Ask Sherwin-Williams...

Harry S (for Nothing) Truman proudly held up the newspaper declaring "Dewey Wins"....  A longtime friend tells me that pic was taken at The Elms in Excelsior Springs, MO.  Cool.

Today, rare we ask Dewey (Decimal System) anything.  So, once again, Dewey loses.

We could ask Quora.. eHow...  wikiHow.. Yahoo! Answers.. Bing.. and of course the good old standby Google.  I tend to ask Google for help, one, because it pops up whenever I open a web page.  Sometimes though, my pc will get cyber-herpes, some damn other search engine will invade and I have to have and Act of Mitch McConnell to get it back to Google.  Griped, sorry, kinda.

I really have no idea where I'm going with this.  I have a beloved friend who monitors, announces, commentates (on Facebook) as the Chiefs play.  Yesterdays postings included:   Shit!...   Shit Shit Shit.. and finally, Woo Hoo, SUCK IT BRADY!... (those were it, her entire posts.)  So, I pictured being in her shoes, six years from now, when Facebook memories pop up and it relates "On this day six years ago.." and the post SHIT SHIT SHIT appeared.  Sorry, not very, to cuss - she's hilarious and has a wonderful heart to match.

My train of thought left the tracks - oh yeah, now I remember.  I read another friends post (and responses) - these recapped the just completed Chief's victory with:  "Where is the defense?"  "Better get heads back in game." "Should have won by three touchdowns."  "Defensive line was missing in action."  "Playing sloppy." TBC (that's To Be Continued, thought that paragraph was plenty long enough, better start anuther.)  

Heavens to Murgatroyd for the love of Sherwin-Williams!  One would think we'd hear Romeo Crennel crying on the post-game.. that the blood wasn't dry yet in that horrendous incident in the parking lot at Arrowhead.. and that the Chiefs now stand at 2 and 12. TBC.

Nope, the Chiefs won 27-24.  Against...against, the greatest quarterback of all-time. (Yes, our guy is headed toward that moniker, but too early to get carried away.)  Patrick now has enough minimum numbers now where he is though, the best of all-time in certain categories.  We are now 10-1. Tyreek had more yards in one quarter than Geiger Ready-Mix sells in a year's time, not to mention he challenges Nadia Comaneci in the floor exercise. TBC, sorry, kinda.

I get it.  Fan = fanatic. One win, we froth for two. Six wins, we finally lose, we don't speak to our spouse the entire way home after attending the Chief's party.  Win the Super Bowl, Feed Me Seymour! "NOT ENOUGH!"  Gimme s'more perty please.

In fairness - I've been there.  I gripe and groan with the best of 'em too.  I Googled something about being spoiled, and up popped "Quora" - where common folk like you and me (scary ain't it?) write in and give their opine.

First lady stated it all very well I thought.  "When you are spoiled, you think you have everything you want and need. You are never satisfied. And soon you discover you cannot really get everything you want."  Would make for a catchy tune eh Mick?

"I think sometimes we get what we want, but not what we need." Mick? Did you steal that?  TBC

"Happiness is based on fulfilled relationships and a feeling of worthiness that comes when you do things that better the lives of others.  Even small things like giving and older person a seat on the bus. (Hear that ya whippersnappers??!) or opening the door for someone.  Happiness doesn't go hand in hand with money and living a life of luxury." (And I ain't comparing the Football post to that, the simple message is we're oft spoiled.)

Growing up, little did we know Superman's "Faster than a speeding bullet" was talking about the internet.  Google.  Quora.  Ask Yahoo.  Bing (I hate Bing, GD [Gosh Darn] intruder.) 

If we old fart grandparents and parents allowed - our kiddos would live 24/7 with their eyeballs focused on a 2 1/2" by 5" screen, YesSireeBob, lotta places to get answers.. but thankfully we still have teachers, coaches, preachers, the older kid in the neighborhood, mom, dad, big brother, big sister, the scout leader, the boss at our first job - the True Google when Google wasn't cool.

We all, occasionally, can be a tad bit spoiled.  Speakinowhich, throw the damn Turkey day leftovers out, they're spoiled, you'll get trick-e-nosis.

