Goofy........probably....

I'm thankful daily for hearing my alarm at 5:20am. ("Pavlov's dogs" awaken me every Saturday and Sunday about the same time for breakfast at Hy Vee).. I'm thankful for breakfast at Hy Vee.

I'm thankful for a car that starts., a furnace that turns on, and a fridge that keeps my food (beer) cold.

I'm thankful for wherever it is flies go in the winter. I'm thankful for paying a hunnerd dollars a month to watch the Channel 9 news every day.

I'm thankful for those I would never wanna text, phone, go to lunch with for never texting, calling, asking to go to lunch.

I'm thankful for getting up in the dark, grabbing a pair of undies and three socks, scooting to the bathroom only to find a matching pair of socks, sometimes three.

I'm thankful for being 62 and not wanting a boss that continually looks over my shoulder, and for having a boss that doesn't continually look over my shoulder.

I'm thankful for caller ID and the wonder of discern. Even though I occasionally slip, I'm thankful age has taught me not to blurt, talk/type/regret when I hear/see/read something that makes me wanna barf.

I'm thankful for store's restrooms that have those automatic flusher thingys that actually work. I'm thankful, when they don't work, when there's no one close on my heels to take my place in the stall.

I'm thankful that for 5 year olds, race is, "first one to the tree and back."

I'm thankful for Mr. Clean's Magic Eraser, and for the Dollar Tree where I can buy 'generic' for half the cost.

I'm thankful for Apartment living in that my walk is shoveled, my grass is mowed, and when something in my apartment doesn't work, one call to the maintenance man, presto- it's like snapping one's fingers.

I'm thankful none of the folks in my building play "American Werewolf in London" (or similar) at way too many decibels at 2am. I'm thankful the neighbors above me moved even though I'm not personally opposed to amor at 3am. I'm thankful my ceiling has sturdy crossbeams.

I'm thankful for living where we have four seasons, giving one just cause to bitch no matter the month/weather.

I'm thankful for Freedom of Speech (in spite of, scroll to 'barf' above).. I'm thankful for merchants that reciprocate with "Hi" and say "thanks" cause they know if it weren't for us, they wouldn't be there.

I'm thankful for being able to backsapce. I'm thankful for being a male every time I walk in an ORI.

I'm thankful for my windshield wiper solution, even though I pay twice as much as most, as about half the spray shoots over the top of my car. I'm thankful, when people tailgate, I'm able to use my windshield wiper solution.

I'm thankful for being a simpleton, probably over-loving me some Liberty Bluejays, William Jewell Cardinals, Missouri Tigers, Kansas City Royals and Kansas City Chiefs. I'm thankful I'm one the edge of my seat when watching. I'm also thankful it doesn't bother me that I haven't the foggiest idea when someone says "Remember that game back in '94?"

Never been a big fan of thrill rides or jungle gyms, but love that life is a rollercoaster and a teeter-totter.

I'm thankful for breasts, at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I'm thankful for folks who jump to conclusions only to find themselves wrong.

I'm thankful for my BFF. He's occasionally an idiot. Sometimes imbibes. Can certainly be opinionated. He gets irate when vendors get an attitude. Mostly though, he's a wuss, but again, I like him, for he is me. (If one can't enjoy being in one's own skin... well, nevermind.)

I'm thankful there wasn't a class in college entitled "Women", for I would have received an "INC". I'm thankful I enjoy the quest of trying to figure out women, but knowing I never will. I'm thankful that 50% of you that just read that didn't get pissed off because you're aware AT LEAST half of my best friends are women.

I'm thankful for the opportunity to sit here and write whateverinthehell I wanna, and it really doesn't bug me too much what others think about it.

I'm even thankful my dad called me Victurd. (Count your blessings, unless you were a shop teacher)...

Love, Victurd.

Have you ever noticed?

Those that smile.

I am immersed in those that smile so... Years and years of being able to open my eyes daily, also tells me these people have wonderfully good hearts.

I, like many, find myself (certainly at times) in the dregs of "I don't wanna go to work today... I hate Mondays.. Come on 5 o'clock... It really sucks the funds are so low... WHY ME? This ALWAYS happens to ME!.." Paddling life upstream. Pity, as in self.

Not the smilers. Nuh uh. You can't tell if they've got a migraine... if their rent check just bounced.. if the love of their life is now the love of someone else's life... or if they're simply just having a really crappy day.

For many, many years - I've preferred to live life in the background. Heck, when I did/do talk, people say "Huh?" cause my voice is so goofily soft. No longer though. My all-time favorite boss (an Elementary Principal where I taught) offered out "catch 'em being good." I liked that, I really liked that. Doesn't have to apply to children only though.

The other day, a smiler walked by me. From my spot in the background, I've watched this person walk by some 4,376 times - and each and every time, with smile. On this, the 4,377th time, I emailed this person. "Just wanted to let you know, I really think you have a great take on life, and I really think it's cool you always, ALWAYS offer your smile to others. You must have had really good role models growing up."

This person emailed back "That may be the nicest compliment anyone has ever given me." (And this isn't why I write, anyone can wing a compliment, not everyone can 'earn' them).. Continuing "My ex left me when I was pregnant with our 3rd child. Never a penny of child support. My kids lived on mac and cheese, no milk, because it's all I could afford. My grandparents were my role models, and you're right, I remember them smiling all the time. My sister married a millionaire and is never happy - me, I guess I'm just happy for what I have, even at times when it isn't much. I always wanted to go to college but could never afford.. well, I finally got remarried, went back to college, and now I have my degree."

Wow. Far out. Smile out.

I have friends who,it's pretty obvious, live with physical difficulties.. you see struggle, hurt, and most assuredly (on the inside) have to wonder WHY ME? You could never tell on the outside. They smile. Lots. Often. Mostly without impetus.

Another thing I've noticed. A smile generally brings one back in the other direction. What better?

Stealing a few:

"Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened." Dr. Seuss.

"Peace begins with a smile.." Mother Teresa.

"If you only have one smile in you, give it to the people you love. Don't be surly at home, then go out in the street and start grinning 'Good morning' to total strangers." Maya Angelou.

"You'll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile." Charles Chaplin.

That's about it. I guess we should smile. It's inexpensive. It isn't nearly as difficult as a jumping jack. It seems to 'talk.' It makes an impression on depression, both in giving and receiving. Seems people that give smiles are also givers. Seems there's some kind of connection between the heart and a smile.

When it's least expected, you're elected, it's your lucky day......... smile

Love, Victurd.

People are strange when you're a stranger

Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down

A ten minute walk through Google related at least 28 different meanings behind the writing of this song.. depression.. seeing strange people on the tour.. acid/LSD.. He had writer's block, walked to the top of the canyon where he lived, observed a Hallucinogenic party in a backyard nearby, went running home "I need to write! I need to write!".. the fact that Jim himself, while brilliant, was strange (at least he supposedly perceived himself, and others, as that)..

When you're strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you're strange
No one remembers your name
When you're strange
When you're strange
When you're strange

One 'guesser' as to the meaning of these lyrics also wrote "there's a person I don't like in the cubicle next to me, and when she gets real loud, I start singing this song... it bugs her." (LIGHTBULB! I'm gonna try this!)

People are strange when you're a stranger
Faces look ugly when you're alone
Women seem wicked when you're unwanted
Streets are uneven when you're down

I do believe the hint of depression. When one is alienated, even if self induced, we perhaps tend to see others as strange so we can be more accepting of our own self. I know it's the day and age of HR Departments perusing public message boards, Facebook, etc. That said, I don't care, there are some strange folks at work - and yeah, maybe I'm even one of 'em! (Ever seen a guy wear the same jacket 20+ years?)

When you're strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you're strange
No one remembers your name
When you're strange
When you're strange
When you're strange

The City. Happens to be Kansas City where I'm near, but a trip to The City oozes of strange people, at least coming from the shoes of this simpleton suburbanite. It's reinforcement of "how lucky I am/we are to live where we live." (Even though all the while the next door neighbor is maybe a sexual offender, religious zealot, or, has been in a "People of WalMart" chain email.)

When you're strange
Faces come out of the rain
When you're strange
No one remembers your name
When you're strange
When you're strange
When you're strange

"Women seem wicked when you're unwanted?"... Hmmm, MAYBE! All's fair in love and war, could as easily been written "Men seem wicked when you're unwanted". Another vice versa way to like ourselves.

We're all strange. Unique. I'm unique, just like you. We look different, act different, think different, believe differently, dress differently. Queer, I believe we called it, before we even knew what the word actually insinuated.

Strange blog. Sorry. Kinda. Strange person. Don't be a stranger, love VIcturd.

I had abs then.

1985. I/we also had $260 in savings, and permission ("uh huh, sure, like they're gonna draw our name") to put it towards the 'lottery' for Playoff/World Series tickets. Forgive me Father, my sister lived in Jackson County, I used her addy for preferential treatment.

Presto. In the mail, tickets for each/every game. $260 won't even buy one standing room World Series tick this year.

Memories fade, but I will never forget Game 6 with my brother inlaw Terry - and the absolute loudest roar (Forgive me Chiefs/Seahawks/Guinness) I've ever heard when Dane Iorg knocked in the tying and winning runs in the 9th. Strangers hugging strangers. Hands/palms, before the fist bump was even invented, hurt from all the high 5's.

Game 7. HAD to win - coming from behind in the ALCS, AND coming from behind in the World Series. Two tickets, RIGHT BEHIND home plate, the very last row in the upper deck. I wore a goofy shirt in which I'd drawn the State of Missouri (huge) on the back. Along with (probably sloppily) written words "May the West team win." No outs to go. Did.

Parade. Confetti. I can't wait until next year! Wilson's legs will carry him into his 40's.. Hell, George can DH into the new millennium, and Leo will still be winging BB's for years. Even if later he only hits .250 Frank can glove it well into the 90's. Who needs to invest in a 401K, hell, I'll be alright.

HA!

TWENTY NINE FRIGGIN YEARS! Twenty losing seasons in twenty nine friggin years.

Howser (RIP) only one more year. Then, Mike Ferraro, Billy Gardner, John Wathan, Bob Schaefer, Hal McCrae, Bob Boone, Tony Muser, John Mizerock, Tony Pena, Bob Schaefer again, Buddy Bell, Trey Hillman - and finally NedYo.

