'We'll be Friends Forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet.

I love friendship. For whatever reason, guys are tepid to show emotion, platonic affection. (I never understood “nuh uh, can’t hug” but, a good ole' butt-slap compliments a job well done.)

I’ve noticed. These long term friendships normally sprout in childhood – where one is cast to sit in the desk next to your alphabetical mate. Could be a nod waking the hall.. a high five on the playground… a handshake moving on to Junior High……

“Good luck” as HS ends, friends scatter, ranging from: some ne’er to be seen again, to “we talk damn near every day.”

I enjoy watching, living, experiencing friendship. Friendships evoke smiles. Friendships – again- range from “oh crap, I can’t tell him/her what I really think” to, “you stupid asshole, why would you/did you do that?”

I kinda like the fact friends don’t give a hoot what ya’ wear.. how your hair looks.. if your shirt/blouse has wrinkles (or not)… how much money you make (or don’t make)…

“It’s more fun to talk with someone who doesn’t use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like ‘What about lunch’ “ A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

Friends – it might be weeks, months, years, decades since ya last got together – but the foreverness lends ease, comfort, instant-yesterday. (Spellcheck underlined foreverness, don’t give a rats, should be a word.)

I was moved yesterday at the softball field. (Wind was 30 MPH, did move me, but there was other stuff too)… I was moved because before the game, VERY longtime friends met infronta the dugout – one reached an arm out – the other, without saying “to hell with that, let’s hug” grabbed the dudes arm, pulled him into hug – and it spoke eons of the past. (Later, a friend farted on the bench, again, I was moved.)

“Friends come and go like the waves of the ocean.. but the true ones stay like an octopus on your face.”

Ya gotta be a friend to have a friend – lesson learned. It takes awhile sometimes to win friends – but ya never gotta influence (sell) one to be a true friend.

James Taylor tells us “You’ve got a friend.” Bill Withers reminds us “Lean on me.” Simon and Garfunkel legered “Bridge over troubled water.” Friend, all Bob Dylan really wanted to do.

I’ve found, as age comes, clicks go away. What one cared deeply about back-in-the-day (sports, music, popularity, debate, shop, hot rods, farming, yada yada) and – was primarily your turnstile(s) into friendship THEN – turns into “eh, who gives a rats about that stuff now”.. We’ve all, I’m certain, “sidestepped” what coulda been a good friend.

I enjoy watching the friendships on FB. Steady. Frequent. True. Loyal. Funny. Teasing. Sparked.

“Friends are the bacon bits in the salad bowl if life.” Anon

School. Recess. Weekends. Games. Summers. Car rides. Carnival rides. After the last day ever of school. Weddings. Parenting. Advice, prompted. Piggly Wiggly casual meets in the aisle. Phone calls. Emails. Texts. Funerals. The appreciation of friendship deeply appreciated.

“Never tell your friends, ‘I told you so’ – even when you did.” Wendy Jean Smith.

“In everyone’s life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit.” Albert Schweitzer

“We'll be Friends Forever, won't we, Pooh?' asked Piglet.
"Even longer,' Pooh answered.” Winnie the Pooh.

Enjoy your day……… friend.

Love, Victurd.

In your element……..

The Cambridge Dictionary tells us this means “to be happy because you are doing what you like or can do best.”

Facebook is a means to discover – simply by historic observation – what the “in your element” ilk is for kind souls.

Could be Jazz.. YEAHHHHHH.. Mebbe Nascar for some… Casting a line out.. Doting over grandbabies… Old chums, recanting tales/stories from the day when it was a little bit easier to get in and outta one’s car, and Lord knows it was easier to clip one's toenails back then..

There is no better observation than seeing one in their element. The Royals – back when ‘keep the line going’ was in vogue. Recently, a 24 year old rookie took to the mound at Kauffman Stadium.. his parents, siblings in the crowd.. tall, lanky… was awesome – 6+ innings, allowing just 2 hits, striking out 5 or so.. One Ned Yost came to the mound to congratulate – and switch pitchers.. crowd (in their element) on their feet yelling, cheering, whistling, yada.. Ned’s advice to the kid as he took the ball? “Walk slow, take it all in.” Ned knows ‘in the element’...

Getting on FB, seeing one from the past – immediate smile – reminder of in your element moments/days. Rounding the corner at the Piggly Wiggly to see a bud that you used to ride shotgun in their Chevy – yeah, that’s what I’m talking about.

I’ve been fortunate enough to attend some parties that were made up of high school classmates of my girlfriend. Her element. Her happiness. Her to die for smile. Her happily continuing forward whilst reliving ‘then’. Yum.

I’ve got another friend, that when she’s knelt down, eye to eye with whatever flavor canine – she’s there.. in her element. It’s a joy to see joy.

Might be the lake.. or up, out and about in their small aircraft.. on their Harley.. truck with camper in tow.. yum.. happy.. in their element.

