Onea those damn “define” websites lends “something given voluntarily without payment in return, as to show favor toward someone, honor an occasion, or make a gesture of assistance; present”
Gifts… children. Weather that is comfy in a car that ain’t gots no blower fan for heat or AC… A dog’s loyalty… The receiving end of a smile… Being on either end of a compliment.
I worked for one of the coolest bosses I ever had in the mid-80’s.. I taught Elementary PE, she, Irene DeArman, was the Principal. One of her favorite sayings was “catch them doing good.”… Who woulda thunk the impact that mighta had on some wet-behind-the-ears dude that oversaw gymnastics, push-ups, pull-ups, recess, Hill Dill, Dodge Ball, the 50 yard dash, etc, etc, but it was impactive.
We all love compliment – a gift. Hard for some to lend – perfect from others to hear “just in the nick of time.” Thanks to that lesson, whenever I hear/see “catch ‘em doing good”, I try to relate/thank, same. Victor, suggesting you’re perfect? Quoting my stepson, “not no’s, but hells no’s”… Twas (hearing that) simply onea those life impactive moments where you stop and think “wow… that REALLY makes sense” and growing up in the 60’s, “far out.”
Gifts… a simple email. A smiley face affixed to a sticky note at your desk. A voicemail with the word “love” in there. Casting eyes upon someone from a bit ago, the impetus for the smile that it conjures up – the so very damn many happy thoughts/mems that go thru your brain of u/this person from yesteryear – a gift.
Relatives. If you’re old like me, u scan thru family albums, you’ll note, “many ain’t around”… when u see ones that still are – a gift.
Cloud cover on a 100+ degree day. A brief rain shower in a drought. A bonus check (unexpected) from your employer. Familiarity. Laying down in bed after your body/brain have been extended to the max on this specific day.
The words “thank you”. Saying the words “thank you.” Follow through on a promise. Any fun, UNFORMAL writing, within email communication. I’m weird, I love to write, I prolly spend 45 seconds to reply to an email when it should only take 30 seconds, don’t give a rat’s – hopeful for a baby smile on the other end.
Visiting with someone your own age. Visiting with someone much younger than you. Visiting with someone much older than you. Visiting.
Hearing laughter after something you’ve said. Laughing, loud enough for the person who’s said something funny – to hear. Laughter.
With apologies, as always, to my relatives: intimacy. BeEn AwHiLe, BuT hAsN’t EfFeCtEd Me.
A handwritten, or typed personal letter via snail mail. Being included on a damn funny, or “oh my goodness” email.
Driving into work, and you’re ok with that, in fact, even look forward to it. Cigarette breaktime at work and reminding fellow co-workers “we don’t talk that work-shit while we’re on break.”
Patterns. Same ole same ole. Be it the couple that sits at table 7 on a Saturday morning in Mickey D’s, the cars as they pull into the lot at work – same spaces, day after day – goes back to familiarity. Familiarity is a gift.
You – your eyeballs. Your comments, even if they never reach my ears – I am thankful. I am blessed to be able to ramble aimlessly, and to have u put up with it. A gift.
For Irene, tomorrow – “Catch someone being good”. Love, Victurd
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
I like carry….
Interesting word. Carry on luggage. Similar to carry baggage? She’s carrying a child. Carrying twins. She too could pick the child up and carry. Look at the twins she’s carrying. (Perverts).. Can’t push away from the dinner table either? Carrying excess baggage too?
Support and move from one place to the other. The waitress carried the dishes. Waiters would be male carriers, but not mail carriers. Conceal and carry, me thinks u need a license for that, but anyone can carry conceit. Or guilt. Or pride, self confidence… some don’t carry much pride, confidence.
Some carry germs. Cooties I think we called it back in the day. Ticks can carry Lyme disease. His pickup only carried three passengers. Some pickups carry… well, you know.
You work for our company, you must carry that responsibility and represent us well. Cars carry us to work. Planes, trains carry many. Pilots, engineers carry mucho responsibility. I usedta carry bags for an airline. Foolish spending didn’t allow them to carry thru…
Onea my best friends is named Cary. Lotta ways to spell it.. works for dudes as well as dudettes.. Cary, Kari, Kerry, Kerri, Cari.. sCARY.
Dine in, carry out. Sorry Cari, no carry out. She drank too much, Karri’s out. Cash and carry.
Playing football carries the risk of injury. Holding a firecracker in your hand, lighting it, then throwing carries stupidity, but, reckon I’ve done it. Both me and my six and half fingered friend Lefty have. Carry on. He single-handedly carried the weight of the team on his shoulders (no, not Lefty, and I’d be ashamed if I were you!).. Each bike carries a ten year warranty.
Carry on. Continue. And some continue, continue, continue. Carried away I think they call it. Barack carries veto power..He carried the votes, Kerry didn’t. Protesters carry signs.
Tradition to carry bride across threshold (before carrying on.) Doesn’t everyone – wait?
Wow, that gal can carry a tune… The preacher’s voice carried throughout the auditorium..
Float trip soon. Will tie down everything we carry on. Learned that one hard way. River dry? Carry the canoe some. Carried us ten miles.
I’ll go now. Sorry, got “carry”ed away..... Carry on.
Love, Victurd
Support and move from one place to the other. The waitress carried the dishes. Waiters would be male carriers, but not mail carriers. Conceal and carry, me thinks u need a license for that, but anyone can carry conceit. Or guilt. Or pride, self confidence… some don’t carry much pride, confidence.
Some carry germs. Cooties I think we called it back in the day. Ticks can carry Lyme disease. His pickup only carried three passengers. Some pickups carry… well, you know.
You work for our company, you must carry that responsibility and represent us well. Cars carry us to work. Planes, trains carry many. Pilots, engineers carry mucho responsibility. I usedta carry bags for an airline. Foolish spending didn’t allow them to carry thru…
Onea my best friends is named Cary. Lotta ways to spell it.. works for dudes as well as dudettes.. Cary, Kari, Kerry, Kerri, Cari.. sCARY.
Dine in, carry out. Sorry Cari, no carry out. She drank too much, Karri’s out. Cash and carry.
Playing football carries the risk of injury. Holding a firecracker in your hand, lighting it, then throwing carries stupidity, but, reckon I’ve done it. Both me and my six and half fingered friend Lefty have. Carry on. He single-handedly carried the weight of the team on his shoulders (no, not Lefty, and I’d be ashamed if I were you!).. Each bike carries a ten year warranty.
Carry on. Continue. And some continue, continue, continue. Carried away I think they call it. Barack carries veto power..He carried the votes, Kerry didn’t. Protesters carry signs.
Tradition to carry bride across threshold (before carrying on.) Doesn’t everyone – wait?
Wow, that gal can carry a tune… The preacher’s voice carried throughout the auditorium..
Float trip soon. Will tie down everything we carry on. Learned that one hard way. River dry? Carry the canoe some. Carried us ten miles.
I’ll go now. Sorry, got “carry”ed away..... Carry on.
Love, Victurd
Monday, July 18, 2011
I haven’t bitched, griped here since 4.16/11.. or.. Reasons why I’m perfect..
Victor, we’re out there with you in that same world… Idiosyncrasies drive us bonkers too.. MUST you share the ones that bug you?
Idiosyncrasies, that bug me, by Henry Gibson.. Incessant. Working around someone that verbalizes everything, EVERYTHING, they do. Talk as they think/do. Again, and again, and again. Do they still make corks for things other than to shore up a wine bottle? Is it at all possible that the ears don’t work when the mouth is open, cause I think this be the case.
Loud. Don’t get me wrong, I hear a gamut of songs, I crank. I’m talking ‘work loud’, no, not incessant person.. nudder.. Yes, what one is working on is THE MOST IMPORTANT thing in your day/moment, but it’s not so important that folks 17 cubicles over haveta hear too. I comprende folks have no idea the volume with which they speaky, but I’d love to see everyone bring a tape recorder with ‘em to work (do they still make ‘em?) and replay at day’s end. Insert turning head side-to-side, exhaling thru bouncing lips here.
The old guy (prolly my age) in the way too GD (gosh darn) tight lycra outfit on his bicycle at the 4-way stop on the Western edge of town. When I was a kid, I think I remember “right turn, left arm extended, bent at 90 degree angle, with palm, upper arm pointing upward. And left turn, simply extending arm horizontally to the left. Hot. (More on the heat later).. Hot. A hunnerd. I traverse the 35 minutes (no AC) back to my hometown, come to the 4-way 6 blocks from home. Said “too GD tight lycra outfit guy on bicycle” and I next up to go. No signal from him. Repeat, no signal from him. So, my brain thinks, “the guy’s wearing “too GD tight lycra outfit on a bicycle” (remembering rules from yesteryear), he’s obviously going straight. (He going South, I North).. So I go. Straight. At the same time, he turns left.. gives me this astonished snarl, lifts his palm up mid-chest, palm up as if to say “what gives you idiot”.. I take a deep breath, and then lapse into that person I don’t wanna be and yell “SIGNAL!” at the “folks 17 cubicles over” can hear level.
I go to Mickey D’s every Saturday/Sunday morning. It’s my fattening treat to me. I walk in, 5 snotnoses (said lovingly) behind the counter, all faithfully refilling whatever spoon, straw, condiment, whatever it is they’re supposed to refill. This goes on for two minutes as I stand wantonly bellied up to the counter (which probably equates to 45 seconds, but whatever, too GD (gosh darn) long for a paying customer (ain’t that “why we’re here?”) to go without an order being taken. Twenty, even ten years ago, this woulda never popped out.. but to the oblivious ones (and no one in particular) I verbalized “I’m ready to order now.”…
Little redheaded gal comes to the register, gives me onea those overly fake “ya grumpy old bastard” smiles, and takes my order. She then goes back to refilling whatever it is she’s refilling. Roughly a full minute after I see the gal place my goodies in the “I’m ready tray” (I love this gal, the cook.. She GETS customer service”).. my order-taker is back filling whatever it is she’s supposed to fill. Ten years ago I’da never said “I think my order is ready”, but I said it, and redheaded gal goes, fetches, anudder plastic smile that bodes “Wow, you are REALLY a grumpy old bastard (topped off by "have a GREAT day!").. and perhaps I am/can be a grumpy old bastard..
Then again, I’m perfect. My well maintained car has no AC. Today, the driver’s side windows decided (both) “eh, we’re gonna take a break, sorry.. good luck fixing” (They’re down btw).. I go to the dadgum hangout too frequently.. I don’t eat right.. I smoke like a chimney… Without using the word “shit”, when at work I deem management to be UPON OCCASION fulla shit, off base, I relate same.
I have sheetrock falling down in my home ‘cause I ain’t got the $10K tucked away for a new roof (I know, I know, “insurance”.. I know it’s due to age.. I couldn’t consciously “turn it in to insurance”
I ‘waste’ hour after hour on the internet.. My neighbors keep the city on speed dial as my grass approaches “that length”.. my backyard is atrocious (was once a nice underground pool, shrubs, yada yada).. I have stinky breath, and upon occasion I probably have skid marks (VICTOR! You’ve relatives that read this!)…
Once again, I’m glad I’m perfect, and it’s really everyone else that’s messed up.
Happy day, love Victurd
(Victor, maybe you need to simply get laid) <-- HEY! NO FAIR.. to all my relatives who perhaps happen by here, I DID NOT type that!... My password has obviously been hacked!)
Idiosyncrasies, that bug me, by Henry Gibson.. Incessant. Working around someone that verbalizes everything, EVERYTHING, they do. Talk as they think/do. Again, and again, and again. Do they still make corks for things other than to shore up a wine bottle? Is it at all possible that the ears don’t work when the mouth is open, cause I think this be the case.
Loud. Don’t get me wrong, I hear a gamut of songs, I crank. I’m talking ‘work loud’, no, not incessant person.. nudder.. Yes, what one is working on is THE MOST IMPORTANT thing in your day/moment, but it’s not so important that folks 17 cubicles over haveta hear too. I comprende folks have no idea the volume with which they speaky, but I’d love to see everyone bring a tape recorder with ‘em to work (do they still make ‘em?) and replay at day’s end. Insert turning head side-to-side, exhaling thru bouncing lips here.
The old guy (prolly my age) in the way too GD (gosh darn) tight lycra outfit on his bicycle at the 4-way stop on the Western edge of town. When I was a kid, I think I remember “right turn, left arm extended, bent at 90 degree angle, with palm, upper arm pointing upward. And left turn, simply extending arm horizontally to the left. Hot. (More on the heat later).. Hot. A hunnerd. I traverse the 35 minutes (no AC) back to my hometown, come to the 4-way 6 blocks from home. Said “too GD tight lycra outfit guy on bicycle” and I next up to go. No signal from him. Repeat, no signal from him. So, my brain thinks, “the guy’s wearing “too GD tight lycra outfit on a bicycle” (remembering rules from yesteryear), he’s obviously going straight. (He going South, I North).. So I go. Straight. At the same time, he turns left.. gives me this astonished snarl, lifts his palm up mid-chest, palm up as if to say “what gives you idiot”.. I take a deep breath, and then lapse into that person I don’t wanna be and yell “SIGNAL!” at the “folks 17 cubicles over” can hear level.
I go to Mickey D’s every Saturday/Sunday morning. It’s my fattening treat to me. I walk in, 5 snotnoses (said lovingly) behind the counter, all faithfully refilling whatever spoon, straw, condiment, whatever it is they’re supposed to refill. This goes on for two minutes as I stand wantonly bellied up to the counter (which probably equates to 45 seconds, but whatever, too GD (gosh darn) long for a paying customer (ain’t that “why we’re here?”) to go without an order being taken. Twenty, even ten years ago, this woulda never popped out.. but to the oblivious ones (and no one in particular) I verbalized “I’m ready to order now.”…
Little redheaded gal comes to the register, gives me onea those overly fake “ya grumpy old bastard” smiles, and takes my order. She then goes back to refilling whatever it is she’s refilling. Roughly a full minute after I see the gal place my goodies in the “I’m ready tray” (I love this gal, the cook.. She GETS customer service”).. my order-taker is back filling whatever it is she’s supposed to fill. Ten years ago I’da never said “I think my order is ready”, but I said it, and redheaded gal goes, fetches, anudder plastic smile that bodes “Wow, you are REALLY a grumpy old bastard (topped off by "have a GREAT day!").. and perhaps I am/can be a grumpy old bastard..
Then again, I’m perfect. My well maintained car has no AC. Today, the driver’s side windows decided (both) “eh, we’re gonna take a break, sorry.. good luck fixing” (They’re down btw).. I go to the dadgum hangout too frequently.. I don’t eat right.. I smoke like a chimney… Without using the word “shit”, when at work I deem management to be UPON OCCASION fulla shit, off base, I relate same.
I have sheetrock falling down in my home ‘cause I ain’t got the $10K tucked away for a new roof (I know, I know, “insurance”.. I know it’s due to age.. I couldn’t consciously “turn it in to insurance”
I ‘waste’ hour after hour on the internet.. My neighbors keep the city on speed dial as my grass approaches “that length”.. my backyard is atrocious (was once a nice underground pool, shrubs, yada yada).. I have stinky breath, and upon occasion I probably have skid marks (VICTOR! You’ve relatives that read this!)…
Once again, I’m glad I’m perfect, and it’s really everyone else that’s messed up.
Happy day, love Victurd
(Victor, maybe you need to simply get laid) <-- HEY! NO FAIR.. to all my relatives who perhaps happen by here, I DID NOT type that!... My password has obviously been hacked!)
Thursday, July 07, 2011
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens
Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Color me a simpleton. A dog’s tail wagging. Hugs. Pecks. Strawberries & Cream Cheese.. Peanut butter and banana sandwhich.. The beginning of a Rolling Stones song.. The Pledge of Allegiance with hand on heart..
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Acapella’s that I’m envious/thankful for hearing.. Friends.. Cold beer in a glass.. Laughing so hard u must cover orifices before something leaks out.. Puppy breath.. Waking up.. Going to bed.. A full gas gauge.. Facebook.. Email..
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
Family, loved ones. MY GRANDDAUGHTER. . VICTOR, NO!! walking behind a lady with a fantastic derriere. .. Cuckoo clocks.. Walking into the AC on a 90+ day.. Walking into the warm home on a sub-zero day.. dresses.. gals that do their hair up cool and in different ways..
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
My best friend Sanford.. The Mill (you’d haveta see it).. The peaceful noise of a river/stream.. Watching two in love.. determination on a kid’s face.. Writing.. Did I mention women?..
I simply remember my favorite things – and then I don’t feel so bad..
Love, Victurd
Brown paper packages tied up with strings
These are a few of my favorite things
Color me a simpleton. A dog’s tail wagging. Hugs. Pecks. Strawberries & Cream Cheese.. Peanut butter and banana sandwhich.. The beginning of a Rolling Stones song.. The Pledge of Allegiance with hand on heart..
Cream colored ponies and crisp apple streudels
Doorbells and sleigh bells and schnitzel with noodles
Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings
These are a few of my favorite things
Acapella’s that I’m envious/thankful for hearing.. Friends.. Cold beer in a glass.. Laughing so hard u must cover orifices before something leaks out.. Puppy breath.. Waking up.. Going to bed.. A full gas gauge.. Facebook.. Email..
Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes
Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver white winters that melt into springs
These are a few of my favorite things
Family, loved ones. MY GRANDDAUGHTER. . VICTOR, NO!! walking behind a lady with a fantastic derriere. .. Cuckoo clocks.. Walking into the AC on a 90+ day.. Walking into the warm home on a sub-zero day.. dresses.. gals that do their hair up cool and in different ways..
When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite things
And then I don't feel so bad
My best friend Sanford.. The Mill (you’d haveta see it).. The peaceful noise of a river/stream.. Watching two in love.. determination on a kid’s face.. Writing.. Did I mention women?..
I simply remember my favorite things – and then I don’t feel so bad..