The exodus. Kevin Appier. Jermaine Dye. Johnny Damon. Raul Ibanez. David Dejesus. Carlos Beltran. Many others.

Hi, my name is (Lindsay Lohan, Lady Gaga, Mary Kate [and Ashley] Olsen, Usain Bolt, Colin Kaepernick, Tim Tebow, Rihanna, Kevin Durant, Russell Wilson, Jamaal Charles) and I wasn't alive in 1985.

2,310 losses, 5 Presidents, 783 'Ketchup wins', 3,465 Derek Jeter hits, 5,460 Late Shows with David Letterman later - we're back!

We (Lohan, Gaga, Olsens, Bolt, Kaapernick, Tebow, Rihanna, Durant, Wilson, Charles, 467,000 Kansas Citians, hundreds of thousands more throughout the land) just witnessed perhaps the greatest sport's week in the History of Kansas City.

They're fast. They glove it. They've got hair allover, many different "do's". They pitch. Oh do they pitch. They mingle with Joe Citizen. They're charitable. Sure, they can be brash. They fear no one.

Driving down the road today, one of the National Sports Talk shows was talking about the upcoming World Series between the San Francisco Giants and the Kansas City Royals. "OUCH!" (Sorry.. I pinched myself. I heard it, I REALLY HEARD IT!)

My kid, your kid, our kid's kids, we all getta see it. There are no Blue laws on Sunday anymore, in fact, they're selling T-shirts at damn near anyplace that accepts a debit card. The South Korean kid is coming back. My cousin's preschool grandson can recite the entire batting order. There's a buzz. A unification. Strangers hugging strangers.

"OUCH!"... It's real. Love, Victurd.

Get over it.

Nope. Nada. Sorry. Not.

I love living in the past. Ok, lemme rephrase. I love remembering the past. Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Yes, this blog has cobwebs, but one might recall sometimes seeing the lyrics of a song, accompanied by a rather poor attempt at humor. I Googled for about an hour this morning, searching for an adequate, timely song about yesterday/this mindset. Gave up. They all touched on a former relationship - and whilst I've been there, it ain't why I find delight in (occasionally) dwelling in the past. Ok, scratch that. I'm addicted to the past, and scoff if you may, I don't find that such a bad thing.

Fun, smiles, giggles of yesteryear bring grins, happiness, and contentment of today. My/our worlds are a canvas, and it couldn't have been painted any better.

Are things, is life, perfect? Quoting my stepson, "Not no's, but hells no's"... So what Victor? What are you saying? I'm saying today's worries bring my eyes to closure to remember mom's pecan pies. Aunt Ethel's biscuits. Riding my bike to the City Park with my baseball glove on the handlebars. The crack of a bat. The cracked bat, the screw to fix and the electric tape.

The worn out base paths in our front yard, and being thankful for parents who cared more about 'this seed', than any damn award-winning perfect lawn.

I remember, and am thankful for, all I learned in the early stages of school - and who nowadays looks at teachers/preteen kids and stops and thinks "they're learning things they'll take with them into the latter stages of their lives."? I do. And I smile, and relate.

I am thankful for friends, and the lesson, to have a friend, you gotta be a friend. After two days of silence, my phone finally received a text message the other day. OH BOY! Who? What? Event planned? "Just saying hi"? A life 'touch'? Will I see the word 'love'? Nuh uh, it was my cell phone provider relating they had just taken out fitty-two bucks to pay my monthly bill. Victor, you gotta be a friend to have a friend. Life reminders.

Yesterday my belly was flat, and I regret never standing, turning sideways, staring at the mirror with "HOLY SHIT! WOULD YOU LOOK AT THAT!".. Ahh, yesterday.

This past weekend, our hometown abound with yesterday. Lined up around the town Square, 'kids' from the classes of 1930-something, to 1970-something. A walk around conjured many a mem... Or course, sometimes shocking to see aging's progression - but you can never take the kid outta one's heart. It was our sock hop with shoes and wrinkles. Our victory homecoming celebration, no matter the fact that tying our shoes has once again become a chore, like in first grade.

Jolt to today, 2014: Suddenly, I'm not half the man I used to be - There's a shadow hanging over me - Oh, yesterday came suddenly... And I'm so very glad it's there in the back of my brain.. to reflect, remember, enjoy, appreciate, LOVE the blood, sweat and tears.. to one day just let me go naturally. Victor, time out. That's 3 GD (gosh darn) songs in one blog. That's illegal today. Uh huh, sure, but this is about yesterday, sorry. My rules. I vote "get your own damn blog!"

Yesterday includes errors, mishaps, band aids, stitches, plaster casts, broken relationships, loss of loved ones, pets I canardly remember their names now - and all of the 365 times however many sunrises/sunsets we've been fortunate enough to witness.

Dont' think twice it's all right. (VICTOR! I give up!) No, yesterday wasn't perfect. Like I said (OH I hated when heard that!) the fun, smiles, giggles of yesteryear bring/have brought the grins, happiness, and contentment of today. Peace out. May your today bring tomorrow's grin. And if our memories one day dwindle, die out: then it's once again fun, being a kid, learning, Franklin School - here we come again!... Say, can you help me with this shoe?

Love, Victurd.

Aging has made me take notice....

The body, 'she' changes. I had an ole' Chrysler LeBaron.. Sat so low to the ground, getting in and out was an experience in and of itself. In fact, I kinda felt entitled, like I didn't have to go to the gym that day 'cause I'd already had my exercise simply getting behind the wheel and back out. I 'talk' to my body as I 'tumble' in/out, but it hasn't listened, paid attention, behaved for some ten years now. As I bend, twist, gyrate - balance sometimes goes - and I'm forced to simply laugh - like, "oh shit, I hope no one saw that!"..

Same thing with undies. Huh? VICTOR!!!! No, for real, it's never happened to you? You put your right foot in... you raise the left leg, but age doesn't allow you to cooperate and place it inside, so again, the balance goes - and you find yourself hop-hop-hopping the old age hop on one foot (naked) - your hand eventually finds a wall for balance. Not a good "selfie" moment, but - you giggle and realize, age has made me take notice.

You go into a large store, you know, like WalMart, or Piggly Wiggly.. you see sooooo many younger folks, you take it upon yourself to "by god, I'm gonna walk aisle by aisle until I see someone older than me." You eventually end up in the Lawn and Garden department, remember you live in an apartment - and ask yourself "now what in the hell was I looking for?" Age has made me take notice, notice?

You walk around a corner at work, a coworker pops outta nowhere, so you swerve, scrape your arm on a door jam mildly - wake up the next day and you've got a 4" by 6" black and blue thing on your arm that looks like you just left the ring from an MMA battle.

Like a good boy, you attend the optional health screening thing at work. BP, a little blood taken, and finally height, weight, and waist measurement. One, I've shrunk. Two, I weigh more, but "by god, my pants ARE, and always have been, a 36".. "You don't need to measure my waist ma'am, it's been a 36 for eons" I think to myself. But she does anyways.. "HEY WAIT! YOU'RE MEASURING AROUND MY BELLY BUTTON, NOT MY WAIST" I yell, to myself. "Ok, 41" sir." CRAP!.. Age has made me take notice.

To Do lists, Pocket organizers, IPad reminders, have been reduced to "Eh, I'll do that tomorrow." One of the nicer things about old age, choice of what one does. I call it the (close your ears) "I don't give a shit what anyone else thinks, when I do (or don't) get it done - my pace." Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week - borrowing from Frank, "I did it my way."

Flatulence happens. OUTTA NOWHERE! Walking across the room at work (on this the fourth trip to the john this morning) and flatulence (audible to 6 nearby coworkers) happens. You giggle. Scrape your heel on the tile in hopes of fooling coworkers, continue on, and realize, age has made me take notice.

Inchlong eyebrow hairs. Half inch hairs protruding from your ear lobe. I HATE GOOD LIGHTING! Embarrassed, you clip, pull, giggle, and realize, age has made me take notice.

Watching friends, loved ones in health battles - at least ONE area of my life I've cleaned up. I eat better, wiser. But, mebbe once a week, I cheat. A Snicker's bar, yum. That all-you-can-eat breakfast buffet @ HyVee - HEY, it takes awhile to read the Sunday paper, I might as well be busy eh? It kinda feels like I'm getting away with something.. Like driving to an 18 bar in HS, or mebbe skipping 7th hour and not getting caught. Age, has made me juvenile in some ways. I've taken notice of that, and I really don't care what anyone thinks.

I've sat in this chair, continuously now, for some two-plus hours. A pile of laundry, an unmade bed, and an empty fridge stare at me. I'll get to it. Later. Maybe. Sometime.

Aging fortunately doesn't tell the brain to 'think old'. Aging adamantly tells one, "by god, I can still do that." He/she said I was too old to do/for that? HA! Watch me! Other day, up popped a picture of that new waterslide in town, THE tallest one in the world. I argued internally as to whether or not I would/wouldn't go for it. Long about that time, a gal three years older than me in HS wrote "Count me in!" I love aging, kinda, often, mostly, sometimes.

I've got to go now. (Victor, you've already peed five times and it's not even nine am.) I know, aging has made me take notice. No, I really HAVE to go. "Cause I think I'm gonna sit here a couple more hours in front of the computer and do nothing. Pretty important stuff (choosing) when you're old.

May you all have old age, giggle moments. Better to have them now than to withhold them, and find yourself one day be looking up at sod, thinking "I shoulda laughed at myself more."

With flatulence, brownspots, protruding hairs, procrastination, hop-hop-hop, Love, Victurd.

Fathers.......

Stick an 'r' in there, and the definition goes farther. Yes, on this day we stop and think of our own fathers - and of course, I'm in that boat.

One paragraph (only), I promise:

My father was happy. Lived, without knowing so, as an example. Found humor where others might fret. A knack for making those around him feel comfortable. A tag team parent whose philosophy was "Well, if you wanted to do it, and we could afford it, and it wasn't hurtful to you - we were amenable." Always drove 5-10 miles under the speed limit (sister and I would clap if he ever passed a car on the ole' two lane highways), loved cooking, singing, and an occasional Budweiser. Loved acting, and continued that role in real life. Could/would tell a ten minute story, leaving you wondering "where is this going/is he making this up", glued to him, knowing full well he'd "gotten you" before - eventually closing with a long premeditated one sentence punchline - that on more than one occasion brought laughter, along with a sometime a "Oh sh%, Bud!", a smirk, and a look of wonderment.. (Got me again!) I miss him, and in a way (hopefully), he lives within.