Many ways to turn for answers.  The experts.  The committee of us common folk.  Professionals.  This site, that site.  I know, some you don't believe in. Thankfully, the old fashioned way as well. I believe in love, I believe in old folks. I believe in children. I believe in you. I believe in love. I believe in babies. I believe in mom and dad.  I believe in you.

Still, you can ask Google, Bing, Quora, Yahoo answers.. they might help.  Or, if you simply need the optimal temperature to paint outside.. you can ask Sherwin-Williams.

By Henry Gibson                                                                                                                       (Excerpts by Mick Jagger).

Love,Victurd

 (Tune in tomorrow for "55 great sites for when you need a break at work.")

It bears repeating.....

 Goldilocks was pretty.  She had it all, but, she really didn't.  She'd gone thru men like they were bon bons.. too short.. too tall.. .wrong color hair... he's poor... he lives to watch ESPN, color me "outta here."

So, one day she was on a date with Gilligan.  They'd hopped onto his dinghy, and planned to be gone for only a few hours.  (Get it?  A few hours.) The weather started getting rough, the tiny dinghy was tossed.  If not for the courage of the fearless Gilligan, the dinghy would be lost, the dinghy would be lost.

Goldilocks started in, "I told you the weather was too rough....you only brought one life jacket.. good luck to you." She felt like wave after wave was surely gonna make her upchuck.  That, or she had to go #1, and she kinda thought maybe she already had just a tad.

So, Michael Gilligan rowed the boat ashore, hallelujah,  Michael rowed the boat ashore, hallelujah.  They alit on an uncharted desert island, but that's ok because Goldilocks had to puke, or pee, or both.

She ran thru the forest (she wasn't like us male golfers who simply plop it out and pee behind a tree)... she wanted a real bathroom to go in.  She finally saw a small cabin, went, knocked on the door.  Papa Bear came to the door.

How'd she know it was Papa Bear? Because Baby Bear was close behind asking "who is it Papa?", and, he had hair allover, he looked like he could eat her in one bite, and, he stood on his hind legs. Contrary to the question about Bears going in the woods, well, scoff.. .Papa Bear's home had running water, a stool and even a bathtub.

Goldilocks asked "Papa Bear, can I use your restroom?" Papa Bear stood proudly with his paws crossed, and said "NO, remember, only you can prevent home invasions.... we were invaded once, and it ain't gonna happen again. I spent $7 on Gorilla glue to fix junior's broken chair, ain't happenin' again."

Just when Goldilocks turned to maybe pick out a tree that she could hide behind and tinkle, Papa Bear said "We do have a guest cabin, and behind it there's an outhouse.  You can use it."

"Thank you thank you" Goldilocks said, and she went to pee, or puke, or both.  It was a 3-holer.  "This one's too high" she griped. "Mama must be pretty wide, this one's too big, I might fall in, yuck" she bemoaned.  Finally she plopped on baby bear's hole-in-the-outhouse, and the never happy Goldilocks finally said "This one is just right."

"Whew" she exclaimed as she flung open the door and thoughta what to do next.  She was lost.  She couldn't find the dinghy, but that's ok, her unhappy self thought Gilligan was too dingy, so no dinghy was not a big thingy.

Goldilocks occupied her time in life pretty much bitching and groaning about everything.  "I'll be happy when _____ happens", and "_____" never would happen. She acquired things, but she really had nothing. Life was out to get her, or so she thought. She'd sweep any self induced problem or mistake under the rug.."Not my fault."

She lived her life of "Too."  "Too bitchy, too hot , cold, sweaty, dry/scaly, alone, bothered in a crowd, she was... unhappy and not even a little chair or bed that were 'just right' were gonna change her tune.

About that time a flutest happened thru the woods. "Hi, I'm Mick."  "Hi Mick, I'm Goldilocks."  Mick had just come from the Chelsea Drugstore where he got his presciption filled and had a soda, his favorite flavor, cherry red.

Goldilocks had found a good, polite listener, so, she set in on telling him 40-some years of problems in her life.  "Good Lord" he thought to himself.  Finally, he peeked down at his watch, told her he had to scoot, explaining "Me wife sees our red door, and I promised her I'd paint it black, so I gotta go." He was too quiet, too happy, too this, too that, Goldilocks thought.

