebbe God planted them also so you'd have an example not to follow.
I'm rambling so I'd better go. Just had to type/write because I'm hooked on this feeling. Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka.
Love... because it beats the alternative, and some folks can't do that - so, we needs to love.. and have fun. And laugh at yourself. And Charlie and his stupid answer. And love, like God and Leon demonstrate.
Victurd
Gingers are hardheaded. And blondes. And Brunettes.
Laughter helps. Laughing at one's self helps s'more. Having a friend who does something you can laugh at him/her for is THE BEST. Well, mebbe second place to great sex. Sorry. Kinda. Not really.
For every Mick Jagger 'Please allow me to introduce myself', it takes the other lads singing "doo - doo... doo-doo" to make it work. Same with Blue Suede's Hooked on a Feeling's "Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka." If there were no batboys, there'd be wood allover the damn field. Can a female be a mailman? If so, which restroom would they go into at Mickey D's?
Righty tighty ain't nuttin' without Lefty Loosey. Odds are 50% u plug the USB cord in the right way the first time.. the coin lands on heads.. you get divorced.. Ha. You can't live in Tahiti and sing "Baby it's cold outside." You can't gain warmth if you only rub one hand (although I do have a first cousin who can clap with one hand. Honest. It's quite entertaining.
If you live in Barrow, Alaska, from November 18 until January 22nd you can't blame darkness on her or the song "Ain't no sunshine when she's gone."
Right field. I am a lover of right field. As in, coming out of right field. Abby Normal. Imagine food with no spice.. Twinkies with no gooey junk.. a BL sandwich.. or a PB sandwich. (Actually, never was a fan of PBJ sandwiches.. PB and Banana, hell to the yes, but not PBJ. Band camp, basketball road trips long ago, when players were eager but meal money was meager - we had THE MOST hideous PB&J sandwiches. Patooey.)
Right field is where we parked after softball. We'd play for two hours, then spend four hours laughing, making fun of one another, letting the kids run so they'd go to bed at 8pm, have a few beers and enjoy the heck outta life and each other.
Cold makes one appreciate warm. So does a $1 mini bottle of Hot Damn.
God purposely plants some people in your life, I know He does. There was an older guy I worked with for years. Ya know the type of person, that no matter when you see 'em, they smile and it in turn makes you happy? That was him. Yeah, was. He's gone, but reminders abound. He gave me a Tony Gonzales Chief's jersey of the most different color Gold ya ever seen. Boo koo times I've worn in it public and it always brings a complement.
The other day, yep, the freezing day, furnace went out. 3am. Electricity, most, was out. This is where you promise to please not tell anyone how stupid I am. PROMISE? Thanks to my son, we found the damn fuse box. Only the outlets in the kitchen worked. In fact, the fridge light was the only damn light in the house that worked. My son had flipped all the fuses (two rows, 6 on top, 6 on bottom) one direction. I flipped 'em the other way to see if that would help. Nope, fridge light out, so, went back and flipped them the other way - yep, fridge light on. Furnace, all else, nuh uh.
Apartment maintenance dude came around 9:30-ish - showed me "you have half the switches wrong.. the top ones go up and the bottom ones go down." About that time, the damn furnace came on. Remember, you said you wouldn't tell. Well that was nice but we still didn't have any lights. "Gotta go to City to get a breaker, OK if I come back tomorrow?" Uh huh. He did. Put the new breaker in the box outside the house, barged in the door smiling, only to have his smile defrocked when he saw the damn lights were still out. Turns out, he replaced the breaker in Apartment #1 and I live in Apartment #2. The fact he be stupid too kinda made me feel better.
Sooooooooooooooooooooooo...... for two days I lived with 16' extension cords allover the damn house. Today, as I undid them, pushed, pulled everything back in place (including this computer/computer desk I'm using now), a wooden MU Christmas ornament was somehow on the floor. Uh huh, same old dude, my beloved buddy Leon, had given to me years ago. There is a God and he placed Leon in my life. Toes, smile, heart, warm now.
We are all, can be, grumpy. Which brings us back to those two things - best friends and sex. It's a wunnferful cycle ain't it?