Other fathers. As a kid, young adult, coworker, friend, teacher, coach, umpire/referee - I've been very fortunate to observe many wonderful fathers (And certain you feel this as well.) There is nothing like the father/daughter bond - witnessed by the many Father/Daughter Wedding dances posted on the internet. Proud. Father/Son, a game of catch, fishing, changing the plugs on an old Chevy, lessons of discipline, respect - and by example the right way to treat a woman.

"Our" era, the tail end of the mom at home, dad at work thing. Perhaps we took mom for granted - for attention always turned to pop when he eventually came home.

I love the pictures, remembrances, kind things people display - about their fathers. I love the way girls/women, say "Daddy" with the such affection. Daddies become grandpas, and allofasudden, relive. Had an uncle whom I never saw without him holding one of his granddaughters in his arms. The bond is passed on a generation.

Moms as dads. Along the way, I've witnessed all too many children having their father absent from the picture. Most, with little or no child support - '"fought the battle" admirably, and wonderfully picked up the slack in being both mom/dad, as well as breadwinner.

Too, grandkids without dads (and moms).. Being 61, I CANNOT imagine raising children, but witnessed many a grandparent who does/has - and without chagrin. Many different reasons, abandonment, death, immaturity....I have friends who were raised by their grandparents - and somehow their love is extra special between.

Non-blood 'fathers'. Teacher, coaches, bosses, clergymen, friend's fathers, neighbors, etc. People who have taken an interest in a child/youth's development - setting father-like examples along the way. You hear it often, "he was like a father to me."

While "Father's Day" is specific (and truly is), it's also much broader. Farther.

I am gonna go lay down for 15, 20 minutes - close my eyes..reflect.. and think, of course, about my own father.. but too about moms that were/are 'dads'.. grandpas (and grandmas) who unselfishly raised/are raising.. and the many father figures that have touched me in life's passings.

Happy Farther's Day. Love, Victurd.

A fair day.....

I'm weird. I love words. Fair is a wonderful, diverse word.

We want educators, law enforcement, judges, politicians (ha!), parents, playmates, umpires/refs, to be fair. 3 year old granddaughter, heard it enough that (when playing with her one year old brother) bestows "Play fair!"...

We buy presents at Christmas time. Gotta make sure, to buy/spend equal amount on those we love. Two grandbabies, GOTS be fair. I go buy, lay them all out on the bed, decide "nope, he/she needs one more", go, buy one more. Now: fair.

We ride the Ferris wheel, eat funnel cakes, have livestock competition, rodeos, at the Fair.

We argue fair or foul. Now, it's decided electronically if protested. Hopefully, the dudes in NY that review - have larger TV's than the 5 inch monitor the football ref peeks his head into under that tarped tripod. That would only be fair. Or foul.

Forecast: fair, partly cloudy.

Fair grades. That was me! Mediocre sure, but fair! Gaining my undergraduate degree was probably the best six years of my life! Seeing these kids nowadays, athletes graduating in three years, Seniors in HS going to college already having 18 credit hours under their belt, holy guacamole!

California Chrome. More than a fair amount of publicity. A feel good story, horse didn't cost that much, trainer, 77 years old, first Derby horse.. two scintillating wins.. Belmont, final leg of the Triple Crown, not so much. Ran a good race, but not even in the money. Moments after, co-owner complained/lamented "NOT FAIR!". "Our horse ran all three races.. the winner rested two.. they're teaming up against us!".. Kinda dampered the feel good. Not fair, but happened.

Fair to middling. Fair and square. A fair shake. Fair enough!

Being a redhead, fair-skinned. I don't get tan, I get additional freckles. Not fair, but I'm fair, skinned.

Fair and equitable, divorce settlement. Some, in disagreement, go on, and on, and on, and on, and on... which, lends one to eventually think: hey, maybe it WAS fair.

Jury duty. Car wreck. Guy was speeding, at fault. Injuries. Fair and equitable amount due. How to decide? Twelve of us (I think it was.) All agreed "he owes", but how to obtain a fair amount? Scratch an amount on a piece of paper, throw out the high and the low, take the average. Fair? Dunno, but that's what we did.

Illness. Not fair. Bias, huh uh. Age, color, religious beliefs, sexual orientation, size, looks, dress - all 'judged'. Not fair.

Article in paper this morning. Young man out on the Lake, taken into patrol boat for liquor violation, handcuffed behind the back, lifejacket thrown over his head. Of course, still under investigation, not incriminating here. He fell overboard, drowned. Not fair. There is no fair compensation for death.

Another article about ALS, the Lou Gehrig disease. Not fair, but Lou, tragically en route to death, in a ceremony honoring him, harkened "today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth." The article related the heartfelt relationships of ALS victims, and KC area sport's legends. Chief's General Manager John Dorsey and his mother, Tom Watson and his caddy, George Brett and his best friend. ALS is not fair, but they all persistently work to raise funds, find a cure.

In discussing the unfairness of this disease (and terminal illness in general) - George Brett related he once asked Dan Quisenberry "Don't you ever stop and and ask 'why me?'. Quiz answered, "No.... why NOT me?".... Wow.

Buck O'Neil, a very, very good "Negro Leagues" baseball player was denied entry into the Major Leagues due to his color. By the time Jackie Robinson played, Buck was past his playing prime, but did later become the first African American coach. When asked if he was bitter, shoulda happened earlier. Not fair. Buck replied "I was right on time." Another wow.

Fair (the word) is beautiful, ginger, just, impartial, sunny, average and maybe unfair all in the same.

Fair time to stop, written enough. Happy day, love, Victurd.

Tape......

A few months back, I'd thrown lawnchairs behind the backseat in my ole' 95' Lebaron convertible so the grandbabies would have a place to sit. After dropping them off - the weather was el gorgeous, so I put the top down.... Crunch. Lawnchair tried (and did) come thru the back window - shattering it into a kajillion pieces. A $300 boo boo.

Heavy plastic and tape worked....... for a short. I made light of it, and car was undoubtedly the laughing stock of work parking lot. A week or so later, the transmission decided it had had enough. (Can you use 'had had' together?) There's no taping a transmission, and the fee to fix (along with the window replacement) almost doubled the value of the car, so, one phone call to junkyard "yeah, we'll buy it, $300,"... "Ok, works."

Car shopping. "Upgraded" to an ole' '99 Grand Marquis - hey, don't laugh, it came complete with a cassette tape player, one of those trunk/alarm/auto-lock thingies (Even though moments happened like when I walked out of the Piggly Wiggly and my trunk was up for no fathomable reason.) - and a numerical 'combination code' to gain entry - setup with the feller's birthday date from 1920. Cool.

This blog is checkenginelight for a reason. I think back to Bill Hallisey's (wonderful man) "Used and Abused" junk store - and that's kinda been the story of my car history, as well as other/all facets of life... house looking great, furnace goes out... job awesome, fly anywhere for $6, company goes bankrupt.. married to the prettiest lady in town, oops, there she went.

Pity? Hardly. I've loved my life, the path. Just when the moment comes to start acting all cocky, reality sets one back in place. Anyways, you get the drift.. I think.

Tape. Long about 100 miles into traversing around town in my "damn this thing is big, I've already run over two curbs turning right" car, I noticed some black electrical tape to the left of the speedometer. Seems the 'checkenginelight' was consistently on, and figure the old dude covered it with the black tape so it wouldn't bug him driving at night. This/my age, completely understand - and appreciate.

Correction tape, somewhat passé', but I still occasionally use it for errors when faxing docs at work. Backspacing is the 'new' tape. Duct tape/bailing wire. All the King's horses and all the King's men.....

Some things, tape doesn't work on. Won't bring a bullet back. Won't make words flown out of the mouth inaudible. A Facebook post can be deleted - but certain there are similar addicts as I who've surely read - cannot be taped over.

Victor, you're rambling again, tape your mouth shut. HAHA, and nanny nanny boo boo, it's my fingers 'talking'! OK, well then is there a moral to all this cockamamie writing?

I suppose. We all have 'tape moments'. They frustrate us. Remind us of life's imperfections. Our imperfections. And that we're human. (Victor, you can't start a sentence with "and".) And errors (will) happen.

We (all, I think) beat ourselves up occasionally when words have flown out and we wished we had had (geez Louise) tape over our mouth. Actions, behaviors, events happen often in life, and there is no correctable tape that can heal.

Duct. Scotch. Gorilla.. Worm (eww). Cassette. Video. Correction. When the story of our lives is taped together - about the only workable response is to laugh - admire the water that's gone under the bridge - and prepare to enjoy the current ahead.

No clever tape saying to end this. (Victor, who ever said your endings were clever?) Right you are alter ego. I could have backspaced you out, but you keep me in line - as do tape moments - and life. Love, Victurd.

Living.... not dying... Your grade?

Someone posted a very interesting article written by someone who worked very closely with folks who were dying. There was a 'title' for her position - but now I can't find it.

Anyways, there were 5 common threads/regrets that ran true in those she cared for:

1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.

You? Selfishly, I think I now do this since I'm divorced. There is less sacrifice in being single - but, it certainly (to me anyways) doesn't outweigh being in a relationship. I've always been kind of a rebel - sometimes I do things I regret - but happy to say, for the most part I could care less of people's expectations of me/my behavior (family excluded).

2. I wish I didn’t work so hard.

You? I bitch/moan, but I love working. My job is very seasonal, and in the summer I never get both days of the weekend off. I do regret that, but, the corner to retirement is ahead - and I dream of mowing grass on a golf course in exchange for allowing me to shoot my normal 107 (for free). I saw something once that said "Have work at fun", and that's a model I try to remember/live by. I write all this crap about me, but, it's for anyone - these questions. The article maybe teaches us to wake up before we go to sleep.

3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.

B- here. I've heard of families that never utter the "L word". I find that sad. The older I get, the easier this (expressing my feelings) is to me. Expressing feelings is like making footprints in the sand of life. How boring if the sand were perfect after we walk on it. Sometimes I get myself in trouble here - but I really mouth off (or back at) whenever I observe holier-than-thou behavior. I wake up in the morning, look at Facebook and think "Oh man, did I really write that?" - yes, is the answer, perhaps I should be embarrassed - but better thought a fool I guess than someone thinking "all that's up there is cobwebs."