Granny in the kitchen, the noise of pots/pans lessened by grandkids running around acting their age. Steam, smoke, YUM smell - in her element.

With all the stress of racial relations, political ‘tennis’, lacka money, jobs cut, loved ones lost – it’s so refreshing to see one in their element.

Tonight I will traverse to a small 9 hole golf course where I will pay good money to hit a brand new golf ball into the woods, to ne’er bee seen again. Tis ok, I’m there, in my element. I suck at it, but it’s sucking at it with smile. Oh, and invited is a buddy that back in the day was my best man – we’ve not visited much in recent years – but when the eyeballs meet – we’re hella in the element of remembrance of past jubilation, ballgames won/lost, kid raising/raised, beer cans emptied.. yum.

What’s your ‘in your element?’ When times get tough, struggle happens – we’re all afforded the opportunity to close our eyes – relive the ‘in our element’ past. We awaken, looking forward to future ‘in our element’ happenings, events. They can be predictable, unexpected, short lived, and forever and ever.

I love life. The element. And you. Happy day, Victurd

It's only words...

The below is nonsensical, mostly Googled, copied/pasted. Forgive me father for I have plagiarized.

Six words that can ruin your sentence: “Obviously, like, honestly, basically, literally, actually.”

Actually, like obviously I basically disagree, honestly.

Microsoft Word – a blank page to ‘draw’ on.

Four letter word – always think of George Carlin.

Buzz word. Fidget spinner I guess, maybe “45”, and sadly, ISIS.

Man of a few words – the hell is he/she thinkin’?

Then, there is the "can't get a word in edgewise." Been there, frustrated through that.

A-well everybody's heard about the bird
Bird bird bird, b-bird's the word

A kind word – GOES A LONG, LONG WAY.

A dirty word – “I’m tellin’ “.. locker room talk.. women talk ‘tee hee hee hee”

A war of words – been there, ‘fought’ that. Words can hurt. Some, forever etched in our minds. Hard to let go. Like a knife stuck in a wooden fence, taken out, there is a scar still there.

I think we should adopt basketball’s ‘3 second’ rule when verbalizing words. If only we all would stop, take 3 seconds to think before replying, speaking – the world would be a more peaceful, happier place.

By word of mouth. At a loss for words. Eat one’s words. A play on words. Famous last words. Beyond words. Fighting words. I’d like a word with you.

Baby’s first word, the race is on… is it “Mama?”… “Dada?”… or “boob?” – ha.
Those first months, mebbe couple of years with a kid – you can basically (oops, sorry) use/say any word you want without fear of the little one understanding. Then, maybe year three you hear the snotnose retort “WELL SHIT”. You asked for it, you got it, Toyota. Watch your mouth, your words. (You/me AND the kid.)

Had words. A word to the wise. Mark my word. Have a way with words. Word gets around.

“Use magic words like Thank you, I’m sorry, please, with all we interact, these words have a healing effect.” Malika E. Nura (Words of wisdom)

It's only words
And words are all I have
To take your heart away.

Some simply answer “WORD”..

I love the mystique of words. Words do make the world go round. Sometimes, unsaid words work. A buddy of mine related once he allowed a ground ball to go between his legs – and a game was lost. On the way home, ne’er a word from dad. I knew the man, he rocked. Unsaid words can be beautiful.

Look, I got the last word. Rarely happens to us men. Love, Victurd.

Gotta second?

The Soviet Union. Kentucky. Lookin’ at Lee. Thomas Dewey.

Miracle on Ice – young dudes from US beat the Soviet Union. The Soviets, from past history, have used “alternate news” in reporting events like this. Headline might say “SOVIETS SECOND PLACE!!! (US next to last). Trumps all eh?

Christian Laettner’s “Shot” to win the NCAA Tournament over……… Kentucky. Second place, who remembers?

Always Dreaming kicked butt in the mud, won the Kentucky Derby over……. Lookin at Lee. Onto the Triple Crown? Who knows, we only remember Secretariat, Seattle Slew, Affirmed, American Pharoah.. we don’t remember the ones who won a couple but FINISHED second (or worse) in the udder races.

“Dewey defeats Truman” claimed the Chicago Daily Tribune on Novermber 3rd, 1948, the day after the presidential election. Oops. Hot of the press, not a second to spare – so to speak.

Next. Following. Subsequent. Succeeding. Secondary. Lower. Subordinate. Subsidiary. Assistant. Can’t get past second base. Oops, sorry. Heck, I’ve even been in a relationship where I was in second place. Big juicy kiss? EWWWW. Two to tango, three, can’t really dance.

Storytellers. A second time, or worse. Do you stop ‘em or do you suffer thru (again?)

Thankfully, from a family with two children – my sister and I never knew ‘second place.’ We were equals, thanks to very loving, fair parents.

It’s no secret that I have a love for sports. I love me some dudes, dudettes from my past that HATE second place. Losing sucks to us all. Win, fairly, squarely, by the rules, but win baby. Level best, every time.