This has nothing to do with that.. but I thought of it, so fingers moved. Family Fued. I ain't vomited in quite awhile, but whenever one of the team members shouts an answer and the 5 remaining family members, in unison, shout "GOOD ANSWER CHARLIE" I wanna vomit. Once, JUST once, I'd love to hear the guy shout his answer, and the 5 remaining family members chime in "Charlie you are a friggin' idiot, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Better ratings I bet.
I recently had a beloved family member living with me. Forty-two consecutive times I got up to go somewhere (pee, to put my coat on, to grab a Coke, yada) this beloved family member asked "Where ya going?" Solved that on time number 43.. "Where ya goin?" Crazy. I'm going crazy.
In my life time, work, play, yada, for years I've been around a few, only a few, folks that don't/won't/can't have fun. I usedta just think "Eh, that's the way it is." Now, I wouldn't care if they fell in the urinal and never surfaced - but then again, mebbe God planted them also so you'd have an example not to follow.
I'm rambling so I'd better go. Just had to type/write because I'm hooked on this feeling. Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka, Ooga-chaka-ooga-chaka.
Love... because it beats the alternative, and some folks can't do that - so, we needs to love.. and have fun. And laugh at yourself. And Charlie and his stupid answer. And love, like God and Leon demonstrate.
Victurd
Saturday, November 09, 2019
I'm gonna wait 'til the midnight hour........
Went to WallyWorld.. Son living with me part-time, wanted soda pop... OK, can do. Like any trip there, interesting people.. Blinders on, "go straight to soda pop aisle, get the hell out" took me right past the Milk Duds... oh ok..can do... then damn if they didn't have rotisserie chickies on sale for $4.50... oh ok... Finally, pop loaded in cart. like any trip to WallyWorld, $7 intention turned into $13 checkout.
To/fro, I worried, searched, dreaded not finding a writing topic. The two mile or so trek home included like 34 lane changes due to construction, folks planted on the white lines w/turn signals on, begging to get over. Red Rover red rover, bring your Chevy on over, but perty please don't take all day..
Where was I? Oh yeah.. weaving, bobbing, driving, braking, greenlighting, redlighting...what scenery - I'm too busy trying to figure out which lane I should be in on this road I've driven for 51 years. Victor, you gripe too much.. Where was I?
Oh yeah, thinking of junk to write about. It was then, just then, as I traversed up the hill to The Square I saw the most beautiful lady I've seen in at least four hours... awaiting the line outside at a breakfast joint.. so... what's a pig to do? He drives around the Square, back down the hill.. makes a left turn, and traverses the road where the pretty lady was standing. I ain't waiting on the midnight hour any longer.
I know I know I ain't dead.. and I know I know I have hopefully some more trips around the sun... but what the hey ya know?
Much hasn't changed, but age has changed me. Uh huh, the bod takes it's toll, so why not accentuate the positive of aging?. Whilst aging can be, usually is saggy, wrinkly, leaned-over-walkingly - I ain't gonna wait til the midnight hour and the withering away within and all the while keeping positive thinking from being unleashed.
See a pretty face.. I might turn around in the aisle and go see it again. See a really nice smile.. don't walk past it Victor, let that person know "Hey, you've got a really cool smile." Come into contact with a couple that you can tell they are emotionally super glued to one another? Ask 'em how that all started.. "How did you guys meet, and where'd ya go on your first date?"
Among the answers I've gotten recently... "well, I was 19, her daddy lemme fish in their pond, she was 14, and I guess the rest is history" (this was a couple that played golf where I work on their 50th anniversary...oh, and they didn't wait until the midnight hour, they chagrinned a cart and walked the course instead!)... "Skating rink.. 42 years ago." "In a bar... like interests I guess.".. "Very small town, I was a teacher, she was a student, but there's more to explain." I smiled, it's all good, I don't needta know!