4. I wish I had stayed in touch with my friends.

C- here. Longtime townie friends, yes.. past coworkers, college chums, sometimes even family - could very much do better. You?

5. I wish that I had let myself be happier.

I'm an A- on the outside, and perhaps a C-, D+ on the inside. I, like many I'm sure, beat myself up a bit. Thankfully, aging helps reverse this process. So, if you're a pup, reading this - relax. Like yourself. You are the most important person in your life.

I've not thought a lot about death. You? Oh, I've considered getting a size 10 type tattoo "somewhere down there" that says "morticians suck" - eh, why not go down makin' 'em laugh? Cremation, ashes scattered about at the City Park in Liberty.

I do look at my grandchildren and try to predict how long I'll get to see them. Helps (me anyways) keep things in perspective. Living is like whittling, kinda. We certainly have those "oh shit" moments we can never take back - but then again, hopefully along the way we've created something others will like.

Do you ever stop along the path and consider these five things? Do you literally act upon them? Kudos to you if so. They're pretty deep, but life is as well.

Our high school graduating class recently lost three fine people in a month - and it does make one stop and think. Reading the 5 things above - is kinda like a 401K. "Man, I wished I woulda started all that at age 20" - but - starting at any age is a very good thing.

What/who are you gonna be before you die?

Love, Victurd

Instructions..

First thing that comes to mind: printed matter within a box of a new toy, gadget, table, chair, swing set, virtually anything that's reasonably big - broken down, stuffed into a box like a size 38 waist in a pair of size 34 jeans.

Parts. All kindsa parts. Labeled. Mebbe even in separate baggies. The hardheaded among us, "I don't need no stinking instructions" - rush off to assemble - and soon, the rectangular table looks more triangular, simply because we've screwed 'B" into "D" - insteada following the instructions.

As a child, instructions abound. Sign, sign, everywhere a sign. Of course - school, our teachers - their instructions. Cub Scouts, Brownies, Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, Swim lessons, Little League, Karate' - instructions. For most, life is easy - 'assemble' it one step at a time.

Non-conformists no likey instructions. Seems they take two paths: prison, or brilliance. Us other wet-behind-the-ears, mostly instruction abiding folks manage along the way until schooling ends, and the real world hits.

So, insteada having a teacher, we pick a mate. Two heads are better than one eh? For many, this goes well - and lasts long into life until we reach the stage we forget every damn thing we've ever been instructed on.

Some, in the two-heads-are-better setup, soon learn that one thrives in being the instructor - ultimately giving hives to the instructee. Divorce happens, and once again back to square one with no instructions.

The world is wondrous in that, justabout the time one figures out how to be 20 (or 30, 40, 50, 60, etc) - 30 (or 40, 50, 60, etc) happens. We are poor little lambs who have lost our way, baa, baa, baa.

There are no instructions for divorce. Illness. Depression. Obesity. Unemployed. Underemployed. Being disabled. Even for being quite healthy and alone. Even GPS ain't perfect. Sometimes we even cuss at Google "NO, NO, NO - that's NOT what I want!"

Friends help. Family helps. Smiles help. Happy helps. Experience helps, but then again you run into the 30-turning-40, 40-turning-50, yada thing again.

Saw an email the other day outlining stages: Age 4, not peeing your pants. Age 12, having friends Age 16, driver's license. Age 20, having sex. Age 30, money. Age 50, money. Age 60, being able to have sex. Age 70, having friends. Age 75, having your license. Age 80, not peeing in your pants. It's all one big cycle - with no printed matter to help us along the way.

Follow the yellow brick road. Ask not what your country can do for you, but what you can do for your country. DIY. Drink more Ovaltine. You put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up. "Get more exercise, and watch your diet." Uh huh, sure. Thanks doc.

Sign Sign everywhere a sign
Blocking out the scenery breaking my mind
Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign.
(Except for when it comes to knowing how to live. All these 'parts.' No labels. No baggies filled with stepping stones for the path. No longer even the two-heads-are-better-than-one except for the one who doesn't agree with that.)

We're little black sheep who have gone astray, baa, baa, baa.

Stayed here too long, gotta run, sorry. "Siri, take me to __________, zip 64068" "Unable to find destination." Shit. Baa, baa, baa. Love, Victurd.

Christmas? In MAY?

Deck the halls with boughs of holly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Tis the season to be jolly,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Uh huh, whatever the season is. (Enter that "Happy" viral song here).. Deck-orate with
whateverinthehell the seasonal aisle @ WallyWorld says it is.

Don we now our gay apparel,
Fa la la, la la la, la la la.
Troll the ancient Yule tide carol,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Gay = happy, and who cares if it's the other, to each their own. Sing @ the festival - no matter the season. Fa ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra.

See the blazing Yule before us,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Strike the harp and join the chorus.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Bonfire. Fire pit. Friends gathered, encircled. Can't sing? By all means, join the crowd. Take a selfie.. or a vid... have your own flashmob. Crank the music in the car, singalong (loud) and pretend you're on the stage at Starlight - and - they LOVE you/ (Particularly effective at stoplights with windows rolled down.) "DID YOU SEE/HEAR THAT DUDE? He HAD to be 70!"

Follow me in merry measure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
While I tell of Yule tide treasure,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Follow, join, lead. Measure = predetermined. I likes that. A method to one's happiness. Treasure - all around. Youth, old, in between. Pricey things, simple things, treasured things.

Whether weather, dark, light, cloudy/grey, blue/puffy, hot/dry/wet/frigid, rainbows, rivers, winds in the trees, happy in the breeze, new places/unknown, old/familiar places - faces..

Fast away the old year passes,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Hail the new, ye lads and lasses,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Uh huh, goes fast. Wrinkles, brown spots, "oh hell, WHERE'S THE BATHROOM" happens. Lemme see, if I retire at 62 I'll make this much (but won't have health insurance, crap).. 65, this much (more).. and 66, even this much more. The yearn for "Take this job and shove it" turns to "Seeya on Monday" ("damnit" under our breaths)

NEW (year) AND NEW lads/lasses. Ahhhhhhhh, the best. In them, we see us, and those before us - with all new features, personalities, spunk. When the need/want for Geritol happens - the miracle of youth perpetuates, uplifts, re-energizes the quality of our life - comforting to know, in a way, we're played forward - by/in them.

Sing we joyous, all together,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Heedless of the wind and weather,
Fa la la la la, la la la la.

Choose whatever one desires. I like happy, light - no matter the damn weather, partnered/non-partnered, bank balance/lacka bank balance. Uplift (no, not that kind Kim Novak).. Gotta frown? Stand on your head. Worry wart? Glass'a wine instead.

Relax. Enjoy. Breathe deep. Make notes/'videos' with your eyes. Have fun.
Fa ra ra ra ra, ra ra ra ra..... Love, Victurd.

Hazey....

In our youth - we all seemingly had that fixture of security to latch onto. My granddaughter has "Hazey" - a purple-ish pillow pet that must be in attendance on car rides, walks, TV watching, and of course, bed/naptime. Among the first distinguishable phrases, "wher Hazey?"....

I ain't afraid to announce, I had "Teddy." A simple, brown teddy bear - who, over the years saw his fluff worn off from his chin to his arms by my arm constantly encircling him. Seams ultimately worked their way open - stitched/restuffed time and again by mom.

Linus had his blanket - and he found more uses for it than a Swiss Army knife. His comfort.

Transitional objects. From the belly, to the breast - to blankey. Police, ambulances, carry stuffed toys to provide comfort for children involved in accidents.

One day, aging, adulthood, independence happens. The precious inanimate objects are safely tucked away, fondly to be remembered - and replaced by siblings, friends, and even one day perhaps - loved ones, ie - mates.

Many make it through a lifetime having these forever bonds, all-time comforts, and they live happily ever after.

Some... don't. Some lose loved ones, friends, comfort 'objects' for various reasons. Location. Loss of life. Divorce. Disagreement. Difference.

Some, even in/with the company of loved ones - get lost along the way as well. The perception from afar seems right/well - but struggle happens within.

Hazey, Teddy, the blanket - are often misguidedly replaced by addiction, depression, a feeling of worthlessness - and abandonment of the idea/want of/hope for normalcy/good/happy/security. We/some replace our comfort object with facades like alcohol, drug, food, seclusion - all with perceived good intent, all with the result of disparity.

There was a cool thing posted recently about 'special glasses'. Shows a guy pulling out of his driveway, almost runs over a kid on his bike - frustrated... goes to coffee shop, lady pulls in his parking space (grrrr)... once inside, waits, and waits, and waits for his turn. Unbearable. Always thinking 'me, me, me." Selfishness.

Given the magic glasses to put on - he revisits those situations. "Labels" of life appear on those around. "Just lost her spouse." And another "contemplating suicide". And "Figthing addiction." I don't remember them all - but the message was basically "ya just never know." The video ends with the guy returning to his driveway - the child is there again, along with the label "just want someone to care." He rethinks. A game of catch happens, and life is once again good/changed.

To me, for me (welcome to hitchhike): always remember struggle happens, for everyone. Even within those who 'for a lifetime' have the company of their 'comfort object.' There's no room for harsh. There's no place to be a drain (be a fountain.) Choose positive. Think positive. Attitude, alone, can be a huge comfort object.

There's more to the definition of "the beaten path" than scores of footprints. It's a journey, a trial, a tribulation daily, hourly, minute by minute.

Another friend recently posted something along the line of "I have a friend who I think is having a pretty rough time, but he/she hasn't said anything to me, should I do anything?" By all means, yes. When two lean on each other, they walk upright. Remember the last time someone said something to you that kinda took you back, marveled you, made you think "wow, that person really cares about me."? Me too. It's impactive. It's uplifting. It's a rush, a feel good, a comfort object. Let's be that person.

People are really remarkable. Even you, me.

With love, Hazey, Teddy, the blanket, and Victurd.