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, July 06, 2011
Parking... it is a signifcant life factor
Parking. Never discussed. You don’t pickup the newspaper, read about parking. You don’t drive into work, go to break with friends, talk parking. It’s a mundane, thoughtless, have to kinda thing for us all.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with no apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with no apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
Parking.. a significant life factor....
Parking. Never discussed. You don’t pickup the newspaper, read about parking. You don’t drive into work, go to break with friends, talk parking. It’s a mundane, thoughtless, have to kinda thing for us all.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol”.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Guilty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol”.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Guilty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
Parking.. a significant life factor….
Parking. Never discussed. You don’t pickup the newspaper, read about parking. You don’t drive into work, go to break with friends, talk parking. It’s a mundane, thoughtless, have to kinda thing for us all.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
I kinda sorta disagree. I think parking is a very interesting topic.
Back in the High School day, parking meant going to the low road at the college, pulling into the lot, a fully clothed adventure, where arms, lips, tongues went bonkers.. and pretty much anything could happen up to knocking the 11 sizes too big class ring adorned with 42’ of yarn to affirm it to your finger was in jeopardy of falling off. Innocent, yet oh so passionate.
To many, parking is an afterthought. Not so to some. BY GOD I’M GONNA GET THE VERY CLOSEST SPOT TO WALLYWORLD even if I haveta spend $12.73 in gas to do so. And some do.
My pa usedta tell me, since he didn’t really exercise, on sale’s calls, he’d pick the furthest spot, park, walk in.
Arrogant parkers. Never fails. You’re in a lot with 492 spaces, you FINALLY see a lone, empty space, you drive there, you turn.. Oh shit, that guy’s tires are like 12” over the line. Arrogant bastard. I mean really, how can one do that? (Victor, it’s JUST parking, ease up).. NO! it’s TIME, it’s ARROGANCE, it’s HOWINTHEHELL can you consciously take up one and one-third spots and walk into wherever you are walking into? (Occasionally I’ll purposely park right beside ‘em so close you’d have to be Twiggy to get into your passenger door.. a fitting/deserved lesson: “Crawl urass into the passenger side door Mister, and I hope the gearshift crunches your kahoona’s as you move to the driver’s side!)
Tonight at the Dish Pizza joint. (Victor, you went there again? Didn’t you just go last night?) Uh huh, did. Tonight at the Dish. A smoke and a beer on the patio, and parking observance.
Family of four. Pull in, parking not bad. Ten seconds, mom/dad/two snotnoses outta car, dad is like 10 yards in front leading the pack, with not apparent regard to the remaining family behind him.. Made me think “hmmm, I bet he’s the guy that says “oh honey, that meal was great, go prop your feet up and American Idol” I'LL do the dishes!.. or mebbe, “Hey, you cooked last night, I got it handled tonight.” Uh huh.
Anuther family of four. Out jumps pops, the driver, and before anyone else’s car door opened, his at the right rear door unstrapping the carseated baby to haul her in. Way cool Mister, I bet you ARE onea those guys to do/say all that in the above paragraph.
The drop off illegal parker. Gulty, I am/have been. Rather than communicate, “I’ll be down that row at the first available space I find” I’ll challenge a yellowed curb, park right up next to the building, absorb dirty looks, to wait for “I’m just getting a couple things, I’ll be right back.” Hey, I don’t have AC in my car OK? I get mad when it ain’t me, but justify it when it is.
The ding-ding, not-so-great-depth perception parker. We’ve all been there. We pull in, we get too close, or mebbe the wind catches our door as we open it.. BOOM.. oh shit, there’s a mark from my door on the car next to me! Uh huh, I’ll back out, go find another spot. Had a buddy in college, no names (Bill Day) one time, he pulled into a parking spot, actually winged the rear bumper of the car on his left leaving a very noticeable dent… he peeked around.. mebbe six people saw this… he got out a piece of paper, scribbled jibberish on it.. placed the ‘note’ under the windshield wipers of the car he just smashed, and all six who observed this thought “awwww. What a nice guy, he’s fessing up.”.. Then, he backed out, moved 7 rows to the East, and on about his way.
Parking at work. We (on the West side) have rules about which direction to enter, go, turn, park… “high visibility vehicles must park away from the building so as not to obstruct the view”… patooey…
Even worse.. our West Side football field sized lot (hourly) and an East Side a basketball court sized lot hella close to the door (Salaried, commissioned, must have a penis, $40K+ car).. I honestly love where I work, what I do, and who I do it for.. however… we’re still in the 1950’s on this one.
In closing, thanks for parking your eyeballs here for a short. Mebbe u too can have some fun observing fellow future parkers. (I know… I lead a horribly boring life.) Pulling in, parking, getting out now.
Love, Victurd.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Regrets
He wants to dream like a young man
With the wisdom of an old man
He wants his home and security
He wants to live like a sailor at sea
Beautiful loser…
Regrets.. I’ve had a few… I shoulda not quit teaching, would be retired now. 1981, United Airlines. “Victor, we’re laying off in Kansas City, you can go to New York or Chicago PERMANENT part-time, or quit.” Oops. Many of my buds who did are retired.
Beautiful loser
Where you gonna fall?
When you realize
You just can't have it all
S’more regrets. Wish I’da spent money I’ve spent over the years on 5% beer on a 5% 401 K instead, oh well,but then again, think of the many, many smiles, happy times, camaraderie.
He's your oldest and your best friend
If you need him, he'll be there again
He's always willing to be second-best
A perfect lodger, a perfect guest
I regret not selecting the perfect woman for me, or, I spose conversely not being the perfect man for she(s)… I am far, far, far from perfect – but twice in my life I’ve heard “it just isn’t there any more”… Beautiful loser, sure – but, don’t believe that was all my problem.
Beautiful loser
Read it on the wall
And realize
You just can't have it all
You just can't have it all
I regret not telling folks I REALLY love/like, that I really love/like ‘em. Not any longer – I do tell. What better than hearing from someone “Hey, I love you”.. “Hey, I really like you”.. and thankfully, old age has taught me to spout that out with pretty good frequency nowadays.
You just can't have it all
Ohh, ohh, can't have it all
You can try, you can try, but you can't have it all
Oh yeah
I regret not knowing cats until my 30’s… I regret not being home frequent enough now to justify a hound. I regret not saying to the ones who are now gone, who impacted my life, “hey, you impacted my life.”
He'll never make any enemies, enemies, no
He won't complain if he's caught in a freeze
He'll always ask, he'll always say please
I regret any moments, periods of shyness. It feels so good nowadays to have this converted extrovert inside me that ain’t afraid to say “damn, you look nice today.” “Hey, I heard how you handled that situation on the phone, way cool” I regret all the missed years of not pumping people up, ‘cause it in turn pumps me up. Selfish? Mebbe, but not a bad trade off.
Beautiful loser
Never take it all
'Cause it's easier
And faster when you fall
Fallen. Done plenty of that, over and over again. Only regrets there, simply not “getting up fast enough upon occasion.”
You just don't need it all
You just don't need it all
You just don't need it all
Just don't need it all
Thanks for the song Bob. Kinda made me dance/type/sing all in one. Ok, I spose I regret the missed years of “who gives a damn what you look like dancing, get out there an FEEL.
1. to feel sorrow or remorse for (an act, fault, disappointment, etc.): He no sooner spoke than he regretted it. (Been there, opened mouth, done that)
2. to think of with a sense of loss: to regret one's vanished youth. (Nah, lived, loved, and loved the times)
3. a sense of loss, disappointment, dissatisfaction, etc. (comes with living)
4. a feeling of sorrow or remorse for a fault, act, loss, disappointment, etc. (Comes with being human)
Sure, life sends us regrets. All in all, I’ve had a pretty darn good life, sure, with some regrets. Hope urs has been wonderful as well.
Love, Victurd
With the wisdom of an old man
He wants his home and security
He wants to live like a sailor at sea
Beautiful loser…
Regrets.. I’ve had a few… I shoulda not quit teaching, would be retired now. 1981, United Airlines. “Victor, we’re laying off in Kansas City, you can go to New York or Chicago PERMANENT part-time, or quit.” Oops. Many of my buds who did are retired.
Beautiful loser
Where you gonna fall?
When you realize
You just can't have it all
S’more regrets. Wish I’da spent money I’ve spent over the years on 5% beer on a 5% 401 K instead, oh well,but then again, think of the many, many smiles, happy times, camaraderie.
He's your oldest and your best friend
If you need him, he'll be there again
He's always willing to be second-best
A perfect lodger, a perfect guest
I regret not selecting the perfect woman for me, or, I spose conversely not being the perfect man for she(s)… I am far, far, far from perfect – but twice in my life I’ve heard “it just isn’t there any more”… Beautiful loser, sure – but, don’t believe that was all my problem.
Beautiful loser
Read it on the wall
And realize
You just can't have it all
You just can't have it all
I regret not telling folks I REALLY love/like, that I really love/like ‘em. Not any longer – I do tell. What better than hearing from someone “Hey, I love you”.. “Hey, I really like you”.. and thankfully, old age has taught me to spout that out with pretty good frequency nowadays.
You just can't have it all
Ohh, ohh, can't have it all
You can try, you can try, but you can't have it all
Oh yeah
I regret not knowing cats until my 30’s… I regret not being home frequent enough now to justify a hound. I regret not saying to the ones who are now gone, who impacted my life, “hey, you impacted my life.”
He'll never make any enemies, enemies, no
He won't complain if he's caught in a freeze
He'll always ask, he'll always say please
I regret any moments, periods of shyness. It feels so good nowadays to have this converted extrovert inside me that ain’t afraid to say “damn, you look nice today.” “Hey, I heard how you handled that situation on the phone, way cool” I regret all the missed years of not pumping people up, ‘cause it in turn pumps me up. Selfish? Mebbe, but not a bad trade off.
Beautiful loser
Never take it all
'Cause it's easier
And faster when you fall
Fallen. Done plenty of that, over and over again. Only regrets there, simply not “getting up fast enough upon occasion.”
You just don't need it all
You just don't need it all
You just don't need it all
Just don't need it all
Thanks for the song Bob. Kinda made me dance/type/sing all in one. Ok, I spose I regret the missed years of “who gives a damn what you look like dancing, get out there an FEEL.
1. to feel sorrow or remorse for (an act, fault, disappointment, etc.): He no sooner spoke than he regretted it. (Been there, opened mouth, done that)
2. to think of with a sense of loss: to regret one's vanished youth. (Nah, lived, loved, and loved the times)
3. a sense of loss, disappointment, dissatisfaction, etc. (comes with living)
4. a feeling of sorrow or remorse for a fault, act, loss, disappointment, etc. (Comes with being human)
Sure, life sends us regrets. All in all, I’ve had a pretty darn good life, sure, with some regrets. Hope urs has been wonderful as well.
Love, Victurd
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Embrace…
A very spiffy word (to me anyways)… My first thought: a hug.. not naughtily, but platonically. A bit more emphatic if related, or mebbe longterm friendship involved – or perhaps accentuated by time, distance.
Ya gotta love a hug.. “Says” I love you, no matta what’s transpired. I love you, for WHAT has transpired. Even mebbe simply, I really love/like you as a person. It’s just a few seconds, but in those few seconds the mind focuses, the corners of the lips upturn – and ‘feel good’ is simply heightened.
Yeah yeah, sure, there’s that passionate embrace… at least I think I remember.. First hug at the Drive In theater (shortly followed by that baby peck)… that first real embrace on one’s wedding night.. Everyone DOES still ‘wait’ don’t they? Hehe. Victor, don’t laugh at ur own crap. Sorry, slipped.
That ‘naughty’ embrace…. Why do they call it naughty if it’s such a beautiful thing? Anyways, Dictionary.com or onea those sites I Googled told me embrace is even euphemistic for “you know what.”
Onea my favorite observances of embrace happened recently at a Royal’s baseball game.. Military dude, believed to be overseas, proposes on the HUMONGOUS scoreboard to his girlfriend.. and… well.. just watch it if you like:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6SsQ0cAI8Y&feature=player_embedded
I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t come back and finish reading this either, was/is kinda boring… as in “ahm, sorry Victor, I really didn’t embrace the idea.”
Embrace a candidate… an idea… a movement.. a hobby, a sport, a TV series, a culture, yada yada yada… lot to embrace over. Adopt, espouse, seize, comprise, cover, embody.. yeah baby…
Ain’t real sure who wrote it, but Pete Seeger and The Byrds, in 1966’s “Turn, Turn, Turn” sang: To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Embrace = hugs. Hello’s and goodbye’s, with a whole lotta feel good inbetween – but it romantic, platonic, blood kin, longtime friend, the “do you remember when we…” kind.. Hugs/embraces, are a very good thing.
Stolen: Don't fear change - embrace it (Anthony J D’Angelo)..; Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course (Shakespeare).. The older I get, the more I embrace my own idiosyncrasies (Brittany Murphy)… We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. (Kenji Miyazawa)..
I’m embracing your thought/idea that this is getting kind boring.
Nevertheless, embrace is a very, very good think. Oozes of passion, many types. May embraces very much be a part of your life…
Hugs…. Love, Victurd
Ya gotta love a hug.. “Says” I love you, no matta what’s transpired. I love you, for WHAT has transpired. Even mebbe simply, I really love/like you as a person. It’s just a few seconds, but in those few seconds the mind focuses, the corners of the lips upturn – and ‘feel good’ is simply heightened.
Yeah yeah, sure, there’s that passionate embrace… at least I think I remember.. First hug at the Drive In theater (shortly followed by that baby peck)… that first real embrace on one’s wedding night.. Everyone DOES still ‘wait’ don’t they? Hehe. Victor, don’t laugh at ur own crap. Sorry, slipped.
That ‘naughty’ embrace…. Why do they call it naughty if it’s such a beautiful thing? Anyways, Dictionary.com or onea those sites I Googled told me embrace is even euphemistic for “you know what.”
Onea my favorite observances of embrace happened recently at a Royal’s baseball game.. Military dude, believed to be overseas, proposes on the HUMONGOUS scoreboard to his girlfriend.. and… well.. just watch it if you like:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6SsQ0cAI8Y&feature=player_embedded
I don’t blame you, I wouldn’t come back and finish reading this either, was/is kinda boring… as in “ahm, sorry Victor, I really didn’t embrace the idea.”
Embrace a candidate… an idea… a movement.. a hobby, a sport, a TV series, a culture, yada yada yada… lot to embrace over. Adopt, espouse, seize, comprise, cover, embody.. yeah baby…
Ain’t real sure who wrote it, but Pete Seeger and The Byrds, in 1966’s “Turn, Turn, Turn” sang: To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven: a time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up; a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance; a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away; a time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; a time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace.
Embrace = hugs. Hello’s and goodbye’s, with a whole lotta feel good inbetween – but it romantic, platonic, blood kin, longtime friend, the “do you remember when we…” kind.. Hugs/embraces, are a very good thing.
Stolen: Don't fear change - embrace it (Anthony J D’Angelo)..; Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, for wise men say it is the wisest course (Shakespeare).. The older I get, the more I embrace my own idiosyncrasies (Brittany Murphy)… We must embrace pain and burn it as fuel for our journey. (Kenji Miyazawa)..
I’m embracing your thought/idea that this is getting kind boring.
Nevertheless, embrace is a very, very good think. Oozes of passion, many types. May embraces very much be a part of your life…
Hugs…. Love, Victurd
Thursday, June 16, 2011
I dunno.. some junk we mighta missed....
The Dueling Pistols.. DAR.. . Coach Cokely, Coach Owen.. K Mart.. National Merit Scholars.. Eisens.. First National Bank.. Commercial Bank.. The Police Blotter in the Liberty Tribune.. Their competitor The Libery Shopper News.. Help Wanted Men/Help Wanted Women.. . Categories.. Liberty Hills.. McBowl (Harrison, Joan McCoy, Ida Skinner)... Mr. Stevick (RIP)...Awards Assemblys.. P. Casper Harvey..
1967.. Elections.. sewers.. city offices.. a hospital.. the city's biggest industrial plant.. Manley Thompson mayor.. The old City trucks that would spray bug spray in the summers... Jim Mayberry, Charlie Lee - two of the best ever.. A curfew proposed in September '68... Liberty House/Bedingers.. Hydro House????.. Beagles Rental Center..
January 11, 1968 (from old Tribune) Residents show up
1967.. Elections.. sewers.. city offices.. a hospital.. the city's biggest industrial plant.. Manley Thompson mayor.. The old City trucks that would spray bug spray in the summers... Jim Mayberry, Charlie Lee - two of the best ever.. A curfew proposed in September '68... Liberty House/Bedingers.. Hydro House????.. Beagles Rental Center..
January 11, 1968 (from old Tribune) Residents show up
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Yesterday,
All my troubles seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Yesterday. Banana bomb pops from the ice cream man. Slip and slide with no worry about high water bills. A ‘one speed’ bicycle with a ball glove on the handlebars. Kick the can with practiced whisper voice. Freedom. Freedom to roam without worries, responsibilities.
Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.
School. Buddies. Unpaced fun times. The Twin Drive In. The Koo Koo. A respect for the role models in our lives – be they our parents, our teachers, relatives, bosses at our first jobs..
Why she Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said, Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
Eh, speaks to broken relationships. I loved yesterday, carry many very good memories. Yesterday is a scrapbook of the mind. Everything ends. Even incessant folk's orations.
Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
I see no reason to hide. I love today. I am at an age, whilst not deathly – aware. Aware the better parta my life is probably behind me… yesterday. So, whatthehey, live/love/enjoy/go/do.
Why she Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said, Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
We went over that already, but it’s kinda fun (for me anyways) to revisit past relationships.. First crushes, first loves, 8th grade sock hops, proms, courtwarmings, homecomings, first “you know”s, engagements, marriage(s)… to have shared a special moments/times in life, with a special person – cool. Thank you yesterday.
Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.
Yesterday has made us who we are today. Life’s events have been poured into that big funnel – and we’re each somehow molded from that. I loved yesterday. Quite often, the brain steers to a certain moment, happening, event, from a certain yesterday day – and it makes the corners of my mouth turn up, smile, and sometimes tugs close to that damn crying moment.