As he left he put his flute down and started singing, "You can't always get what you want... you can't always get what you want.. but if you try sometimes, well, you just might find, you get what you need."  Goldilocks thought the tune was kinda catchy, but his voice kinda gravely.  She just can't get no Satisfaction.  She can't get no, satisfaction.

So, off she went, "Start me up" she thought. Around the bend, she ran into Papa Bears mean old cousin Grizzly. Grizzly took one bite outta Goldilocks aorta, and she died right there on the spot. (Not all fairy tales end happily, sorry.)

By now, Gilligan was running thru the forest looking for Goldilocks.  "Anybody Seen My Baby" he'd asked.. "She was right Under My Thumb" They'd shipwrecked early, so, when he started looking for her he was confident "Time Is on My Side, yes it is." By now though, darkness tweren't too far away, so he looked for a big ole pine tree in hopes of it, you guessed it, Gimme Shelter.

OMG, he happened upon Goldie. "She's So Cold" he thought.. he felt for a pulse, nope, "Doom and Gloom," He was distrought.  His little piggy hope "Let's Spend the Night Together" was now passé'.  For a long, long time, he simply sat beside her, As Tears Go By.

So, this is the tale of the castaways, they thought they'd be there for a long, long time, now he's gotta make the best of things, flop her onto his back, it's an uphill climb.

Gilligan reached the dinghy, quickly washed his Sticky Fingers and used his ship to shore to call Goldilocks's sister to relate the bad news. Her sister was a happy sort, always placing others first, ne'er an unkind word...

Ring... ring...  "Magic Kingdom Castle, how may I help you?"  Could I speak to Cinderalla please?... "I'll see if I can fetch her.. she was out shopping with Imelda Marcos, but I believe she's home now."  Gilligan ultimately told Cinderella the bad news.. She cried.  Deep down, she disliked Goldilocks, but she never professed it, never showed it, so why now would she say anyting goofy like having Sympathy for The Devil?

Gilligan made it back to home shore. He met Cinderella and the Undertaker. With care they loaded her in the hearse.  The day before the funeral, the Undertaker called and wanted to know if Cinderella wanted to come see Goldilocks one more time.  She did.  She rang up Gilligan, he'd lost his job as a tour guide and had nothing but time on his hands, "sure, I'll meet you there."

As they wept and looked at Goldilocks's body, the door was slightly ajar, there was a man walking by... it was Mick.... he was singing something about "Well this could be the last time"...irony, I guess.  With the final, dreadful noise of lowering the casket and hearing the lid click, they all turned ghostly white and SWORE they heard a distant "it's too short."  Mick shockingly looked at Gilligan, who gasped and looked at Cinderalla, who damn near fainted as she looked at the Undertaker.. and he said "Don't worry, I can fix that."

The day Goldilocks came upon Grizzly, she had her final, and 19th Nervous Breakdown.

Life, and people, are like elevators, rollercoasters, fastlane, slowlane, up a creek, in a tree house, Cloud 9, or, the other direction.

I guess if there were a moral to this story - it's be happy, kind, caring, considerate, modest, no matter - allow the shoe of life itself to fit - like Cinderella.

Otherwise, you'll get cutoff.

Lyrics by Henry Gibson...writing and arrangement by Keith Richards

Love, Victurd (yes, aware I'm weird, it was 3am when I started writing, wide awake.. but, at least I'm KINDA kind.)

Was bored, so snored.

 I log off because I'm bored. I log back on in five minutes because I'm bored.  Be warned, I'm bored, this could get dangerous.

"Boredom: The desire for desires. " -  Leo Tolstoy

So.. I logged back in to search "boredom ideas."

"Give yourself a manicure or pedicure."  You ever seen a man with a beer belly cut his toenails?  Me neither.

"Take a bubble bath."  I dream for that, I guess I'm wierd, MUCH rather  take a bath than a shower.. I ain't gots no tub.  Next.

"Try out a new facemask or beauty product."  DOH!

"Do yoga."  Scroll to beer belly.

