Outta the blue….

Worked overtime last night. Happens to be the busIEST season for us. Which too, is fancy for lackabuck. Saw too it that Maynard gotta ride home from the bus stop (I’m a wimp, but he walks all day in his job, and it’s two miles from the bus stop to home.)

Driving home – rush hour traffic long gone.. The tremendous storm front a recent memory… Baseball game on the radio.. It was all good, very good.

7:30pm I cranked the Hot.. Rod.. Lincoln up.. Headed North.. Now I’d talked to Maynard earlier, and let’s just say he wasn’t in a “Hi Dad, howya doin’” mood. So, I decided, within my budget, I’d stop for two, count ‘em, two beers. Victor, you don’t have a budget. Oh yeah, you’re right, maybe that’s the problem.

So I decided to go to my favorite greasy, sleazy, down home bar. Walked in around 8-ish.. Said ‘hey’ to the seven or eight I know.. Plopped on the bar stool next to onea my best friend’s sisters.. And of course, as I faced the barkeep – there already was my unopened Miller Lite..

Pups hurt, but I wasn’t taking the shoes off.. I’d save that for a life orgasm when I get home… Royals on TV, albeit getting wasted by the Yankees…

Peeked at the Golden T Bowling thingy. Couple, mid to late 30’s, rockin’. He’d shoot (was terrible by the way) and she’d give him a love pat.. She’d shoot, he’d encourage (she was kicking his ass) – and then they’d smooch. Figured they were from the country, as I’d never seen ‘em before..

Smiles were plastered, literally plastered upon their faces.. the entire time. They’d walk back and forth between the bowling machine – and their table – which happened to butt up right behind our bar stools.

Finally, dude extends his hand… “Hi, I’m John.. this here’s my wife Maggie, and we’re from Florida… Tampa actually.” So, Candy (friend’s sister) and I exchanged handshakes, pleasantries…

“We’ve been in Arkansas” John offered.. “Yeah, my mom lives there.. and she’s been real sick.” Maggie followed with.. “We came here for my work… geez, I worked 19 hours yesterday – but hey, it’s Ok, we’re here now.”… As John kinda-sorta detailed the fact they had an RV – he was working in a small town some 100 miles Northeast a few days a week, and in our hometown a few days a week – Maggie stared at him with a proud smile as he spoke, hand on his thigh.

“Yep, we drove into town, told the guy at the gas station ‘We’re looking for a greasy, sleazy, down home bar… nothing like Chili’s or Applebee’s.. we want down home’ and by golly we found it. This place is cool.”

Well, many would debate that (I’m reminded of my cousin’s friend once describing an establishment with “geez.. can you believe all the sad existences in here?”) I happen to concur. It’s home. It’s down home. It’s “I can be as I wanna be. I won’t judge you. I’ll extend my hand to you.” (Nuther couple from Nebraska who’d moved here once said “ya know, we tried those other places.. ‘Dietz’ (her hubby) likes this place ‘cause people talk to us.”)

So back to the little diddie ‘bout John and Maggie. They were getting an apartment some 100 miles Northeast, and would live either in a Motel, or in their RV whilst they were in our fine city.

In my lifetime, I’m not certain I’ve seen a happier couple. At least for this moment in time. Long about the time I realized my second beer had one gulp left – and it was time for my departure.. I looked at Maggie and said “wow Maggie… you guys really love each other don’t you?”…

I think it made her night. Her month. Her year, perhaps her future. “YES. You can tell?” Well of course I can tell, you touch, you laugh, you respect and admire whilst the other is talking – you SMILE.. a lot.” “Well thank you.. Yes, I do. We do. I’ve never been happier in my life.”

“Honey.. HONEY.. outta the blue.. .he said that!”… “Ohhhh, I can fool anyone!” the onere polecat John spouted…

Yes, yes I did tell them that. They weren’t of great means. They were away from family. It’s no fun living in this city, that city – no real roots. A three car garage seemed of little importance to them.. They had each other. That’s all they needed. I truly feel so very happy for them.

A brief smidget in my life. A huge party in my brain. I hope you are having an “outta the blue” life. Mine’s great – maybe even turquoise! One day, I’ll be partnered – and it’s for sure to come outta the blue. I love seeing happy. I love those who select to be happy. I love those who feel it’s important their friends/family are happy. John’s the key to making Maggie’s engine purr.. Maggie’s engine keeps John motivated. Their eyes talk. There smiles melt one another. Their hands say “I love you.”

It was a nice visual outta the blue. Love, Victurd

Raccoons, 20 minutes, Heartbeats, and… Baseball Ray…

GD Raccoons… Our uninvited house guests last winter chewed thru every phone cord we have running through the attic. Thus, no dial tone. Cut down the tree they climbed to enter said abode – and they’re off somewhere else freeloading amongst the insulation – and chewing on someone else’s digits. I hope it hurts when the little bastards poop…. (They are cute, I just ain’t real fond of ‘em sharing our house.)

Twenty minutes.. So… We’ve hooked the Gosh Darn phone cord into the box outside.. We actually have a dial tone.. and.. for many months it also enabled our DSL to work.. huh uh.. not now.. So.. I have 20 minutes to do this blog before work. It’s worse than being on a first date. I’ve GOTTA perform, and I GOTTA do it within this time frame, and it’s GOTTA be acceptable – for there’s no time for correction. (No wonder many don’t go on a second date!)…

Baseball Ray… Thanks to my boss, attended the Kansas City Royal’s home opener yesterday.. So much fun.. so many mems.. I, as a little turd, had a very good and loving father – but – his job took him to points all around the 5 state region – thus, no “catch” partner. I’d take a plastic bowl from the kitchen, a rubberized ball – and a brick wall would be my partner for literally hours, and hours and hours upon end. I was “Musial”.. “Mantle”.. “Maris”.. “Aaron”.. the dreamer…

I attended the very first Royal’s home opener ever.. 1969 I think… It was about the time I’d gotten a letter from the Royals – actually inviting me to a tryout.. and again I dreamed.. Well.. that went like a lotta those first dates too – but.. You’ll never take the kid outta me…

Yesterday I looked over the parking lot.. Remembered partying “over there” with our company.. “down there” with family on the last game of the year… broke my finger playing football catch “right there.”.. Once inside.. eyes to the very last (top) row of the stadium – right behind home plate – where I, saw the final game of the 1985 World Series.. Up there, where my ex-brother inlaw and I had standing room tickets for Game 6 that year.. down over there somewhere – where I’d witnessed the 1972 All Star game…

The new scoreboard is humongous.. How big you ask? Well.. KU’s football coach threw out the first pitch.. and it actually accommodated his entire wide body. Hehe, he’s a big man.. but funny how things seem larger than life.. This is “The Border”.. right smack dab between Kansas and Missouri.. There’s fun bickering back and forth – and for some, the argument runs even deeper – like back to Civil War days..

So I was smoking a cig at the little designated smoking spot.. around the 5th inning.. and here comes Mangino (The VERY large KU football coach) and his wife – exiting the stadium.. I was amazed how short he was.. You see someone on TV, and they truly are larger than life… He’s average height, maybe even slightly below average.. I’d pictured Paul Bunyan – and was aghast when I saw he wasn’t wielding an axe.. So, these border folks – the KU fans were patting him on the back as he walked.. thumbs up.. and those hideous (gotta love ‘em) Missouri fans demonstrated group behavior with their chant “M-I-Z… Z-O-U… M-I-Z… Z-O-U”… a fun life moment….

Home openers are miserable, weatherwise. I underdressed, and suffered. Still, what better. Dreams of that one Mexican dude pedaling “LEMONADE.. LEMONADE.. LEMONADE”.. 95 degree summer days… ahhhh, remember Halter top days…

Heartbeats. We’re always one heart beat away from life being altered. Jolted. Changed. Perhaps ending. I love trying to gain appreciation for the surroundings.. I love baseball.. I love the Border War.. I love stolen bases, sliding doubles, and the crowd on their feet for a 3-2 count with two outs and the bases loaded… I even love the hot dog, mustard, relish footrace.. I don’t mind the traffic on the way in, out. I love people watching. I am aware I’m a heartbeat away from no tomorrow – thus, I enjoy this day.

Thanks for these twenty minutes. I love twenty minutes. It’s twenty minutes to reflect.. If only we’d take twenty minutes from our hurried day and fully focus on what’s important. Who’s important. Where our thoughts should be.

Enjoy your day.. play ball.. take 20 to think.. feel your heart beating… and trap a raccoon (and release in the wild) wouldya? Love, Victurd

The last lecture….

The last lecture….

If you read the article in Parade Magazine about this – then apologies, I may bore you..

There’s a 40-something dude, computer science professor @ Carnegie Mellon University...He agreed to give the lecture (The Last Lecture) prior to his learning he was dying.

He thought about not giving it - then.. decided to. I think it mighta changed the way he looked at things.. He’d just been diagnosed with one of the most aggressive forms of cancer – pancreatic cancer. Father of three, very happily married man – life was going great on course.. Then this…


Touching base: “Always have fun.” It’s a selection ain’t it? “Am I a fun-loving Tigger or a sad-sack Eeyore? It’s clear where I stand.”

“Dream Big.” He addressed being at a summer camp – the astronauts were set to walk on the moon – but there was a delay and the counselors sent them to bed. “Give yourself permission to dream. Fuel your kids’ dreams too. Once in a while, that might even mean letting them stay up past their bedtimes.”

“Ask for what you want.” He remembered back to being 4, at Disney World – and he was ready to get on the monorail with his dad. His father told him “Too bad they don’t let regular people sit up on the nose-code with the driver.” The son replied “Actually, I’ve learned there’s a trick to getting to sit up front.”.. he then walked over to the attendant and asked “Excuse me, could we please sit in the front car?”.. “Certainly.,” the attendant replied – and led them right to it.. Doesn’t hurt to ask – don’t be bashful.. Say “why not?”…

“Dare to take a risk.” Don’t worry about failure – everyone fails at some point. Experience is what you get when you don’t get what you wanted. And it can be the most valuable thing you have to offer..

“Look for the Best in Everybody.” His hero, a Disney employee had once told him “If you wait long enough,” he said, “people will surprise and impress you.”… “When you’re frustrated with people, when you’re angry, it may be because you haven’t given them enough time. Jon warned that this took great patience, even years. “In the end,” he said, “people will show you their good side. Just keep waiting. It will come out.” Maynard, I still got faith little buddy. I’ve seen glimpses of good, happy heart – let it flow my man.

“Make time for what matters.” – Here he related that he was finally getting married to the love of his life at age 39.. On the honeymoon, his control freak boss wanted to know his every move so he could stay in touch if need be.. He left this message on his voicemail: ““Hi, this is Randy. I waited until I was 39 to get married, so my wife and I are going away for a month. I hope you don’t have a problem with that, but my boss does. Apparently, I have to be reachable.” I then gave the names of Jai’s parents and the city where they lived. “If you call directory assistance, you can get their phone number. And then, if you can convince my in-laws that your emergency merits interrupting their only daughter’s honeymoon, they have our number.” We didn’t get any calls.”