I look way forward to tomorrow, simply to create, file, immerse, love, indulge, enjoy – and create, future yesterdays.
Love, Victurd.
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Yesterday. Banana bomb pops from the ice cream man. Slip and slide with no worry about high water bills. A ‘one speed’ bicycle with a ball glove on the handlebars. Kick the can with practiced whisper voice. Freedom. Freedom to roam without worries, responsibilities.
Suddenly,
I'm not half the man I used to be,
There's a shadow hanging over me,
Oh, yesterday came suddenly.
School. Buddies. Unpaced fun times. The Twin Drive In. The Koo Koo. A respect for the role models in our lives – be they our parents, our teachers, relatives, bosses at our first jobs..
Why she Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said, Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
Eh, speaks to broken relationships. I loved yesterday, carry many very good memories. Yesterday is a scrapbook of the mind. Everything ends. Even incessant folk's orations.
Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
I see no reason to hide. I love today. I am at an age, whilst not deathly – aware. Aware the better parta my life is probably behind me… yesterday. So, whatthehey, live/love/enjoy/go/do.
Why she Had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
I said, Something wrong, now I long for yesterday.
We went over that already, but it’s kinda fun (for me anyways) to revisit past relationships.. First crushes, first loves, 8th grade sock hops, proms, courtwarmings, homecomings, first “you know”s, engagements, marriage(s)… to have shared a special moments/times in life, with a special person – cool. Thank you yesterday.
Yesterday,
Love was such an easy game to play,
Now I need a place to hide away,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.
Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.
Yesterday has made us who we are today. Life’s events have been poured into that big funnel – and we’re each somehow molded from that. I loved yesterday. Quite often, the brain steers to a certain moment, happening, event, from a certain yesterday day – and it makes the corners of my mouth turn up, smile, and sometimes tugs close to that damn crying moment.
I look way forward to tomorrow, simply to create, file, immerse, love, indulge, enjoy – and create, future yesterdays.
Love, Victurd.
Thursday, June 09, 2011
A short jump off a long Pier….
That time of year again. Corporate Challenge. Mostly by default (no volunteers) I sign up for some sports junk annually, unfortunately with brain thinking/oft time acting 20-something (and no regard for my age, body.)
Played basketball last year. They don’t group by age, and all it took was one ‘season’ to comprende, “Victor, you shouldn’t do this.” So didn’t.
Played softball, didn’t embarrass self, so – a success (in spite of us exiting after two games in the double elimination tourney.)
Long jump, aha, I usedta do that… did it last year.. Victor? You’re old, you repeat yourself, are you gonna tell that ‘far board/near board’ thing AGAIN? Mebbe. Bite me.
First, traffic. This event was held in “Jaahnson” County (on the Jayhawk side of State Line). At a High School two times the size of the college I went to. I Google Mapped directions, and off I went. I swear to goodness 135th Street went straight from my work to this place at 135th and Switzer.
Didn’t. A dead end halfway. I’d decided to take the backroads, ‘cause the 4-6 lane Interstates in Kansas scare me. They’ve got it backwards there, the motorcycles dudes aren’t mandated to wear a helmet – when in actuality they should wear full armour.
Six lanes, way too many damn people, all using the tailgating rule of thumb “one tire length per every 10 MPH.” Driving the Interstates in Kansas makes me more nervous than Barney Fife after five cups of coffee. People sneaking up on me bugs me. I can sense, at work, when they stand behind me when I'm mid-email to a customer. I know they are reading, so I switch to all caps.. type I KNOW YOU ARE STANDING BEHIND ME. BITE ME AND GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE and mosta the time they giggle, await my end to email.
Heard of two wrecks on the main drag as I gallivanted lost going the backroads. Eh, I finally made it.
I missed the main entrance into the joint.. took the 2nd one.. and lo and behold, over 100 guys within 50 yards of me practicing the long jump. Only one other car in this closeby parking lot. The dummies. I had on work clothes, “how far is the bathroom to change?”.. Uh oh (too).. “I gotta pee. HOW FAR TO THE BATHROOM?”…
Could it be? The old nervous tinkle I remembered before an athletic event? Nah, incontinence. Just then, I saw my empty Ronnoco coffee cup, aha, our problems are solved. They’d have to have binoculars to see anyways.
The ‘far board/near board’ thingy from last year.
Last year. Two lanes to jump. Also, two options to jump from. There was a board ten feet from the pit, and one five feet from the pit. “Sir, which would you prefer?” Puffing what’s left of my sagging chest out, “Why, I want to jump from the board that’s ten feet away, tyvm.”
I ran, hit the board perfectly, jumped 9’8”, which is exactly 4” from the sand, and on very hard asphalt. “Ahm, is it Ok if I switch to the close one?” “Sure”.. “Thanks.”
So, back to 2011, we warm up. The flat-bellied young punks chose a spot on the runway from just this side of Topeka to start their trek. Nomme. I picked a spot somewhere’s between Topeka, and a point where you could read the fine print on the judge’s clipboard as she stood next to the landing pit.
A few run throughs, I delicately mark my ‘spot’ where I should start to perfectly have my right foot land on the jumping board. I was maybe 20th in line. “Cafeteria style”, no order, go when you want, but ya gotta line up.
Finally me.. “Which board sir?”.. The far one. K. You’re good to go. Went. I think I picked a spot too far back. I was outta gas within 25 yards. Footwork off, scratched.
Last year, only had 40 and over. Aha, this year, fitty and over. Ever look at a crowd and try to deem whointhehell is as old as you? Some are obvious. One old codger, no hair, hit the (far) board perfectly, well into the pit. Damnit. I for sure ain’t taking first.
The dude I was standing in line behind initially gave me some motivation as his T-Shirt said “You don’t quit playing because you become old, you become old because you quit playing.” I laughed... then cussed when I realized the bastard was 20 years younger than I.
2nd jump. “Ahm, the close board please.” Gimme a break, you had to get one bonified jump in to get points for your company. I timed it so my left foot hit the board (not the foot I jump off of.) Shit. But, I was now official, points for company.
Standing in line for 3rd jump. Envious as this little turd four infronta me got ready to jump, his body a perfect V. I kinda sorta remember a V, but they had dials on TV’s back then. He had a remarkably long jump, and then he lay in pain in the pit, grasping his knee.
Finally he made it just behind the pit, but paramedics were called, and jumping was stopped for some time. Ain’t like on the Interstate over there.. “Tow their cars to the side please, drag the folks to the shoulders, I MUST get home to my BIG HOUSE.”
Finally, he was standing up, being put in a cart to take him to his car. Jump #3 ahead. Finally my turn. “Close board please.” K. With the wind at my back I was OFF… full speed (for me).. I hit the board perfectly, I’ll never forget that millisecond in the air (it reminded me of when starting my lawnmower, and choking/gurgling sound) and I landed… a bit further this time, but not very far. I will neva’ disclose the distance. HA! I will just say it was roughly a foot shorter than last year when I carried fitteen less pounds! Done. Done I was.
Free at last, free at last. I jump in my car, onto the Kansas Interstates. Not one, but TWO tailgating wrecks in the first ten miles. Grrrrrrrrrr Kansas.
Some 25 minutes later, aha, halfway between Antioch Center and the Ford plant. Think "I’m home." But, then - there was some gal tailgating me within inches at 68 mph. She was wearing pink lipstick, that close. So.. I moved to the slow lane. Of course, her license plate had the “JO” and the wheat.
I dunno if I should continue doing this crap. Maybe I should just give in, join the old codgers at the retiree table at Mickey D’s every morning. Nah.. the brain thinks too young.. in spite of the body telling me otherwise. I am hardheaded. One day I'll learn. Pride is hard to swallow, but it eventually will go down.
Happy day, love, Victurd.
Played basketball last year. They don’t group by age, and all it took was one ‘season’ to comprende, “Victor, you shouldn’t do this.” So didn’t.
Played softball, didn’t embarrass self, so – a success (in spite of us exiting after two games in the double elimination tourney.)
Long jump, aha, I usedta do that… did it last year.. Victor? You’re old, you repeat yourself, are you gonna tell that ‘far board/near board’ thing AGAIN? Mebbe. Bite me.
First, traffic. This event was held in “Jaahnson” County (on the Jayhawk side of State Line). At a High School two times the size of the college I went to. I Google Mapped directions, and off I went. I swear to goodness 135th Street went straight from my work to this place at 135th and Switzer.
Didn’t. A dead end halfway. I’d decided to take the backroads, ‘cause the 4-6 lane Interstates in Kansas scare me. They’ve got it backwards there, the motorcycles dudes aren’t mandated to wear a helmet – when in actuality they should wear full armour.
Six lanes, way too many damn people, all using the tailgating rule of thumb “one tire length per every 10 MPH.” Driving the Interstates in Kansas makes me more nervous than Barney Fife after five cups of coffee. People sneaking up on me bugs me. I can sense, at work, when they stand behind me when I'm mid-email to a customer. I know they are reading, so I switch to all caps.. type I KNOW YOU ARE STANDING BEHIND ME. BITE ME AND GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE and mosta the time they giggle, await my end to email.
Heard of two wrecks on the main drag as I gallivanted lost going the backroads. Eh, I finally made it.
I missed the main entrance into the joint.. took the 2nd one.. and lo and behold, over 100 guys within 50 yards of me practicing the long jump. Only one other car in this closeby parking lot. The dummies. I had on work clothes, “how far is the bathroom to change?”.. Uh oh (too).. “I gotta pee. HOW FAR TO THE BATHROOM?”…
Could it be? The old nervous tinkle I remembered before an athletic event? Nah, incontinence. Just then, I saw my empty Ronnoco coffee cup, aha, our problems are solved. They’d have to have binoculars to see anyways.
The ‘far board/near board’ thingy from last year.
Last year. Two lanes to jump. Also, two options to jump from. There was a board ten feet from the pit, and one five feet from the pit. “Sir, which would you prefer?” Puffing what’s left of my sagging chest out, “Why, I want to jump from the board that’s ten feet away, tyvm.”
I ran, hit the board perfectly, jumped 9’8”, which is exactly 4” from the sand, and on very hard asphalt. “Ahm, is it Ok if I switch to the close one?” “Sure”.. “Thanks.”
So, back to 2011, we warm up. The flat-bellied young punks chose a spot on the runway from just this side of Topeka to start their trek. Nomme. I picked a spot somewhere’s between Topeka, and a point where you could read the fine print on the judge’s clipboard as she stood next to the landing pit.
A few run throughs, I delicately mark my ‘spot’ where I should start to perfectly have my right foot land on the jumping board. I was maybe 20th in line. “Cafeteria style”, no order, go when you want, but ya gotta line up.
Finally me.. “Which board sir?”.. The far one. K. You’re good to go. Went. I think I picked a spot too far back. I was outta gas within 25 yards. Footwork off, scratched.
Last year, only had 40 and over. Aha, this year, fitty and over. Ever look at a crowd and try to deem whointhehell is as old as you? Some are obvious. One old codger, no hair, hit the (far) board perfectly, well into the pit. Damnit. I for sure ain’t taking first.
The dude I was standing in line behind initially gave me some motivation as his T-Shirt said “You don’t quit playing because you become old, you become old because you quit playing.” I laughed... then cussed when I realized the bastard was 20 years younger than I.
2nd jump. “Ahm, the close board please.” Gimme a break, you had to get one bonified jump in to get points for your company. I timed it so my left foot hit the board (not the foot I jump off of.) Shit. But, I was now official, points for company.
Standing in line for 3rd jump. Envious as this little turd four infronta me got ready to jump, his body a perfect V. I kinda sorta remember a V, but they had dials on TV’s back then. He had a remarkably long jump, and then he lay in pain in the pit, grasping his knee.
Finally he made it just behind the pit, but paramedics were called, and jumping was stopped for some time. Ain’t like on the Interstate over there.. “Tow their cars to the side please, drag the folks to the shoulders, I MUST get home to my BIG HOUSE.”
Finally, he was standing up, being put in a cart to take him to his car. Jump #3 ahead. Finally my turn. “Close board please.” K. With the wind at my back I was OFF… full speed (for me).. I hit the board perfectly, I’ll never forget that millisecond in the air (it reminded me of when starting my lawnmower, and choking/gurgling sound) and I landed… a bit further this time, but not very far. I will neva’ disclose the distance. HA! I will just say it was roughly a foot shorter than last year when I carried fitteen less pounds! Done. Done I was.
Free at last, free at last. I jump in my car, onto the Kansas Interstates. Not one, but TWO tailgating wrecks in the first ten miles. Grrrrrrrrrr Kansas.
Some 25 minutes later, aha, halfway between Antioch Center and the Ford plant. Think "I’m home." But, then - there was some gal tailgating me within inches at 68 mph. She was wearing pink lipstick, that close. So.. I moved to the slow lane. Of course, her license plate had the “JO” and the wheat.
I dunno if I should continue doing this crap. Maybe I should just give in, join the old codgers at the retiree table at Mickey D’s every morning. Nah.. the brain thinks too young.. in spite of the body telling me otherwise. I am hardheaded. One day I'll learn. Pride is hard to swallow, but it eventually will go down.
Happy day, love, Victurd.
Sunday, June 05, 2011
You keep saying you've got something for me.
Something you call love, but confess.
You've been messin' where you shouldn't have been a messin'
and now someone else is gettin' all your best.
These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Ah yes, 1966, the one hit wonder. Smitten I was. Twelve years older, wunner what she looks like now?
But Nancy ain’t today’s topic. Today’s topic is ‘walkin’…
You keep lying, when you oughta be truthin'
and you keep losin' when you oughta not bet.
You keep samin' when you oughta be changin'.
Now what's right is right, but you ain't been right yet.
These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Taking the beautiful Ms. Aubrie Rose (my g-baby) and her perty momma to the Piggly Wiggly – afforded fitteen/twenty minutes in the car whilst they shopped – and I watched the different walkers. First vehicle that pulled in – out pops a dude roughly my age… looked like he coulda just jumped off the stage at a ZZ Top concert. Enter assumption/presumption here: MEAN lookin’ dude. Prolly varmits living in that beard. Wonder how his blood flowed ‘cause I wondered if he (“those types") even have a heart. Damnit, just shoot me.
To the other side of the car he goes.. Opens the door, and patiently awaits his 90-something year old mother to stand. Takes her arm in his – and they make that longest walk from the handicap spot, he, EXTREMELY patient, loving. ZZ I apologize, there’s a BIG heart in there – you rock.
You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin
and you keep thinkin' that you´ll never get burnt.
Ha!
Big folks, little folks, young folks, older folks. Married folks, single dads, single moms, single men, single women. Happily, lazily, in a hurry, enjoying the day.. Lazy folks who pull up to the door and don’t park ‘tween the lines. One very gorgeous lady drew some rubberneckers as she made the stroll in – why - one old codger even almost scraped his head on the visor as strained his neck, but I managed to stop myself from that just in time.
I just found me a brand new box of matches yeah
and what he know you ain't HAD time to learn.
These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Are you ready boots? Start walkin'!
Little blue truck, tinted windows, all kinds of VFW stickers, USA ribbons allover it. Frail gent, happened to be black, gets out.. Takes the longest time to gather his balance. With cane, slowly limps in – and very obviously a probable war wound to his right leg the cause for the limp. How would that be? Reminded every minute of every day of that. Proud. He has to be proud. His smile was infectious as he greeted two in passing – he’s painted the view wonderfully in spite of being cursed for life while protecting us all, his country.
Ms. Aubrie. She ain’t walking yet. Five months old. On her belly, the legs and the arms flail in attempt to – but the belly simply centers her – not allowing her to walk… Buddy’s 90+ mom lays in a hospital all day, mind 100% perfect, ability to walk vanished. Damn…. A lifelong friend, 60-something, never driven a car a day in his life. Walks EVERYWHERE. He’s got 20-something looking legs. Bless him.
Ascent, descent. Aubrie rising up to walk… in viewing the various ages coming in and outta the Piggly Wiggly – a very definite correlation to speed, age, agility, lack thereof. Do we take walking for granted? Me thinks we do.
That goofy internet dating site I peruse.. many suggest for a first meeting “simply taking a walk.” Yeah, notta bad idea. Life is a walk – at least for those of us fortunate enough to. Who’da thunk fitteen minutes at the Piggly Wiggly could be so, stimulating, even approaching wunnerful?
These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Are you ready boots? Start walkin'! Love, Victurd.
You've been messin' where you shouldn't have been a messin'
and now someone else is gettin' all your best.
These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Ah yes, 1966, the one hit wonder. Smitten I was. Twelve years older, wunner what she looks like now?
But Nancy ain’t today’s topic. Today’s topic is ‘walkin’…
You keep lying, when you oughta be truthin'
and you keep losin' when you oughta not bet.
You keep samin' when you oughta be changin'.
Now what's right is right, but you ain't been right yet.
These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Taking the beautiful Ms. Aubrie Rose (my g-baby) and her perty momma to the Piggly Wiggly – afforded fitteen/twenty minutes in the car whilst they shopped – and I watched the different walkers. First vehicle that pulled in – out pops a dude roughly my age… looked like he coulda just jumped off the stage at a ZZ Top concert. Enter assumption/presumption here: MEAN lookin’ dude. Prolly varmits living in that beard. Wonder how his blood flowed ‘cause I wondered if he (“those types") even have a heart. Damnit, just shoot me.
To the other side of the car he goes.. Opens the door, and patiently awaits his 90-something year old mother to stand. Takes her arm in his – and they make that longest walk from the handicap spot, he, EXTREMELY patient, loving. ZZ I apologize, there’s a BIG heart in there – you rock.
You keep playin' where you shouldn't be playin
and you keep thinkin' that you´ll never get burnt.
Ha!
Big folks, little folks, young folks, older folks. Married folks, single dads, single moms, single men, single women. Happily, lazily, in a hurry, enjoying the day.. Lazy folks who pull up to the door and don’t park ‘tween the lines. One very gorgeous lady drew some rubberneckers as she made the stroll in – why - one old codger even almost scraped his head on the visor as strained his neck, but I managed to stop myself from that just in time.