Hello darkness my old friend

I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

One of the best times I've ever had, was on the patio of a restaurant - good friends, sitting around. We knew each other, the basics - where we worked, who our mates were/weren't/usedta be, the car we drove, where we grew up, the basic chumminess of fairly frequent meets. Thick, yet shallow. The topic came up "let's go around the circle, and tell one thing about yourself that no one else knows." The answers amazed, and lent depth to a greater, more loving friendship.

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

To me, we (most, many) live in a world where feelings, thoughts, wants, yearns are pent up - and that's so very sad. Bravo to the man or woman having capable partner/friend to explore oral 'orgasm', ie sharing ALL feelings, thoughts, ideas about not only one's self - but those of the other.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

Day by day, mechanical. Pleasant, sure - yet almost artificial. Departing if I may from depth, one day it was myself, and four women on break at work. I noticed all four women talking at the same time (and if this borders gender discrimination - have at, as with tongue in cheek - it's just one true descriptor for the WONDERFUL feminine species).. anyways, all four were talking, so I asked "If there are four women, and all four are talking, who's listening?"

We talk, we greet, we smalltalk - we rarely deep talk. Discriminating on gender again, we men are ingrained "to not compliment, to not explore depth of character." Makes me wanna gag and Garfunkel.

"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence.

Sure, do as I say, not as I do - but I'm working on that. (I write to/for me, hitchhikers welcome).. See a person down? Ask 'em if they wanna talk. See a person looking/acting very vibrant, let 'em know "you're looking, feeling vibrant." Victor, you must be genuine though - otherwise it reverts to people talking without speaking - people hearing without listening. Dig? Uh huh, thanks.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence.

Today's pace for the everyday race for the mortgage is frenetic. I'm going to try to listen more, talk less. Drive slower, observe more. Ask questions to/of friends that make them think (and genuinely know I care) "hmmm, it's really nice this person cares enough about me to ask that, therefore, I'm pretty sure he/she cares, I'll remember that, and pay it forward."

It ain't about age. So many of my young friends amaze me. Guy at work, never fails, before I can get out "Hi", he's already spouted "Hi Vic, how are you doing?" It too is possible for a 14 year old to have more depth than a 60 year old. Shame on us. Let's start today, doing better, warding off the sounds of silence, REALLY get to know better (deeper) those in our every day life, and even our family members.

Simon was 22 years old when he wrote this - already keen to the frailty the sounds of silence lend. Far out. Groovy even. Love, Victurd.

To the outhouse, by Willie Makeit, Part 1 of who knows how many.

100 days. I write with apologies to my friend Sanford - who has been working out faithfully since we graduated 44 years ago. Apologies to cousin Steve who has ridden his bike more miles than my '99 Grand Marquis has on it (He even conquered the Katy Trail.. the ENTIRE Katy Trail.) To my friend Terri - who has run more marathons than there are days in a month.

I recently was moved by a lady's thingy on youtube where she posted time lapse photos of her throughout 100 consecutive days of exercise. She dropped 28 lbs, got under her sub-300 lb goal, and happy to report continues to lose weight.

I am tired of looking at pictures of me, and having them resemble a Christmas tree sans ornaments. Many things, I'm not disciplined. Exercise being one of those. I go, I do, I quit shortly thereafter.

So, figured if I wrote about it, I'd have to stay on my own butt to continue on. So, writing. Saturday, January 11, yeah, I'll start then. Saturday comes. "It was a long week at work, I deserve a day off, I'll start tomorrow."

Sunday, Jan. 12. "I'll start today, but... but.. I'd better attack that huge pile of laundry first." Victor, you hate doing laundry. "I know, but it does need to get done." Ok.

I suppose along with exercising, I oughta eat more prudently. Need laundry soap. There.. right there in Dollar General - staring at me when I walked in: Little Debbie.. Cap'n Crunch.. Jimmy Dean.. Russell Stover.. Swiss Miss.. Duncan Hines.... mmmmmmmmmmm, yum. "VICTOR! CHEESE IT!... er, I mean get your laundry soap and get the hell outta there." Oh, ok.

Laundry done, it's getting kinda late. Victor - get your butt to the gym. Nope, it's unseasonably warm, I'm going to the track. The last time I started this, I knew I was doomed, as I searched (and found) the closest parking space to the gym. HA! NOT THIS TIME! (I took the 2nd closest spot).

"Walkers and joggers please use lanes 5, 6, 7 & 8." Like that's gonna happen. I wanna go 2 miles, not 2 miles and 342 feet. Lane 1. Two laps in, car pulls up. Crap. Ok, lane 2. Three minutes later, a female gazelle goes around me at a speed I don't think I've ever reached. Eh, it's ok - crap, I am 61. I turn to see if the other gazelle has taken off. Nope, she's old too, probably even older than me.

Half a lap later, the bitch (sorry) passes me. The old one. Eh, it's ok, I've got a blockage in my leg and it hurts like hell - track, you're lucky I'm even here. Finally lap 8 happens, I'm done, and no, I am not going to share how long it took.

To the gym, right after. Might as well lift some weights to develop some tone. "Victor, you need more than 100 days to develop tone." Ok, bite me, I'll go for tonette then. First, I'll walk over here and knockoff some push-ups and crunches. Remember Victor, you usedta do the mandated 100 push-ups in school like it was nuttin'. Uh huh, long time ago. I'm going to do ten to start... After 4th push up "ok, sets of 5 works." I did that, twice.. and I was done. You're more than welcome to laugh at me, I've earned it. Twenty crunches. YES, only 20. Gotta start somewhere.

To the scales. Christmas tree weighs in at 209, ouch. And no. NO time lapse photos here! (You're welcome)..

Two 'laps' around the weight machines - done. Reward myself with sauna, then Jacuzzi. In the sauna, I'm dying. Snotnose basta' maybe 21 walks in.. stands next to heater thing, jogs in place. Basta. 'Nuff sweat, to the Jacuzzi. Ahhhhh, yes, my favorite thing about exercise routine. Up to the jacuzzi walks gorgeous female with not very much material within her swimsuit. Ok, maybe Jacuzzi 2nd favorite thing.

Morning, day 2. Eh, not so bad. Elliptical - only leg weights after. Day three, elliptical, 30 minutes, I ain't gonna tell you how far I made it, at least I made it. Arm weight circuit after. Morning, day 4. My calves and I are not speaking to each other - in fact, they've requested twin beds. Day 5, son/DIL have no car - so, after 8rs work - we run to HyVee, WalMart and the Smoke shop. Eh, it's already 6:45pm, I'll just get in this left lane, pull into the Dish Pizza, have a beer and restart with day 1 tomorrow. "VICTOR!".. To the tune of Alvin the chipmunk.. Victor? Victor? VICTOR? OKAY damnit, I switched lanes, went to gym, worked out.

Yesterday was day 6. I have more pep in my step at work - legs actually better now - but my arms feel like they're ready to fall off. I go, I exercise. I sauna. I Jacuzzi (as does same chick with not very much material within her swimsuit.) I could get used to this. Mebbe.

My father, fittingly, labeled me a follower. I would do projects around home to earn money for going out with friends, phone would ring mid paint stroke - and I was off. Gone. Easily led. I hasten to put this on blog 'cause I ain't sure I'll make it. Gonna. I can handle embarrassment if I don't make it. Pride is hard to swallow - but it will go down.

Today is day 7, I will get through day 7. (I referee little turds [1st/2nd grade] basketball for four, COUNT EM, FOUR hours. ) If that ain't the equivalent to 30 minutes on the elliptical, 2 laps around the weight machine, sauna/Jacuzzi - bite me. I will miss the little material one though. All men are pigs, 100 out of 100 days. Or in this case, 7 out of 7.

Smoking (cough cough cough, gasp) MIGHT be addressed within this 100 day (hopefully) period. Two years ago I bought a vapor cig, never used it, lost it. A bit ago, I bought Nicorette gum, looked at the box the other day, "Expires Oct 2013." I have a new vapor cig in coat pocket. Never used it. Easily led. No discipline. Follower. It's(cough cough cough, gasp) me, who I am.

100 days? Stay tuned - to the outhouse, by Willie Makeit. Love, Victurd.

A year...

Nothing is perfect. Recently, on Golf's Champion Tour, our Kansas Citian Tommy Watson registered a hole in one. A reporter asked him about it after - and hinted of 'luck'. Watson acknowledged, "sure, there's luck involved, but it was where I was aiming."

2013 is in the rear view mirror. It wasn't perfect, never is, but hopefully our aim was. The year taught me (again) I am human. I made some stupid errors - even damaged a friendship because words exited before the thought process reached the brain.

After hours, days, weeks in shame, I Googled "Don't beat yourself up", and am thankful for whoever in the hell invented the internet - and the answer/suggestion for virtually every problem, need, sickness remedy, recipe, how to put an alternator on a '95 Lebaron, etc, etc.

I'm thankful for the upbeat daily postings on Facebook from a guy I graduated with, a gal in Kearney I barely know, the daily biblical verses by a fraternity brother, and so many more.

I'm thankful for the quick postings of inappropriate (but fun/funny) humor from a former co-worker. I'm thankful for people simply asking for prayers - and hope for those that are unable to bring themselves to that - the knowledge that people do care, and many are in the same boat.

I'm thankful FB allows me to share in the fun, travels, hobbies, family events - anniversaries - birthdays, woes, venting, humor, and yes, even the political views of friends here.

Old age, too many damn jobs, six years to complete my four year degree, 52 years of athletics - and a lifetime of touches have blessed me with tons of friends not only on FB, but 'real life' as well. (Thank you to all for your patience on the millions of pictures of my grandkids that I'm 'tagged' in as well.)

I'm thankful for the fervor for sport's teams, the ups/downs within, and of course the banter back and forth over the fence. I'm thankful that those that could care less about sports - whet their fervor appetite here, be it in bread making, knitting, old cars, the blues, astronomy, economics, music, yada.

I'm thankful for the old Liberty group - and it's assistance in keeping yesterday here today.

I'm thankful to catch up with family here. As we spread throughout the US, dwindle in numbers, multiply in numbers - every 'like' really represents 'love.'

It's kinda fun to peek at the number of mutual friends - and to wonder what the view is from your fingers on the FB keyboard - and the hope that you too enjoy as I do. Sandbox, we all had 'em, and there is nothing better than sharing life, observing other's lives, leading our own - in numbers. Life as a single piece of cloth: boring, monotonous. Woven with others, so much more vibrant, strong, comforting, peaceful.