“Let kids be themselves.” “Kids, don’t try to figure out what I wanted you to become. I want you to become what you want to become. And I want you to feel as if I am there with you, whatever path you choose.” Wow, could we all learn by havin’ a heapin’ helpin’ of that. We try to mold our children – sure, teach them respect, observation of the law – right/wrong.. but let ‘em guide their own ship as far as their adulthood dreams.. Be there to help pickup should they have a momentary slip.

After his lecture he was inundated with phone calls, emails, people writing about their life lessons.. Former students wrote to tell him “your teaching made a difference in my life.”.. He’d said in the lecture – he’d dreamed to play in the NFL, and being Captain Kirk on Star Trek. The Pittsburgh Steelers invited him to scrimmage with them.. and he got to say a line in the new Star Trek film.

Sorry this ain’t really by me. Stole it. From Parade Magazine. It does though, make you stop and rethink things. How would you write your last lecture? I think, in reality, that’s what blogging is all about.. Getting in touch with the things in life that really are important. Writing about life’s observances. Thanks Randy Pausch for your insight. Thanks for your wiseness. We’ll remember your last lecture. Love, Victurd.

I’m excited and I don’t know why…..

Perverts… I knew you’d think that. No no no.. It’s the season.. Long range forecast and the highs all begin with a 6… Our Kansas City Royals are 3-0 and just swept the #2 payroll team.. New manager from Japan has livened them up…

Final four weekend.. IT’S the WEEKEND… Paycheck deposited in my bank account at Midnight last night.. I’m wearing jeans to work… Up early, to Perkins for coffee and smoke to unwind before I even wind up…

Don’t rain on my parade… I’m happy to be where I be at the moment… Emails in the inbox from friends/family.. I petted both damn cats before I left home this morning.. My cigs on sale for $1.60 a pack AND they come witha fitty cent coupon..

Was at the Drive Thru at Mickey D’s.. peeked thru to see the counter.. young, tall handsome black dude waiting on decidedly senior couple.. THREE, count ‘em THREE humongous smiles.. Made me think – the young dude probably doesn’t know the discrimination the older folks have seen.. The older folks were smiling because this (the fun, friendly interaction between white/black) can and is happening.

Life, it be good.

God loveya.. I loveya.. Have a great weekend. Victurd.

PS to Lisa and her cruddy sister: I won’t “show my hand”, but it’s my hope someone.. (Bring it on Foghorn) I SAY SOMEONE.. who has coached at Kansas wins tomorrow!

Asbestos….

I first started really becoming aware of asbestos in the 60’s.. At school, they passed out pamphlets.. “oh, it’ll keepya warm alright.. but there are dangers there.. all kindsa diseases could be had from it.”

Asbestos was the talk of the locker room, the boardroom, and, whilst I wasn’t of age, certainly bar rooms. Looking back, my daddy was probably attuned to asbestos, but it was a subject we didn’t breach at our household.

Me? Well, some’r ‘leg men’, some’r “BigN” types, I go for asbestos. At work, we’ve kinda had a revolving door of late. Asbestos removal, and new asbestos.

So, I, like most “Average Joe’s”… stand around all day, leer.. And decide who the asbestos is…
Now, yes, we’ve heard asbestos is harmful…Inhalation can cause some serious shit.. kinda crappy.. Not all it’s cracked up to be. .. There are ‘alternates’ that can be used. I don’t care, I love asbestos… (lOOking at asbestos, ogling.)..

In the hardhat life of man, I’ve become quite accomplished in asbestos studies. There be them “no butt” ones… nah.. It’s GOT to be rounded… There be the whole-lotta-butt one’s, and in spitea my old boss telling me “u don’t wanna have to shake the sheets to find them”.. sorry, it just doesn’t fit for me.

Ok, rounded then. What else? Well - rounded from the side view, and rounded from the back view… Victor, you really are a prevert ain’tya? Uh huh.

Junk in the truck. Derrieres. Bootys. Gluteus maximus. Bum. Cheeks. Behind. Asbestos.

Victor, I thought all you did was walk around all day and look for and collect smiles? Well, lemme tellya - oh you know I love witnessing EVERYTHING about lfe - and yes, smiles REALLY do perk me - but please know I oh so smile inwardly when I see the asbestos.

You can call me perve if you want - but I know too you women and the Wranglers, and being befriended by mainly women - I find you are just as bigga perv’s as we piggos.

Bum deal huh? The hurrieder I go, the behinder I get. Hehe. (Make’n an ass outta myself ain’t I?) Fatbottom girl you make this rockin’ world go round. Tooty fruity, oh booty. She’s got freckles on her but(t) she’s pretty. Objects may be closer.

I’m sorry, there’s nothing wrong with enjoying a fine butt. Asbestos. They’re a gift. Nature’s easel. Free. Everyone has one – enjoy the asbestos. I certainly do.

Bringing up the rear, love Victurd.

Things we can paint on our day…..

Happiness. Reckon it’s a choice. Garbage in, smiles out. Oh, there’s tonsa good in too – but we gotta file that stuff away!

When I usedta coach, back in dinosaur days.. the true success of any coach, team – was that the coach prepare the team the very best he could to be successful. Let’s arm our friends/loved ones the same way. Wing a comp if you feel it. Touch with an email. Simply ask “how ya doin?” with no ulterior motive. Spoil them with care/concern.

Listen. Listening is onea God’s gift to mankind. Listening way assists in preparing our own speech. The more we listen – the less chance we’re going to say something that rubs the wrong way. The more we listen – the better the view from other’s shoes. The more we listen – the more we file away in the backa our brain about our friends, our loved ones, and what’s important to them.

Victor, you’re on the pulpit again. Sorry, but you’ve heard me say 9,999 times, I write for me. To me. Hitchhikers welcome.

Keep the eyes moving, watching. If we don’t simply look out into the world – if we drive to work, home from work – Pavlov thru our lunch hour – cruise control our evenings away – we will not have taken in all there is this wonderful world has to offer. See a guy up fixing a bridge? Try to see from his shoes. The 17 yr old that handsya the sack of food at the drive up – read ‘em and see how they take on the world.

Take times throughout the day to smile about yesterday. Close your eyes and see loved ones who’ve departed. Bring ‘em back to life. Take a tour and revisit your favorite vacation spots, places you’ve been. Might not even be a vacation spot – it might be the hallway of your high school in your Senior year. Go there. Relive it.

The now. Concentrate on ‘the now’. The now so quickly becomes the past – allow yourself to be the video camera of life. I look at my son now – and I try to think back to him as a baby, at 5.. age 12… 15.. It gets harder and harder to remember – without referring to old albums, videos. Stare. Focus. Remember. I look around at my job and see so many have departed. I wish I’da taken longer looks. I wish I’da bellied up to them more closely to learn of them. Friends. Live life along side our friends – and take pictures of them/you with the brain. THIS IS OUR LIFE. Remember it.

Tomorrow. We can stash dough away. (Well, most of you can – for whatever reason this very time and point of my life it seems there’s more bills than paycheck – but I’m the eternal optimist – I’ll get there.) We can’t predict tomorrow. We can’t control the actions of others. We can’t know of our health – our jobs, which personal loss will come next. We can pray for good things for tomorrow – but reckon the point here is enjoy the day, let us be good people – and the chances for a better tomorrow increase.

And finally, don’t listen to stupid bloggers who think they know everything! Be an artist! Them two feet you have – stand up on ‘em and think for yourself! Seriously – do you ever stop and consider “what could make my life more enjoyable?” If we remote control everything, every day – soon the movie will be over Ferris! Take time for planning. Think about what REALLY is important to you. Had something (a trip maybe.. a ‘touch’ of an old friend, a new gadget) you’ve envisioned? Do it! Go for it! Talk to yourself – thinka how you/yourself – can improve upon the good life you already lead.

I loveya all. In spitea the GD deeper and deeper creases that run across my face – I am smiley inwardly – and hopefully outwardly. I really really do hope life is a smile for you as well.. Love, Victurd.

This about that….

As one who doesn’t own a cell phone… (I know… I eat my salads dry too.. And if that ain’t enough I abhor seafood… Color me: OOT. That’s ‘out of touch’ to you.)

I’ve noticed this cell phone addiction amongst people. You? Oh I’d love to have one.. Have had one… will have one.. At present, just don’t…

Those in this bracket, please don’t shoot me - but addiction (as in “I can’t go seven minutes without touching my cell”) exists, I’ve noted, primarily from age 14 to 28 or so. Panic sets in if it’s not going off, someone hasn’t texted, or an email hasn’t shown up. Listening for one’s personal ringtone is akin to onea those things where u listen to the baby monitor and exactly what mood the baby is crying/noisemaking in.

Some Arkansan learned that University of Arkansas employee’s cell phones (and records) were considered public information - so - he asked for (and received) the cell phone records of Arkansas football coach Houston Nutt. Now Mr. Nutt, a married man, had called/texted this female TV broadcaster over 2,000 times in the months of December and January, or something like that. “We’re working on this charity thing”… Uh huh. Sure. Nutty wife did Patsy’s “Stand by your man.”

Texting. We’ve all heard the horror stories of kids running up $700 a month text bills… There’s more…

Ms. Lee Amor, 23, pleaded guilty to calling or texting her jilting ex-boyfriend more than 10,000 times over a 65-day period.

Dude in Cincinnati, 18, was hit by a train as he texted away. He waited for a train to pass.. It did… so he crossed the tracks.. Whilst he was texting, he hadn’t noticed the train coming from the opposite direction… Knocked him 50 feet, unconscious.

In December 2002, a cheating scheme was uncovered during final-exam week at the University of Maryland, College Park. A dozen students were caught cheating on an accounting exam through the use of text messages on their mobile phones.

Kids even have codes…. KPC - Keeping Parents Clueless, MOS - Mom Over Shoulder, PIR - Parent In Room, POS - Parent Over Shoulder…

Even that celeb that doesn’t wear panties and has no idea where her kiddos are at texts… In November 2006, Britney Spears reportedly used text messaging to tell her husband Kevin Federline that she is filing for a divorce, however the official divorce filing only occurred the day after the text message was sent. The story was reported by various news media outlets.

HS - Holy Shit.

143 - it means I love you

ABITHIWTITB A Bird In The Hand Is Worth Two In The Bush

Even Richard Nixon has a text in his ‘honor’: IANAC I Am Not A Crook

Good night…… DLTBBB………. Don't Let The Bed Bugs Bite

Howabout BIOYN ……… Blow it Out Your Nose

4COL For Crying Out Loud

TTTHTFAL ……… Talk To The Hand The Face Ain't Listening

And mebbe WDALYIC ……….Who Died And Left You In Charge?

Thirteen-year-old Morgan Pozgar, of Claysburg, Pa., was crowned LG National Texting champion on Saturday after she typed "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious" from Mary Poppins in 15 seconds.

HS….. Holy Shit..

Ok, TTG (Time to go)….. Typed for way too long about a subject I know nothing about… And.. GGP Gotta Go Pee… Gonna go.. 8 - it refers to oral sex.. Don’t that mean “talk about it?” I’m good at that!

If you have any desire to TDTM, or, GNOC, or mebbe LMIRL.. RUH?… then HAK and KOTL for you… If no SO, then LMK and mebbe we can meet F2F?

Call… (or text) me……….. 867-5309.… 143, Victurd.

The easel can be wobbly…….