I just found me a brand new box of matches yeah
and what he know you ain't HAD time to learn.
These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Are you ready boots? Start walkin'!
Little blue truck, tinted windows, all kinds of VFW stickers, USA ribbons allover it. Frail gent, happened to be black, gets out.. Takes the longest time to gather his balance. With cane, slowly limps in – and very obviously a probable war wound to his right leg the cause for the limp. How would that be? Reminded every minute of every day of that. Proud. He has to be proud. His smile was infectious as he greeted two in passing – he’s painted the view wonderfully in spite of being cursed for life while protecting us all, his country.
Ms. Aubrie. She ain’t walking yet. Five months old. On her belly, the legs and the arms flail in attempt to – but the belly simply centers her – not allowing her to walk… Buddy’s 90+ mom lays in a hospital all day, mind 100% perfect, ability to walk vanished. Damn…. A lifelong friend, 60-something, never driven a car a day in his life. Walks EVERYWHERE. He’s got 20-something looking legs. Bless him.
Ascent, descent. Aubrie rising up to walk… in viewing the various ages coming in and outta the Piggly Wiggly – a very definite correlation to speed, age, agility, lack thereof. Do we take walking for granted? Me thinks we do.
That goofy internet dating site I peruse.. many suggest for a first meeting “simply taking a walk.” Yeah, notta bad idea. Life is a walk – at least for those of us fortunate enough to. Who’da thunk fitteen minutes at the Piggly Wiggly could be so, stimulating, even approaching wunnerful?
These boots are made for walking, and that's just what they'll do
one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.
Are you ready boots? Start walkin'! Love, Victurd.
Wednesday, June 01, 2011
Sharing Google (about marriage/divorce):
Do not pass go, do not collect $200, do not call me a Simpleton.. I personally happen to believe EVERYTHING I learn from Google...
Average age to marry, 27 for men, 25 for women. Length of courtship, 2 years, 3 months. More than 8 out of 10 couples who cohabitate will break up either before the wedding, or afterwords in divorce. About 45% won’t marry.. Couples who do are 50% more likely to divorce than those that don’t.
I ain’t sure of my own personal stats, but I know #2 (for me) was a cohabitate kinda thing. I guess I should known eh?
Four rules to a successful marriage…
Uno) Care.. “you must learn to become an expert at meeting needs whether or not they seem important to you.”
Dos) Protection: “Avoid Being the Cause of Your Spouse's Unhappiness…. You and your spouse were born to be angry, disrespectful, demanding, annoying and dishonest. These are normal human traits that I call love busters because they destroy the feeling of love spouses have for each other But if you promise to avoid being the cause of your spouse's unhappiness, you will do whatever it takes to overcome these destructive tendencies for your spouse's protection.
Tres) Honesty. Honesty is the only way that you and your spouse will ever come to understand each other. Couples are not only ignorant of ways to improve their marriages; they are often ignorant of the problems themselves. To avoid conflict, they sometimes deliberately misinform each other as to their feelings, personal history, activities, and plans. This not only leads to a failure to meet an important emotional need, and a withdrawal of love units when the deception is discovered, it also makes marital conflicts impossible to resolve. After all, how can you and your spouse solve a problem if your cards are not on the table?
Quatro Time. Undivided attention… Schedule time alone together…
(I read an article today in KC Star… It told the story of a Minister who was being charged with the murder of a dude he’d counseled. Turns out, he was having an affair with the dude’s wife.. “got ridda him” [even performed ceremony at his funeral].. above written by some feller in clergy. Not suggesting correlation. Good luck to you.
Why couples divorce….
Unfaithfulness
Loss of intimacy and connection
Inability to communicate
Abuse and mental illness
Control
Differences in personality
Differences in goals and views
Percent of people that reach their:
5th anniversary = 82%.... 10th = 65%... 15th = 52%... 25th = 33%... 35th = 20%.. 50th = 5%
One stat I found interesting… First marriages that reached their 20th anniversary.. .Married between 1945 and 1948 = 82.5% still married… Married between 1970 and 1974 = 57.7% still married.
We take things lightly we do. "Eh, I’ll get it right next time." I vote = bullhockey, but I’m a 2-time loser so who am I to address! I think it's poopy that in today's society, it's so very easy (and socially/morally "Ok") to simply give up so easily.
I thought I compiled a lot more stats than that, sorry. It’s toward the end of this blog, and you are STILL here, and you STILL seek words of wisdom from feller who: 1st marriage 7 yr… 2nd marriage: 20-some years.. BOTH FAILED.
I ain’t got answers. Hardest life lesson to date (no pun intended) one only controls their own feelings. God Bless you (those) still going strong. I am so glad u ain’t gotta see the view from the other sidea the fence.
To those wondering, ogling, slobbering at the view of the other side of the fence: put it back in your pockets, and eye sockets. DON’T be envious of the person that goes/does what he/she pleases. That ‘tires’ after about 37 days.
One thing up above that really hit home for me: Inability to communicate. I ain’t no preacher (your wife is safe… and Dadgum I hope you know I jest in the preacher thingy.. I know the vast, vast, vast majority are wonderful)… but.. again.. the inability to communicate… As I reflect on ‘my own slides’, and as I hear friends going thru ‘yuck times’.. it comes to mind: Have you ever grabbed ‘em by the collar, FORCED ‘em to look you in the eye so they comprehend the IMPORTANCE of how you feel/what you think?
Wanna hear the funny part? I, the blog/FB/stupid idiot who posts and doesn’t think about repercussions/feelings/opines of loved ones, co-workers, fellow SigaMaNu brothers (yada yada yada). post each and every blog I do on a stupid dating site I’m on. See? I toldya I was a simpleton, I believe everything Google tells me.
Happy day, love Victurd
Average age to marry, 27 for men, 25 for women. Length of courtship, 2 years, 3 months. More than 8 out of 10 couples who cohabitate will break up either before the wedding, or afterwords in divorce. About 45% won’t marry.. Couples who do are 50% more likely to divorce than those that don’t.
I ain’t sure of my own personal stats, but I know #2 (for me) was a cohabitate kinda thing. I guess I should known eh?
Four rules to a successful marriage…
Uno) Care.. “you must learn to become an expert at meeting needs whether or not they seem important to you.”
Dos) Protection: “Avoid Being the Cause of Your Spouse's Unhappiness…. You and your spouse were born to be angry, disrespectful, demanding, annoying and dishonest. These are normal human traits that I call love busters because they destroy the feeling of love spouses have for each other But if you promise to avoid being the cause of your spouse's unhappiness, you will do whatever it takes to overcome these destructive tendencies for your spouse's protection.
Tres) Honesty. Honesty is the only way that you and your spouse will ever come to understand each other. Couples are not only ignorant of ways to improve their marriages; they are often ignorant of the problems themselves. To avoid conflict, they sometimes deliberately misinform each other as to their feelings, personal history, activities, and plans. This not only leads to a failure to meet an important emotional need, and a withdrawal of love units when the deception is discovered, it also makes marital conflicts impossible to resolve. After all, how can you and your spouse solve a problem if your cards are not on the table?
Quatro Time. Undivided attention… Schedule time alone together…
(I read an article today in KC Star… It told the story of a Minister who was being charged with the murder of a dude he’d counseled. Turns out, he was having an affair with the dude’s wife.. “got ridda him” [even performed ceremony at his funeral].. above written by some feller in clergy. Not suggesting correlation. Good luck to you.
Why couples divorce….
Unfaithfulness
Loss of intimacy and connection
Inability to communicate
Abuse and mental illness
Control
Differences in personality
Differences in goals and views
Percent of people that reach their:
5th anniversary = 82%.... 10th = 65%... 15th = 52%... 25th = 33%... 35th = 20%.. 50th = 5%
One stat I found interesting… First marriages that reached their 20th anniversary.. .Married between 1945 and 1948 = 82.5% still married… Married between 1970 and 1974 = 57.7% still married.
We take things lightly we do. "Eh, I’ll get it right next time." I vote = bullhockey, but I’m a 2-time loser so who am I to address! I think it's poopy that in today's society, it's so very easy (and socially/morally "Ok") to simply give up so easily.
I thought I compiled a lot more stats than that, sorry. It’s toward the end of this blog, and you are STILL here, and you STILL seek words of wisdom from feller who: 1st marriage 7 yr… 2nd marriage: 20-some years.. BOTH FAILED.
I ain’t got answers. Hardest life lesson to date (no pun intended) one only controls their own feelings. God Bless you (those) still going strong. I am so glad u ain’t gotta see the view from the other sidea the fence.
To those wondering, ogling, slobbering at the view of the other side of the fence: put it back in your pockets, and eye sockets. DON’T be envious of the person that goes/does what he/she pleases. That ‘tires’ after about 37 days.
One thing up above that really hit home for me: Inability to communicate. I ain’t no preacher (your wife is safe… and Dadgum I hope you know I jest in the preacher thingy.. I know the vast, vast, vast majority are wonderful)… but.. again.. the inability to communicate… As I reflect on ‘my own slides’, and as I hear friends going thru ‘yuck times’.. it comes to mind: Have you ever grabbed ‘em by the collar, FORCED ‘em to look you in the eye so they comprehend the IMPORTANCE of how you feel/what you think?
Wanna hear the funny part? I, the blog/FB/stupid idiot who posts and doesn’t think about repercussions/feelings/opines of loved ones, co-workers, fellow SigaMaNu brothers (yada yada yada). post each and every blog I do on a stupid dating site I’m on. See? I toldya I was a simpleton, I believe everything Google tells me.
Happy day, love Victurd
Monday, May 30, 2011
Decades
After 26 games of Sudoku, six “no replys” on a goofy online dating site, and 12 games of solitaire – my ashtray was full.. I was outta smokes.. to the car to replentish with my cheesy “I am a po man” pack of Decades. (Symbolic perhaps of this most recent decade.)
1 to 10, hella fun. Nervous days in Elementary school, as we moved 19 times in this period. “Hi, I’m Vic… oops, seeya!”.. Mankind still hadn’t grasped how to be kind to all man.. Rosa, God Bless Rosa, helped. But many, many strides to yet come. Fortunately, we kids were oblivious to color. In some ways, ahead of our time.
Vibrant, youthful, happy parents. The “first crush.” I personally thought Sue Harris was the bomb, ‘cause she could outrun ANYONE in our school, including Stanley Savage. Never told her. I guess that comes with being 10.
11 to 20, ohhhh transformation. Bodies aheada the brain. Tons of sports. Small freedoms early (riding bike anywhere u wanted in town).. large freedoms later.. Old enough to vote, serve our country – but sadly, by that time, not many wanted to. Viet Nam days were waning, yet a Lottery was held to give each birthdate of the year “a number”. Of course, #1 would go first… 365 last. I sweated and sweated and sweated – on my way to #236. Then, Peace happened. Thanks goodness.
High School – ohhhhh High School. It’s a lifelong bond kinda thing. Folks from the same era, the same small town. Trip to Mickey D’s this morning, I see this bright, vibrant smile across the way.. yep, that’s Gale Coe, he always wore that smile. “HI VIC!”.. “HI GALE.”. exchanged pleasantries.. and then upon exit “Is it just me Gale, or does time fly?”.. “Vic, time flies!”.. Nonetheless, catching glimpse of someone who’s shared the same time/same things you have/did, tis special – always will be.
21 to 30. Oh shit, I’m supposed to be an adult. We’ve come to an end of our “twenty years of play” – real life is ahead. Seemingly, every third weekend, another friend’s wedding to attend. Children even popped out.
Playing sports 7 days a week with bonified referees, uniforms, people in the stands – a thing of the past. Now, Sunday nights with buddies/pals. Still competitive, but, opponents shared a beverage after.
Pick a career? I must? How do I know, at age 20-something, how I’ll feel, what I’ll like at age fitty, sixty-something? (I’d list my resume here, but my printer is about outta ink… or… as my wondeful ex father in law termed it “That Victor, he’s a nice, nice man.. just maybe a little occupationally challenged.”!!!!!)
31-40: Parenthood. We’ve become the “Vibrant, youthful, happy parents” that we remember so well in our own household during our youth. Wow, didn’t know how hard, trying they had it. We must monitor/aid in safety, dreams, nurse/doctor, psychologist, chef, “bring home the bacon” literally/figuratively and even refereeing.. AND try to sneak selfish moments of our own time alone. Thank goodness for aunts, uncles, grandparents in allowing those mini-breaks from it all.
It’s routine now. Both the filled up calendar, the drive into the office, the evening family meal, bedtime – and weekends, yippee. We try to emulate our own folks in providing, role modeling – and perhaps a tad harsh on our age group, but those were big shoes to fill. We grew up in a wonderful era/time.
41-Fitty. Kids now becoming the age “Oh shit, I remember what I DID back then… DAMN!”… When you heard the engine start, the car leave the driveway – baby pitter patters of the heart in hopes of the return safely. Hopefully, a good job has been done in guidance, moral education.
What’s that? QUIET? Now whatinthehell do we do? We’ve been runnin’ for twenty years! Wanna slow dance? Make out? Nah, we just did that last week, let’s watch a movie. Ok, suits me. Besides, I’m on edge due to the lackaprogress of the IRA.
Fitty-one to present day. WHEN did I get those wrinkles in my arms that I see when I bend them? I KNOW this is the same damn house, but WHY does it seem so much farther to the damn bathroom? I’ve NEVER hadta run before!
At work, not so fond of when the boss comes around. See those I too was once "a young asskisser” – huh uh, nomme now. Just lemme do my job, and said politely, sir, can you just leave me the hell alone?
Toured The Kansas City Royals Hall of Fame the other day. Groupa mebbe fitty folks, didn’t look much different than myself, and my almost the same age cousin. Halfway thru, Guide starts asking “Who remembers back when(such-n-such) happened?”.. Cousin and I raise hands..look around.. no one else does. This happens, 6, 7 times in a row. It hit me. I’M OLD.
No matter where ya go, there’s younger turds ALL AROUND! They're EVERYWHERE!
Ahhhhhh, the grandkids. Nature does recycle itself, and wonderfully so. What’s that? She won’t stop crying? Ahm, darn, hope she cheers up/feels better SOON.. (SEEYA!)… And we drive away, leaving those vibrant, youthful, happy parents to guide, counsel, nurse, teach.
Aging does have a way of making one ‘appreciate.” I’ve written here before about being old, and onea those townies from the same era will say “VICTOR, YOU’RE NOT OLD!” The hell we ain’t. Fess up! Knowing that “ends one day will happen” actually gives us focus to stop, appreciate things we might notta stopped to appreciate, behold - back in those other decades.
This has been, admittedly, a bit of a trying decade for me, the old “oh crap, I’m single?” fart. Yet, driving to work the other day, heard “it’s official.. the household with two married parents is now in the minority” so methinks I ain’t the only one sailing solo.
61-70, I’ll work on this later, and I promise LARGER FONTS. 71-80, that would be a gift. 81-90, who are you and whyinthehell am I writing you?
Oh crap, I’m outta Decades… to the car for another pack. I hope you’ve had as much fun as I’ve had on this planet. I’ve enjoyed the rollercoasters within each and every decade. Some, sitting side by side with another, some - solo occupant. Life is fun, interesting, trying, engaging, wondrous, rewarding, smile worthy….
At least at this age, we’ve learned pulling ones hair out is of little worth… but then, at this age, we have a reason not to pull out any hair.
Life has truly been a gift. And, each day hereafter is as well.
Happy decades, love Victurd.
1 to 10, hella fun. Nervous days in Elementary school, as we moved 19 times in this period. “Hi, I’m Vic… oops, seeya!”.. Mankind still hadn’t grasped how to be kind to all man.. Rosa, God Bless Rosa, helped. But many, many strides to yet come. Fortunately, we kids were oblivious to color. In some ways, ahead of our time.
Vibrant, youthful, happy parents. The “first crush.” I personally thought Sue Harris was the bomb, ‘cause she could outrun ANYONE in our school, including Stanley Savage. Never told her. I guess that comes with being 10.
11 to 20, ohhhh transformation. Bodies aheada the brain. Tons of sports. Small freedoms early (riding bike anywhere u wanted in town).. large freedoms later.. Old enough to vote, serve our country – but sadly, by that time, not many wanted to. Viet Nam days were waning, yet a Lottery was held to give each birthdate of the year “a number”. Of course, #1 would go first… 365 last. I sweated and sweated and sweated – on my way to #236. Then, Peace happened. Thanks goodness.
High School – ohhhhh High School. It’s a lifelong bond kinda thing. Folks from the same era, the same small town. Trip to Mickey D’s this morning, I see this bright, vibrant smile across the way.. yep, that’s Gale Coe, he always wore that smile. “HI VIC!”.. “HI GALE.”. exchanged pleasantries.. and then upon exit “Is it just me Gale, or does time fly?”.. “Vic, time flies!”.. Nonetheless, catching glimpse of someone who’s shared the same time/same things you have/did, tis special – always will be.
21 to 30. Oh shit, I’m supposed to be an adult. We’ve come to an end of our “twenty years of play” – real life is ahead. Seemingly, every third weekend, another friend’s wedding to attend. Children even popped out.
Playing sports 7 days a week with bonified referees, uniforms, people in the stands – a thing of the past. Now, Sunday nights with buddies/pals. Still competitive, but, opponents shared a beverage after.
Pick a career? I must? How do I know, at age 20-something, how I’ll feel, what I’ll like at age fitty, sixty-something? (I’d list my resume here, but my printer is about outta ink… or… as my wondeful ex father in law termed it “That Victor, he’s a nice, nice man.. just maybe a little occupationally challenged.”!!!!!)
31-40: Parenthood. We’ve become the “Vibrant, youthful, happy parents” that we remember so well in our own household during our youth. Wow, didn’t know how hard, trying they had it. We must monitor/aid in safety, dreams, nurse/doctor, psychologist, chef, “bring home the bacon” literally/figuratively and even refereeing.. AND try to sneak selfish moments of our own time alone. Thank goodness for aunts, uncles, grandparents in allowing those mini-breaks from it all.