There be some truth about the dangers or retirement in that "if you don't move, you'll die." I very much wish that meant I've been going to the gym, I threw out my size 36" jeans and bought 34" jeans. To the contrary, I'm donating my 36's and am now in 40's... breathing room, but I needs 'em. My "if you don't move, you'll die" isn't necessarily the most constructive of ways - but it's been a nice awakening.. I've pretty much always written what I feel - but now, I verbalize that as well. Crap like "I really admire you"... "Thanks for coming to play golf"... "I'm really glad, at our age, we can still do this" - statements that for years went unsaid, are now creeping outta my, and my friends mouths. Hell, ya even hear the word love more nowadays.
Past arguments don't last until the midnight hour.. you fist bump, shake hands or hug, then say things like "you go ahead and sit up front, I'm good"... or, "how's your hip (back/knee, leg, pee/no pee, bursitis, arthritis, u get the drift.).. ya care. So ya doin't wait til midnight.
Are we now perfect? Hell to the no, but why not have your coffee, steak, garden, bed, car, outlook, attitude - how ya like it? 2020 is scary enough no matter which side you're on - don't wait til midnight, enjoy living in the now.
Victor, you preaching again? Nope, simply enjoying. Oh sure, life has it's moments - we couldn't suckup (and apperchiate) the good if life was easy.. there would be no uplift without downfall.
I like your car. That's a really cool top. If I had your clothes, I'd donate all mine to Immacolata Manor.. Your baby is so danged cute. You must be on drugs, you're always happy (< I strongly endorse this one, it ALWAYS brings a smile)..
' Live. Love. Don't wait. I guess if this is preaching, so be it. Preaching comes with 'pews', and sure, I've had bad breath, smelly pits, farts that slip out, that stuff.. I am human smell me roar, ha.
Like life whilst we can.. don't wait until it's likeable - regardless of what Wilson Pickett wrote.
Close your ears. I just emailed someone "You shoulda been/should be a movie star." Creepy? Mebbe. Stalker? NO. Odds stacked agin', but, worst case, if I can bring her one moment of comfort, 'feel-goodery' should she ever get down, why not? She knows how I feel. I ain't waitin' til midnight on nuttin' any longer.
Love, why not... Victurd
To/fro, I worried, searched, dreaded not finding a writing topic. The two mile or so trek home included like 34 lane changes due to construction, folks planted on the white lines w/turn signals on, begging to get over. Red Rover red rover, bring your Chevy on over, but perty please don't take all day..
Where was I? Oh yeah.. weaving, bobbing, driving, braking, greenlighting, redlighting...what scenery - I'm too busy trying to figure out which lane I should be in on this road I've driven for 51 years. Victor, you gripe too much.. Where was I?
Oh yeah, thinking of junk to write about. It was then, just then, as I traversed up the hill to The Square I saw the most beautiful lady I've seen in at least four hours... awaiting the line outside at a breakfast joint.. so... what's a pig to do? He drives around the Square, back down the hill.. makes a left turn, and traverses the road where the pretty lady was standing. I ain't waiting on the midnight hour any longer.
I know I know I ain't dead.. and I know I know I have hopefully some more trips around the sun... but what the hey ya know?
Much hasn't changed, but age has changed me. Uh huh, the bod takes it's toll, so why not accentuate the positive of aging?. Whilst aging can be, usually is saggy, wrinkly, leaned-over-walkingly - I ain't gonna wait til the midnight hour and the withering away within and all the while keeping positive thinking from being unleashed.
See a pretty face.. I might turn around in the aisle and go see it again. See a really nice smile.. don't walk past it Victor, let that person know "Hey, you've got a really cool smile." Come into contact with a couple that you can tell they are emotionally super glued to one another? Ask 'em how that all started.. "How did you guys meet, and where'd ya go on your first date?"
Among the answers I've gotten recently... "well, I was 19, her daddy lemme fish in their pond, she was 14, and I guess the rest is history" (this was a couple that played golf where I work on their 50th anniversary...oh, and they didn't wait until the midnight hour, they chagrinned a cart and walked the course instead!)... "Skating rink.. 42 years ago." "In a bar... like interests I guess.".. "Very small town, I was a teacher, she was a student, but there's more to explain." I smiled, it's all good, I don't needta know!