I'll go now, 2014 beckons. The Good Lord willing, I hope for good health for all, and the aim for perfection - and the knowledge "hey, it's ok" if perfection doesn't happen.

Happy New Year, to each his/her own, intermingled. Victurd.

What I've learned in 62 years about Christmas.

It doesn't discriminate on age. It's fun at 2, 12, 22, 32, 42, 52, 62.

Some unexpected car/house repair, sickness or otherwise will happen, and happen shortly after you'd just counted all your beans and thought "I think I can purchase all I want to purchase this year!"

WalMart is filled with folks whose cart/person take up 6 (of 8) feet of aisle space, they're oblivious to it, so you turn around, take another aisle, go around 'em. The checkout aisle you select will need a price check, a scanner repair, or a management approval.

Will hear: I can't believe you've already got your tree up.... Christmas Carols so soon, really? We just went to your folks LAST year!

My cousin Roger had good hands (was QB and Point Guard in HS) and was telepathic. He could grab a present, feel it and know exactly what was inside. He NEVER missed, sometimes even relating the color.

Turns out, my father, and my two uncles were horrible bowlers. For years, we little ones would await (mostly patiently) their Christmas Eve arrival at Grannies - as they annually 'bowled', which later we learned was the bar, adjacent to the lanes.

Snow will happen, on or around. Cold will happen. Car doors will freeze. Travel will be rough, sliding on roads, flights cancelled/delayed, connections missed.

With every generation comes a period where the bottom third of the Christmas tree gets torn to smithereens. (Double that, if you own cats.)

Cedar, evergreen and fireplaces smell heavenly.

It's all about the kids, no matter your age or the age of the 'kid'. Love happens. There is a family bonding that can't be duplicated.

It takes 1/60th the amount of time to unwrap a present as it does to wrap it. Piles of paper happen, parts to toys will get lost. Parents who ain't mechanically inclined later will boil in frustration reading directions, putting together this or that.

Annually, I say a prayer for whomever has to work in the Customer Service Department 12/26.

Whatever was spent, however many miles were traveled, the woes within, in the end: all worth it.

Two more things: Oh yeah, the reason for the season. And.... Santa HAS to be a woman. No man could accomplish what 'he' does in a 24 hour period.

Merry Christmas, Victurd

Oh well

I so love this song. I challenge (nudge/encourage) you to click/listen/sit back/enjoy as you peruse..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vfJqdhv5YZ8

I can't help about the shape I'm in
I can't sing, I ain't pretty and my legs are thin
But don't ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to

Oh well

Stressy, we're all that. Shape, ours, ne'er perfect, happy. Bold, in "don't ask me what I think of you", more often thought out, wanted to say, ne'er said.

Now, when I talked to God I knew he'd understand
He said, "Stick by me and I'll be your guiding hand
But don't ask me what I think of you
I might not give the answer that you want me to"

Oh well

We kinda go through life with our brain wanting to say many things, but rare that we do.

If you by chance clicked the youtube link, after 2 minutes we're done verbiage of the song, and what remains for 7 minutes is heaven, peace, calm.

Eyes closed, relaxation. On the receiving end, massage table. Visiting yesteryear, yesterfolks, with smile. Those weeks, days, when things seemingly just go perfect. Proudness, happiness.

A look back. A look ahead. An appreciation for today.

A hot bath. A Jacuzzi. The sound of the ocean tide. The stream. Eyes closed, with smile - what better?

Harmony, in a world of difference. Not a pat on the back of our own-ness, but a resounding smile afforded by those around us.

Little ones, the happiness they bring - what better than to be in chair, feet on ottoman, entertained by their kinetic energy/motion/creativity/uniqueness.

This music starts at age 19, and in two minutes you're in reflection (60-something for us old farts)... Never perfection, but times/moments, where it is perfect, the smile we wear attests to it.

In our element. Our own, personal, private happiness -whatever the mode/method.

I'm biased. I think Fleetwood Mac folks are geniuses. To listen first time in a studio, one might think "you can't do that!"... Works. Well. Very well.

Music moves me, hope it does you as well... It likens life, shapes, moods. Those moments of happy reflection just before nodding off - yum.

This song wards off conflict, personal woes, worry about tomorrow.. yada.

I love it. Oh well. Love, Victurd.

1195

I guess it's been 8 years now that I've force fed the internet blogging, 1195 times to be exact. Additionally, there are over a hundred more abandoned drafts saved to never be opened again.

Very much enjoyed reading folk's posts about what they are thankful for - and I too of course am thankful for friends, family, loved ones - life in general.

The blog thing, I am thankful for it as well.. When one is divorced, if you don't own a hound or a kitty - the only other person you can talk to is yourself, and the blog has allowed me to do that.

I've written whilst happy, whilst down, whilst broke, after a work bonus, tired, injured, healthy, pissed off/depressed (hence the "hundred more abandoned drafts [not put on Checkenginelight] never to be opened again"), perhaps written whilst a little tipsy, whilst dating someone, whilst "long dry spell" in that department.

It's been therapeutic, embarrassing, rewarding. Helped serve, occasionally, as my own shrink. A "for the most part" reminder, life ain't too damn bad.

I've had friends bring up posts I've done. I'm certain I've pissed some people off on things I've written - and I would guess, from some shoes, its my attempt for "LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!".. I could address that, buy why?

After long periods without posting, I've even had friends ask "Are you ok?" Very basically, anything I write really isn't about me, or shouldn't be. It's more about life, the view from the bench, hopefully seeing/reporting all the good that is out there, and hoping that maybe somehow it can remind me of that - and sure, if by chance something said might lift, emote another - all the better.

I'm thankful for life in general. Below is the third blog I ever wrote. "Why post the 3rd one" you ask? Because I reread the first two today, was embarrassed (I'd dissed my ex), and.... was probably tipsy!

Happy Thanksgiving all... hope it's been grand. #1196. Love, Victurd.

July 5th, 2005, Blog #3:

Title: ENDS

"He pulled the cover off from over her, slowly knelt, kissed her cheek, covered her back up and without a word slowly walked away."


Ends are difficult. Every relationship ends. Of course, the depth and length of time varies - but they all end.

Had an email from a friend last night "Well, Mr. Perfect just pulled out in a U-Haul truck with everything he owns, headed for his three kids on the West Coast. My decision. Bummer."

Ends in dating hurt probably just as much as ends in marriage - but perhaps the length of hurt doesn't last as long. Since this "suddenly almost single" (I'm still separated) thing happened, I've had a few ends of my own. One said I was "too laid back"...... One said "you'll never stop smoking" < smart lady!

My own father. My mother had a massive stroke at age 57. Dad, a traveling sale's rep, quit his job... Got "D-tags", a small building to put his cars in (Missouri State law)... stayed at home, cared for my mother - inbetweengst polishing, detailing, pounding-out-dents from wholesalers he fixed up to sell to make ends meet. They made the best of a trying time.

I vividly remember two distinct sounds during that time observing my folk: "Mack the Knife" from my dads lungs, and the little handbell my father provided for my mother when she needed something. It wasn't a picture perfect end for them (mother passed of heart difficulties some 9 years later) - but they were happy - and I learned a lot from their end.

The very first date after "whatshername" was with a chicky much too young for me. Eh, you know, it's kinda like job hunting - you start out applying for jobs $20-30,000 more than you are probably worth, then eventually settle for reality. Anyways, I asked this gal of 34 (me - 48 at the time) "what do you want outta the resta your life?"............

She replied........."well..... I'm a nurse... and I work in the ER... Once... there was an 80 yr old couple in... the wife was having extreme difficulties with her heart... she literally died on the ER table twice - we brought her back each time... The doctor would go consult the elderly gentleman in the waiting room each time.... Finally... her heart gave out... She expired... The doctor turned to go tell the 80-something year old gentleman her fate... and when he did, the man rose.. sauntered into the ER... approached her bed...He pulled the cover off from over her, slowly knelt, kissed her cheek, covered her back up and without a word slowly walked away. That. That's what I want."

Wow. Pretty cool. This same 34-yr old chicky told me "you know, you're pretty nice looking for 48." Hehe, I didn't really know how to take that.. The next day I stood shaving in the bathroom. All done, I took that first swipe with my hand to my face wiping off the shaving cream. I noticed there was still an amount of shaving cream left upon my face - neatly tucked in the crevices afforded by 48 years of living. That very moment was the end to the 34-48 yr old thingy. Her words will stay with me forever though. Love, Victurd.

Chilled to the bone...

On the day I was born
The nurses all gathered 'round
And they gazed in wide wonder
At the joy they had found
The head nurse spoke up
Said "leave this one alone"
She could tell right away
That I was chilled to the bone

Chilled to the bone
Chilled to the bone
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Chilled to the bone


Give me 33610, 91911, 78520, 85250 (Tampa, San Diego, Brownsville, Scottsdale)

I broke a thousand snow shovels
before I got wise
I'll break a thousand more, maybe
Before I compromise
I wanna be warm every winter
Warm and home even if alone
I'm here to tell ya folks
That I'm chilled to the bone
Chilled to the bone
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Chilled to the bone


I would very much miss the four baby blue eyes, but hey, for 3-4 months a year, we can Skype, you can even come visit!

I'll make an old fart warm
I'll make a transplanted Missourian sweat
I'll make an old fart hot
And take a old fart outta harm
I wanna be warm bet your booty
Warm and home even if alone
I'm here to tell ya folks
That I'm chilled to the bone
Chilled to the bone
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Chilled to the bone


Besides, they say the female/male ratio in AZ is like 9 to 1, and even if they would be cougars, "I could go for that", but that's another song in and of itself for another day.

And when I walk the streets
Snow and Sleet step aside
Every winter I'll scoot
And I'll stay satisfied
I wanna tell ya Ole man Winter
Well Ya see I make my own
I'm here to tell ya fridgy
That I'm chilled to the bone
Chilled to the bone
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Chilled
Chilled to the bone


I ain't sure when 'retirement' will be, prolly 5 more years. The Good Lord willing, I'm buying a motor home and getting the hell outta Dodge come November. I'm hear to tell ya, I'm chilled to the bone. Love, Victurd.

Who'da thunk it?