"Take a nap."  OK, brb..  where was I? On the way back I looked in the mirror. On one side of my head my hair actually looked ok.. the other side... flat like a pancake. I giggled.  That wasn't boring.

"Write a poem or a journal."   Duh....

"Write a letter to your future self."  Ahm, OK.  "Dear Mr. Schultze, you look like crap. You gotta pulse? You look bored too.  (DOH!).. Let's see.. I remember you saying "I don't wanna live to be 90."  Well, you're now 89 years, 364 days old.  Now what?"  The end, that was boring.

"Drink tea."  Ahm, no.

"Cuddle with a pet or S.O."   Here kitty kitty.  Spot?  Run Spot! Over here.  C'mere baby, I'll dim the lights and put on some Barry White.  Just remembered, I ain't gotta cat... or a dog.. or an S.O. Next.

"Sit or lay outside in good weather."  We had our first snow in Kansas City today.  Next.

"Bake some desserts."  It's that white thing over there isn't it?  The one where the door opens down to you?

"Rearrange your furniture." Ahm, are you aware the number one thing that puts folks my age in nursing homes is a fall?  Next.

"Update your resume."  K.  Worked here, there, everywhere.  Retired. Working three days a week as a golf course flunky so I can one day have enough stashed away so I ain't gotta work.  Thank you in advance, for your time and attention to my resume."  There, done.

"Clean your makeup brushes."  How did you kno..... Nevermind.

"Make lists."  I AM!  It's still pretty damn boring!

"Donate old clothes or other items to your local charity."  I JUST did that, today! Good idea, and it wasn't boring!

"Go to a play or musical."  Ok.  Ahm, excuse me sir, you are number 11 in line, sorry, you're not going to be able to get in.

"Make a cocktail."  NOW you're talking!

"Try out a new restaurant."  OH BOY OH BOY, YES!  LASAGNA!  "Here you go sir, that's $11.96."  Here's $15 ma'am, please keep the change.  Hey, I wanted to tell you, your parking lot looks really clean and good. I can't wait until the day I get to go inside and try your joint.  Hey, I know it's cold and it's snowing, but I'm kinda bored, do you have some time to chat?"  Hehe.

"Make an effort to learn something new."  OK.  I know!  I'll go find one of David Moffitt's posts!  There's sure to be a word or twenty that I don't know.

"Take a hike somewhere."  Funny you should suggest that.  When I went to pickup my lasagna, and I told that little gal I was bored and wondered if she had some time for idle chit-chat, she too suggested I go for a hike. I will try it one of these days!

"Look for a new favorite quote or saying."  K.  howabout  "Is boredom anything less than the sense of one's faculties slowly dying?" Arthur Helps.   Ahm, Mr. Helps, that don't help.  You see, I wrote that one guy in the future and Lordy Lordy I could tell his facutlties were slowly dying.  Thanks, but later I'll try to find another.  I'm kinda bored with it right now.

OK, a new site. "217 things to do when you are bored."

"Create a vision board for the year."  Let's see.  The 'ex usedta have that voodoo doll on the fridge where she put a pin in for every person that got on her nerves, I think I still have it!  Perfect, and oh so fitting for 2020, the election, all that crap!

"Edit old photos." K, but how do I write on them ones stored in my Android phone photo app?

"Dance and sing."  NOW you're talkin!

"Write a letter of gratitude."  OK.  Dear Mr. Pasta Joint owner.  I had to take two Rolaids after, but don't worry, that lasagna was damn good.  You have the cleanest parking lot of any pasta joint in the area.  The little gal that waited on me was good, kinda brief, but good. Thanks again, and I promise to come back when them stools ain't 6' apart.  Vic

"Do a quick workout."  Ok. Half a push up, off to the fridge.  That work?

"Get into creative writing."  That would be a good thing, for this is very boring.

"Call an old friend."  Guys don't really do that, would texting be ok?

"Watch a classic movie that was made before you were born."  They had movies then?

"Decorate your home according to Feng Shui principles."  Feng who?"

"Fold your fitted sheets."  Sorry, I've got that planned for all day Sunday.

"Learn poi dancing." Did that Feng guy invent that?