There be some truth about the dangers or retirement in that "if you don't move, you'll die." I very much wish that meant I've been going to the gym, I threw out my size 36" jeans and bought 34" jeans. To the contrary, I'm donating my 36's and am now in 40's... breathing room, but I needs 'em. My "if you don't move, you'll die" isn't necessarily the most constructive of ways - but it's been a nice awakening.. I've pretty much always written what I feel - but now, I verbalize that as well. Crap like "I really admire you"... "Thanks for coming to play golf"... "I'm really glad, at our age, we can still do this" - statements that for years went unsaid, are now creeping outta my, and my friends mouths. Hell, ya even hear the word love more nowadays.
Past arguments don't last until the midnight hour.. you fist bump, shake hands or hug, then say things like "you go ahead and sit up front, I'm good"... or, "how's your hip (back/knee, leg, pee/no pee, bursitis, arthritis, u get the drift.).. ya care. So ya doin't wait til midnight.
Are we now perfect? Hell to the no, but why not have your coffee, steak, garden, bed, car, outlook, attitude - how ya like it? 2020 is scary enough no matter which side you're on - don't wait til midnight, enjoy living in the now.
Victor, you preaching again? Nope, simply enjoying. Oh sure, life has it's moments - we couldn't suckup (and apperchiate) the good if life was easy.. there would be no uplift without downfall.
I like your car. That's a really cool top. If I had your clothes, I'd donate all mine to Immacolata Manor.. Your baby is so danged cute. You must be on drugs, you're always happy (< I strongly endorse this one, it ALWAYS brings a smile)..
' Live. Love. Don't wait. I guess if this is preaching, so be it. Preaching comes with 'pews', and sure, I've had bad breath, smelly pits, farts that slip out, that stuff.. I am human smell me roar, ha.
Like life whilst we can.. don't wait until it's likeable - regardless of what Wilson Pickett wrote.
Close your ears. I just emailed someone "You shoulda been/should be a movie star." Creepy? Mebbe. Stalker? NO. Odds stacked agin', but, worst case, if I can bring her one moment of comfort, 'feel-goodery' should she ever get down, why not? She knows how I feel. I ain't waitin' til midnight on nuttin' any longer.
Love, why not... Victurd
Friday, November 08, 2019
I never promised you a Rose Garden.....
As always, I ain't real sure why I'm here, why I'm writing.
If you remember, some by choice, some by personal inability, I wasn't a great student/studier. I kinda sorta had 'em fooled though. Our Senior year, those in the National Honor Society, were allowed to get up and go (wherever) the last 15 minutes of each class. I wasn't in the NHS, but I was on the Student Council, no one ever questioned me, so, I got up each and every day, every class, to galavant with those that are/were much smarter than I. I guess yldrawkcassab, this did make me smart. Ha.
Now, there are two things in life I do very much love to study. One, people. Two, my eyelids.
Poor longterm planning, coupled with more month than SS Check amount, led me to search for additional means to make a buck. Found on FB, a company asking for folks to assist in studies, "pretend juries", marketing research, yada, at perty decent pay. (First one I did awhile back was 8 hours for $200. I almost didn't make it through. The stern lectern lady running the study warned us in advance, basically, "you ain't goin' no damn where 'cause if you do, you ain't getting paid." Which, is in direct disconcert with my prostate pressing frequently upon my bladder. Long about three hours in, I raised my hand.. "What's the matter?" stern lectern lady asked, "My BLADDER", aging geezer replied. "Oh, OK, 5 minute bathroom break.") Whew, TY.
The one yesterday, only two hours, ha, I can do this. 15 minutes before the start of this study, I, and two other geezers, stood silently infronta the urinals awaiting whatever it is down there to click in to start a flow. TMI I know, just wanna make sure you get the drip, er, drift.
OH BOY, I getta study people today! Being one of the first ones in the room, I spotted a hotty. In a millisecond, I deducted gorgeous smile, oh baby lips, and very nice derriere (sorry, kinda, butt it's our secret right?) Normally, I'd go sit at the other sidea the room, but, being 67, not knowing how many more damn sunrises I'll get, I ran, kinda, to sit in the chair right beside her. Smalltalk. I suck at that. "Do you come here often" ain't gonna work, but "Have you done any of these studies" kinda did. She gave me her smile, and explained a study she'd done before - and all the while I thought to myself "I know you're too damn old Victor, but mebbe, just mebbe she's closer in age than you think."