First, wanna get the Incognito thing behind us, or somehow have it meet an end, even if imperfectly. I hope (and believe) I speak for 99.9% of us who grew up in small towns in the 50's, 60's where bullying was taken care of (rather than fearing to jump in and stop), and us people of all people, were friends, regardless of race. That is, towns/people, without hate, without prejudice.

But then... (Victor, again, you CAN'T start a sentence with 'but'!)

But then... there were things we didn't like. Such as: KU. The Raiders. The New York Yankees. Folks from our longtime rival town - Excelsior. Any fraternity other than the one you were in. Even, yes, the other political side.

As I/we age - something happens (in a good sense) - and we revisit dislikes with an open mind - and turn the corner from 'learned dislike' to observed/like.

But then.. (VICTOR!)... who'da thunk one would be moved by an article on the former head football coach of the 'patooey' KU Jayhawks? Me I guess.

After his dismissal for alleged mistreatment of players - soul searching happened. "He reconnected with old friends,even recalled 'some people I thought might not like me; I thought that was the right thing to do.' He started to listen more, he said, and talk less."

How powerful is that? "Listen more, and talk less." I'd like to think age teaches us that.

Mangino (aka, former KU football coach) is now spending oodles of time with his grandkids.. "happy to do it as a way to give back time he never quite had enough of for his own two children."

He resisted the urge to get back into coaching two years ago ("the most important move I've made in my career") when his wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. One day, for treatment, he wanted to drive his wife to the doctor - she insisted she could do it alone - then later called him in distress on the way home as clumps of her hair were falling out. So,

what's he do? He immediately goes and shaves his own head in a show of support to surprise her.

This condensed version of the article doesn't do the man justice - so, if per chance, ya getta chance please go read the article: http://www.kansascity.com/2013/11/09/4609966/three-years-after-ku-mark-mangino.html

He speaks of having time 'to learn from others, to study others, to study myself.".. Lessons from others: "If you're waiting for your ship to come in, forget it. You've got to go swim out to it."

On Bill Snyder (whom he worked for at K-State) "He never thought there was any problem you couldn't find a solution for. Some take longer than others. He'd sit around for hours thinking about ways to solve a problem." Could we learn from this? Certainly, in every facet of life: marriage, parenting, education, government, world peace/relations.

Mangino continued "You know all of these people that I worked for in my life? There's one other coach that I learned a lot from in life, and it's kind of funny. You know who it is? It's me. You have to learn from yourself. You have to learn your own weaknesses and strengths - if you want to improve in your career, you have to improve as a person."

"I don't care how old you are or how young you are; I don't care if you're a ditchdigger or a millionaire, there's room for improvement and you can get better. No matter what your lot in life is, you can improve. Even a guy like me."

Apologetically, I (Victurd) express regret for my former dislikes. Each and every person I've met from our High School arch-rival Excelsior is a quality, quality person and I love 'em. My best friend at work is a diehard Yankee's fan. Two days ago I "tilted one" with my buddy, the staunch Oakland Raider's fan. I've recently hit 'Like' on a couple of buddies (from 'other' fraternities) FB postings and treasure their friendship. Politically, I was recently sitting next to "one of the G brothers", he taught ME, "Vic, we may disagree on some things, but friends for life, period." Now, I find myself applauding an article on a guy from KU.

Reckon there's truth in talking less, listening more. Had I done that years earlier - it would have awakened me that 'perceived dislikes' ain't always that.

Love, Victurd.

I'm positive, I think.

One of the three readers of this blog suggested writing about:

"list of things you do want to see? What are the things not seen frequently enough, things never seen, things to dream of seeing?"

Tough assignment, #1 because I was a C+ student. Sounds kinda like being asked to do the play-by-play at a football game with 20/60 vision. The cubicle person giving the corporate financial report. I am not worthy. I'll try.

What I want to see? Sadly, color, for some, is still an issue - I don't feel we will ever see where it's not an issue (for all)... Perhaps the only way for that to happen is for love/loving/marriage/proliferation to the point one day where everyone is the same color, and I'm not naïve enough to think that will ever happen... but, you asked "dream of seeing?" (Victor, are you saying a white person couldn't be with a white person? No red with red, black with black, etc? No, no, no, not what I meant. I simply strive for a way "to see" it ain't an issue)..

I'd love to see all religions teaching love of mankind, even those with other religious (or non-religious) beliefs.

I understand brilliant people have designed a car that can drive itself. Many are gone from accidents, many injured suffer every day since - I'd love to see an accident free way to transport. Yes, perhaps letting go of a freedom, but the benefits would far outweigh that. I could sacrifice that freedom for being able to go to bed and not worry about children, grandchildren, friends, loved ones.

In some respects. a lotta the junk from the blog that prompted this ("I'd be ok if I never saw again") translate to things I want to see.. a cure for cancer.. a handle on crime (street, business, government)..

I want to see people give it their all before divorcing, perhaps even have a mandatory one year 'engagement period.' Oft times (not always, I'm aware), it's no longer the covenant it once was.

I'd like to see less separation of the economic classes. My C+, 20/60 vision has no answer on 'how', but if we can build a GD (gosh darn) car that can drive itself, surely there are brilliant minds out there to help with this.

I'd love to see every person that is diabetic to have access to insulin. Every person who needs dialysis, access to it. Every depressed person - counseling, and meds if needed. A hearing aid for those that can't. A doctor for an ill child. Very basically, sick people: access to assistance.

Our soldiers home. Worldwide peace.

Want to see? Never seen? Dream of seeing? I can certainly be selfish here. Cooperstown. The four dead guys in granite. Guys night out. The golf course. A Flash Mob, even better, maybe participate in one. I wanna go on a cruise (never been) and prove that "it is possible for two to shower at once in one of those 'locker-sized' cruise ship showers." Maui (again). A mate, whose as much into me as I am her.

I would love "every day life" as part of the curriculum in every school district:

*Have kids spend a few hours on-site in various professions. Bring in three old people. One who has prepared, saved well. One, so-so. And one, strictly on Social Security. Tour their homes. Help them go over their monthly budgets. Hindsight, yes, I've not planned the greatest. Yes, aware "hard to relate being retired when you're 9, 12 or 17" but can't hurt to infuse in school plan. (I left two professions, education, airline, where I could be drawing a retirement right now had I not chosen to depart. I blame me for that, but ya know, maybe had I had "that class project", I wouldn't have left either.)

*Have kids attend a wedding. Talk to the bride-groom one on one about "how they arrived there".. Attend divorce court, visit with each about how they got there. (Understand the impact of "He/she slept with my best friend." "He/she hits me, verbally abuses me."
Even the impact of things as simple as "I grew tired of being the one that cooked, cleaned, dealt with the children."

*Tour a home where grandparents are raising three children. Bring in happy people that are motivational speakers, have them expound on why they're happy, what it's done for them. Go to a prison, have a one on one with a lifer. Go back to class, discuss the difference between the examples.

*I've been detached from education for quite some time - so, if any of the above plans are already in motion in schools, no harm intended. I simply would love to see more time spent on life's lessons, than an Isosceles Triangle, Iambic pentameter, or onomatopoeia.

I'm being boring, but that's ok. I prefer the focus on others, as in "yes, would like to see that into the future." Sure, it's a perk any time someone comes here (to the blog), but I go back to the initial purpose: to me, for me (to remind myself to chose happy)..

There is much right in life, for that I am thankful, and want/expect to continue to see. I know I will continue to see good people, and try to learn from them. I want to see animal lovers loving their animals. Loving parents loving their children. Loving children loving their parents.

There is no magical prophecy within me. If I could simply live life out seeing, being happy, I'm good with that. If I could see me never being a burden on another as I continue to age, perfect. I haven't the excess funds to pay it forward financially - so I want to observe others that are giving (in the same financial boat) and learn from their ways.

I'm a simpleton. C+ with 20/60. (The truth is I think I have 20/20 vision. I had cataracts at age 54, so I now have one lens for close-up, one lens for far-away <-- like to see more miracles like that.)

Simple, happy, works/wins. I'd like to see, live that. Nothing earth-shattering, all knowing, but simply the sufficient spoon to stir my pudding. Love, Victurd.

Note to self.........

Examine the lock of your bathroom door (in advance).

Daily routine. 5:20am alarm. Say "ha ha", hit snooze. Say "ha ha" one more time (twice if I'm really sleepy), then lumber out of bed.

Listen to Joel Nichols so I'll know how to dress for the weather.. check email, FB, wing 'likes' at creativity, beautiful children... cig/coffee.

6:00am. Go to bathroom. This timea year, take space heater in, plug it in, get it stoked. Start bath water. Exit, close door so heat will stay in.

More Joel/Donna/Chris, another cig, wander the internet.

6:04am, grab new pair of undies (or flip dependent upon the day), go take bath.

Oh shit.

Door locked. Panic. I don't even know the main # to the apartment complex I live in, let alone the emergency #. (2nd note to self).

More panic. "I wonder how close the water is to overflowing?". Google "Cherokee Apartments", write down phone number, run to living room where my smart phone that's been acting stupid is plugged in. Nada. No 'charge light', no nuttin'. Shit.

Grab nail. Stick it in that little hole in the lock. Nope. Grab screwdriver, frantically pushing, pulling, flipping up, flipping down. Nope.

Ask one's self "If it does overflow, runs over, and invades the privacy of my space heater, could I get electrocuted on this sidea the door as the water trickles through?

Wake up neighbor, have 'em call 911? (3rd note to self: Always wear something en route to the restroom).

Last gasp: pry screwdriver between the edge of the door and the lock.

YES! (4th note to self: It's perfectly ok to laugh at yourself).

Love, Victurd.

I'd be ok if I never-ever again saw.......

One thing about being a grandparent....... you can have fun..... my one and two year old grandbabies are seemingly interested in me... and they'll walk up and say "beemare-ahh-djuso-abgu-apaalo"... and, knowing what's been said ABSOLUTELY makes sense to them, I reply "Yeah? Tuesday?... Cool"... or similar.

I enjoy/love my DIL. We will strap the kiddos in the car for a quick run to the Piggly Wiggly, and as we reach the front door and I drop her off, I turn to g-kids (Remember: they don't have any idea what I'm saying) I tell them matter-of-factly "Mommy's leaving, and she's never coming back"... Shock value was pretty darn good the first time I winged it.. DIL laughed... Not so much now.