"Make a meal plan' Ahm, two hot dogs, one and half minutes in the microwave, the rest of those BBQ Chips, and a Bud Light.  Cinchy.

"Ty origami."  That Feng dude is pushing it now.

OK, I'll stop.  You're welcome.  You gotta admit, it's been pretty El Boro since March.  I don't really think it's finding things to do - it's moreso hugs, handshakes, high fives, nestled around a fire pit, visiting loved ones where you don't fear anyone getting sick.

To me, a positive to this is to realize how really spoiled we are. Good Lord allows us to 'go back' to normalcy, I think we'll be a happier sort. A newfound appreciation for things we'd taken for granted for years.

Just observation, our children have adapted much more easily than us old farts. Kids rock, adults drool.

Sure, I get bored. Certain you do as well. We still have 'highlights' that keep us'a goin.  For me personally, it's working at a golf course (work that is actually fun), lifelong buddies putting up weekly with me taking ten or more golf strokes than they do.  Family, albeit mostly via text.  Royals, Chiefs, MU, local high school sports..   A good book. Facebook.  The Good Book. Lots actually.  I know you do too.

We'll make it.  One foot in fronta the other.  Might be a long walk, but the Good Lord willing, we'll make it.

Going to look in the closet now.  One suggestion was to 'play some bored games', so I'll try to find some.  

By Henry Gibson (Chairman of the Bored.)

Love, Victurd

.

The Way We Were....

Yesterday, Veteran's Day on Facebook, was perfect - the timing impeccable. One could sense the love, proudness, the tears, and sadly, the empty spots at the dining table. Those moments of eye closure, traveling back, smiling, bring yesteryear back, at least for a short.

Our paths are unique, we travel forth with those recollections serving as our own personal 'microchip.'

Our great Nation, while perhaps temporarily frayed, is strong, will be strong - thanks in large part to those who lanterned the way for us. Microsoft did that red underline thing with 'lanterned'. I guess it ain't really a word. Should be.

They say you can't go back. No, of course you can't, but we can close our eyes momentarily, and whenever we wanna, for a respite, go back. The Way We Were... is Who We Were.. and, Who We Are.. Happy Day

Love Victurd

(That's your cue Barbara):

Memories light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories of the way we were
Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another for the way we were

Can it be that it was all so simple then
Or has time rewritten every line
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we?
Could we?

Memories may be beautiful and yet
What's too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it's the laughter we will remember
Whenever we remember
The way we were
The way we were

 

Check Engine Light, for Henry Gibson

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth.... no, that ain't it.

5,610 days ago,.....1,662 blogs ago, I started this goofy blog. I guess when one is in the kitchen, they know by the ingredients whatinthehell they are going to cook.

This blog, not so much.  Intent, I guess, is for it to be light, stress-free, hopefully occasionally entertaining...hopefully reminding us all (without preaching, again, I talk to myself) to think positive.

Naming this blog was easy.  Just when you've gotten little Joey to stop smearing poo on the wall, tell you when he's gotta go, no longer have to buy diapers..  .about when Susie understands she's GOT to do what her 5th grade teacher says...  immediately after 'whoa baby hubba-hubba' with wifey.. the boss no longer furrows one eyebrow when he listens to you.. there's food in the fridge, money in the bank, and the sign on the door says No Solicitors... the GD (Gosh Darn) Check Engine Light comes on in the car.

Life happens, goes smooth..   then, uh oh. 'Right front tire pressure one'....'Failing Mass Air Flow Sensor' (the hell?)... 'Ignition Coil Issues'.. 'Replace Catalytic Converter'..   Allofasudden, Joey has gone in his pants..  Susie got detention... wifey said "not tonight".. there's nothing for dinner in the fridge.. and Will I have any money left in the bank after I buy a GD (Gosh Darn) Catalytic Converter?

It never fails.  Happens.  Two summers ago, yippee, was making the 1,265 mile trip to Arizona to see Spring Training.  By my lonesome, but I like me. Long about 723 miles from home, somewhere in the middle of New Mexico, uh huh, Check Engine Light comes on.  Something or other about oil pressure.. as in there wasn't any because my car spit it all out.  It took several days, trip to Arizona cancelled, car fixed, headed home.  That kinda Check Engine Light.