It’s routine now. Both the filled up calendar, the drive into the office, the evening family meal, bedtime – and weekends, yippee. We try to emulate our own folks in providing, role modeling – and perhaps a tad harsh on our age group, but those were big shoes to fill. We grew up in a wonderful era/time.
41-Fitty. Kids now becoming the age “Oh shit, I remember what I DID back then… DAMN!”… When you heard the engine start, the car leave the driveway – baby pitter patters of the heart in hopes of the return safely. Hopefully, a good job has been done in guidance, moral education.
What’s that? QUIET? Now whatinthehell do we do? We’ve been runnin’ for twenty years! Wanna slow dance? Make out? Nah, we just did that last week, let’s watch a movie. Ok, suits me. Besides, I’m on edge due to the lackaprogress of the IRA.
Fitty-one to present day. WHEN did I get those wrinkles in my arms that I see when I bend them? I KNOW this is the same damn house, but WHY does it seem so much farther to the damn bathroom? I’ve NEVER hadta run before!
At work, not so fond of when the boss comes around. See those I too was once "a young asskisser” – huh uh, nomme now. Just lemme do my job, and said politely, sir, can you just leave me the hell alone?
Toured The Kansas City Royals Hall of Fame the other day. Groupa mebbe fitty folks, didn’t look much different than myself, and my almost the same age cousin. Halfway thru, Guide starts asking “Who remembers back when(such-n-such) happened?”.. Cousin and I raise hands..look around.. no one else does. This happens, 6, 7 times in a row. It hit me. I’M OLD.
No matter where ya go, there’s younger turds ALL AROUND! They're EVERYWHERE!
Ahhhhhh, the grandkids. Nature does recycle itself, and wonderfully so. What’s that? She won’t stop crying? Ahm, darn, hope she cheers up/feels better SOON.. (SEEYA!)… And we drive away, leaving those vibrant, youthful, happy parents to guide, counsel, nurse, teach.
Aging does have a way of making one ‘appreciate.” I’ve written here before about being old, and onea those townies from the same era will say “VICTOR, YOU’RE NOT OLD!” The hell we ain’t. Fess up! Knowing that “ends one day will happen” actually gives us focus to stop, appreciate things we might notta stopped to appreciate, behold - back in those other decades.
This has been, admittedly, a bit of a trying decade for me, the old “oh crap, I’m single?” fart. Yet, driving to work the other day, heard “it’s official.. the household with two married parents is now in the minority” so methinks I ain’t the only one sailing solo.
61-70, I’ll work on this later, and I promise LARGER FONTS. 71-80, that would be a gift. 81-90, who are you and whyinthehell am I writing you?
Oh crap, I’m outta Decades… to the car for another pack. I hope you’ve had as much fun as I’ve had on this planet. I’ve enjoyed the rollercoasters within each and every decade. Some, sitting side by side with another, some - solo occupant. Life is fun, interesting, trying, engaging, wondrous, rewarding, smile worthy….
At least at this age, we’ve learned pulling ones hair out is of little worth… but then, at this age, we have a reason not to pull out any hair.
Life has truly been a gift. And, each day hereafter is as well.
Happy decades, love Victurd.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
See the funny little clown...
Tears….
God’s way to relieve the pressure.
Happy tears, sad tears, sympathetic tears. Sure, self pity tears.
Control. We all like to be in control, but crying dissuades that. Oft times, crying is hated, a last resort, so so many words said without any exiting the mouth.
Emote. Care. Concern. Worry.
I am finding, as I age, a kinda-sorta ‘return to infancy’ – ie, crying comes so very easy again. Sometimes it’s wonderful, sometimes it sucks – but hey, in the end it helps. Stories, tales, situations invoke tears easier now. We bank our emotions over the years – occasionally become satiated – and then there’s impetus to ‘the pressure valve’ and the pressure is released in the form of tears.
Happy tears. Movies. Seeing a grandkid’s pic. Friends. A loved one. Many precursors to happy tears. Initially, one feels silly – then, as reason logs in, ya turn to thankful – or at least I do. (Merember, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome.)
Self pity. Sure, been there, cried that. Again, ya hide from mirrors, people in these times… feel foolish after.. but, it lends a fair hand connecting the next step – build me up buttercup.
I can’t imagine a life without emotion. Those you see that seemingly are this way – ya wonder “do you think they cry?”… or… “Do you think they care (about people, friends, family, THEMSELVES?”
I am man, hear me roar: I ain’tashamed of crying. I’m glad I do/can/have/will. What better than “feel”? Perhaps the reason behind the phrase “going to go have a good cry.”
My beautiful granddaughter Aubrie Rose… Every day at work, I flip my computer on – forget she’s my smiling screen saver – and there’s a moment of awe, always complete with a tummy yank, and yes, sometimes a tear.
She sees me quite a few times a week, but, at just under 5 months old, she’s still yet to figure out just who this grandpa feller is. I will hold her. Dote. Coo. Sing. For the first 60 to 90 seconds, I’m kinda entertaining… then… that bottom lip puckers up, without saying she says “PLEASE mister, give me back to my mommy or my daddy”, and then the tears flow. A millisecond I’m sad, then – I’m reminded, aha, they treat her well, love her so, have gained her trust. Way cool.
When I hear friends gripe, groan, type their woes on Facebook, I’ll occasionally type “crybaby.” Teasingly, lovingly. Truth is though, it’s me that’s a crybaby – but ya know what? I could give a rats what others think about that – for crying covers so many realms, emotions, past/present/future/those missing-no longer with us….. I’m happy I cry.
Love, Victeared.
God’s way to relieve the pressure.
Happy tears, sad tears, sympathetic tears. Sure, self pity tears.
Control. We all like to be in control, but crying dissuades that. Oft times, crying is hated, a last resort, so so many words said without any exiting the mouth.
Emote. Care. Concern. Worry.
I am finding, as I age, a kinda-sorta ‘return to infancy’ – ie, crying comes so very easy again. Sometimes it’s wonderful, sometimes it sucks – but hey, in the end it helps. Stories, tales, situations invoke tears easier now. We bank our emotions over the years – occasionally become satiated – and then there’s impetus to ‘the pressure valve’ and the pressure is released in the form of tears.
Happy tears. Movies. Seeing a grandkid’s pic. Friends. A loved one. Many precursors to happy tears. Initially, one feels silly – then, as reason logs in, ya turn to thankful – or at least I do. (Merember, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome.)
Self pity. Sure, been there, cried that. Again, ya hide from mirrors, people in these times… feel foolish after.. but, it lends a fair hand connecting the next step – build me up buttercup.
I can’t imagine a life without emotion. Those you see that seemingly are this way – ya wonder “do you think they cry?”… or… “Do you think they care (about people, friends, family, THEMSELVES?”
I am man, hear me roar: I ain’tashamed of crying. I’m glad I do/can/have/will. What better than “feel”? Perhaps the reason behind the phrase “going to go have a good cry.”
My beautiful granddaughter Aubrie Rose… Every day at work, I flip my computer on – forget she’s my smiling screen saver – and there’s a moment of awe, always complete with a tummy yank, and yes, sometimes a tear.
She sees me quite a few times a week, but, at just under 5 months old, she’s still yet to figure out just who this grandpa feller is. I will hold her. Dote. Coo. Sing. For the first 60 to 90 seconds, I’m kinda entertaining… then… that bottom lip puckers up, without saying she says “PLEASE mister, give me back to my mommy or my daddy”, and then the tears flow. A millisecond I’m sad, then – I’m reminded, aha, they treat her well, love her so, have gained her trust. Way cool.
When I hear friends gripe, groan, type their woes on Facebook, I’ll occasionally type “crybaby.” Teasingly, lovingly. Truth is though, it’s me that’s a crybaby – but ya know what? I could give a rats what others think about that – for crying covers so many realms, emotions, past/present/future/those missing-no longer with us….. I’m happy I cry.
Love, Victeared.
Friday, May 20, 2011
"Slow Dance"... This poem was written by a terminally ill young girl in a New York Hospital.
SLOW DANCE
Have you ever watched kids
on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head?
You'd better slow down - Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Ever told your child, “We'll do it tomorrow?” And in your haste, not see
his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die cause you never had time to call
and say,'Hi'?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last..
When you run so fast to get somewhere you miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift.... thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
Have you ever watched kids
on a merry-go-round?
Or listened to the rain slapping on the ground?
Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?
Or gazed at the sun into the fading night?
You better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Do you run through each day on the fly?
When you ask “How are you?” Do you hear the reply?
When the day is done do you lie in your bed with the next hundred chores running through your head?
You'd better slow down - Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last.
Ever told your child, “We'll do it tomorrow?” And in your haste, not see
his sorrow?
Ever lost touch, let a good friendship die cause you never had time to call
and say,'Hi'?
You'd better slow down.
Don't dance so fast.
Time is short.
The music won't last..
When you run so fast to get somewhere you miss half the fun of getting there.
When you worry and hurry through your day, it is like an unopened gift.... thrown away.
Life is not a race.
Do take it slower
Hear the music
Before the song is over.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Eye can see clearly now….
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day.
Four years ago… eye docs office.. I’ve told this before, apologies. As one ages, they repeat things. I’ve told this before, apologies.
Four years ago, eye docs office… 30 minutes of close scrutinizing into my eyeballs. (My first EVER trip to eye doc)… Finally… “how old are you?”.. “Fitty-four”…. “You’ve got cataracts in both eyes.”… so, surgery, awesome results… one ‘fake lens’ the UP CLOSE kind.. ONE, the distance KIND. I threw away literally 7 pairs of Dollar Store “readers”, HELLO newspaper, HELLO PC, I CAN SEE YOU AGAIN, as in miracle.
Today, Wiki’ed “problems after cataract surgery.” Sometimes they come back, I found. Oh shit. Eyesight is precious. Wonderful. A gift. I don’t wanna lose it. That got me to thinking, what else in life don’t I ever wanna be without?
I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin - for
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day.
I don’t wanna be without those 4 little fingers and thumb that wrap around ONE knuckle and melt my heart like no other gal EVER has. (My 4 month old granddaughter Aubrie).. and of course, son, Mika, and for that matter – all my kin…
Look all around, there’s nothin -but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin -but blue skies
Coffee… That cig that simply tastes the best. Music. Baseball (Ray).. The Chiefs.. my buddies… Softball (Scroll to “oh shit, surgery again”).. laughter, banter, tease.. email… Facebook… people my age… people younger, and God Bless – people older….
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Heat in the winter, fan in the summer (ok, sometimes the AC, mostly fan.. .could live without AC).. My car… The News on TV (Victor, this is getting boring)… A sense of humor… picking out a beloved coworker or a friend and winging a compliment about them infronta as large a crowd as I can muster – cause I LOVE LOVE LOVE good people feeling good about themselves.
Hamburgers/Cheeseburgers (Beggars/choosers, the bowling alley “300 burger”… to die for)… Memories of yesterday… Simple stuff that looms SO large: smiles.. meeting face to face with a recognized one, and that smile (or “hey”) that follows… forwarding an email that ‘bout made me pee my pants in laughter.. Keeping/knowing the revelation “some folks just don’t enjoy life” THUS IMMERSE YOURSELF IN/WITH/LOVE THE ONES THAT DO. I swear smiles light walkways.
Choice. Opting here for choosing good, as in “life is pretty damn good.” I wanna hang, rub shoulders, befriend, KEEP as friend, those that choose thataway.
I… me… me of the 1.65 Maryville first year of college GPA… the C-/D+ guy from Karston’s 7th grade science class.. the feller whose perhaps best friggin SIX years of my life were in the undergraduate world, AM A SIMPLETON. That said, little things seemingly (and do) loom large.
Eye can see clearly now. (And hope to even better after eyeball surgery numero dos.) Keep loving life – I do, love Victurd.
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day.
Four years ago… eye docs office.. I’ve told this before, apologies. As one ages, they repeat things. I’ve told this before, apologies.
Four years ago, eye docs office… 30 minutes of close scrutinizing into my eyeballs. (My first EVER trip to eye doc)… Finally… “how old are you?”.. “Fitty-four”…. “You’ve got cataracts in both eyes.”… so, surgery, awesome results… one ‘fake lens’ the UP CLOSE kind.. ONE, the distance KIND. I threw away literally 7 pairs of Dollar Store “readers”, HELLO newspaper, HELLO PC, I CAN SEE YOU AGAIN, as in miracle.
Today, Wiki’ed “problems after cataract surgery.” Sometimes they come back, I found. Oh shit. Eyesight is precious. Wonderful. A gift. I don’t wanna lose it. That got me to thinking, what else in life don’t I ever wanna be without?
I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I’ve been prayin - for
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun-Shiny day.
I don’t wanna be without those 4 little fingers and thumb that wrap around ONE knuckle and melt my heart like no other gal EVER has. (My 4 month old granddaughter Aubrie).. and of course, son, Mika, and for that matter – all my kin…
Look all around, there’s nothin -but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin -but blue skies
Coffee… That cig that simply tastes the best. Music. Baseball (Ray).. The Chiefs.. my buddies… Softball (Scroll to “oh shit, surgery again”).. laughter, banter, tease.. email… Facebook… people my age… people younger, and God Bless – people older….
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone,
I can see all obstacles in my way
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It’s gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Heat in the winter, fan in the summer (ok, sometimes the AC, mostly fan.. .could live without AC).. My car… The News on TV (Victor, this is getting boring)… A sense of humor… picking out a beloved coworker or a friend and winging a compliment about them infronta as large a crowd as I can muster – cause I LOVE LOVE LOVE good people feeling good about themselves.
Hamburgers/Cheeseburgers (Beggars/choosers, the bowling alley “300 burger”… to die for)… Memories of yesterday… Simple stuff that looms SO large: smiles.. meeting face to face with a recognized one, and that smile (or “hey”) that follows… forwarding an email that ‘bout made me pee my pants in laughter.. Keeping/knowing the revelation “some folks just don’t enjoy life” THUS IMMERSE YOURSELF IN/WITH/LOVE THE ONES THAT DO. I swear smiles light walkways.
Choice. Opting here for choosing good, as in “life is pretty damn good.” I wanna hang, rub shoulders, befriend, KEEP as friend, those that choose thataway.
I… me… me of the 1.65 Maryville first year of college GPA… the C-/D+ guy from Karston’s 7th grade science class.. the feller whose perhaps best friggin SIX years of my life were in the undergraduate world, AM A SIMPLETON. That said, little things seemingly (and do) loom large.
Eye can see clearly now. (And hope to even better after eyeball surgery numero dos.) Keep loving life – I do, love Victurd.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
So I Googled “Things to do when you are bored.”
My house is staring at me. It wants/begs attention. I don’t wanna. Tomorrow. I’ll get to that tomorrow. My belly juts out, pleading “Victor, make me like I was back in 1970” -> I ain’t got the energy. So I went to stupid online dating website, where there is actually a place where you can ‘chat’ with other singles.. the ones I tried musta had very good eyesight, they didn’t wanna.
So, some’a the crap Google suggested:
“Give your cat a mohawk.” “Setup your Christmas Tree in May.” “Serve ping pong balls as hors d’oeuvres.” “Have a formal dinner at White Castle.” “Flash your goldfish.” “Balance a pencil on your nose.” “Program the courthouse clock to play Dueling Banjos at the top of every hour.”
And of course, remembering back to the day where I/we actually admitted I/we was/were simpletons/bored:
Out and about on a Saturday night. Had’a buddy, whom we’d asked “wanna go too”..”Nah, thanks, you guys go ahead.”.. so we did… we ‘borrowed’ 132 real estate “For Sale” signs, and plastered them in his front yard after dark.
Putting a poo-poo cushion in Naomi Johnson’s chair.
Affixing a Playboy foldout out to the roll down map of the United States in Naomi Johnson’s class. (I dunno why we always picked on her… nice lady.. mebbe that’s why we did!)
Super gluing the plates, silverware to the tables at Miller’s Diner…
Await a friend finally falling asleep, shave his left eyebrow off.
12 Sigma Nu’s. Carry Dr. Mathis’s VW up to “The Quad”….
Then… I found a (close your ears) “Do gooders” site with suggestions:
Hangout with old people. They have great stories and sometimes need the company.(Nah, I do that a couple three times a week with Tom/Clay already.)
Perform random acts of kindness. (I will…………….. tomorrow.)
Try brewing your own beer. Or make your own wine. (Jualah! I likes!)
Start a blog. (Nah, I suck at writing.)
THERE! I did it. The above got me from 8:14am to 9:53am. My once almost empty ashtray is overflowing. It’s only 5 hours now until softball practice. The bastards, had it last week too and I was unaware. Without saying so – me thinks “Victor, face it… you’re fitty-eight, you’ve had cataract surgery for behoogity sakes.. wanna coach first? Maybe keep score?”.. hehe.. and I just might do that…
Such is the life, the light, the way – of being an old, single bored fart. “Getting outta the batter’s box” (both figuratively and literally) becoming more difficult. I will though, I promise.
Tomorrow. Love, Victurd.
So, some’a the crap Google suggested:
“Give your cat a mohawk.” “Setup your Christmas Tree in May.” “Serve ping pong balls as hors d’oeuvres.” “Have a formal dinner at White Castle.” “Flash your goldfish.” “Balance a pencil on your nose.” “Program the courthouse clock to play Dueling Banjos at the top of every hour.”
And of course, remembering back to the day where I/we actually admitted I/we was/were simpletons/bored:
Out and about on a Saturday night. Had’a buddy, whom we’d asked “wanna go too”..”Nah, thanks, you guys go ahead.”.. so we did… we ‘borrowed’ 132 real estate “For Sale” signs, and plastered them in his front yard after dark.
Putting a poo-poo cushion in Naomi Johnson’s chair.
Affixing a Playboy foldout out to the roll down map of the United States in Naomi Johnson’s class. (I dunno why we always picked on her… nice lady.. mebbe that’s why we did!)