I think some idiot (checkenginelight.blogspot.com) once said “each day is a blank canvas for us to paint how we see fit.”… I think Gracie used the term ‘Pollyanna‘, and perhaps she’s right - but I’m a man, and men never admit they’re wrong!

Ok, color me misguided. How’s that.

If anyone tells you their life goes as planned - it’s akin to the feller that “always wins at the blackjack tables” whose car gets repossessed.

Life’s like being a mediocre boxer. We get knocked on our ass upon occasion - get up, experience some success, and then find ourselves reeling on the canvas again. We can either get up - face the certainty of what we’re experienced allover again - or opt for Plan B.

My mother was your normal 50’s, 60’s mother. Cookies, Koolaid, “the best” at getting grass-stains outta the knee of jeans from a slide into 2nd base in the front yard. Nice family dinners, clothes folded neatly away in my drawers - and there not to be proactive with advice, yet a leaning post of wisdom when the situation arose and help was needed.

My mother, perhaps heard from someone else - I dunno, passed down to me “the secret to success is how you deal with Plan B.”

Wind hits the three legged easel, it’s knocked to the ground - the canvas is ruined… the canisters of paint are now mixed with grass blades, dirt - and other colors. Our dream of hitting a home run, being the boxing champion of the world, swiftly hit home when we’re jarred back to the floor.

What now?

I hear tell there’s a highway between Vegas and LA where it’s nothing but straightaway Interstate - no hills, no potholes, no struggling 18-wheelers trying to make it up the hill. You set the cruise at 80 - and before your know it, you’re there.

Me, whilst I cuss at the jolts from the holes - turn off the cruise until the car in the left lane passes so I can finally get around the trucker - and enjoy the bend on 435 North that trains my eyes to downtown on the West… The wondrous Sports Complex to the East.. And eventually toward home, dead ahead to the North.

Northwest Missouri State College. No, that didn’t work. Maple Woods - time/age of my life, huh uh - a mistake. William Jewell College. Goldilocks, finally, “just right.”

Marriage uno. “Til death do us part.” Or, actually (and I remember it well) the text written by her Baptist preacher father “entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee - for where thou goest, I will go, and where thou stay, I will stay.” Then that night seven years later she came home to announce “I’m attracted to others at work” - I was like “whaddabout that entreat me stuff”….

Paint the canvas, oops, on the canvas. Ok mom, Plan B it is.

Gulp, “ahm, until death do us part” - accompanied by a baby tear inside, the second time I’d said it. Ok, plan B. I’m rolling along - dealing with Plan B wonderfully! In spite of, one by one, my nuclear family falling - and the accompanying grief - I was dealing with Plan B. Some 20+ years of dealing.

“Victor, it’s 2am, I’m too drunk to drive - I’m just going to spend the night with my sister.” She musta really been drunk to believe that the person she was snoozing next to was fully equipped with a Harley, a full length beard, and a penis was actually her sister. Now her sister is gorgeous - I think someone slipped something into her drink. Hehe.

Can one say “til death do us part” three times? Well, that’s where life finds me today. Dealing with Plan B has been interesting, to say the least. I’ve grown, in some respects - and slipped in others. Kinda like an average boxer I reckon.

And you? Financial troubles? Broken marriages? Been heartbroken? Lost a job? Loved one? Perhaps unsatisfied with your mental state… your physical state… your economic state?

Sure, we’ve all had our easels tip over. The paint mixes, we get up on the canvas - and we say “here I am muther dubber, try and knock me down now!”…

If we don’t do that, we eventually hit ‘rock bottom’ - which probably isn’t sucha bad thing… how’s the song go? “Been down so long it looks like up to me”?

I don’t have a profound ending. I haven’t become the light heavyweight champion of the world. I’ve flirted with ‘rock bottom’. I even tire of getting up off the canvas. But I/we must.

There are so, so many out there with experiences hella more extreme than our own. Buck O’Neill couldn’t play in the Major Leagues because of his color. Couldn’t eat in public restaurants. Couldn’t fill up the team bus at the majority of gas stations. So what’d he say? “I was right on time.”

The pic recently of the Iraq vet having only one limb left. Waller in pity? Voice out against Bush/policy? Sue? No… he said “absolutely don’t have pity for me.. Me? I’m lucky, life is blessed. It’s the ones that don’t come home we need to be concerned with.”

My son’s boss recently lost his eight year old child to cancer. Their only child. Somehow, he has the strength and courage to go on. Some months later, even the ability to smile, enjoy life.

Wow. I’ve had two divorces - big deal. Trivial in comparison. I AM blessed. My Plan B is not near as difficult to deal with as theirs.

People are truly remarkable. When that easel is knocked over, the wind has blown us off too onto that rocky bottom - look around. We can learn from others - in the way they react (both ways.)

Recognition dealing with this Plan B ain’t quite so difficult helps. It’s not fun to see others come thru much worse shit than we have - but oh what an example. “Ain’t it awful” becomes “God bless them.” Tears for one’s self - are suddenly pointed to those less fortunate, more challenged than our own self.

Live’s a marvel. People are marvels. I marvel at life, people. ‘Bout all I can think of. No matter where you’re at on the spectrum - never give up - or never forget there IS up. Love, Victurd.

Ya put your left foot in…..

Silliness. I love silliness. Some people collect coins. Some, baseball cards. Others, quilts. Model cars, clocks, coffee cups, business cards, flamingos, lighthouses, dolphins, seashells, pennants, dolls, pens, stuffed animals, comic books.

When I was a kid - I constantly got chastised by my 2nd grade teacher for dog-eared homework. Others had things neatly in place - perfection within their notebook. Me, mine overflowed. Too many pages for not knowing (or caring) where to file things away. Thus, my papers peeked out the edge of my notebook, and became frayed.

I’ve “built” on this over the years. ATM receipt from last Tuesday rests on the passenger side floorboard. Unopened junk mail from 2006 rests in the shoebox of my last new paira shoes. Empty Miller Lite can from three weeks ago rests near my computer.

The day it rained and I, all by my lonesome, fixed the GD brakes on the Hot…. Rod… Lincoln… left the tool box out over night. Opened. Rained like a sumbitch. I have niftiest set of ‘orange’ tools in town.

I’m a chocolate mess - but I like me. I always wondered why that 2nd grade teacher didn’t care more about the content than the presentation.

Point is, I can’t keep things. Slap me, bend me, shape me, I don’t care, I can’t keep things. I don’t really care that I can’t keep things. I keep things that are important to me. I could give a rats about people who view me for my possessions, or lack thereof. I am man, hear me snore.

Where were we? Oh yeah, collecting. I’m much more into smile collecting. Each time I get one, I file it (very nice and neatly I might add) in the “notebook” of my brain.

I got to sit and visit with an old girlfriend last night, Teri Johnson Applegate-whatever it is now. She owns the quickest smile in the West. Maybe why I gravitated to her.

I do stupid shit at work. Each morning, I’m like the concierge at a hotel, holding the door for each as they enter. My excuse for smoking. With each opening, comes a smile. Haven’t even timed in yet, and I’ve collected twenty smiles.

I enjoy listening, amongst friends. They’re the talkers - I would never be that - too GD boring. But, as they continue, Victor is forgotten (which is cool).. But all the while I connect the dots, capsulize all that’s been said, and sum it up with some stupid-ass comment. If it’s clever, I get to store a few more smiles for the day.

With old high school cronies, beers and TV - we all take turns returning to visit something from the past one of us has said that was completely ridiculous. It always evokes smiles. Cha-ching, more for the eyeball cash register.

I could sit and watch the human race out and about all day. Watching the hustle, the bustle, the struggle, the enjoyment. Seeing smiles melts me.

Comic books don’t go in the casket. Dolls are divided amongst the nieces, daughters, granddaughter, great granddaughters… Baseball cards are sold… Flamingos boxed away in an attic.

Me, I’ll study all the smiles after my eyelids have closed for the final time.

I happen to not connotate dog-eared with bad. Dogs live life as a smile. A twist of the head, the dog ears become erect - the head tilts, and it’s as if a Mexican is looking up at you with a Scoobydo “what’d you say” look... Attention. Affection. Smile.

At work, I fax smiles. No, true, I do. I send instructions on how to load shit, which shit to load, and where the shit is going. In highlighting these instructions, I chicken scratch two eyeballs ‘looking’ in the direction of the instructions, and yes, a smile beneath them. To me, beats the dog poop outta “high importance” email, You Must underlined. Or “or else”.

Victor, are you patting yourself on the back? Well mebbe bebbe. I just figured rather than living life with head slung low due to dog-eared possessions - I’d try to lift my head up and catch the smiles. It’s like cooking, sometimes you gotta make em. It’s like Newton’s Law, for every smile there’s an equal and opposite smile. Catch a smiling star and put it in your pocket, save it for a rainy day.

May you live life collecting smiles. And giving them too. And appreciating them. And making them. It’s mebbe the next best thing to French kissing all pressed up. Have smiles, love, Victurd.

Dashboard Stressors…

When one gets old – one forgets whatinthehell one has told to who. Reckon, remembering yesterday’s blog, at least it’s a good thing one still recognizes one.

Can’t remember if I told u about the wreck or not. I was 3rd in line (on an off ramp) to turn right onto a two-lane highway – in the dark – on my way to work the other morning. Whatshername usedta be amazed that not much (sightwise) got by me. My pat answer was (with tongue in cheek) “Good athletes have great peripheral vision.”

Well… the first guy in line bootscooted… As I eased up on the second guy – I turned my head to the left to check for the Eastbound traffic flow – and to see if I could comfortably make it Ok onto the highway. Eh, it was testy, but knew I could. Hit the gas. Shit. Apparently, guy in fronta me had a different view of things, and he hadn’t gone. Ruh Roh.

It was a perty damn big bang. Amazed that Maynard and I weren’t bitchslapped by the airbags – they didn’t even deploy. Guy jumps outta truck “WHAT ARE YOU….. “ then backed off that approach.. saying “remind me to tell you something later.”

So, I gave it my best “I’m sorry sir… are you Ok sir…. Here’s my insurance.. Here’s my license.. here’s my phone number.. are you sure you’re Ok?” His formally East-West pointed rear bumper was now heading North-South.

What he told me later – was “it’s Ok… I did the exact same thing you did at this exact same intersection two years ago.” Weird.

So….. as I felt so good at the time dumping checkenginelight to purchase the Hot… Rod.. Lincoln.. it’s now maybe just as bad, if not worse. Prior to the guy ‘backing into me’ (hehe) I already had the warning lights “Door Ajar”.. it ain’t… Low Engine Coolant… it ain’t.. Check Ride Control.. huh?... and Low Washer Fluid.. who cares, the sprayer thingy doesn’t reach the windshield anyways…

Now… the glass covering both head lamps is kapooey.. The right turnlamp is literally hanging down, with only it’s lifeline wire holding it in place. Yesterday, the rain kablitzed one of two halogen lamps.. checkenginelightHotRodLincoln. Shit. It’s me, I’m destined for this – reckon get used to it.

But…… yes, started another sentence with but. But.. with all this incredible technology nowadays.. I was wondering…

I looked at my dashboard with all it’s “announcements”.. looked down at my fingernails… and with each ONE-INCH pronouncement – I shaved a little bit offa each fingernail.