Today I was thinking, if they can build a car that can drive it damnself... back a boat into the water with the touch of a button, pickout and play anything you wanna off Pandora, have your seat heat you until you are sweating, AND give you a back massage..  then they oughta.. they oughta:

Be able to afford, create, invent, the same kinda things (Check Engine Light-wise) for the human. There could be an invisible screen directly in fronta your eyeballs.  Warning messages could pop up when needed.

You know, like "Dryer sheet coming out of left pant leg"... or, you're headed to meet that Match.com beauty and you're warned "Booger coming out of right nostril."

Ya might be walking into boss's office for annual salary review and up pops "Shirt on inside out."  These things could saveya!

Just before you sit down at the poker table with your buddies you see the warning "Static electricity warning, wife's nylon panties affixed to the back of your shirt."

After going to pee... it could play "Zippity Do Dah" if you forget!

You could program it with a list of people, phone numbers, etc, that you have no interest in seeing, dealing with.  At the Piggly Wiggly, "TURN AROUND, so-and-so coming around corner in 8, 7, 6, 5.."

There could be one for dating interests...  you walk into a cafe, you see her.. oh baby does she look nice.. "Warning, don't do it, she fooled around with the gardener and took her hubby for every penny he had."

Or, back to the Piggly Wiggly.. a positive warning.. "YES, turn around, it's worth another look!"

There's listeners... congenial conversationalists.. and then them kinda people you start talking to, twenty minutes in ya ain't done anything but nod your head, you finally get out of it, and they didn't learn (nor care) one thing about you.  Check Engine Light For Humans could warn you in advance with a simple "NOPE."

Or, there could even be a warning for when you're blogging, and up pops "Victor, I don't know if you've ever held their interest, but you're rambling now, time to vaminos."  Gulp, ok!

I'll go.  

Whew, Joey what's that smell?  Hi Baby, what's for dinner, and more importantly, is dessert in store?

Check Engine Light For Humans, by Henry Gibson

Love, Victurd

Meh day..

As I sit around and await the most exciting event of my day (Piggly Wiggly is gonna drop my groceries on the doorstep today).. I figured whyintheheck not see/read all about Tuesday.  I hate when people use copy and paste, nonetheless:  

"Tuesday gets its name from the Anglo-Saxon's god of war Tiu, also known as Tyr to the Vikings. The Romans named their third day of the week after their god of war, Mars. That is why romantic languages like Spanish, French and Italian all have similar names for Tuesday: martes, mardi, and martedi."

The Greeks consider Tuesday as a day of bad luck. They associate Tuesday with Ares, the God of War.. .. Tuesday in Greek is "Triti: which means the third, bad luck comes in threes.   

Simularly, Spanish speaking countries consider Tuesday as bad luck:  "Don't marry, go on a journey, or leave your house on Tuesday (thus, Piggly Wiggly delivery).. More uninspiring Tuesday notes: 

Whilst commuters Pavlov dog it to work on Tuesdays, in the back of their minds they're thinking of retirement, naps, no alarm clock, Fiji and Fufu drinks, still it is the most productive work day of the week. Since Mondays, historically, suck ("Take this job and shove it") Tuesday is also the the day the most job applications come in. 

"Hey Eve, looky at what I found", ie, Tuesday is the day Uranus was discovered. Sorry, kinda, have a sense of humor. 

Tuesday is Wimpy's payday (The hamburger thing), but there are conspiracy theories to that as he never comes around on Tuesdays.

I'm  deducting some folks sit around with remorse on Monday about weekend events, so, guilt leads more Catholics to Confession on Tuesday, moreso than any other day. 

The stock market crashed in 1928 (Black Tuesday) pushing the US into the Great Depression.. D-Day also was on a Tuesday.  

Susan Ker Weld's little cousin could not say her name, uttering "tu-tu' instead, thus, in 1959 she had her name legally changed to Tuesday Weld. For some reason Tuesday is associated with pink - sure I don't mind wearing it, but per the Spaniards, "stay at home", so I do.  