One by one we strolled into another room to begin the session. 6 chicks, 6 dudes. Different sizes, economics, ages, geographics, races, and we'd soon learn, differing opines. This study was about a horrific accident resulting in a death (wrongful?) - and we, the 12 of us with differing faults, were to pretend to be jury to cipher who is at fault, or if shared, what percent fault of each. I, mebbe purposely, nestled in a chair betweengst the two very largest folks in the room. Better to be thought a fool than to be seen, speak up, remove all doubt.
The moderator looked like Bob Saget, but had the calm personality of Pete Buttigieg. The males included me and three other raisins, a young, quiet guy, and a very large man that was sitting next to me. When he finally spoke, I expected to hear James Earl Jones, but he more resembled a high pitched Pee Wee Herman's voice. Likeable man, spoke with conviction.
The chicks consisted of a 20-something, two 30-somethings, the Hotty/age unknown but hoped to be older, Broken Record lady, and.. Broomhilda (more, sadly, later on her.)
The details, and pictures, of the horrificness were shared - and one by one, in no particular order we went around the room, asked questions, spoke our peace, sounded "what if's, coulda this/that" happened.
Hotty was on the other side of the room, and damned if there wasn't a mirror where, when looking at the moderator, boom, it was focused right on her too. Being a pig, I snuck in a lotta peeks. Got caught a time or two, but scroll to "dunno how many sunrises left", who cares.
Broken record lady repeated her same sentiment/opine a hunnerd plus times. I'm sure the two 20-somethings felt the same way about her, but they ain't got the foggiest idea what a broken record is, so I wondered what they called her. "Damn pop-up" maybe?
Broomhilda, well, I spotted her that name because I kinda thought she was a witch. Life has learned me, there's just some people where you can tell in the first 30 seconds, huh uh, I'll never call you to go have coffee. Pour it on you mebbe, but never share. She was LOUD. Ultra loud. When she tried to make a point (which was sadly about 30% of our two hour study) she got louder. Once I thought she was done, I hadn't contributed much, so I started to speak, as she heard me, she got LOUDER and LOUDER and LOUDER. It was just then I said a prayer - for you see - I saw the wedding ring on her hand and I prayed for that little sucker. He had to have been intoxicated when she clubbed him on the head, awakened only to find a ring on her finger. Victor, that ain't very nice. Neither was she. Sorry. Kinda. Not really.
The other three raisin men. One was very talkative, in a good way, and I learned from him - he made me think. A very moral dude - who also possessed the capability to play devil's advocate. (No, not Broomhilda.. the devil.) The other two raisins were kinda like me.. listened more than talked - so, when they did talk, I highly valued what they said - their observations.
Long about that time, Hotty had the floor.. and she mentioned "just had a baby" and right then and there I absolutely knew I was the biggest idiot in the room. Aye yai yai.
The mirror actually turned out to be a one-way thingy, where lawyers were perched behind listening, as we were all being videotaped/recorded.
We had nameplates turned so Bob Saget Buttigieg could see, and once I heard "Victor, you've been pretty quiet, what have you to say?" I scooted up to immerge from in between the two very big people, wanted to say "Broken record lady, please stop.. Broomhilda, I think your house is on fire you oughta leave.. and Hotty, I'm sorry I "creepy-flirted." Instead, I said what I felt about the very serious topic, and hopefully it came across without too much salt, pepper and sugar adorned.
In the end, the 12 of us with differing faults, were given a piece of notebook paper, pen... and we were asked to write down the Plaintiff, Defendent's names.. and attach a percentage of fault. Whilst details, discussion, Broken Record, Broomhilda, Hotty, fellow raisins made me think - I pretty much was unswayed in my opine from the get go.
Two hours, a hunnerd dollars, and a trip to Piggly Wiggly for $36 of eats, I was back at my abode, ne'er again to see fellow "fault" folks. This life studying, even when involving death, is pretty interesting.