Door Ajar………. chomp.

Low Oil………… chomp.

Check Ride Control.. chomp…

Low Washer Fluid.. chomp..

Low Engine Coolant.. chomp.

and… as if I tweren’t jittery enough about all that – now, since that guy backed into me at 30 mph, added is:

Head Lamp Out.. CHOMP..

Front Turnlamp Out.. CHOMP CHOMP…

I am gonna rent me onea them ‘nese’s….. I don’t care, Hitachi, Comerachi, Japanese, Chinese – don’t matter – just someone with hell electronic skills to redo my dashboard.

“Get ridda all those nervous announcements PLEASE!”… Life’s trying enough – one doesn’t need 42 reminders blinking, flashing at them continually.

So, after the ‘nese works on it… I’ll be happily driving down the road.. and the indicator will come on:

“Barbeque Ribs”…….. Mmmmmm chomp…

“Must Get Laid”……... Yes!

“Play Motown Now”… Right on brotha….

“Buy New Slack, Feel Better About Self”… GREAT idea!

“Remember Hawaii”… Oh so soothing….

“Elisabeth Shue”.. Can you gimme a Hell Yes!

Much more soothing. Much less stressy. Ding ding ding mother dubber, take that! With the new indicators, announcers, pronouncers, I might actually be able to grow fingernails.. mebbe even get laid.. for sure find the nearest Jackstack BBQ…

May your life ‘signals’ be pleasing. May you close your eyes and study your eyelids instead when ‘bad news’ flashes infronta ya. May the quest of life be cruise control.
Ding ding ding mother dubber. Chomp Chomp. Love, Victurd

Good Morning….

What's so good about it?

Victor, didn't you see that sunrise?

Sure, I see it every morning. I'm on the road while it's dark – and it changes over en route. No biggie.

Oh no Victor. To the contrary – each sunrise is unique, special. Another chance. Another gift. Another breath. Another smile.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. For me, it means "I’m on the way to work."

Again Victor. Do you remember the other day in the grocery store when you were behind that old man walking in – and it was a severe challenge for him just to walk?

Well yeah, I remember.

And you take the fact you’re gainfully (and healthfully) employed for granted?

Ok, I see where you're coming from. But I'm single, and it sucks – I want (when the right situation presents itself) to be with another.

A great wish. But don't let the day, today, pass without smiles. Not having will make having that more special. Allow those eyeballs to peer – often. Yes, in search of 'her', but along the way – take in the wonders of the world.

You mean like being outta cat food. Looking in the mirror and seeing I need a haircut and the pocketbook say 'huh uh, not today.'

Well… the cat food thing. You have two cats right?

Uh huh.

And at one time you had seven pets not long ago?

Yes.

So – it's a chore for you that you're two are still alive and that you must buy them food?

Well, when you present it like that, no, it's not a chore.

Did you pet them before you left?

I fed Jackson (Figaro attacks the bowl after his 'big brother' is done.).

DID YOU PET THEM?

Well, when I woke up, Jackson was hogging the bed, and yes, I petted him then.

As you were leaving though, no pets?

Nah.

For shame. An animal's life is 1/7th of ours – all the more reason to dote on the time we have with them. Tomorrow – RIGHT before you leave for work – dote.

Alright alright, I will.

And the haircut thing.

Yes?

Isn't it amazing the gift some have with their hands?

I guess I never really looked at it like that.

You enjoy writing, you're so-so at it. A baby gift maybe.

Thanks – but what are you getting at?

Find the positive of everything. A pain in the ass shipment at work – hey, stop and have a fun moment with those you deal with be it by phone or email. Shed good light.

I try that, I really do.

You said in a blog recently you were going to attempt to talk to more strangers.. .done that?

Actually, I have, and it’s been pretty cool, I'll admit. Yesterday, this old man gets outta a cool little red sport’s car – and I told him "pretty car".. he smiled and said "thanks."

You're onto something! Well done. For every down thought/moment, plant the seeds of two positive ones. Soon you'll be living in a forest of fun, enrichment.

Are you like telling me I need to go to church?

No, I never said that – but, you know, it might not be a bad addition to your current lifestyle.

What about when life's "the worst" and all I wanna do is nap – maybe suck on a quart of beer and be off in my own little zone.

Immerse yourself in music then. Pull out pictures of yesteryear – things, people that were important to you. Close your eyes and revisit your favorite spots, times. Attend them again.

You sound pretty wise. Whothehell are you?

I'm everyone Victor.

Huh?

We all have the potential inside of us to live a grand life – it's our choosing, and our making. I'm in everyone's brain. Some people live life never discovering me – and I have to admit it gets pretty rough for me being there. But the ones that DO get it – what a blast it is to hitchhike and see all that they see.. Dream all they dream.. Be thankful for all they’re thankful.

Ok. I'm positive I'll try to be more positive. How's that?

It ain't bad Victor, it ain't bad. Thanks for the yap, and have a.. no wait.. make it a great day.

Backatcha mister, lemme hold the door for you. Adios. Love, Victurd.

Wipe 'em off the facea the earth….

Ok, you’re Planet Earth CEO for the day…. What all would you wipe offa the face of the earth?

Mosquito’s. I see no use for them. (Just shoot me, but were you aware it’s the FEMALE ONLY that sucks blood from animals, the males do not.) I read (slept) through 41 paragraphs of Wikipedia on mosquitoes, and I didn’t find one damned useful thing about them. Get ridda ‘em.

Prejudice people. If Google Earth can see every place, 24/7, and whatinthehell that’s going on - I think we need Prejudice Police to GPS prej’s… When caught demonstrating prejudice behavior - it’s an automatic “one-year-Velcro” sentence. What that means is, they’re taken to Arrowhead Stadium (it’s always empty, no one goes to the games any more because they suck) and they’re literally Velcro’ed to the type of person they discriminated against for one solid year. If that won’t get the biotches getting along - then I say shoot ‘em off into space for medical testing.

First Officer in the cockpit. The Captain is in charge. The First Officer becomes like the Vice President in times of harm. And the Engineer (2nd officer) does all the work at half the pay. What’s the possibility of BOTH the Captain and the First Officer having a cardiac on a 3 hour flight? I say screw it, dump the bastards, lower air fares to where we peons can even afford to see Vegas every three years. I mean, who needs “three quarterbacks” anyways? Stop and think, if Bush and Cheney both bite the dust - who’s next in charge? Uh huh, what I thought. Dump the 2nd officer.

Some quickies: Poison Ivy, Poison Oak, Piranhas, Jelly fish, Gnats, Flies. Raccoons don’t have to be on the list, but should they get within 25 feeta your house, it should be open season on the basta’s… hey… they literally snacked on my phone cords in the attic, and I pay the GD mortgage here.

Close your ears: Rock musicians over 60. Sorry, you don’t sound the same, you don’t look the same, the shape/facea the earth ain’t the same as your heyday, and you look repugnant with that 30 yr old under your arm. It’s really kinda revolting to watch you play and wiggle as if it’s erotic. If anything, you’re neurotic for thinking so. Here. Here’s a ticket (First Class) on the Space Shuttle… and a boxa Depends.

Gossipers. You know the type. They talk about A to B, and talk about B to C. Then they go to lunch, hangout, email, hug, kiss up to A, B, C. We know, you sunsabitches. You can’t fool us. The Penalty for Gossiping? You take all the amplification equipment the GD aging Rock Stars usedta own - you stick twelve Gossipers in a Motel 6 room (eh, approx 12x18), crank the microphone - and if one of them mutters a word - the sound is so GD loud they won’t mutter again for six months. Now? What were you saying about C? Hehe.

“Impotent” people. No, not really. I mean “Important” but it’s more fun to say “Impotent.” For all the ‘impotent’ men in the world - you Lorena Bobbit them (just temporarily.. You save the specimen in some formula, they do miracles now, and you reattach at the completion of their sentence) and you 100% restrict any banking transactions for one entire year.

For the “impotent” women - you yank off their gems, sell them for charitable work, if they be over fitty, you no letty them have hair dye.. If they under fitty, no botox, tanning beds, waxing, nails, toes, three car garages, or bridge clubs. Since sticking twelve Gossipers in a 12 by 18 Motel 6 room is surely bound to ‘cause a hygienic mess - you have the “impotent’ ladies serve as maids for one full year at the Motel 6.

Sexual preverts, priests with an eye on the alter boy, and teachers who take advantage of youth 20 years their junior. You take them to Kemper Arena ( no one goes there any more anyways), you handcuff them in their chairs - and you force them to watch Roseanne, Rosie O’Donnell, Ellen DeGeneres and Larry King reruns. After 11 months, you switch to Billy Graham Crusade CD’s for the final month.. .. then they’re free to go.

Morning, local meteorologists. Why? WHY do we continually pan to them 13 times in 30 minutes? Close your ears: Fuck your teasers.. Pay Jere, Chris, or Donna an extra $20 an hour to give a thirty second bleep “today it’ll be 43 at 7am, rise to fitty-nine by 1pm (with light, 8 mph winds outta the south), warming to a high of 63 by 4pm.” THAT’S IT. JUST TELL IT. Lock all the local meteorologists in a shared apartment of Gary L and Brian B for one full year, and if that doesn’t cure them, surely Stormy will.

Wow, two pages already and I’ve only just begun. I rectum (no connection to local meteorologists) I should run. Go. Get on wit it. Thanks for being here, thanks for your eyes. May you never be in one of the classifications above that gets wiped off the planet. I’m all outta creativity… Victor, whoever said you were ‘creative.’ Correct, I stand corrected. It’s Ok. Life’s a whole lot better now without all the useless sumbitches from above no longer in our way.

Until the next time my fingers (unfortunately) are magnitized to the keyboard. Do you think Keith Richards would make it outta the Earth’s atmosphere alive? Love, Victurd.

Ray Charles Robinson…..

I happen to be a Ray Charles aficionado… So… You’re stuck… If you ain’t, all’s cool and I’ll seeya (I hope) next time.. If you enjoyed the man… stick around… I’m leaving links (remember I do this crap for me) so I can quickly find them again, play and watch… I’m old school, what can I say…

There’s just something about the passion that was within the man - the happiness he displayed in spite of being robbed of one of the five senses…Ray Charles Robinson was born September 23, 1930 in Albany, Georgia… the son of Aretha Williams - who stacked boards in a sawmill, and Bailey Robinson, a railroad repair man.. The two were never married..

The family moved to Greenville, Florida when Ray was an infant…When Ray was five, he witnessed his younger brother George drown in a silver large portable laundry tub… Ray and his brother were playing in the backyard.. His brother fell in the tub.. Ray thought he was playing - but he wasn’t.. he was lifeless.. Ray tried to pull him out - but his soaked clothing made him so heavy it was impossible to do so.. He ran inside, got his mom - she pulled him out - gave him mouth to mouth, pumped on his stomach.. It was too late..

At age six, he began to go blind… Never knew the exact cause, perhaps glaucoma:

“Strangely enough, losing my sight wasn't quite as bad as you'd think, because my mom conditioned me for the day that I would be totally blind. When the doctors told her that I was gradually losing my sight, and that I wasn't going to get any better, she started helping me deal with it by showing me how to get around, how to find things. That made it a little bit easier to deal with. My mother was awful smart, even though she'd only gotten to fourth grade. She had knowledge all her own; knowledge of human nature, plus plenty of common sense.”