Of course I'm joshing, and DIL knows that.. much as she knows when the oldest has a terrible two fit, lays on the floor at WallyWorld screaming because she doesn't understand money, and me having to take the .50 cent sucker from her hand, hand it to the cashier so she can scan it, THEN she'll get it back. In the next three fitful minutes, every answer is "NO!".. So... I play.. "Can I have a kiss?" "NO!"... You want to hop back up in the cart? (I always flip the cart around so it's going in the direction she can see) "NO!!!!"..... "You want a hundred dollars?" "NO!!!!!!!!".. (Don't worry Conservatives, one day she too will be on FB, and you can help educate her on the importance of personal finance.)

Ok, sorry... all a preface to the intent: "Never-ever see again".......

My list:

Death. Traffic Tailgaters. Rain/snow whilst driving. A political FB post. Cancer. An ill child. A shooting/stabbing, on any street, in any town. Molestation. Rape. Assault.

Sushi. A Vinson Mortgage commercial. Video of me saying "til death do us part" a third time. Bill Self. That 'bird'. Mayonnaise. Another Hearing Aid or Burial Plot advertisement in my mailbox. (How do they know?)..

The DMV. One cashier at the Dollar Tree. A lady (or man) with 63 items in the Express ("20 items or less") lane at Wally World.

A shelter animal. A crotch rocket on I-435 doing 95 mph. A customer service person who doesn't get it. A vendor with an attitude. My reflection, mostly sideways, in the mirror.

A homeless person (then, they would all have homes).. Tsunami, earthquake, tornado, flood, avalanche, wild fire...

Sad crying. Suicide. The effects thereafter. Divorce, without 'grabbing the other by the collars' to make sure they know the severity/importance of what you are saying, trying twice as hard to 'stay in it' as it took to get in it.

Deer in the headlights. Pile of laundry. Cable/Gas/Electric bills. Smart phone that decides after a year it's stupid. IT 'upgrades/enhancements' which hide the most essential tools/needs, but now mandating one to click nine times for what usedta take four clicks.

Bias. Prejudice. Harassment. Bullying. Depression. Feelings of inferiority. The announcement of how much a pro baseball/football/basketball player just signed for. Knowing the cost of a ticket to go see the aforementioned.

Flies, wasps, cicadas, mosquitos, bees, ants, roaches, spiders, snakes, raccoons, rats..

The pressure of management... the open window, wind chimes of the lady in our 'building'(@ work) that drives 12 of the 13 of us batso.

World hunger. Terrorism. Atrocity. Starvation. Misspelling of the words you're/your, sense/since, quiet/quite, separate/seperate, truly/truely, weird/wierd, lose/loose, they're/their/there, definitely/definately.

Pop ups. Auto-correct. User ID's, logins. Users. People in need who get a bad rap due to users. People who blog on AND on, when it's probably time to stop.

Love, Victurd.

Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'

Wikipedia notes:

Nothing is a pronoun associated with nothingness.[1] In nontechnical uses, nothing denotes things lacking importance, interest, value, relevance, or significance.[1] Nothingness is the state of being nothing,[2] the state of nonexistence of anything, or the property of having nothing.

"What areya doin'?"......"Nuthin.... you?"........ Room full of young, rambunctious youths, LOUD noises, giggling, you sprint from the next room "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"....... Their batted eyed reply "Nothing." Uh huh, sure.

Checking account, nothing, been there. Dating life, nothing, am there. Softball game, nothing for four, been there. "He don't know nothing" said at break by a good friend. "Where'd you go to school," I ask, "Grandview?" (As I knew she had).. She's nothing but nice though.

No pot to piss in, nothing.

The Devil is greater than nothing. Nothing is greater than God. Therefore, the Devil is greater than God. HEY! Wait a minute, that ain't right!

Nothing. ( ), [ ], { }. Nada. Zero. Comes before One so you don't even say it. Empty. "All gone." Absent. Void. Vacuum. Seinfeld's show, known as "A show about nothing."

Don't go around saying the world owes you a living. The world owes you nothing. It was here first.
Mark Twain

The truth is you don't know what is going to happen tomorrow. Life is a crazy ride, and nothing is guaranteed
Eminem.

There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.
Albert Einstein

Nothing bugs me more than ___________. Cheer by high school snotnoses at basketball game "YOU AIN'T..(clap clap) NUTHIN." The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. If you have integrity, nothing else matters. If you don't have integrity, nothing else matters. There is nothing to fear but fear itself.

I've mentioned before, I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome.

This evening, Peyton Manning returns to Indianapolis where he had a long, storied, successful stay. Peyton will probably go down in history as the best quarterback EVER. The list above him is nothing. Four MVP trophies, a Super Bowl, a scazillion passing yards, TD's, clutch victories, comebacks. Jim Irsay, owner of the Colts blabbed this week (paraphrasing) "I'm disappointed we only won one Super Bowl with Peyton" and then reeled off a list of teams with multiple Super Bowl wins in the time Peyton was there.

The purpose of this whole damn blog is Peyton's reply.

Nothing.

Denver's coach John Fox, after hearing Irsay said "I saw the comments. And to be honest with you, I thought it was a bit of a cheap shot," Fox said during an interview on SiriusXM NFL Radio. "To me, in my opinion, they were disappointing and inappropriate. Peyton would never say anything. He's too classy to do that."

I, of course, will always come with a reply if it's in regard to the KU/MU rivalry - but Peyton's actions (er, actually no action) teaches.

We've all had 'hurtful' winged in our direction. Please bless me/you, into the future, to respond using Peyton's example. Catch that Victor? Sometimes the best response is NOTHING.

Our Kansas City Chiefs are 6-0, as are Peyton Manning's Broncos. I should root for Indy tonight, but I ain't. I hope Peyton goes in and kicks butt. Nothing would please me more.

That's it. Much ado about nothing. Love, Victurd.

Autumnal...

I love October. Orange. Jacket mornings. Sneaking in another round of golf before Mother Nature's other ideas in the coming months..

Floats, parades, marching bands, football players on a fire truck, Homecoming Queens crowned. Kids in tuxes, gals in long dresses, the cost of a limo split (or dad's best car).. dining at places that one dines at only once a year.. Maybe even first kisses.

Breast Cancer awareness month. Pink wristbands, shoes, undershirts... memories, memorials of those gone - research/funding, SURVIVORS, and hope 'the bastard' is one day in our rear view mirror.

Bill Cosby says October is his favorite month because the flies get slow. Victor, you've told that one before. Bite me, I'm in the autumnal stage of my life.

Candy, candy, and more candy. Costumes: Goblins, ghosts, supermen, Beetlejuice, Duck Dynasty, Batman, Dora, Strawberry Shortcake, Grumpy cat, Gatsby, Walking Dead, Miley Cyrus - please just say no, Twerk or Treat? Tired parents/grandparents - little ones running like sixty, two hours past their bedtime. Pillow cases filled for good eating for darn near til December. Yum. Halloween. That day of freedom when mom/dad FINALLY let you go alone. Memories of going to the richest homes as a kid - "Can you believe it? A FULL SIZED SNICKERS!"

The crack of the bat, banners, full stadiums, mega media attention, tense moments, manager's decisions, great plays, big hits, heads down, high fives up - The Word Series.

Football, tailgating, the Chiefs, high hopes early in the season, a ticket - hopefully in an area in the sun. Folks in their 30's, 40's, 50's, 60's, 70's, etc - hoopin', hollerin', a three hour chance to relive, behave once again - as a child.

October deserves 31 days. That certain period where you get to go to the thermostat, click the air off - windows open to allow 'outside - in' as if to say "HA! Take that KCP&L/MGE!"..

Colors. Colors abound. Changing shades of brown, orange, burnt orange, reds, fading reds - wonder.

"DEER!!!! LOOKOUT!" Bambi/fenders and bumpers vulnerable, the rut is on.

Test the furnace, check the antifreeze, get the heavy coats outta the mothballs (do people still do that?), batten down the hatches, birdies test your wings, we all prepare for an end to daylight savings - for dull, brrrrr, treacherous driving, barren trees, leaves aplenty on the ground, COLD, windy days are ahead.

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers" (L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables).

Me too LM, me too. Love, Victurd

(PS to spellcheck: get with the program/new millennium, you underlined twerk, you twerp.)

Goodness and Light.......

Hurt. Hurting? Could be anyone. You. Me. Him. Her. Them. Never know. Some verbalize it, some keep it within. Some "you know", many times - not.
(Unfortunately, know some folks struggling at present. Too many. BEEN THERE. God Bless Google, hopefully some suggestions below to lighten the sting.)

Said the night wind to the little lamb
Do you see what I see
Way up in the sky little lamb
Do you see what I see
A star, a star
Dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite
With a tail as big as a kite

A few small goals, and slowly build from there. A short walk around the block. A phone call to a loved one.
One day at a time, reward self for an accomplishment. Small steps - add up. Energy is drained, but effort put into recovery yields much more in return.

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy
Do you hear what I hear
Ringing through the sky shepherd boy
Do you hear what I hear
A song, a song
High above the tree
With a voice as big as the sea
With a voice as big as the sea

Trusted friends, family. It's cool to ask for help. Be around others, in spite of the want retreat into shell. Allow yourself to be less than perfect. "Rub up agin" (hang out with) positive people. Take care of your self.
8 hrs sleep. Expose, enjoy the sun. Gotta pet? Hug it. Get out. Go, do. Music, art, write, the ballpark, the mountains, a lake, a stream, the ocean.

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king
Do you know what I know
In your palace wall mighty king
Do you know what I know
A child, a child
Shivers in the cold
Let us bring him silver and gold
Let us bring him silver and gold

Move baby move. Take the stairs insteada the elevator. Park your car in the farthest spot. On the phone? Walk and talk. A ten minute walk can improve a mood for two hours.

Said the king to the people everywhere
Listen to what I say
Pray for peace people everywhere
Listen to what I say
The child, the child
Sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light
He will bring us goodness and light

Find, allow, humor back in. Eat, ie, don't skip meals. Boost your vitamin B level (citrus fruit, leafy greens, beans, chicken, eggs.).. Foods that help moods: Bananas, brown rice, spinach.

The child, the child
Sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light

Yes, He (if this is one's ilk) can help too. Know: you, I, - loved, so let's love back. Love, Victurd.