Super gluing the plates, silverware to the tables at Miller’s Diner…
Await a friend finally falling asleep, shave his left eyebrow off.
12 Sigma Nu’s. Carry Dr. Mathis’s VW up to “The Quad”….
Then… I found a (close your ears) “Do gooders” site with suggestions:
Hangout with old people. They have great stories and sometimes need the company.(Nah, I do that a couple three times a week with Tom/Clay already.)
Perform random acts of kindness. (I will…………….. tomorrow.)
Try brewing your own beer. Or make your own wine. (Jualah! I likes!)
Start a blog. (Nah, I suck at writing.)
THERE! I did it. The above got me from 8:14am to 9:53am. My once almost empty ashtray is overflowing. It’s only 5 hours now until softball practice. The bastards, had it last week too and I was unaware. Without saying so – me thinks “Victor, face it… you’re fitty-eight, you’ve had cataract surgery for behoogity sakes.. wanna coach first? Maybe keep score?”.. hehe.. and I just might do that…
Such is the life, the light, the way – of being an old, single bored fart. “Getting outta the batter’s box” (both figuratively and literally) becoming more difficult. I will though, I promise.
Tomorrow. Love, Victurd.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
A preachment, dear friend
You are about to receive on John Barleycorn
Nicotine and the temptations of Eve
No, not really, ‘cause if God were umpiring and had an ‘indicator’ (the little thingy umpires click to keep tracka strikes/balls) I’d have three strikes on the above.
No parkin' by the sewer sign
Hot dog, my razors broke
Water drippin' up the spout
But I dont care, let it all hang out
Actually, my $29.95 Norelco portable razor purchased in 1998 STILL works quite well tyvm, and water does drip at my house – I’ll fix it later. This/that was a recording.
Hangin' from a pine tree by my knees
Sun is shinin' through the shade
Nobody knows what its all about
It's too much, man, let it all hang out
Usedta do that (hang by knees).. me thinks the already red-faced me would become carmine if I again did that… and… the biologics of my body have changed a bit over the years – not so certain the knees could persist in keeping my belly from visiting the ground.
Saw a man walkin' upside down
My T.V.s on the blink
Made Galileo look like a Boy Scout
Sorry 'bout that, let it all hang out
I usedta could do that (walk on hands) but scroll to just above paragraph. Boy Scout? Ha! Whilst wholesome family, we really never attended church. To make the move from Cub Scout to Boy Scout, I hadta get with local Pastor, donate so-many hours in whatever needs the church grounds might have, get his signature……. I chickened out/dropped out.
Sleep all day, drive all night
Brain my numb, can't stop now
For sure ain't no doubt
Keep an open mind, let it all hang out.
Open mind – I try to do that. Slip sometimes. WHAT? You’re getting MY (4 month old) granddaughter’s ears pierced? (Oops,sorry, slipped)…
It's rainin' inside a big brown moon
How does that mess you baby up, leg
Eatin' a Reuben sandwich with sauerkraut
Don't stop now, baby, let it all hang out
Scroll to leak above, sometimes does rain inside. I’ll fix that. Sometime. I would neva-eva eat a Reuben with sauerkraut even though my name (Trivial Pursuit tells me) is THE most common German surname. Schultz is like Smith there I reckon. Patooey, no sauerkraut for me, sorry.
Let it all hang out
Let it all hang out
Let it all hang out
I do like this nonsensical song. I do like fun. I don’t mind making an idiot of myself here – the hell, life’s for living, ya don’t like this – pass me on by – hell, two have chewed me up, spit me out.. aNd I’m StIlL dOiNg Ok, HaSn’T aFfEcTeD mE. (oR iS tHaT ‘EfFeCt’, get them two mixed up)..
The gist, to me anyways, go… do….. live.. don’t have regrets.. allow your own mind to be the best judge of you…. Smile.. speak (attempting to draw smile from another’s face).. compliment.. praise.. love… share… join in… mebbe stupidly, onea my biggest goals in life is simply to have been liked as a person. If I were to walk away, keel, disappear, ne’er e’er to return – it’s my greatest hope “I liked that guy” would run thru the brains of those I’ve come across.
No parkin' by the sewer sign
Hot dog, my razors broke
Water drippin' up the spout
But I dont care, let it all hang out
Love, Victurd.
Nicotine and the temptations of Eve
No, not really, ‘cause if God were umpiring and had an ‘indicator’ (the little thingy umpires click to keep tracka strikes/balls) I’d have three strikes on the above.
No parkin' by the sewer sign
Hot dog, my razors broke
Water drippin' up the spout
But I dont care, let it all hang out
Actually, my $29.95 Norelco portable razor purchased in 1998 STILL works quite well tyvm, and water does drip at my house – I’ll fix it later. This/that was a recording.
Hangin' from a pine tree by my knees
Sun is shinin' through the shade
Nobody knows what its all about
It's too much, man, let it all hang out
Usedta do that (hang by knees).. me thinks the already red-faced me would become carmine if I again did that… and… the biologics of my body have changed a bit over the years – not so certain the knees could persist in keeping my belly from visiting the ground.
Saw a man walkin' upside down
My T.V.s on the blink
Made Galileo look like a Boy Scout
Sorry 'bout that, let it all hang out
I usedta could do that (walk on hands) but scroll to just above paragraph. Boy Scout? Ha! Whilst wholesome family, we really never attended church. To make the move from Cub Scout to Boy Scout, I hadta get with local Pastor, donate so-many hours in whatever needs the church grounds might have, get his signature……. I chickened out/dropped out.
Sleep all day, drive all night
Brain my numb, can't stop now
For sure ain't no doubt
Keep an open mind, let it all hang out.
Open mind – I try to do that. Slip sometimes. WHAT? You’re getting MY (4 month old) granddaughter’s ears pierced? (Oops,sorry, slipped)…
It's rainin' inside a big brown moon
How does that mess you baby up, leg
Eatin' a Reuben sandwich with sauerkraut
Don't stop now, baby, let it all hang out
Scroll to leak above, sometimes does rain inside. I’ll fix that. Sometime. I would neva-eva eat a Reuben with sauerkraut even though my name (Trivial Pursuit tells me) is THE most common German surname. Schultz is like Smith there I reckon. Patooey, no sauerkraut for me, sorry.
Let it all hang out
Let it all hang out
Let it all hang out
I do like this nonsensical song. I do like fun. I don’t mind making an idiot of myself here – the hell, life’s for living, ya don’t like this – pass me on by – hell, two have chewed me up, spit me out.. aNd I’m StIlL dOiNg Ok, HaSn’T aFfEcTeD mE. (oR iS tHaT ‘EfFeCt’, get them two mixed up)..
The gist, to me anyways, go… do….. live.. don’t have regrets.. allow your own mind to be the best judge of you…. Smile.. speak (attempting to draw smile from another’s face).. compliment.. praise.. love… share… join in… mebbe stupidly, onea my biggest goals in life is simply to have been liked as a person. If I were to walk away, keel, disappear, ne’er e’er to return – it’s my greatest hope “I liked that guy” would run thru the brains of those I’ve come across.
No parkin' by the sewer sign
Hot dog, my razors broke
Water drippin' up the spout
But I dont care, let it all hang out
Love, Victurd.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
The drop of a hat….
Dunno about you – but in this whimsical, topsy-turvy thing called life – respites of “no feel” exhibited, felt, demonstrated, lived, abhorred. I will admit to being a humongous glob of yuck following “D #2”.. (the last lady, of some 20+ years)…
Kinda reminded of the high dive at the ole JFK swimming pool. Ya know – ya jump off from a hella high height, your feet hit the water – hurts a tad simply due to the force – and you go down, down, down… for a brief moment, you wonder if you’ll ever surface again (and mebbe sometimes seemingly not caring if you don’t)..
Then – when you reach that very low point – it hits home “this ain’t where I wanna be” and your hands flail, beg, push, pull – ultimately rising, reaching the surface again. There, you smile, peruse, you realize, hells bells, there’s other gals in nifty bikini’s – I see the sun.. I’m breathing, safe, walking, seemingly Ok, life – it ain’t bad after all.
I dunno if it’s age, wimpiness, faint heart or what – but I get hella emotional any more over the least little thing. This morning, going thru the obits, too damn many bright, shining, youthful faces. WHY? Without knowing any of them – I clammed up, felt that little tinge run from my belly to my face…
Happy. Happy brings out life’s emoticons. Doesn’t have to be witnessing, observing someone I know.. I guess I’ve always been a tad on the sentimental side – but me, this age – it’s different. I think to myself “I should HATE this, being so easily stirred” – but I don’t. I rejoice in it. I guess I’m kinda reminded of a 25 year old clothes dryer. When new, whirled, nary a sound. Now, a bit more worse for wear, but happily, noisily, still spinning, whirling - simply appreciative of the "still going."
Victor, you are kinda a dumbass to lay this all out for everyone to see/read. I don’t care. I’ve said five hunnerd times – I write to me, hitchhikers welcome. And.. I bet, of the three or four that might stumble by here – there are others who are easily emoted – and they don’t mind it one little bit.
To feel is a wonderful thing – I vote rejoice in it. Thankful for it. Blessed to be it.
Another thing I noticed (scroll to “dumbass to lay this all out”)… I’ll pretty much say what I think now. Compliments, previously stowed away, now surface with ease. No intent ever to hurt – but the words flow more easily. If I see friend and they look good, I let ‘em know. No intent other than to let ‘em know. If I see something/someone doing/having something I like – I say so. Them thoughts usedta be in the belly (I guess) and would have trouble zipping up to the brain, and down thru the mouth. Not so any more. Live. Love. Like. Say. Do. Breathe.
You a grandparent? Ohhhhh my.. To catch eyeballs with my lovely 4+ month old g-baby, see her wing me a smile.. makes me feel like Superman with Kryptonite. Allofasudden I could give a rats about my leaky roof, the right rear tire that needs air daily, the occasional "more month than money"... It is a feel, after fitty-eight years, I am so wonderfuly thankful to elicit. YAY Aubrie Rose! LOVEYA!
Distaste? Oh sure. Who doesn’t see/hear things that makeya wanna upchuck. THAT’s when I allow my thoughts to gurgle/stay down in the belly – never surface. That’s when I turn the other direction, get the hell away, “don’t wanna be here, hear this”.. and I do. Am I painting myself “better than thou”?.. Quoting my wonderful stepson “Not no’s but hells no’s”…
I recently wrote something on Mother’s Day on Facebook about the passing of my mother some 25 years ago.. did so simply because I think of her every day.. I got the most wonderful email from a guy a few classes aheada me in school.. He admitted to tearing up as he read this posting. His email meant TONS to me – and simply reinforced, this is a great age.. a great time of life.. and way, way, way AOK to show, say, feel, cry, love, smile – use that damn ticker before it eventually gets too many miles on it and shoots crap.
Happy day. May you have a good cry. A good smile. Wing a comp to a buddy. Look in the mirror and appreciate that those lines are thankfully from smiling over the years. Love, Victurd.
Kinda reminded of the high dive at the ole JFK swimming pool. Ya know – ya jump off from a hella high height, your feet hit the water – hurts a tad simply due to the force – and you go down, down, down… for a brief moment, you wonder if you’ll ever surface again (and mebbe sometimes seemingly not caring if you don’t)..
Then – when you reach that very low point – it hits home “this ain’t where I wanna be” and your hands flail, beg, push, pull – ultimately rising, reaching the surface again. There, you smile, peruse, you realize, hells bells, there’s other gals in nifty bikini’s – I see the sun.. I’m breathing, safe, walking, seemingly Ok, life – it ain’t bad after all.
I dunno if it’s age, wimpiness, faint heart or what – but I get hella emotional any more over the least little thing. This morning, going thru the obits, too damn many bright, shining, youthful faces. WHY? Without knowing any of them – I clammed up, felt that little tinge run from my belly to my face…
Happy. Happy brings out life’s emoticons. Doesn’t have to be witnessing, observing someone I know.. I guess I’ve always been a tad on the sentimental side – but me, this age – it’s different. I think to myself “I should HATE this, being so easily stirred” – but I don’t. I rejoice in it. I guess I’m kinda reminded of a 25 year old clothes dryer. When new, whirled, nary a sound. Now, a bit more worse for wear, but happily, noisily, still spinning, whirling - simply appreciative of the "still going."
Victor, you are kinda a dumbass to lay this all out for everyone to see/read. I don’t care. I’ve said five hunnerd times – I write to me, hitchhikers welcome. And.. I bet, of the three or four that might stumble by here – there are others who are easily emoted – and they don’t mind it one little bit.
To feel is a wonderful thing – I vote rejoice in it. Thankful for it. Blessed to be it.
Another thing I noticed (scroll to “dumbass to lay this all out”)… I’ll pretty much say what I think now. Compliments, previously stowed away, now surface with ease. No intent ever to hurt – but the words flow more easily. If I see friend and they look good, I let ‘em know. No intent other than to let ‘em know. If I see something/someone doing/having something I like – I say so. Them thoughts usedta be in the belly (I guess) and would have trouble zipping up to the brain, and down thru the mouth. Not so any more. Live. Love. Like. Say. Do. Breathe.
You a grandparent? Ohhhhh my.. To catch eyeballs with my lovely 4+ month old g-baby, see her wing me a smile.. makes me feel like Superman with Kryptonite. Allofasudden I could give a rats about my leaky roof, the right rear tire that needs air daily, the occasional "more month than money"... It is a feel, after fitty-eight years, I am so wonderfuly thankful to elicit. YAY Aubrie Rose! LOVEYA!
Distaste? Oh sure. Who doesn’t see/hear things that makeya wanna upchuck. THAT’s when I allow my thoughts to gurgle/stay down in the belly – never surface. That’s when I turn the other direction, get the hell away, “don’t wanna be here, hear this”.. and I do. Am I painting myself “better than thou”?.. Quoting my wonderful stepson “Not no’s but hells no’s”…
I recently wrote something on Mother’s Day on Facebook about the passing of my mother some 25 years ago.. did so simply because I think of her every day.. I got the most wonderful email from a guy a few classes aheada me in school.. He admitted to tearing up as he read this posting. His email meant TONS to me – and simply reinforced, this is a great age.. a great time of life.. and way, way, way AOK to show, say, feel, cry, love, smile – use that damn ticker before it eventually gets too many miles on it and shoots crap.
Happy day. May you have a good cry. A good smile. Wing a comp to a buddy. Look in the mirror and appreciate that those lines are thankfully from smiling over the years. Love, Victurd.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Confidence…
Life is weird. Sometimes I feel like I’m in SUPREME shape, I’ve reached the apex of “the run”.. I’m goin’ downhill now baby, notta damn thing that can stop me!
And… then other times, I have an extremely difficult time concentrating, focusing on the good in me/my world.. and I’m brought to deafening silence (close ur ears, mebbe depressed/depression.) Silence everywhere, but to my brain.
Smiles pump me up, prop me up, and even sometimes, invoke tears. I hate when old folks dote on their grandkids (not really) but doting on my “a bit over 4 month old g-baby”, when she invokes smile – there's notta damn soul on the planet that can budge me from ‘heaven’… I’m truly a sappy person around her. She can do no wrong. She can’t ‘say’ anything, but whenever she finally starts doing so, she will say no wrong.
I am confident in the work I do. I smoke too many damn cigs (they’ve told me that) but whilst so, I fret, turn upside-downside, thinka this carrier, that carrier, all the time constraints involved – and ultimately, I perform – and when I do, it’s with the best interests of the company that feeds me in mind.
When I thinka ‘boy-girl’, me-she, holy crap. I slip into the mole hole. I’ve married, what I believe to have been, two very good persons. (Don’t live in Utah, nope, not at same time.. one 7 yrs.. d’udder a bit over 20 yrs)…
Both ended. Sure, I’ll share some blame. Comprende. But, wanted neither to end. (Both did, and I welled up the 2nd time I’d said “till death do us part” cause I’d already said it).. So…. Tepid.. as I go forward. “Why even do/attempt this again, it will just cause more wrinkles… and Victor, have you seen a mirror lately?”. I know I know.
Then I remember the good times.. The loving times.. The “what it’s like for two peeps to share their day/night/morn/their everything.”
So, I reach hand out. And occasionally, a gal with very poor vision will respond in like. And then I clam up.
I honestly am torn between “I am not so sure I wanna do this shit again, for however many years, and then have it all yanked away – to where I run to Miller Lite, the computer, my buds, anywhere “but there”…
(Continuing on the torn between).. Do you REALLY think it’s possible? Could good be good infinitum? I’ve ‘butchered’ my first two “draft choices” – whythehell would you believe #3 would be any better? Just the statement “#3” carries a stigma. As in ‘eww’.
Then, I see pics of gals, and gals in the flesh and blood – and they exhibit that wonderful, adoring, (“I love life, I’m a very good person, I would NEVER diss you”) smile.. and I melt. We wing wonderfully expectant emails back and forth…
And then I sit back. Yes, no. No, yes. Give it a try. But, whythehellshouldI, u know what will happen. Nostradamus, whyinthehell did u have to die in 1566?
All that said: Victor, you are difficult to live with occasionally, just ask Victor… Why even try again?
Baseball Ray... three strikes and you’re out. Hell, you ain’t so far from Shady Acres, what possible kinda fun could you have tween now and then?
Could you stand one more “seeya later”?
Like sands thru the hourglass, so go the Days of our Lives.. Victor, might I ask.. have you had a beer tonight?
My secret. Happy day, love Victurd, hiccup.
And… then other times, I have an extremely difficult time concentrating, focusing on the good in me/my world.. and I’m brought to deafening silence (close ur ears, mebbe depressed/depression.) Silence everywhere, but to my brain.
Smiles pump me up, prop me up, and even sometimes, invoke tears. I hate when old folks dote on their grandkids (not really) but doting on my “a bit over 4 month old g-baby”, when she invokes smile – there's notta damn soul on the planet that can budge me from ‘heaven’… I’m truly a sappy person around her. She can do no wrong. She can’t ‘say’ anything, but whenever she finally starts doing so, she will say no wrong.