Ray attended St. Augustine School for the Dear and the Blind.. There he learned to write music and play various instruments… He was totally blind by age seven… While in this school, his mother died:

"AI wasn't quite 15 when my mama died. That was the most devastating thing in my whole experience -- bar nothing, period. It happened while I was away at school, and they didn't want to tell me about it. They just called me in to the principal's office and said that I needed to go home right away. When I got there I found out from Miss Mary Jane, a lady that helped my mom raise me and take care of me; she gave me the news. From that moment on, I was completely in another world. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep -- I was totally out of it. There's no way to describe how I actually felt. I was truly a lost child.

The big problem was I couldn't cry; I couldn't get the sorrow out of my system, and that made things worse. Now, there was an old lady in town we called Ma Beck. She was the kind of lady that --well, everybody in town used to say that if there was a heaven, she was certainly going to be there when she passed. Anyway, this elderly woman saw the trauma I was going through. So she took me aside one day and said, "Son, you know that I knew your mama. And I know how she tried to raise you. And I know she always taught you to carry on. I also know she told you she wanted you to know how to get around and be independent. Because she knew she wasn't always gonna be with you. Didn't she tell you that?"

I said, "Yes ma'am'" and started to tear up. And Ma Beck kept after me. "Well, then, you also know that your mamma didn't want you going around just doing nothing and feeling sorry for yourself, 'cause that's not the way she brought you up. Isn't that right?" I said, "Yes, ma'am," and more tears came out. Now this elderly lady, she knew everything about me, including my sorrow over my brother's death. She made me realize that it wasn't my fault, and told me that I couldn't go through life blaming myself.

That episode with Ma Beck shook me out of my depression. It really started me on my way. After that I told myself that I must do what my mom would have expected me to do. And so the two greatest tragedies in my life -- losing my brother and then my mom -- were, strangely enough, extraordinarily positive for me. What I've accomplished since then, really, grows out of my coming to terms with those events."

It was only two years later Ray's father passed.…

Ray started playing jazz with the Florida Playboys (and others)in Tampa, and other Florida cities while still in school.. Charles moved to Seattle at age 17:

“ Eventually, I got tired of Florida. I was working with these different bands and I had worked with The Florida Playboys, when I got the feeling one day -- just an impulse -- and I said to myself, I'm going to leave here because I'm not going anywhere, I'm not doing anything. I was too scared to go to a big city like New York or Chicago, but I wanted to go to a city that was a nice size and where I thought I wouldn't get swallowed up. So I said to a friend, Gosady McGee, "I want to go to a city. . .what would be the furthest city I could get to from Florida that's still a city." And that's how I wound up in Seattle. I saved what little money I could -- about $500 -- and finally took a bus from Tampa, Florida, to Seattle, Washington. The trip took me 5 days.”

There, he recorded his first song - “Baby let me hold your hand” - and his name was shortened so there wouldn’t be confusion between he and Sugar Ray Robinson, the boxer..

The first song Ray recorded I remember and love is “The night time (is the right time)”... Another onea my alltime favs was the Bill Cosby show… Here’s a clip of the Cosby’s ‘performing’ this song…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XSvGdfOfLFw

Charles introduction to the “Big Stage” was his hit “What’d I say”.. December 3rd, 1967.. The Ed Sullivan show… Ray and the Raelettes.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n9h77KzF2iY

The hits kept coming… Georgia on My Mind.. Hit the Road Jack… Unchain My Heart…

In 1965 - Ray was arrested for possession of heroin, a drug to which he had been addicted for 20 years… He avoided jail time after kicking the habit in a clinic in Los Angeles… and spent a year on parole…

In 1979, while performing “Georgia On My Mind” on the floor of the Georgia State Legislature - it was then proclaimed the State Song..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Thls_tMuFkc

His rendition of America the Beautiful so moved Ed Bradley of 60 Minutes he deemed it “a definitive version of the song, an American anthem - a classic, just as the man who sang it.”
A little tribute to Ray - our country:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N7Wt4XlXUrc

In 1985, in a song written by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie - “We Are the World” was a charity single intended to raise funds to help famine-relief efforts in Ethiopia.. There was unusual drought there in 1984/85.. Ray was in it… you might recognize some others:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ne7fPpxAnuM

Frank Sinatra call Ray “the only true genius in the business.”… In 2005, Rolling Stone Magazine ranked Ray #10 on their list of The Immortals: 100 Greatest Artists of All Time…

John Belushi - damn he died too soon. What brilliance… Ray even had a bit (there’s that word again) part with the Blues Brothers:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7lwcjNaH_A

In 1987, Charles established the Ray Charles Robinson Foundation for the hearing impaired.
Since its creation, the foundation, with Charles' encouragement and generous, on-going funding, as blazed a trail of discovery in auditory physiology and hearing implantation. Each such implant procedure costs upwards of $40,000, which the Foundation pays to have done. Of some 145-celebrity charities, the Ray Charles Foundation is rated by non-profit experts as one of the top five most efficient with zero administrative overhead.

Ray had over 250 albums, performed over 10,000 concerts, won 12 Grammys,

Rays final concert was on April 30, 2004 at the dedication of his music studio as a historic landmark in the city of Los Angeles.. Ray expired on June 10, 2004 of hepatocellular carcinoma (liver cancer) at his home in Beverly Hills - surrounded by friends and family..

Ray was married twice - yet fathered 12 children by nine different women.. His first marriage to Eileen Williams was brief - about a year.. And he’s got three children from his second marriage to Della Beatrice Howard Robinson from 1955-1977... His longterm girlfriend and partner at the time of this death was Norma Pinella…Charles gave each of his 12 children $1,000,000 tax free in 2005 just before he died…

I know this ain’t the normal blog - I just loved the man. I am so all about smiles, and his was maybe the best one I’ve ever seen. Hope you enjoyed. I sure enjoyed him, his gifts. Love, Victurd.

Blackbird singing in the dead of the night…..

Went to Mickey-D’s this morn.. I think they got old folks coffee prices (fitty-five and up) but I didn’t ask. And I didn’t get ‘carded’. Read their free Sunday paper - wished I coulda had a smoke whilst doing so - all in all, a nice, relaxed, ‘me’ time.

Driving home - sweat to goodness, that song went thru my head. I would never karaoke, but I was singing aloud in the car as I drove - and I thought “ya know, Victor, that’s not bad - maybe you could karaoke this song.” Then I remember Maynard singing “Ring of Fire” (it wasn’t pretty) and saying “dad, I’ve got a nice singing voice - huh?” So I will for’er be a karaoke virgin.

Coincidentally - as I pulled in the drive - two blackbirds trying to beat the crap outta one another as they flew. I don’t think they were “you know”ing, it appeared to be full blows. Or full beaks. Into a tree they collapsed - more nipping. One was ‘yelling’. The female you think?

Do blackbirds marry? If so, do they fool around too? Howinthehell do they tell from afar if male/female? What, from their bird’s feet, makes one female blackbird more attractive than another? Bigger boobies? You can’t even see the butt hidden from under the wings.

Had he left the nest yesterday and just gotten home? Was he wanting amour and she beaked “no”? Could they be divorced and he was three months in arrears of “worm” support? Did their nest need improvement and he does little other than fly around? Had he overslept and missed the worm?

Take these broken wings and learn to fly…

Had they met on a live wire? (WHY doesn’t it kill ‘em?).. Are they prejudiced? Could a blackbird marry a redbird? What’s it like to be naked and fly? Imagine if bars had rules you hadta be naked - would kinda take the fun outta us preverts undressing with our eyes….

You were only waiting for this moment to arise

How long would the fight continue? Would she take up temporary residence at her mom’s nest? Would he attend to the babies still in the nest if she did? If he left ‘em unattended do they have a DFS-hotline for birds? Would a sparrow blow their whistle on him?

If they’re married and she’s gotta ring is she “Lucy in the sky with diamonds”? Does she have kaleidoscope eyes?

I’d love to be a bird and fly around naked all day looking at other naked birds. No taxes. No time clock. No $3.15 a gallon. No bill collectors. Bill biters, but no collectors. Move any GD where I wanted. Vacation in The Gulf all winter. I’d put up with her tweakin’ ma beak for all that.

All your life
You were only waiting for this moment to arise

Victor, you’re weird. (Input sign language here).

Ie, I just flipped you the bird.

I really do think I could karaoke that. You were only waiting for this moment to arise. What would you do if I sang out or tune - would you stand up and fly out on me?? Hoppy Easter. Love, Victurd

A little bit of soul………

Bit is a pretty neat word. It’s on the front and backa lotta words. In and of itself, it’s a small portion, degree, or amount. I’ll know in a little bit. A small amount of time. It’s an entertainment routine. He did his bit. It’s a thing for a horse’s mouth. That’s a bit about bit. He bit his tongue. She’s a little bit. He’s had a bit too much to drink. A bit too friendly.

Bit begins bitch, and ends a circular path, orbit. If follows death, obit. Bitya in the butt. Inhibited, uninhibited. Bitchin’. That bites. I’m bitter about that. This is getting habitual. Silly rabbit. Snakebit. An exhibition of precision. I should curbit. Finish this 36-bit. Hell it even works a bit with numbers. It’s the thing you stick in the drill. Newspaper, four bits. Where’s that GD toothpick, I’ve got a bit of bacon stuck. A bit of luck in Vegas. I gave her a bit of my mind.

Ok, bitted out.

I think I’m going through a period where I’m a bit of an idiot. A very inhibited person who suddenly ain’t so. I’m demonstrating uninhibitedness, full knowing that I’m too GD white to dance in life.

Saw the sister of an old girlfriend last night. Now I loved her sister - but this gal was/is gorgeous. As in movie star gorgeous. She still could pass for early 30’s. Can u say a bit of a kid crush from long ago?

So we talked and recounted the last 25 or so years. Yes, I learned of what her sister is doing and where she lives. We laughed, we had a few - she mentioned she’d had a bit too many - and we caught up. I got a bit overzealous and I leaned. What an idiot. She was cool about it - and I sunk back into being inhibited.

That’s where I belong I’m finding - with women. I’ve lived (pretty much) a life of niceness - and along the way it’s probably contributed to the demise of a 7 and 20+ year marriage - lost me the highest paying job I’ve ever had (“Victor, we‘re demoting you… your problem is you’re too God Damn nice.” His words, not mine.)

I think now, I’ll be a cruel sumbitch like women seem to migrate too. Start hunting, and learn me how to clean a GD fish. I hereby promise to fart without leaving the room, never put the lid back down - and not call - should I ever again get in a relationship and I’m out late with “the boys.”

I will cheat, hide money, have a hidden email account, ogle at others whilst my arm is around her - and willingly (uninhibitedly) flirt right infronta her. I’m finding women like pigs. Sooooooooie! Maybe I should move to Arkansas.

A bit of an asshole. I can be that, for a bit. Why show care, concern, love when all it does it lead to the exit? For real.

Of course I’m joshing a bit. But (Victor, you can’t start a sentence with ‘but’)… But, it does seem that’s what biotches (don’t put an ‘o’ in my bit) want. Or flock to. Or get laid by. Or live inhibited with/by. Controlled by. A bit of a mystery. Women like assholes. Don’t believe me? Look around a bit. Observe. Wonder. Scratch head. Hwwaack ptoo. Spit a bit.