VICTOR???? WAIT? Huh? Wha'for? Rose Garden, whatinthehell does this have to do with Rose Garden? Oh yeah, each and every time Broomhilda spoke, it reminded me of having to listen to the Rose Garden. Sorry, kinda, slipped.
Like studies of people, so are the days of our lives.
BRB, going to study eyelids.
Love, Victurd
If you remember, some by choice, some by personal inability, I wasn't a great student/studier. I kinda sorta had 'em fooled though. Our Senior year, those in the National Honor Society, were allowed to get up and go (wherever) the last 15 minutes of each class. I wasn't in the NHS, but I was on the Student Council, no one ever questioned me, so, I got up each and every day, every class, to galavant with those that are/were much smarter than I. I guess yldrawkcassab, this did make me smart. Ha.
Now, there are two things in life I do very much love to study. One, people. Two, my eyelids.
Poor longterm planning, coupled with more month than SS Check amount, led me to search for additional means to make a buck. Found on FB, a company asking for folks to assist in studies, "pretend juries", marketing research, yada, at perty decent pay. (First one I did awhile back was 8 hours for $200. I almost didn't make it through. The stern lectern lady running the study warned us in advance, basically, "you ain't goin' no damn where 'cause if you do, you ain't getting paid." Which, is in direct disconcert with my prostate pressing frequently upon my bladder. Long about three hours in, I raised my hand.. "What's the matter?" stern lectern lady asked, "My BLADDER", aging geezer replied. "Oh, OK, 5 minute bathroom break.") Whew, TY.
The one yesterday, only two hours, ha, I can do this. 15 minutes before the start of this study, I, and two other geezers, stood silently infronta the urinals awaiting whatever it is down there to click in to start a flow. TMI I know, just wanna make sure you get the drip, er, drift.
OH BOY, I getta study people today! Being one of the first ones in the room, I spotted a hotty. In a millisecond, I deducted gorgeous smile, oh baby lips, and very nice derriere (sorry, kinda, butt it's our secret right?) Normally, I'd go sit at the other sidea the room, but, being 67, not knowing how many more damn sunrises I'll get, I ran, kinda, to sit in the chair right beside her. Smalltalk. I suck at that. "Do you come here often" ain't gonna work, but "Have you done any of these studies" kinda did. She gave me her smile, and explained a study she'd done before - and all the while I thought to myself "I know you're too damn old Victor, but mebbe, just mebbe she's closer in age than you think."
One by one we strolled into another room to begin the session. 6 chicks, 6 dudes. Different sizes, economics, ages, geographics, races, and we'd soon learn, differing opines. This study was about a horrific accident resulting in a death (wrongful?) - and we, the 12 of us with differing faults, were to pretend to be jury to cipher who is at fault, or if shared, what percent fault of each. I, mebbe purposely, nestled in a chair betweengst the two very largest folks in the room. Better to be thought a fool than to be seen, speak up, remove all doubt.
The moderator looked like Bob Saget, but had the calm personality of Pete Buttigieg. The males included me and three other raisins, a young, quiet guy, and a very large man that was sitting next to me. When he finally spoke, I expected to hear James Earl Jones, but he more resembled a high pitched Pee Wee Herman's voice. Likeable man, spoke with conviction.
The chicks consisted of a 20-something, two 30-somethings, the Hotty/age unknown but hoped to be older, Broken Record lady, and.. Broomhilda (more, sadly, later on her.)
The details, and pictures, of the horrificness were shared - and one by one, in no particular order we went around the room, asked questions, spoke our peace, sounded "what if's, coulda this/that" happened.
Hotty was on the other side of the room, and damned if there wasn't a mirror where, when looking at the moderator, boom, it was focused right on her too. Being a pig, I snuck in a lotta peeks. Got caught a time or two, but scroll to "dunno how many sunrises left", who cares.
Broken record lady repeated her same sentiment/opine a hunnerd plus times. I'm sure the two 20-somethings felt the same way about her, but they ain't got the foggiest idea what a broken record is, so I wondered what they called her. "Damn pop-up" maybe?