I am confident in the work I do. I smoke too many damn cigs (they’ve told me that) but whilst so, I fret, turn upside-downside, thinka this carrier, that carrier, all the time constraints involved – and ultimately, I perform – and when I do, it’s with the best interests of the company that feeds me in mind.
When I thinka ‘boy-girl’, me-she, holy crap. I slip into the mole hole. I’ve married, what I believe to have been, two very good persons. (Don’t live in Utah, nope, not at same time.. one 7 yrs.. d’udder a bit over 20 yrs)…
Both ended. Sure, I’ll share some blame. Comprende. But, wanted neither to end. (Both did, and I welled up the 2nd time I’d said “till death do us part” cause I’d already said it).. So…. Tepid.. as I go forward. “Why even do/attempt this again, it will just cause more wrinkles… and Victor, have you seen a mirror lately?”. I know I know.
Then I remember the good times.. The loving times.. The “what it’s like for two peeps to share their day/night/morn/their everything.”
So, I reach hand out. And occasionally, a gal with very poor vision will respond in like. And then I clam up.
I honestly am torn between “I am not so sure I wanna do this shit again, for however many years, and then have it all yanked away – to where I run to Miller Lite, the computer, my buds, anywhere “but there”…
(Continuing on the torn between).. Do you REALLY think it’s possible? Could good be good infinitum? I’ve ‘butchered’ my first two “draft choices” – whythehell would you believe #3 would be any better? Just the statement “#3” carries a stigma. As in ‘eww’.
Then, I see pics of gals, and gals in the flesh and blood – and they exhibit that wonderful, adoring, (“I love life, I’m a very good person, I would NEVER diss you”) smile.. and I melt. We wing wonderfully expectant emails back and forth…
And then I sit back. Yes, no. No, yes. Give it a try. But, whythehellshouldI, u know what will happen. Nostradamus, whyinthehell did u have to die in 1566?
All that said: Victor, you are difficult to live with occasionally, just ask Victor… Why even try again?
Baseball Ray... three strikes and you’re out. Hell, you ain’t so far from Shady Acres, what possible kinda fun could you have tween now and then?
Could you stand one more “seeya later”?
Like sands thru the hourglass, so go the Days of our Lives.. Victor, might I ask.. have you had a beer tonight?
My secret. Happy day, love Victurd, hiccup.
Sunday, May 08, 2011
Moms..
Moms hold their breath when YOU cough and don’t let the air out until they’re assured you’ve taken your next breath in.
Moms carry you between their hips for nine months - and then several years after on their hip.
All salesperson's should be a mom, for there is no close match to the empathy they exhibit.
Those first few comfy words from mom, be they in person, by phone or by note - work wonders in calming whatever life’s present woe has lent.
Moms spend but few hours physically delivering one - but a lifetime thereafter delivering love, care, concern.
Moms have an unrivaled resume’: Doctor, chef, psychologist, chauffeur, inventory assistant, personal shopper, “alarm clock”, time management director, peace officer, very fair judge, teacher, advisor, sound (volume) control department, impartial referee, “upright” instructor (both to our physical being and our mental being), bicycle instructor, driver’s training, homework advisor (ne’er giving answer - but assisting in guiding to answer), ‘probation’ officer, climate control, Rand McNally Chief, appointment reminder, moralist, the list could continue into infinity.
This message will self destruct in two minutes. (We men/Dads would be very, very, very lost if it were not for moms. You are the GPS to our existence. You are so, so much more than ‘a person having a baby’. Moms rule, dads drool... Self destructing now, Happy Mother’s Day to all moms.) Love, Victurd.
Moms carry you between their hips for nine months - and then several years after on their hip.
All salesperson's should be a mom, for there is no close match to the empathy they exhibit.
Those first few comfy words from mom, be they in person, by phone or by note - work wonders in calming whatever life’s present woe has lent.
Moms spend but few hours physically delivering one - but a lifetime thereafter delivering love, care, concern.
Moms have an unrivaled resume’: Doctor, chef, psychologist, chauffeur, inventory assistant, personal shopper, “alarm clock”, time management director, peace officer, very fair judge, teacher, advisor, sound (volume) control department, impartial referee, “upright” instructor (both to our physical being and our mental being), bicycle instructor, driver’s training, homework advisor (ne’er giving answer - but assisting in guiding to answer), ‘probation’ officer, climate control, Rand McNally Chief, appointment reminder, moralist, the list could continue into infinity.
This message will self destruct in two minutes. (We men/Dads would be very, very, very lost if it were not for moms. You are the GPS to our existence. You are so, so much more than ‘a person having a baby’. Moms rule, dads drool... Self destructing now, Happy Mother’s Day to all moms.) Love, Victurd.
Saturday, May 07, 2011
As tears go by.....
It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch
As tears go by
McDonalds, 6:15am.. Miraculously beautiful rainbow cast over the sky.. “The usual” (they don’t even ask any longer, they just ring it in).. short hop to City Park, Liberty, MO - KC Star in hand. I “grew up” here. Played there, worked there, STILL play there. Young punks, obviously first year of baseball, scatter excitedly from their cars to the ballfield. Smiling faces - but not for me… It’s all good.
Article about young phenom just called up to the Royals. Cause for “back in the day” optimism… In fact, mid-way thru the article he started talking about George Brett/Frank White stories - and there I sat, full cycle. Little kids baseball, the good days of the Royals, the (someday) finalization of an old fart’s dream to continue “being a kid.” I actually did kinda tear up.
My riches can't buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch
As tears go by
I somewhat jest in saying “I might have Parkinson's.” Jest in that there are no signs.. Ok, one sign.. My father had Parkinson's.. A natural ‘progression’ of Parkinson's is to tear up, well up, be fairly emotional upon little things - or things that yank at yesteryear. Dad demonstrated this often. All those years - not necessarily “pent up”, but not formally allowed to show, be exhibited. I hated the bastard Parkinson's, but I loved knowing “he felt.” As tears go by doesn’t necessarily have to be a very sad thing. Tears of joy, tears from yesterday’s events - tears simply for ‘feel.’
It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doin' things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch
As tears go by
The day after JFK died.. September 12, 2001. Aside from today, the only other two days I can recall that this stupid sport’s enthusiast read the front section of the Kansas City Star before burying his head in the sport’s section.
Josh Langton. Article, front page. Josh is a stepson to my ex. Her husband Mike’s child. In March, he had his car on a hoist - was welding, spark caught the gas tank on fire - explosion jolted him to the ground… burns to over 90% of his body. His father got a blanket and rolled him on the ground - otherwise, he might not even be here today (and sadly, it's still touch and go.)
Article addressed his spunk.. His ‘never having the fear to back down” (stand up for his principles..).. Desert Storm participant. And the induced coma he was initially placed in so the pain would hopefully lessen, and while skin grafts were taken. The family talks to him daily.. One day.. Pleading “please Josh, you can’t leave me”.. and a tear welled up on his eye. That’s feel. Wow..
More from the Star article: On Wednesday night, Battagliola (Josh’s mom) stood terrified at her son’s side. Asleep, Josh looked lifeless. “I need to see some life or something,” she told the nurse. “I need for him to know how much I love him.”
He just needs sleep, the nurse explained, before approaching the bed. “Josh?” the nurse said. “Josh? Your mom’s here.” His heavy eyes opened. His voice was barely audible.
“I love you, Mom,” he managed. She kissed his forehead and cried.
“Just go back to sleep, sweetheart,” she said, and took a seat at his side.
Youth. Baseball. Old age. Parkinsons. Horror. It is the evening of the day.. I sit and watch.. As tears go by..
I sit and watch the children play
Smiling faces I can see
But not for me
I sit and watch
As tears go by
McDonalds, 6:15am.. Miraculously beautiful rainbow cast over the sky.. “The usual” (they don’t even ask any longer, they just ring it in).. short hop to City Park, Liberty, MO - KC Star in hand. I “grew up” here. Played there, worked there, STILL play there. Young punks, obviously first year of baseball, scatter excitedly from their cars to the ballfield. Smiling faces - but not for me… It’s all good.
Article about young phenom just called up to the Royals. Cause for “back in the day” optimism… In fact, mid-way thru the article he started talking about George Brett/Frank White stories - and there I sat, full cycle. Little kids baseball, the good days of the Royals, the (someday) finalization of an old fart’s dream to continue “being a kid.” I actually did kinda tear up.
My riches can't buy everything
I want to hear the children sing
All I hear is the sound
Of rain falling on the ground
I sit and watch
As tears go by
I somewhat jest in saying “I might have Parkinson's.” Jest in that there are no signs.. Ok, one sign.. My father had Parkinson's.. A natural ‘progression’ of Parkinson's is to tear up, well up, be fairly emotional upon little things - or things that yank at yesteryear. Dad demonstrated this often. All those years - not necessarily “pent up”, but not formally allowed to show, be exhibited. I hated the bastard Parkinson's, but I loved knowing “he felt.” As tears go by doesn’t necessarily have to be a very sad thing. Tears of joy, tears from yesterday’s events - tears simply for ‘feel.’
It is the evening of the day
I sit and watch the children play
Doin' things I used to do
They think are new
I sit and watch
As tears go by
The day after JFK died.. September 12, 2001. Aside from today, the only other two days I can recall that this stupid sport’s enthusiast read the front section of the Kansas City Star before burying his head in the sport’s section.
Josh Langton. Article, front page. Josh is a stepson to my ex. Her husband Mike’s child. In March, he had his car on a hoist - was welding, spark caught the gas tank on fire - explosion jolted him to the ground… burns to over 90% of his body. His father got a blanket and rolled him on the ground - otherwise, he might not even be here today (and sadly, it's still touch and go.)
Article addressed his spunk.. His ‘never having the fear to back down” (stand up for his principles..).. Desert Storm participant. And the induced coma he was initially placed in so the pain would hopefully lessen, and while skin grafts were taken. The family talks to him daily.. One day.. Pleading “please Josh, you can’t leave me”.. and a tear welled up on his eye. That’s feel. Wow..
More from the Star article: On Wednesday night, Battagliola (Josh’s mom) stood terrified at her son’s side. Asleep, Josh looked lifeless. “I need to see some life or something,” she told the nurse. “I need for him to know how much I love him.”
He just needs sleep, the nurse explained, before approaching the bed. “Josh?” the nurse said. “Josh? Your mom’s here.” His heavy eyes opened. His voice was barely audible.
“I love you, Mom,” he managed. She kissed his forehead and cried.
“Just go back to sleep, sweetheart,” she said, and took a seat at his side.
Youth. Baseball. Old age. Parkinsons. Horror. It is the evening of the day.. I sit and watch.. As tears go by..
Thursday, May 05, 2011
I'm unique, just like you.....
(You wanna impress me.. say “UNIQUE NEW YORK”... 3 times.. REAL FAST!)
Hi, and welcome to weirdom. The place where nonsensical is vogue – and altering Dr. Emmitt Brown's take just a tad “Rules?.. Rules? Where we're going we don't need rules!”
The great thing abouta blog. No teacher with red marker.. u can turn spellcheck off.. u can write like people talk... woulda... coulda.. shoulda.. and no one gives a rats!
Robert Pershing Wadlow was unique. Tallest man EVER. Had hypertrophy of his pituitary gland resulting in abnormally high level of human growth hormone. Get this.. .8'11.1”.......... That's unique.
Can u guess why this guy is unique? Adolph Blaine Charles David Earl Frederick Gerald Hubert Irvin John Kenneth Lloyd Martin Nero
Oliver Paul Quincy Randolph Sherman Thomas Uncas Victor William Xerxes Yancy Zeus Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenbergerdorff. Uh huh, figured you could.
Unique jobs? Lifeguard at nude beach. Jelly donut filler. Ahm, Jaime Rascone. Go ahead, Google him. He works quality control in a brothel in Santiago, Chili. After candidates are screened (interviews, psychological testing, photo session) – whittled down to six. Jaime then “interviews” the candidates, taking diligent notes and makes recommendations to the madam. This job strain makes it so he can only do this once a month, or, 70 gals per year. That's pretty damn unique, and I hate his guts.
Unique: Antarctica is the only continent without reptiles or snakes.
Libra, the Scales, is the only inanimate symbol in the zodiac.
Ohio's flag is a pennant. (The other 49 are rectangular)
The only letter that doesn't appear in any of the 50 states? Q.
The only animal who's evidence is admissible in American Court? The bloodhound.
We're all unique. Moles. Tats. Size. Shape. Skin color. Hair color. Eyes. Dimples. Wrinkles. Demeanor. Walk. Introvert-extrovert-mediumvert.
“One of a kind”.. we've all known someone like that. Sometimes we love 'em, sometimes we wish they'd get locked up and lose the key. Oft times we deduce to “well.. that's just (insert name here)”...
People are unique (There are more chickens in the world than people)...
Winston Churchill was born in the ladies room during a dance. You can't sneeze with your eyes open. Stewardesses is the longest word typed with your left hand.
Unique. Only four words end in 'dous'...... tremendous, horrendous, stupendous and harardous. Decka cards, only the king of hearts ain't gotta moustache.
Fill her up: A Boeing 747 holds 57,285 gallons of fuel. Most lipstick contains fish scales. HA! I didn't make it up! First bar code? Wrigley's gum. Cat urine glows under a black-light (don't ask how I know this.)
Thomas Edison, lightbulb inventor, was afraid of the dark.
Are you a unique pooper? The average American uses 57 sheets of TP per day. Slugs have 4 noses. There are more plastic flamingos in the US than real ones.
Fingerprints are unique. Know what? So are tongue prints! Poor Charles Osborne was unique.. he had the hiccups for 69 years!
I'm uniqued out. We're all weird, different, the-one-and-only.. we only see from one pair of shoes.. we are in charge of our direction, our speech, our thoughts, our ways, our beliefs.. For the most part, we mingle perty peacefully together.
I'm unique, just like you.. .Love, Victurd.
Hi, and welcome to weirdom. The place where nonsensical is vogue – and altering Dr. Emmitt Brown's take just a tad “Rules?.. Rules? Where we're going we don't need rules!”
The great thing abouta blog. No teacher with red marker.. u can turn spellcheck off.. u can write like people talk... woulda... coulda.. shoulda.. and no one gives a rats!
Robert Pershing Wadlow was unique. Tallest man EVER. Had hypertrophy of his pituitary gland resulting in abnormally high level of human growth hormone. Get this.. .8'11.1”.......... That's unique.
Can u guess why this guy is unique? Adolph Blaine Charles David Earl Frederick Gerald Hubert Irvin John Kenneth Lloyd Martin Nero
Oliver Paul Quincy Randolph Sherman Thomas Uncas Victor William Xerxes Yancy Zeus Wolfeschlegelsteinhausenbergerdorff. Uh huh, figured you could.
Unique jobs? Lifeguard at nude beach. Jelly donut filler. Ahm, Jaime Rascone. Go ahead, Google him. He works quality control in a brothel in Santiago, Chili. After candidates are screened (interviews, psychological testing, photo session) – whittled down to six. Jaime then “interviews” the candidates, taking diligent notes and makes recommendations to the madam. This job strain makes it so he can only do this once a month, or, 70 gals per year. That's pretty damn unique, and I hate his guts.
Unique: Antarctica is the only continent without reptiles or snakes.
Libra, the Scales, is the only inanimate symbol in the zodiac.
Ohio's flag is a pennant. (The other 49 are rectangular)
The only letter that doesn't appear in any of the 50 states? Q.
The only animal who's evidence is admissible in American Court? The bloodhound.
We're all unique. Moles. Tats. Size. Shape. Skin color. Hair color. Eyes. Dimples. Wrinkles. Demeanor. Walk. Introvert-extrovert-mediumvert.
“One of a kind”.. we've all known someone like that. Sometimes we love 'em, sometimes we wish they'd get locked up and lose the key. Oft times we deduce to “well.. that's just (insert name here)”...
People are unique (There are more chickens in the world than people)...
Winston Churchill was born in the ladies room during a dance. You can't sneeze with your eyes open. Stewardesses is the longest word typed with your left hand.
Unique. Only four words end in 'dous'...... tremendous, horrendous, stupendous and harardous. Decka cards, only the king of hearts ain't gotta moustache.
Fill her up: A Boeing 747 holds 57,285 gallons of fuel. Most lipstick contains fish scales. HA! I didn't make it up! First bar code? Wrigley's gum. Cat urine glows under a black-light (don't ask how I know this.)
Thomas Edison, lightbulb inventor, was afraid of the dark.
Are you a unique pooper? The average American uses 57 sheets of TP per day. Slugs have 4 noses. There are more plastic flamingos in the US than real ones.
Fingerprints are unique. Know what? So are tongue prints! Poor Charles Osborne was unique.. he had the hiccups for 69 years!
I'm uniqued out. We're all weird, different, the-one-and-only.. we only see from one pair of shoes.. we are in charge of our direction, our speech, our thoughts, our ways, our beliefs.. For the most part, we mingle perty peacefully together.
I'm unique, just like you.. .Love, Victurd.
Sunday, May 01, 2011
Green eggs and ham......
Oh Dr. Suess... ya gotta love Dr. Suess... (Well, ya ain't gotta, but I do)...
Of course – sure, The Cat in the Hat... Green eggs and ham.. One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.. How the Grinch Stole Christmas...
But too... his quotes...
Was looking thru female profiles on this online dating site..(YOU VICTOR? SURELY NOT?... yeah... sorry... habit).. and one gal had one that really struck home with me:
“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”
I LOVE THIS! Whilst I honestly abhor incessant talkers – I view writing/reading differently. I'll write what I want, when I want – ya ain't gotta read it. But.. with incessant speech, you're trapped, PATOOEY, fingernails on the chalkboard to my ears!
“Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” Are you kidding me? A CHILDREN'S BOOK WRITER? FARM OUT.
“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” I think I remember this feeling, and I think I really liked it, and I think he, this children's book writer, is “write” on.
“Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.” Ok, mebbe kid-talk kinda-sorta, but... OUTLOOK too. Chin up, had/have fun... s'more is comin'...
“A person's a person, no matter how small.” Me thinks he doesn't exclusively mean kiddos here... Ride on Doc – thanks, and we will value everyone...
“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try.” ie, “ya got it inya – don't think you don't.”
“If you never did you should. These things are fun and fun is good.” So very basic. Live a little. “Shouldn't” shouldn't be in your vocabulary. Oops. Venture. Go. Live. (And remember, this guy wrote kid's books!)
“All alone! Whether you like it or not, alone is something you'll be quite a lot!” Amen Brother Ben. Didn't teach nifty stuff like this in school. Never imagined it could be true. To that, he adds:
“You are you. Now, isn't that pleasant?” I guess he means “like ourselves.” Heavy, and sometimes can be hard – but also so very true – we should like ourselves and lighten the load we place upon ourselves.
“From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere.” Sure, goofy – colored pics in a book with stories... But me thinky he say “look... have fun... enjoy... lighten up... laugh... enjoy... smile...allow humor to sneak into your world!”
“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells.” YEP. This one has ME written allover it. Some dislike, and that's ok, scroll to first quote!
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own, and you know what you know. And you are the guy who'll decide where to go.” Not only for the young, but for the meek, the timid, for us all...
And finally, about finding fun from here to there, there to here: “If I were invited to a dinner party with my characters, I wouldn't show up!”
Dr. Suess – even though you're no longer among the living, you will live forever. Thanks for being so much more than “just a children's book writer.” We've all learned from you. Love, Victurd
Of course – sure, The Cat in the Hat... Green eggs and ham.. One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish.. How the Grinch Stole Christmas...
But too... his quotes...
Was looking thru female profiles on this online dating site..(YOU VICTOR? SURELY NOT?... yeah... sorry... habit).. and one gal had one that really struck home with me:
“Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.”
I LOVE THIS! Whilst I honestly abhor incessant talkers – I view writing/reading differently. I'll write what I want, when I want – ya ain't gotta read it. But.. with incessant speech, you're trapped, PATOOEY, fingernails on the chalkboard to my ears!
“Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.” Are you kidding me? A CHILDREN'S BOOK WRITER? FARM OUT.
“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” I think I remember this feeling, and I think I really liked it, and I think he, this children's book writer, is “write” on.
“Today was good. Today was fun. Tomorrow is another one.” Ok, mebbe kid-talk kinda-sorta, but... OUTLOOK too. Chin up, had/have fun... s'more is comin'...
“A person's a person, no matter how small.” Me thinks he doesn't exclusively mean kiddos here... Ride on Doc – thanks, and we will value everyone...
“Think left and think right and think low and think high. Oh, the things you can think up if only you try.” ie, “ya got it inya – don't think you don't.”
“If you never did you should. These things are fun and fun is good.” So very basic. Live a little. “Shouldn't” shouldn't be in your vocabulary. Oops. Venture. Go. Live. (And remember, this guy wrote kid's books!)
“All alone! Whether you like it or not, alone is something you'll be quite a lot!” Amen Brother Ben. Didn't teach nifty stuff like this in school. Never imagined it could be true. To that, he adds:
“You are you. Now, isn't that pleasant?” I guess he means “like ourselves.” Heavy, and sometimes can be hard – but also so very true – we should like ourselves and lighten the load we place upon ourselves.
“From there to here, and here to there, funny things are everywhere.” Sure, goofy – colored pics in a book with stories... But me thinky he say “look... have fun... enjoy... lighten up... laugh... enjoy... smile...allow humor to sneak into your world!”
“I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells.” YEP. This one has ME written allover it. Some dislike, and that's ok, scroll to first quote!
“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself in any direction you choose. You're on your own, and you know what you know. And you are the guy who'll decide where to go.” Not only for the young, but for the meek, the timid, for us all...
And finally, about finding fun from here to there, there to here: “If I were invited to a dinner party with my characters, I wouldn't show up!”
Dr. Suess – even though you're no longer among the living, you will live forever. Thanks for being so much more than “just a children's book writer.” We've all learned from you. Love, Victurd
Saturday, April 30, 2011
The girl with three boobs... Huh?
Yep, right there in black and white (and green)...
Hearda 'rumor' once – twas a company that lined all the folks up outside for a company anniversary... snapped a pic.... oh, 60+ or so folks...
A bit later... there was a separation between one employee and the company.
Few weeks later, the day the nifty 2 foot by 4 foot photo arrived, was affixed to the wall – it was discovered this former employee was photo-shopped outta the picture. Well, the feet were still there.. so.. let's guess 64 people, 65 pairs of feet.
Where this person was photo-shopped out – they “borrowed” the right boob and the right shoulder of another person in the pic (oh, maybe ten or so folks over, down on the front row) – and re-affixed this boob/shoulder to the head of another person – somewheres close to where the former employees torso was on the second row.
So..... person in front row, 'bout the 9th over.. very clearly – two boobs (and a nifty necklace).. and.. her shoulder, right boob, nifty necklace also on row two, about 18 or 19 folks over. Clearly, the girl with three boobs in the pic.
Titillating story, eh? Love, Victurd
Hearda 'rumor' once – twas a company that lined all the folks up outside for a company anniversary... snapped a pic.... oh, 60+ or so folks...
A bit later... there was a separation between one employee and the company.
Few weeks later, the day the nifty 2 foot by 4 foot photo arrived, was affixed to the wall – it was discovered this former employee was photo-shopped outta the picture. Well, the feet were still there.. so.. let's guess 64 people, 65 pairs of feet.
Where this person was photo-shopped out – they “borrowed” the right boob and the right shoulder of another person in the pic (oh, maybe ten or so folks over, down on the front row) – and re-affixed this boob/shoulder to the head of another person – somewheres close to where the former employees torso was on the second row.
So..... person in front row, 'bout the 9th over.. very clearly – two boobs (and a nifty necklace).. and.. her shoulder, right boob, nifty necklace also on row two, about 18 or 19 folks over. Clearly, the girl with three boobs in the pic.
Titillating story, eh? Love, Victurd
Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide, No escape from reality
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me
Twas an English day yesterday. Pomp and circumstance. Real life, but fantasy as well.
Dreams. Oft times I have dreams, or at least I think they are – and I awaken asking “Was that real?”.... Some scary, some fun.. some bizarre.. harmless, except for that very first moment you question the reality.
Mama, just killed a man, Put a gun against his head
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead
Mama, life had just begun
But now I've gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooh, Didn't mean to make you cry
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters
Freddie Mercury never disclosed the meaning behind his lyrics. Wiki.. Wiki knows everything yeah? Wiki surmises: fairly self-explanatory with just a bit of nonsense in the middle... to: mebbe about a young man who has accidentally killed someone, sold soul to the devil – asks for redemption.
Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time
Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooh, I don't want to die
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all
That last line. I think we've all been there. Times get tough, run, hide, get the hell outta here. “Would be easier if I never happened.” Scaramouche – life is good.
I see a little silhouetto of a man
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me
(Galileo.) Galileo. (Galileo.) Galileo, Galileo figaro
Magnifico. I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me
He's just a poor boy from a poor family
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go. (Let me go.) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
(Oh mama mia, mama mia.) Mama mia, let me go
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me
Someone once said Mercury related to them the song was basically “random rhyming nonsense” and that last stanza kinda speaks to that. Hell, spellcheck underlined halfa that whole paragraph.
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here
Song came out in 1975.. #1 on the charts for long, long time. After Mercury's death in 1991, song resurfaced again at #1 on the pop charts. Is the UK's 3rd best selling single of all-time, and me thinks I've heard of a band or two from the UK! (I know.. you can't always get what you want, but, help I need somebody.. to remind me those other bands names.) I, personally, am proud to have been viewer #14,833,872 on youtube.
Nothing really matters, Anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me
Oh contrare, me thinks just the opposite. Song has passion, feel, fun, sadness, fast, slow, whimsical, serious... does matter.
Any way the wind blows
We miss you Mr. Mercury but thankfully we've got your music to remember you by. Pomp and circumstance – the wind still blows.
Open your eyes, Look up to the skies and see,
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go, Little high, little low
Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me, to me
Twas an English day yesterday. Pomp and circumstance. Real life, but fantasy as well.
Dreams. Oft times I have dreams, or at least I think they are – and I awaken asking “Was that real?”.... Some scary, some fun.. some bizarre.. harmless, except for that very first moment you question the reality.
Mama, just killed a man, Put a gun against his head
Pulled my trigger, now he's dead
Mama, life had just begun
But now I've gone and thrown it all away
Mama, ooh, Didn't mean to make you cry
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
carry on, carry on as if nothing really matters
Freddie Mercury never disclosed the meaning behind his lyrics. Wiki.. Wiki knows everything yeah? Wiki surmises: fairly self-explanatory with just a bit of nonsense in the middle... to: mebbe about a young man who has accidentally killed someone, sold soul to the devil – asks for redemption.
Too late, my time has come
Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time
Goodbye, ev'rybody, I've got to go
Gotta leave you all behind and face the truth
Mama, ooh, I don't want to die
I sometimes wish I'd never been born at all
That last line. I think we've all been there. Times get tough, run, hide, get the hell outta here. “Would be easier if I never happened.” Scaramouche – life is good.
I see a little silhouetto of a man
Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango
Thunderbolt and lightning, very, very fright'ning me
(Galileo.) Galileo. (Galileo.) Galileo, Galileo figaro
Magnifico. I'm just a poor boy and nobody loves me
He's just a poor boy from a poor family
Spare him his life from this monstrosity
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go. (Let me go.) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
(Oh mama mia, mama mia.) Mama mia, let me go
Beelzebub has a devil put aside for me, for me, for me
Someone once said Mercury related to them the song was basically “random rhyming nonsense” and that last stanza kinda speaks to that. Hell, spellcheck underlined halfa that whole paragraph.
So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye
So you think you can love me and leave me to die
Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here
Song came out in 1975.. #1 on the charts for long, long time. After Mercury's death in 1991, song resurfaced again at #1 on the pop charts. Is the UK's 3rd best selling single of all-time, and me thinks I've heard of a band or two from the UK! (I know.. you can't always get what you want, but, help I need somebody.. to remind me those other bands names.) I, personally, am proud to have been viewer #14,833,872 on youtube.
Nothing really matters, Anyone can see
Nothing really matters
Nothing really matters to me
Oh contrare, me thinks just the opposite. Song has passion, feel, fun, sadness, fast, slow, whimsical, serious... does matter.
Any way the wind blows
We miss you Mr. Mercury but thankfully we've got your music to remember you by. Pomp and circumstance – the wind still blows.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
The Elementary School Sign... Monthly Character trait...
I live a block anda half from a snotnose (said lovingly) local Elementary school... On their bulletin board out front – for young'ns to see as mom or dad drops them off, or as they hop off the yellow bus: THIS MONTH'S CHARACTER TRAIT.
Cool, and good idea. And I'm certain the teachers are encouraged to prepare/include/guide kiddos, incorporating this trait into their lesson plans...
First one I saw: Trustworthiness... (Editor's note.. Use caution when marrying a Catholic gal, I don't think they do these character trait monthly thingys @ Catholic Grade Schools.) A good plan to attempt to teach this, but who knows the internal fortitude of another. That, or hell, they ain't paying attention.. or... the noise from Johnny sharpening his pencil for the 7th time this day wipes out all possible learning. A difficult character trait to ascertain, learn, absorb, deomonstrate - thus, divorces, lies, deceit will happen,10, fitteen, 25, 30, 40 years down the road.
Second: Responsibility.. Well sure.. Mom/dad, for the earliest part of one's life, do for you.. As one ages, more and more, tasks, chores, cleanliness, doing for self.. No, this ain't “look at me mom, I can swing all by myself”... it's more.. helping mom set table.. helping pa raking.. assisting in loading groceries in the car.. Changing the diaper of younger sister Thumbelina.
Honesty... Scroll to Trustworthiness... Same diff.. The dog ate my homework.. I didn't shoot no rubber band at Frankie (Timmy, two negatives make a positive, albeit negative)... You can try, but there's no way in hell to ingrain honesty into someone for life. My take, doesn't have to be yours.
Courage.. Oh, likes this one. Different things worry us all in mustering up the courage to do. Sure, speaking in front of class.. for others, could be PE class.. getting on/off school bus.. the inability (or want not to say infronta others) “I don't understand this (whatever subject one is studying).”
Respect... Tell 'em Aretha.. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.. find out what it means to me.. Oh (sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me) A little respect (sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me) Whoa, babe (just a little bit)
Kindness.. Another good one.. You can try.. You can 'laud' when you see it happening.. but then again.. there are just some snotnoses that are cutout for nothing more than taking your bills at the drive thru, them handing you the food, you smiling, saying “THANK YOU”.. and they just hand the money back, no facial expression, no, “you're welcome”.. This trait escapes a certain percent, and it's seemingly a lifelong defect. Most are very good, some go hella aggravatingly overboard – but again, some just “don't get it.”
I got SOOOO perked tonight as I drove home and read...”This month's character trait” SENSE OF HUMOR............. NO WAY! Please tell me you're jesting?!!! I LOVE it!.. We've advanced, awakened...
Back in my day... “Sullen” was vogue in the classroom. You didn't dare have fun. Most teachers in my era had no resemblance of anything even close to I Dream of Jeannie..(Close your ears).. most, very homely.. and if you did anything to cross them, their glare/stare “cut like a knife.” If one persisted, to the office you went where the bespectacled principal awaited holding a very thick yardstick awaiting introduction to the hiney of your patched up Wranglers.
HUMOR? IN SCHOOL? Farm out America, we're waking up. YES (provided you don't go overboard, lose respect..) it's ok to laugh at/with another. IT'S OK (provided you got the courage to recover from) laugh at one's self. Laughter is an emotional balancing mechanism. Today, thankfully, it's considered a visual expression of happiness – or an inward feeling of joy.
A joke. Being tickled (within reason).. a very pleasant sensation.
Funny, how we develop (or don't) character traits over the years. Sure, schools help.. but so do parents.. friends.. later: coworkers, bosses..
That about wraps it up. Sorry there ain't no ending humor. (Imagine those teachers sitting at home, lesson planning.. “now just howinthehell am I gonna mix humor into tomorrow's work?”.. I love that they have that task.. .that our school district understands the importance of laughter.)
Happy weekend... and I hope it entails some humor... love, Victurd.
Cool, and good idea. And I'm certain the teachers are encouraged to prepare/include/guide kiddos, incorporating this trait into their lesson plans...
First one I saw: Trustworthiness... (Editor's note.. Use caution when marrying a Catholic gal, I don't think they do these character trait monthly thingys @ Catholic Grade Schools.) A good plan to attempt to teach this, but who knows the internal fortitude of another. That, or hell, they ain't paying attention.. or... the noise from Johnny sharpening his pencil for the 7th time this day wipes out all possible learning. A difficult character trait to ascertain, learn, absorb, deomonstrate - thus, divorces, lies, deceit will happen,10, fitteen, 25, 30, 40 years down the road.
Second: Responsibility.. Well sure.. Mom/dad, for the earliest part of one's life, do for you.. As one ages, more and more, tasks, chores, cleanliness, doing for self.. No, this ain't “look at me mom, I can swing all by myself”... it's more.. helping mom set table.. helping pa raking.. assisting in loading groceries in the car.. Changing the diaper of younger sister Thumbelina.
Honesty... Scroll to Trustworthiness... Same diff.. The dog ate my homework.. I didn't shoot no rubber band at Frankie (Timmy, two negatives make a positive, albeit negative)... You can try, but there's no way in hell to ingrain honesty into someone for life. My take, doesn't have to be yours.
Courage.. Oh, likes this one. Different things worry us all in mustering up the courage to do. Sure, speaking in front of class.. for others, could be PE class.. getting on/off school bus.. the inability (or want not to say infronta others) “I don't understand this (whatever subject one is studying).”
Respect... Tell 'em Aretha.. R-E-S-P-E-C-T.. find out what it means to me.. Oh (sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me) A little respect (sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me, sock it to me) Whoa, babe (just a little bit)
Kindness.. Another good one.. You can try.. You can 'laud' when you see it happening.. but then again.. there are just some snotnoses that are cutout for nothing more than taking your bills at the drive thru, them handing you the food, you smiling, saying “THANK YOU”.. and they just hand the money back, no facial expression, no, “you're welcome”.. This trait escapes a certain percent, and it's seemingly a lifelong defect. Most are very good, some go hella aggravatingly overboard – but again, some just “don't get it.”
I got SOOOO perked tonight as I drove home and read...”This month's character trait” SENSE OF HUMOR............. NO WAY! Please tell me you're jesting?!!! I LOVE it!.. We've advanced, awakened...
Back in my day... “Sullen” was vogue in the classroom. You didn't dare have fun. Most teachers in my era had no resemblance of anything even close to I Dream of Jeannie..(Close your ears).. most, very homely.. and if you did anything to cross them, their glare/stare “cut like a knife.” If one persisted, to the office you went where the bespectacled principal awaited holding a very thick yardstick awaiting introduction to the hiney of your patched up Wranglers.
HUMOR? IN SCHOOL? Farm out America, we're waking up. YES (provided you don't go overboard, lose respect..) it's ok to laugh at/with another. IT'S OK (provided you got the courage to recover from) laugh at one's self. Laughter is an emotional balancing mechanism. Today, thankfully, it's considered a visual expression of happiness – or an inward feeling of joy.
A joke. Being tickled (within reason).. a very pleasant sensation.
Funny, how we develop (or don't) character traits over the years. Sure, schools help.. but so do parents.. friends.. later: coworkers, bosses..
That about wraps it up. Sorry there ain't no ending humor. (Imagine those teachers sitting at home, lesson planning.. “now just howinthehell am I gonna mix humor into tomorrow's work?”.. I love that they have that task.. .that our school district understands the importance of laughter.)
Happy weekend... and I hope it entails some humor... love, Victurd.
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