Victor, you’re bitter. Down a bit? Well, I guess I was a bit of an idiot (again) - so, I decided to go a bit off the path of that and blame it on women. Hehe. Make a bit of sense?

Hey - sorry, I need to blog - so I let my fingers ramble a bit. Vnuory. Huh? Them’s the letters on the keyboard surrounding bit. Oh. Just a little tidbit. Bite me.

May your world be a bit fun. If you’re with an asshole and you enjoy it, it’s your bit - I won’t bitch. Love (Spoil them with kindness Victor - it will get you everywhere.. Ahm.. Yeah) until the day I pee my pants and forget my name… or, am in the obits. Victurd.

Have a good cry…

Crying is an interesting phenomena.. We are 99.9% of the time in control of our person, our mouth, our speech, our thoughts… but when crying – something else takes over. Oh it’s always been in there insidea us – but when we cry – seems there’s no controlling…..

A very, very, very, very close young man to me ‘outta the blue’ began crying in the car the other day. He’s 22, isn’t on the receiving end of his mother’s love. He doesn’t have a lot of control over that – thus the outta control crying. This was a painful kinda crying to watch – and certainly more painful for him to have.

Ms. America winning… (Crying outta control as if havin’ an organism with her clothes on.)

Watching your grandson hit a home run.. – teary, but not dreary..

Running to the door to meet a loved one you haven’t seen in ages… them’r good cries.

Crying is all about “it means so much to me.”… We can’t express that feel any other way. We can orate, ain’t the same. We can use body motions, hand directives/signals – nope – there’s nothing like the cry.

We come into the world crying – and usually when we leave the world it makes others cry. Inbetween all that – we’re faced with a multitude of ‘good cries’ and ‘bad cries.’

The only other time (from my observances) one is kinda ‘outta control’ functionally – is during “you know.” So, shouldn’t crying be considered heavenly?

Charles Dickens said “It open the lungs, washes the countenance, exercises the eyes, and softens down the temper, so cry away.”

Anon: “Tears are like rain. They loosen up our soil so we can grow in
different directions."

“Tears are the footprints our face makes as we go through life.” (Me!)…

Think back to your tears. They were because you really really cared about someone and something hurt (or felt REAL good). That person you cared about mighta even been you. Tis cool I think to care about yourself.

Not sure I ever understood “crying shame.” There’s no shame in crying. And when I thinka ‘shame’ I thinka anger mebbe?...

The tracks of my tears. Our tears. Life’s tears. It’s a rollercoaster out here. Funny such emotional feel – resulted by crying – finds us on both ends of the spectrum.

People say I'm the life of the party
Because I tell a joke or two
Although I might be laughing loud and hearty
Deep inside I'm blue
So take a good look at my face
You'll see my smile looks out of place
If you look closer, it's easy to trace
The tracks of my tears..

Ahm, no. The above ain’t how I feel, at present. Just like the song. Likes the lyrics.. Likes the point of it. Tracks of my tears. What our lives are about. Footprints of feel, emotion. How we control outta control. Perty damn cool.

Ok, all done. Nope, don’t need that Kleenex. I be AOK. A toast to the cry – especially the good ones.. May goings on in your life feed happy tears for your eyes.. Love, Victurd.

The real art of conversation

is not only to say the right thing at the right place, but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.

I have a desire to “nest”. Victor. You never were very artsy were you? Sorry, couldn’t help it, sometimes I blurt. Gets me in trouble – but can be a feel good.

Tis true though as one ages (Oh plllllease don’t give us that “listen to me sonny” shit – you’re fitty-five and you seemingly have the mentality of a 19 year old. )… ahem.. as one ages those sentences that usedta come out during the tempting moment – are swallowed – insteada blurted. We’re human, we fail, we err, but we also leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.

Changing the subject.. Victor, is this a way for you to say something at the tempting moment? Eh, mebbe. Might I ask.. (How can we stop you?).. true… might I ask – am I a weirdo or, do you other humans (who ain’t nesting) see another and think to yourself “hmmm, I’d liketa nest with her.” Or ‘he’ if u be female. I think that coulda/shoulda maybe gone unsaid. NO! I wanna know. DO YOU, single human beings (or hell even attached ones) see someone and think “man, I’d liketa nest with ___”?

Victor, I’m tempted at this moment to call you a horny old goat, but I’ll leave that unsaid. Oops, sorry.

Ah, it’s ok. I am what I am. We are what we are. We reap what we sow. (Ahm, sorry, the tempting moment provides – Victor, how longs it been since you “sow”ed?).. KMA, that shoulda gone unsaid.

Ok, outta here. Is today the first daya Spring or tomorrow? Dunno, but I sure am excited about it. This winter has been as long as a Baptist preacher’s sermon. That shoulda gone unsaid Victor. Well it’s true. You sit there, he talks. He takes forever and ever to get to one final thought. The butt, up agin’ them hardwood pews, getsta itchin. It’s like “come on, come on, we ain’t idiots – we know where you’re going – GET THERE.” Amen brother Ben.

Here’s to blurting, and not blurting. May you reap what you sow. May you have pleasant unsaid thoughts. May you nest with the best. Hope there’s Spring in your step. Hope u don’t step in no cow patties. (Misty – that was the comparison I used yesterday to our beloved Mary T’s “problems are just steppingstones to solutions.”.. “cow patties in the pasture.”)…

Interested in nesting – please call me at 867-5309. Come on, please? I got ridda dial up so I could await your call. Victor, you’re making an idiot out of yourself. Exposed. Eh, I don’t care – you said I’ve “got the mentality of a 19 year old.” Heaven knows they oh so wanna ‘sow’, ‘nest’. Aye yai yai, I give up. I’m glad you were tempted to say that, been wantin’ to get ridda you for a long time.

Happy Spring. Happy nesting. Here’s to NC-17 unsaid thoughts. Love, Victurd.

Have you ever been SOOOO bored.....

You actually look thru your junk/bulk emails? Color me there.

Love, Victurd

Pete and RePete……

Hello hello. Is there an echo in here?

I'm noticing, I’ve noticed, sometimes life repeats itself, repeats itself. Enough Victor, the hell do you mean?

Well… remember “checkenginelight”? How could we forget, No “P” in the “PRNDL”.. Part of left front fender gone.. leak in radiator, hadta leave heat on (even in 100 degree weather).. headliner falling down, bright lights didn’t work. OK OK, yes. THAT car.

Well.. ma HOT….. ROD…. LINCOLN… “windshield washer fluid low.. check ride control.. “ GD driver’s side window won’t stay down.. Power steering out/gone (I try to see the positive and that I’m getting a workout when turning – man do my arms hurt.).. and now, thanks to some yeahwho who didn’t pull onta the highway when he shoulda – the front end has been redecorated. (both headlights smashed out.. I have halfa grill.. the right turn signal box, approx 4” by 4” is hung by a string [the electrical wire] and just kinda hangs there. Pete and RePete.

Remember whatshername? Which one? EXACTLY my point. The first, well, at least she announced it “Victor… I’m attracted to people at work.” Ok, eh, it’s cool, that ‘til death do us part’ was kinda said in jest anyways – go havea life and have some fun. Then, there was the lady that tookoff on the Harley. Pete and RePete.

Brown cats. Had Muppet and Dylan. (Named after Bob, not my idea, RePete’s idea.) Brown/black/white Maine Coon cats. Hella cool, got hella old – eventually went to the cathouse in the sky… Now have Jackson and Figaro. Brown/black/white – one’s a Maine Coon, the other is crosseyed tabby, nonetheless Pete and RePete. A blessing. A blessing. Did I already say that?

Toeheads. Had one “Free Agent”… ok, stepson. Blonde, good lookin’ kid.. Hung around for twenty or so years. We setup army guys, played catch, coached all his crap, that stuff. Son. Blonde, good lookin’ kid.. Has hung around for twenty or so years. We setup army guys, played catch, coached all his crap, that stuff. Pete and RePete.

Where I work at now. Worked here in the 90’s.. Like it. Left for different opportunity. Back agin’ in 2002’… Hey, I still have the key to the front door! Oops. Pete and RePete.

Whenever I go into the Corner Bar, Mose (barkeep) has a Miller Lite awaiting my plop into the barstool. Pete and RePete.

Victor, you’re getting old, have you ever noticed how much you repeat yourself here? I rest my case, Pete and RePete.

Buddya mine continually RePete’s the phrase “SEX, DRUGS, ROCK N ROLL.” I ain’t inta drugs – but it’s me hope the other stuff RePetes itself one day.

Thanks for your eyeballs, this is a recording. Pete and RePete. Not quite as bad as Bill Murray had it in Ground Hog’s Day – yet a repetitive nature life is I’ve figured out. (Spring-Summer-Fall-Winter… again… and again.. and again.. and I’m thankful.)

It bears RePeting, have a wonderful day, Love Victurd. Love Victurd.

The five minute take of our life……..

Local fella – 59, heart attack the other day. Gone, quickly. Like a wildfire – all attention placed on that man as word spread from North to South, East to West, friend to friend.

This gentleman’s synopsis was a good one. We’ve all been in those situations where we stop and reflect once someone is gone. Sometimes we think very very good thoughts – perhaps other times not so.

As we live today – I reckon this tells us we should be concerned with what’s said during our five minute take.

Preaching? No, remember, I’m here ‘for me’ – and any hitchhikers are welcome. I do care what my five minute take will be like. I pray I will not have stepped on toes, not let friends/loved ones down, and not talked about B to C, and C to B.

I hope, for us all, it’s a long, long time before all thoughts are conjured up in summation of our life – our five minute take. Damnit. I guess that means we must behave for awhile longer.

Have a great day – and should you see someone without a smile – ask ‘em “what the hell’s up with that?”

Love, Victurd

What’s important?

What’s important to you? CJ.. For you is it getting those gals raised, out (completely) on their own?

Rae? Is it about transferring ‘duties’ back to the rightful place?… Sumbrum… I would guess your “what’s important?” includes whatever happens whenever it happens…

Lisa - I know your eyes are focused tremendously on Casey - so do you kinda share “what’s important?”… What is that?

Connie… You have multiple “importants”… Drew, your son, your daughter and your grandbaby… a pretty decent list when you stop and think of it..

Nancy… Continuation of watching your kiddo climb to new heights… Not much prompting needed from the sideline - but you’re there just in case.

Kathie? I see your boys and your grandbabies.. (and ur hounds)… what else is important to you? I know music, but what else?

Gail? From looking at your site - I can see/feel the love for your boys… what else is there? What’s important?

Langford… I know the three “B’s”… then what? What predicates happiness for you? What’s your need? What’s important?

Jana… I know the new job is important, timely, and long awaited. Then what?

Brown-Worthington-Cougar-Mellencamp? Fer shur family. Then what? Dreams? Hopes? THE orgasm of life?

M… I don’t knowya well enough… but I sense privacy/seclusion to be a biggie. “Arm’s length away” is important. Is that important? If barking up wrong tree, then point me to right one…

So you ask………. Victor, they didn’t ask. Screw that, I’ll tell ‘em anyways. Important to me, for tomorrow is………..