Broomhilda, well, I spotted her that name because I kinda thought she was a witch. Life has learned me, there's just some people where you can tell in the first 30 seconds, huh uh, I'll never call you to go have coffee. Pour it on you mebbe, but never share. She was LOUD. Ultra loud. When she tried to make a point (which was sadly about 30% of our two hour study) she got louder. Once I thought she was done, I hadn't contributed much, so I started to speak, as she heard me, she got LOUDER and LOUDER and LOUDER. It was just then I said a prayer - for you see - I saw the wedding ring on her hand and I prayed for that little sucker. He had to have been intoxicated when she clubbed him on the head, awakened only to find a ring on her finger. Victor, that ain't very nice. Neither was she. Sorry. Kinda. Not really.
The other three raisin men. One was very talkative, in a good way, and I learned from him - he made me think. A very moral dude - who also possessed the capability to play devil's advocate. (No, not Broomhilda.. the devil.) The other two raisins were kinda like me.. listened more than talked - so, when they did talk, I highly valued what they said - their observations.
Long about that time, Hotty had the floor.. and she mentioned "just had a baby" and right then and there I absolutely knew I was the biggest idiot in the room. Aye yai yai.
The mirror actually turned out to be a one-way thingy, where lawyers were perched behind listening, as we were all being videotaped/recorded.
We had nameplates turned so Bob Saget Buttigieg could see, and once I heard "Victor, you've been pretty quiet, what have you to say?" I scooted up to immerge from in between the two very big people, wanted to say "Broken record lady, please stop.. Broomhilda, I think your house is on fire you oughta leave.. and Hotty, I'm sorry I "creepy-flirted." Instead, I said what I felt about the very serious topic, and hopefully it came across without too much salt, pepper and sugar adorned.
In the end, the 12 of us with differing faults, were given a piece of notebook paper, pen... and we were asked to write down the Plaintiff, Defendent's names.. and attach a percentage of fault. Whilst details, discussion, Broken Record, Broomhilda, Hotty, fellow raisins made me think - I pretty much was unswayed in my opine from the get go.
Two hours, a hunnerd dollars, and a trip to Piggly Wiggly for $36 of eats, I was back at my abode, ne'er again to see fellow "fault" folks. This life studying, even when involving death, is pretty interesting.
VICTOR???? WAIT? Huh? Wha'for? Rose Garden, whatinthehell does this have to do with Rose Garden? Oh yeah, each and every time Broomhilda spoke, it reminded me of having to listen to the Rose Garden. Sorry, kinda, slipped.
Like studies of people, so are the days of our lives.
BRB, going to study eyelids.
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, November 06, 2019
Friends of distinction.........
I can dig it, he can dig it
She can dig it, we can dig it
They can dig it, you can dig it
Oh, let's dig it
Can you dig it, baby
Ya gotsta love this quilt of life, sewn together by friends.
Friends = smiles.
Friends = Damnit darnit (said with smirk) I wish you would have forgotten I did that.
Friends = You need some help?
Friends = fist bump, handshake, hug.
Friends = demonstrated 'like' waythehell before Zuckerberg was born.
Friends like us, and we like them, whether they're broke, have a messy car/house/life, good mood, bad mood, have marital woes, bad breath, or even just farted (Grazin' in the grass is a gas [so to speak] can you dig it.)
I can dig it, he can dig it She can dig it, we can dig it They can dig it, you can dig it Oh, let's dig it Can you dig it, baby
Friends gulp, but say "yes"(somewhat meekly) when asking or asked they question "Hey, I'm moving Saturday, can you help?"
Friends get mad at you, and you them, make fun of you, and you them, tell jokes, borrow smokes, and laugh at other blokes.
Friends = road trips, whiskey nips, backflips (long ago), stupid quips.
Friends listen to every damn boring story you ever told, and vice versa.
Friends, both you/me, occasionally, don't text back, don't p/u the phone when you/I call, email back mebbe 3 days later. Reasons change, seasons change - but friendship never quivers.