Rudy Tuesday was wrtten by Kieth Richard' about his girlfriend of the 60's, Linda Keith.. Who could hang a name on you When you change with every new day? Still, I'm gonna miss you.

Of course Tuesday is known as Taco Tuesday, but for some reason, Californians choose to BBQ on this day instead, 

This is boring, so I'll get outta here, but, before I do, my favorite Tuesday tradition.  Every Tuesday, precisely at 10pm, the students in the residential area of Lappis near the University of Stockholm, open their windows and shout in an attempt to release all the stress brought on by university activities and life in general. Residents are invited to as well, provided they do so exactly at 10pm.

Yesterday's positive diddy was to change your digital scale from pounds to kilos... today's diddy is to set your alarm for 9:59pm tonight so we can all open windows at 10, then scream, shout, get ridda pandemic, political, couped-up-ed-ness, 2020 yuck.

I'll glady pay you Tuesday for a 60-something, rich, divorced, hard of hearing, no speaky English blonde today...

Love, Victurd

 

 

A November to remember...

 The ballplayers gloves are put up, rest for a few months.  Tractors relegated to barns, blades sharpened, engines overhauled.  Lawn service companies affixing snow blades to their trucks.

Retailers pray for the capability of shoppers to return, hopefully an onslaught of bought.  Rifles are sighted, cleaned, prepared for where the deer, the antelope and Tom play.

Grannies across the nation scour cookbooks searching for the very perfect dessert for after turkey dinner. Tis a wonderful Holiday - no gifts to buy - only gifts of the heart, the hug - the belly.

Golfers refuse to store the clubs in the attic just yet - and sneak outta the house anytime  temps  above fitty we get.  With golf and hunting, many a lady finds it a refreshing break to get the man outta the house.

Shorts and short sleeves go to the extra bedroom closet .. the warm stuff strewn on the bed where we sit - making sure we've conquered the battle of the bulge - and they all still fit.

The trade off for winter winds, windshields scraped, very cold cars to hop into - is that the house if ridden of insects - not a creature of them stirring, except maybe a mouse.  While the weather changes are stark, commuters are now forced to drive home in the dark.

Then there's that one idiot who blogs, reminding us of November's past, present, to wit:

Let's see, there's always the first Thursday of November which is of course National Men Make Dinner Day... annually we set aside a day to thank our Vets.. 

Way back when Abe gave addressed in Gettysburg, a couple of canals opened (Erie and Suez).. a huge war ended (WWI)...Go Directly to Jail, Do not pass Go, do not collect $200 was invented - giving families a winter weather time passer for the season..  we lost a great President (JFK).. 900 drank poison in Jonestown, Guyana... 

Twain was born, Winston too, "And that's the way it is" was born - bringing us truth in news. 

So snotnoses everywhere would no longer be perplexed - Bell invented the push button phone, predecessor to text.

Whoa Nellie, hold the phone - man is November all about the belly:  Ntnl Deviled Egg Day, Ntnl Sandwich Day, Ntnl Candy Day, Ntnl Doughnut Appreciation Day, Ntnl Nachos Day, Ntnl Cook Something Bold Day, Ntnl Pickle Day, Ntnl Homemade Bread Day. Victor this is getting boring, almost done, Ntnl Stuffing Day, Ntnl Parfait Day, and Ntnl Lemon Cream Pie Day...

What else did we miss? NATIONAL: Hug a Bear Day, Forget-Me-Not Day, Happy Hour Day, hiccup, World Kindness Day, Go For A Ride Day, and of course, THANKSGIVING DAY!

It seems like we're mssing something humongous here?.... Hmmmmmm.. what could it be?... Will there come a day, when it didn't matter? (Of course).. 

I've forgetten what else happens in November, but really I'd rather:   Think of the above, see how folks gather.

Those of us in seasonal climes - greet November with brow furrowed, one eye squintied, brrrrr do we haveta.  We'll get there, come spring, won't matter - but we'll prolly be fatter.

Oh well... If you think of what I'm missing in the above, please don't remind me.. I prefer to focus on hugs, kindness, FOOD, uniting us all, getting that one thing behind me. WE, are America.

Love, Victurd