Peacefully coexisting with whomever I encounter.

Life’s players (people) performing in wondrous ways so I can observe them.. (Onea my fav’s)…

Maynard, and a ripened brain (not to mention his mother’s love for him.) Victor, you’re dreaming. I know, but she really fooled me once before - why not ask/hope for the sequel.

Lack of conflict. I am very uncomfy in conflict. That’s important to me.

No hurt feelings, mine or otherwise. I know impossible. Being on one end of a scrumptious French kiss may not mean nearly as much to the person on the other end. Dating sucks - but it’s a prerequisite to together happiness.

An economic world where I would have the ability to buy a friend a meal… Put $30 in the car to go see a friend I ain’t seen in awhile… Enough bucks, and the Betty Crocker Cookbook ability to fire up some spare ribs for friends to chomp on…

It’s important to me little one’s parents know how to be little one’s parents.

It’s important to me the aging ones from yesteryear still understand they’re important.

It’s important to me business folk don’t bully employees.

It’s important to me we all have that quest/desire for what really is important.

It’s important to me whenever another speaks - no matta who they are.

It’s important to me than when I encounter a jerk - I completely understand I have absolutely no control over jerkism.

It’s important to me I take “time outs” from what’s important - to relax, forget all, share in camaraderie - hide from the hustle bustle.

Important is a fun word. There are assholes who lust for that word. “I am important.” Fuck you, go plan your tombstone you idiot - seen a graveyard with “important” somewhere carved in the granite?…

Important, as in “you peons leave me the hell alone…. I’m on a mission with Mr. Big Stuff.” Stick that up your ass as well…. When you walked by twelve of us with your nose in the air - 8 of us emailed Mr. Big Stuff to say that “you suck” so dream on when it comes to him granting your wishes. Can you say “Renee”…

It’s important I end this, you’re getting bored. It’s important you not be bored. Your reaction is important to me. It’s also important to me I go pee now. I’ve typed 17,242 letters without peeing, that’s important now.

It’s important you know I’m glad you’re here. Your thoughts are important to me. Gone now - tis my hope whatever is important to you is focused on and achieved.. And if not achieved, at least strived for. That’s important. Love, Victurd

The Bucket List……..

Me thinks we all oughta compose our list. Of course, dependent upon our age - the “I wanna”s will be diverse and different. You 20-something punks might add “to give my child(ren) the best possible upbringing I can.”.. 30-somethings might add “to plan my money and my career well, to get the hell out of it by the time I’m 50-something.”

40-somethings might add “to see Europe, a Caribbean cruise - Alaska..”

Now, I’m in the 50-something bracket. The scope changes a bit. We’re ready to get the hell out of whatever work environment we’re in - and, I wasn’t a Boy Scout - so I didn’t really plan ahead - so it’s much like doing an all-niter before a brutal college final. Ain’t no way - so - go with what ya got.

I wanna:

See Cooperstown. Baseball was/is sucha big part of my life. I dreamed the dreams as a youth - magic-markered “Musial” on the backa my T-shirt as a kid… Did my own “play-by-play” in the living room time and time again as I’d make a sliding one-handed diving catch across the carpet. Why I even got invited to tryout for the Kansas City Royals back in the dinosaur days - I was a kernel of popcorn amidst the others, and I didn’t pop.

Take a year off, and just ‘go’, ‘do’. Head East to see NYC, and to see if the perceived “back East folks are grumpy shits” rings true. Eyeball where the Twin Towers were - grasp a better feel of our country and what it stands for… take in the Statue of Liberty - and try to imagine what it was like for my ancesters when they landed in the new land so long ago.. bootscoot across the Northern US, taking in the 4 dead guys in granite, that bigass Chief statue… seeing how folks across the frozen tundra make it…Seattle… down 101... Sample some wine… Blacks Beach (hehe).. Vegas.. Over to The Canyon… and play it by ear the resta the way..

Continue to immerse myself in yesterday. You’ve seen me, watched me. Every GD thing I do/say relates to yesteryear. I have no regrets about my enjoyment of yesteryear. I want to see as many people as I can that lived it with me - go to as many places that were special to me.. And appreciate the relics from that era that still survive…

Osmosis… I want osmosis to happen from my brain to my son’s brain. I am far, far, far from book smart - but I believe the most cherished present I possess is the ability to see from other’s shoes. Son can’t do that. I pray that role modeling, aging, and a light-clicking on up there will one day prompt this. His life would be so much more enjoyable if that were the case.

A cruise, any. Another float trip, any river. A campout. Another softball game. A nifty stereo system (or whateverthehell they’re called nowadays.).. Attend a Royal’s playoff game. Sit within the first five rows at a KU-MU basketball game where the Tigers prevail.

Say hello to my body in the mirror in the morning, and like the way it looks. Spend extra minutes with my two aging ‘brown cats.’

Continue to write blogs - and pray that upon occasion one provides a smile, a provoked thought, and continued comments.

Buy a second mirror (full length) for the bathroom so I can see the backa my head, my butt, whatever that itchin’ skin thingy is mid-back.

Get the hell outta this house.

Have a cell phone. “YOU DON’T HAVE A CELL PHONE?“ And you eat your salads DRY? Have a nice enough car I wouldn’t haveta chew seven fingernails wondering if it will pass the stupid mandatory State inspection.

Continue to have those moments where I see things that bring a tear to my eye. A feel inside I hope you know. Those feels make life so very worthwhile.

A partner. And with that partner - the realization - hey, forever ain’t very long now - so let’s make the most of it. Fuck “my stuff, your stuff”.. let’s have “our stuff.” The ability to come to and live with the realization there just ain’t no such thing as perfection. Shit the other does will bother - don’t allow it to break it. Learn to enjoy and appreciate those difference.

A dog. I screwed up the life of my last dog. I’d gone into a “live-in” situation for an extended period - didn’t check in ‘back home’ as frequently as I should have.. When I finally did after many, many days of not doing so - I learned the health of my dog had digressed so it was too late to return to good health. I fucked up, and I will always regret that. He deserved better - I want to show I can provide better. I had rescued him from three years of living in a kennel - finally deemed “too big, undesirous to breed.” He lived beneath the water bed for an entire year before he would finally come out - trepidly see what was going on. He grew to run.. Run like the wind for years - enjoy. I did provide that for him - but not nearly enough years. No do-overs here - but I long for another chance…

Continued ‘touch’ with those who are special in my life. Yes, friends from yesteryear - but too family, current and former co-workers.. Even if it’s a fleeting one-liner email - continued touch.

There are no Mount Everests… No lion slaying safaris.. No Eiffel Tower trips..

Simple stuff. With the complexities, new science, electronics, increased economic cost to do damn near anything - I want simple. I appreciate simple. Simple makes the world go round. Makes it happy. Makes it enjoyable.

Simply my Bucket List. Yours? Love, Victurd.

Rubber ducky….

The human body - whadda wonder.. We’re each shaped differently, longer, bigger, smaller, taller, shorter, wider, skinnier, hair here, no hair there, even different shaped parts on our parts.

I bathe. I’ve always loved baths. Stepson usedta tell me “my dad says baths are yuck because you’re only sitting in your own dirt.” Rectom that’s true - but I still bathe today. Nothing like laying back - soaking. Sliced break, amour, and soaking - not necessarily in that order.

Eyeing the soap - which part first? Do I dare clean the ‘yuckiest’ part first? Why it’s certainly the dirtiest - but - then wouldn’t the ‘yuck’ be allover the soap whilst I lathered the not-so-yuck parts? Ewww…. Wash my face after? How can you do that?

We have a soap battle at our house. We normally have several bars - but only one opened. I primarily use it in the tub in the mornings. Maynard - after his own bath/shower, will again retrieve it later in the day - and leave it on the sink in the bathroom. It never fails in the morning I jump in the tub - give that “ahhhhhh yes!”.. lookup - and there ain’t no soap there. Kinda makes deciding which part to clean first a moot point. So up I go, freezing - water tracks on the floor - soap retrieved. It never feels quite as good jumping in a second time.

Wonder what the backa my head looks like? Or my butt? I ain’t got two mirrors - so it’s an unknown. Hell - I don’t even have a full length mirror so don’t see ma legs that often. I gotta itch-in-the-get-along mid back. At work, I used corners of walls to scratch it. Wonder what it is? Some dreadful form of skin cancer? Eh, I’ll leave it back there. Can’t see it anyways.

We are so accustomed to life “with our front” - we’re a completely different/unknown person back there. Wouldn’t it be really cool if we did have eyes in the back of our head? You could catch people staring. Victor, do you really think at age fitty-five people are staring at you? If they in fact are, it’s certainly with a snicker. HEY, I’ll have you know - just yesterday, some chicky at work said “are you losing weight?”

Thanks to our company’s “Biggest Loser Contest”, lacka McDonald’s combo money, and Wendy’s $1 salads “ - “yes, I have lost weight.” “You look HOT!”…”You can’t be HOT at fitty-five!“…It was nice to hear that someone noticed my belly ain’t so big any more but.. “Hot? Lukewarm?.. Tepid?… no.” (We just had some healthcare outfit come out and prick our fingers, run all kindsa tests - I’m thinking they shoulda done eye tests instead.)

Back to the tub… Ahhhhh yess…. Look at all those marks on my hands/arms… I HATE losing catfights with Jackson… He puts up with me for a time, teases me unmercifully (as I do he) - and then he gets to the that “alright, I’ve had enougha this shit” and the claws come out.

I’m reminded of the gal back East, World-Class Fencer… dude happened to break into her apartment as she was practicing. Oops. “It was good practice” she triumphantly said moments after he was led away bleeding/handcuffed. I guess I’m “mice practice” with Jackson.

What about your hands Victor? What about them? Well, I guess they talk. Everyone’s hands talk. They speak of not only the work we’ve done over the years - but the balls we have caught, home improvements they’ve created, guitars they’ve strung, backs they’ve patted, sofas/bed/dressers we’ve carried - and of course the joyous touch of he and she.. They say, the length of a man’s thumb kinda tells you ‘the probable size of his ‘you-know’ - hey, I’ve never really investigated!…………….. Ahm, never mind. Where were we?

Ok, feet. They are soooo GD (gosh darn) far from the hands, there’s effort involved in cleaning them. Come on, tell the truth - do you wash them EVERY time? I’m not talking dip ‘em in the water - I’m talking rubbing soap, scouring them. Me? Oh mebbe every other time. Wanna smell ‘em?

Bubble farts. Tell the truth. Had/have 'em?

Ok, ‘parts’ washed, pits done, the yuck place, legs, front, as much of our back we can reach… hair.. Shampoo… conditioner… done… finito… Ever ‘washed a mate’? That can be fun.

Time to towel off. Are you a one/two or three towel person? Do you use it like floss see-sawing thru those ‘parts’? Do you have one towel just for your hair? Do you have a big’n so no one can see exposed parts as you exit? DO YOU USE THE SAME TOWEL NEXT TIME? I refuse to answer on the grounds that one may…

So do you like “check yourself out” in the mirror? Envision what mebbe the opposite sex would think of you if you were in their shoes? Do you make gnarly faces at the mirror when u see if there’s any chunksa crap in your teeth? Do you comb ur hair nekkie? Do you shave (if you do that) then? During bath? Before? For real, do you like have to bend over to do that? Do it whilst ur on the squatter? Ever accidentally gash it and it’s like three nights of “not tonight Ralph”?