Friendship rocks, it's give and take - whether asleep or awake. A busy body tells you "You're screwing up" - and it's instant denial. A friend says that, so you reflect "maybe you're right."
I don't know where I'm going with this blog... uncertain of my path in life.. with or without wife.. in, or outta strife.. grumpy, happy, tired, too damn much energy - the constant is friendship. Adobe turned to concrete, then steel. Bond, no not James, friendship bond.
I can dig it, he can dig it She can dig it, we can dig it They can dig it, you can dig it Oh, let's dig it Can you dig it, baby.
Friends say "Hey!", "Whassup?", "Let's", yes, no, maybe, I wish, we can't, we shouldn't, oh ok. Friends are the first to laugh when your golfball takes a swim in the pond, so, after, when your friend buys an $11 round and hands a twenty to the server, you harken "keep the change.' You get that look, and you laugh just as loud as they did when your golfball went swimming. Bastard = friendship.
I can dig it, he can dig it. Grazin in the grass is a gas can you dig it.
Same Bat channel. Same damn story you/they have told nine times (ya ain't allowed to say "yeah, you told me that" until the fifth time.)
Friend ends with 'end', but it never do. That's what friends do.
This is corny. I'm sorry. Love means never having to say you're sorry. Friends call BS, "sorry's ass."
I can dig it, he can dig it She can dig it, we can dig it They can dig it, you can dig it Oh, let's dig it Can you dig it, baby
Happy day, friend. Can u loan me fitty?
Love, Victurd
Ya gotsta love this quilt of life, sewn together by friends.
Friends = smiles.
Friends = Damnit darnit (said with smirk) I wish you would have forgotten I did that.
Friends = You need some help?
Friends = fist bump, handshake, hug.
Friends = demonstrated 'like' waythehell before Zuckerberg was born.
Friends like us, and we like them, whether they're broke, have a messy car/house/life, good mood, bad mood, have marital woes, bad breath, or even just farted (Grazin' in the grass is a gas [so to speak] can you dig it.)
I can dig it, he can dig it She can dig it, we can dig it They can dig it, you can dig it Oh, let's dig it Can you dig it, baby
Friends gulp, but say "yes"(somewhat meekly) when asking or asked they question "Hey, I'm moving Saturday, can you help?"
Friends get mad at you, and you them, make fun of you, and you them, tell jokes, borrow smokes, and laugh at other blokes.
Friends = road trips, whiskey nips, backflips (long ago), stupid quips.
Friends listen to every damn boring story you ever told, and vice versa.
Friends, both you/me, occasionally, don't text back, don't p/u the phone when you/I call, email back mebbe 3 days later. Reasons change, seasons change - but friendship never quivers.
Friendship rocks, it's give and take - whether asleep or awake. A busy body tells you "You're screwing up" - and it's instant denial. A friend says that, so you reflect "maybe you're right."
I don't know where I'm going with this blog... uncertain of my path in life.. with or without wife.. in, or outta strife.. grumpy, happy, tired, too damn much energy - the constant is friendship. Adobe turned to concrete, then steel. Bond, no not James, friendship bond.
I can dig it, he can dig it She can dig it, we can dig it They can dig it, you can dig it Oh, let's dig it Can you dig it, baby.
Friends say "Hey!", "Whassup?", "Let's", yes, no, maybe, I wish, we can't, we shouldn't, oh ok. Friends are the first to laugh when your golfball takes a swim in the pond, so, after, when your friend buys an $11 round and hands a twenty to the server, you harken "keep the change.' You get that look, and you laugh just as loud as they did when your golfball went swimming. Bastard = friendship.
I can dig it, he can dig it. Grazin in the grass is a gas can you dig it.
Same Bat channel. Same damn story you/they have told nine times (ya ain't allowed to say "yeah, you told me that" until the fifth time.)
Friend ends with 'end', but it never do. That's what friends do.
This is corny. I'm sorry. Love means never having to say you're sorry. Friends call BS, "sorry's ass."
I can dig it, he can dig it She can dig it, we can dig it They can dig it, you can dig it Oh, let's dig it Can you dig it, baby
Happy day, friend. Can u loan me fitty?
Love, Victurd
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