Do you put on ur top or your bottom first? Come on, tell the truth - ever flip ‘em over and use ‘em the next day?

The after bath, after shower feel is a good one. Then we go ‘live’. Living is dirty. Doors, door handles, stool flusher thingys, stool lids, paper towel dispensers.. Hand time clock thingys.. Sharing.. We share cooties all day.. We sweat, we toil, we poop, we pee, we walk, job, sit, stare. Dirty, it’s a dirty life.

Rubber Ducky,
you're the one,
You make bathtime lots of fun,
Rubber Ducky,
I'm awfully fond of you;
(woh woh, bee doh!)

Happy scrubbing, love Victurd.

Spring hopes.........eternal...

Invigoration. A new start. A clean slate. A better temperament.

Ya gotta love this timea year. The Kansas City Royals are "tied for first"… The cream is rising to the top in basketball.. Pallets and pallets of covered 50 lb bags of mulch tease and await us at Lowes, Home Depot, even the Piggly Wiggly.

Excitement's in the air – and it takes a positive effect in one's brain, from one's shoes. The look at regretting the past is gone – or at least stalled, replaced with "oh yes!" a better day is here, a better day is coming.

I don't know what folks in Hawaii, or Antarctica do during Spring – I think that'd be a tough one – or a nonrelevant one.. I'm glad I'm where I'm at. I'm glad the leaves fall off the trees every year here and sad brown prevails. We're turning a corner – and ain't it great to live life on a windy road versus a four lane interstate?

"I don’t wanna" turns to "I can’t wait." Even if our hopes, dreams, wants don't come to fruition – ain't just havin' 'em pretty damn cool?

I was driving home the other night after work, IN THE LIGHT. The combination of daylight savings and the 70 degree day made me wanna go shoot hoops… and I'm fitty-five. Stupid? Mebbe. I don't care, it was a good feel. Living. Breathing. Hopeful. Enjoying.

Tonight pep bands will play, kids will adorn themselves with a variety of colors of grease paint, fingernails will be bitten, crowds will rush the court – others will bury their heads in their laps as the emotional heartstrings are simply too much. Oh but to feel. Oh but to want. Oh but to hope.

I guess I could go for Hawaii. Wouldn't life be like Spring year round? Me don't thinks Antarctica would be good. How's that saying go? "There’s nothing worse than a sad rich man for he has no hope."

I'm right where I wanna be, at the right time – eyeballs ensconced on the world around. Bright eyed youth, pep-back-in-the-step old farts like me… a rush.. The Spring rush.

I love life. I am thankful for and love today. I can't wait for tomorrow. Spring hopes… eternally yours, Victurd.

“I’m just now knowin’ that.”

Life’s fun, and funny. We begin as infants – minimum brain skills – but we slowly make our way…

After a year or so, we come to the realization of a whole new, upright world. We use our ears to listen – we understand bits and pieces – but we have no recourse to reply similarly.

Finally – we’re retorting, repeating, responding. But that ain’t enough. We wanna go out and play (by ourselves) like “the big kids.”.. We watch brothers/sisters/neighbors hop on the bus, “I wanna go too.” Can’t, sorry. Your time will come.

We go to school. It’s very very fun, new and exciting. Then… not long after we pray for a snow day. We play little league – it’s good and all, but we wanna wear a uniform with our town’s name on it like the 8th graders. Can’t, sorry. Your time will come.

Junior High. Big. We’ve made it. See my jersey? Damn I wish I could drive. Date. Work a job, have dollars to do what I wanna.

High School, not a care in the world. Ceptin’ how I’m gonna pay to take Sally to some fancified restaurant for Homecoming. Transmission slipping on my Chevy, and I make $7 an hour at the Piggly Wiggly. Wish I was out in the world with a real job so I could compete, make it. Can’t sorry. Your time will come.

Out in the real world now. YES! Ha ha, I don’t have homework, I don’t have to go to the Principal’s office. Hey, don’t we get like Spring break here? You mean I gotta work ALL summer? Uh huh. I wish I was like Jack and Diane – they have kids – are happy – it’s a treasure for them to come home to. I don’t have anyone. I don’t even live with my folks any more. Can’t yet. Sorry. Your time will come.

A BOY! A BABY BOY! YES, I’M A PARENT!.. We’ll have oodles of time for playing catch in the yard, setting up “army guys”, sledding, biking, Boy Scouts, Little League, Back to School Nights, PTA, Soccer…….. Man I’m gettin’ tired. It seems I don’t have a moment to sit down. I wish I was like the Jones’s. Their kid went off to college – they have quiet. They go out to dine any damn time they want. Sorry. Can’t. Your time will come.

Empty nest. FINALLY. We spend the first few hours, weeks months running around like kids – perhaps even reverting to our old youthful crazy sexual days. Soon we find ourselves saying “man it’s quiet in here. It went by so fast. I’d give anything to see onea my kid’s ballgames again. Go to a school ceremony in the auditorium and be proud.

WHAT? My baby boy had a little girl? I’ma grandpa? Wooooo hoooo! Can’t wait! . We’ll have oodles of time for playing catch in the yard, setting up “army guys”, sledding, biking, Little League, Soccer……. Geez I wish I didn’t have to work. This bein’ a grandparent, trying to relive my youth thru my G-kids is wearin’ me out. Ole Martin’s a lucky sumbitch – he’s got the gold watch and I’ll bet he’s at home flippin’ thru some 230 TV channels just as we clock in at the morning bell. I’d love to be retired. Sorry. Can’t. Your time will come.

I don’t have to go to work tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the following Tuesday. Or anytime in April. I don’t need a vacation – I’m retired. I’m living a vacation. Man this house is quiet. I kinda feel useless. I see kids look at me and think I’m worthless. Why if I could only show them how I usedta contribute to society. Now, Social Security restricts me and I can only get kinda menial jobs. Back’s been achin’. Takes longer now to get up, shower, get dressed. I really with I was 50-something/60-something again. Sorry, can’t. You had your time.

I loved Wayman Bright. Young kid, happened to be black. In high school and college I worked for the Park Department.. We’d tend to the swings, pools, grass, etc., of all the small parks in our town. Yes, this was still in the day when there were “white parks”, and “the black park.” I loved the black park. You’d go to the white parks and they’d be empty. Kids at home in the AC suckin on popsicles probably. The black park – action, fun, getting’ out and livin’ life.

Wayman had a smile that could literally light up the room. It was never off his face. Man o man he taught me. It was he who followed our every move, asked questions about “why you doin’ that?... when are ya gonna do this?”… I thought I was educating him. Wrongo. He always smiled. Chose happy. Lived happy. It took me some years – but now I think back and thank Wayman for role modeling.

One day we painted the jungle gym in the black park early morning. After lunch we made our way back to the park to clean the pool. Wayman was climbing allover the jungle gym – but of course when our truck pulled up he vaulted off – sprinted to us – asked another 32 smiley questions.. and suddenly looked down and realized he had green and red paint allover him, his shirt, pants, arms, even some on his face. He paused, still keeping the smile and said “I’m just now knowin’ that.”

We hop, skip, run, hurry thru life’s stages. Occasionally we dwell in one – and can’t wait for the next progression. Too bigga hurry to stop and smell the roses, we can’t wait for the day we’ll have the time to plant our own.

I do hereby promise – to try to remember to enjoy the stage of life I’m in. Life is fleeting. That was me above – in a hurry to “move on up to the next level.” Fleeting, it’s so fleeting. I swear I’ll wear Wayman’s smile from here on out. I will remember this IS my time. Thanks Wayman. I’m just now knowin’ that. Love, Victurd.

Thoughts on a Sunday….

If you could be anywhere in the world at this very moment… where would it be? I think I’d be at North Redington Beach, FL. In between Clearwater and St. Pete - yes, touristy, but so serene, calm. This time of year, the final days of the lingering winter that simply won’t go away - is mindful of waking up in the morning with yukky breath. There’s no way to combat that feel from happening - so we venture on until spring brushes our palate fresh….

At times I wish I were my cat… Jackson.. He’s laid back - yet talks to let you know what he wants (when he wants it).. This very moment.. There’s a tarp in the kitchen (remember, used it to keep the rain offa me when I changed the brakes - “I’ll put it away… sometime.”).. and that tarp is right by the sliding glass doors… with the combination of the furnace providing 68 degrees inside - and the solar heat radiating to the vivid orange tarp - Jackson is neatly supplanted under a crevice of the tarp - 99% covered up… u can see his watchful eye peering if you look closely… he’s saying “leave me the hell alone, I’m warm, I’m comfy, I’m not ‘bothered’, I came here to get away from you, now you‘re here, what sup with that?.” I feel like that upon occasion - and here lately, more and more.

I want to “want” tomorrow - versus waking up dreading today.. Victor, is this another pity party? Eh, mebbe. With the good comes the bad… with the wonderful meal comes the tab.. With the mate comes the end.. When the jukebox stops, more quarters are needed.. Right now I’m dealing with some extremely difficult times - with a sometimes very difficult person - whose view of helping himself is tremendously distorted, and basically non-existent.

I’d love to be able to leave a note indicating to someone “gone to the grocery store..”.. I’d love for the trip to clean the car take half as long - and have it be done with company. I’d love to dine at a restaurant and “person watch” insteada “people watch.” Victor, are you saying you’re lonely? Yes, I guess I am. I don’t view that as all bad - because in spite of “the ends” - I want that again. I don’t know if I ever took that feel for granted - but I know I positively never will again.

I know “it happens when you least expect it” - but I don’t think, due to situations, it’s due to happen soon. This too shall pass.. In the meantime, I hear the roar of the furnace.. I awaken with the yukky breath.. I am envious (but happy for) those I see sharing life. It just ain’t the time right now. I must make it through this ‘winter’.

So… back to trying to figure out Rubik’s “Professor’s Cube.” The standard Rubik’s cube has 3 rows of 3 (9 panels facing you that you must line up)… The Professor’s Cube has 5 rows of 5 (25 panels facing to figure out.).. Snowflakes, children, the opposite sex, Rubik’s varieties - are different - some harder than others to solve. Some harder than others to peacefully coexist. Frustrating even, upon occasion.

I don’t seek ‘the orgasm of all orgasms’.. I understand I don’t need perfection… I simply strive for progression - and at present there are simply too many colors on the face of the 25 panel Professor. The windshield still needs scraping in the morning.. I eek, versus jump, outta bed. Ewww that’s a yukky taste.

But - stay tuned. Mebbe ur life is topsy-turvy. Maybe you’re in a turvy mode. Maybe the colors ain’t lining up quite right no matter how you twist things.. This too shall pass.. Robins will come.. The day of wearing shorts ain’t far.. A float trip.. A spin in the country.. A walk in the park.. They’re around the corner..

God Bless all people.. To me there ain’t no such thing as “bad people and good people” - there’s a little of both in each of us.. Some, no matter which way they turn Rubik, can’t get the good to be exposed. We must never put the cube down for good in frustration. We must continue to try to solve - make it more aesthetically perfect. For it’s own good.

Love, Victurd.