“I never could stand losing. Second place didn’t interest me. I had a fire in my belly.” Ty Cobb

“Second place is really the first loser.” George Steinbrenner.

“My dad taught us that there’s no greater distance than that between first and second place.” Janet Jackson

Second-class citizen. Second hand. Second banana. Wait a second. Second guess. Any second now. Second nature. Second fiddle.

Is second ever good? Uh huh. Second helping. A double. Passing first grade. Second chance. Second time in one day… you perverts. Sunday. Sunday is the second weekend day. Second story. One Mississippi two Mississippi. Helps when keeping time I reckon. Second child. I always put my left shoe on second. Habit. Second nature I reckon.

I gotta get back to work. Just needed a break for a second. I am so happy for your eyeballs here, I hardly gave it a second thought not to be. Happy weekend – I hope you second that. Love, Victurd

What goes up must come down...

What goes up must come down
(Makes me think of a cat, on it’s feet no matta’.. a Rifle, shot in the air stupidly on New Years, bullet coming down.. a Babe Ruth home run)

Spinnin' wheel got to go 'round
Talkin' 'bout your troubles it's a cryin' sin
(Dirty Laundry, we all got it, some share it… ewwww)

Ride a painted pony let the spinnin' wheel spin
(A friend’s granddaughter rode a ride @ WOF recently, twice, then three times, in a row.. didn’t wanna get off.. now a line, uh oh, hadta.. walked a big circle, got right back on.. ride a painted pony)

You got no money and you got no home
(One outta two ain’t bad.)

Spinnin' wheel all alone
Talkin' 'bout your troubles and you, you never learn
(I do, but silently I hope. See the funny little clown. Oops, can’t merge two songs, sorry)

Ride a painted pony let the spinnin' wheel turn
(Deep breath, life, it ain’t too damn bad)

Did you find the directing sign on the
Straight and narrow highway
Would you mind a reflecting sign
(During the daytime yes I find the directing sign, at night, forget it.. I once made a left turn on the LEFT side of the median.. Fortunately, there tweren’t anyone coming from the ‘wrong’ way..)

Just let it shine within your mind
And show you the colors that are real
(Colors rule. The brilliance of life. If we only were as in awe of the brilliance of people colors as we are to the colors of things, eh, some day it’s hoped.)

Someone is waiting just for you
(Tis’ much easier to walk upright when there’s another to lean on.)

Spinnin' wheel, spinnin' true
Drop all your troubles by the riverside
(This doesn’t fit, but oh well. One time, long ago, fitteen of us SigaManus at riverfront park, beers in hand. Police roll up. We start ‘droppin’ all our (beer) troubles (into) the river – side. They line us up. “How old are you” 21. “How old are YOU?” 22. “And you?” 21, and so forth, down the line of fitteen. All of course, 21 or over, ha. Then, after the last of us lied about our age, the cop (with his buddy beside him) blurted out “THEN WHATINTHELL ARE YOU DOING THROWING ALL THAT GOOD BEER IN THE RIVER?!!” and proudly kneeslapped their way back outta the park.)

Catch a painted pony on the spinning wheel ride
(Life, ya know, really, it ain’t bad.)

Someone is waiting just for you
Spinnin' wheel, spinnin' true
Drop all your troubles by the riverside
Ride a painted pony let the spinnin' wheel fly

Yes, life is - can be, blood, sweat and tears.

Really though.. it ain’t bad - ride a painted pony… Love, Victurd.

In-between…….

Kinda interesting…… Dictionary.com tells us “a person or thing that is between two extremes, two contrasting conditions, etc.: “

So, reckon that is us, the now. Birth is an extreme to death. First grade is an extreme to the graduate’s tassel. Young adult is an extreme to parenting, but, some indulge simultaneously. Parent is an extreme to grandparent.

Interesting story line on Bryan Gumbel’s “Real Sports” regarding Matt Bush, a now Texas Ranger relief pitcher. I’ve not seen it, but wanna/gonna. 1st round draft choice of the San Diego Padres in 2004, $3.15 million bonus baby.. His Major League debut came 12 years later in 2016. Long Minor League trek hold him up? What happened in-between?

Lots. Alcohol addiction for one. Before he ever took the field as an 18 year old wonderboy – he was suspended for a fight outside an Arizona bar. Played a year or two in the minors, broke his ankle.. Couple years later Tommy John surgery.. Intoxicated, was arrested for assaulting two high schoolers… some time later, threw a baseball at a woman’s head, banged on her car window after accusing her of drawing markings on his face. Somewhere along the way he switched from shortstop to become a pitcher.

Out of baseball altogether in 2009. Tampa Bay gave him another chance. A year of Single-A, followed by a year of Double-A.. followed by when he drunkenly ran over a 72 year old man, leaving him critically wounded – sped away. 51 months in prison – the $3.15 million reduced to a checking account balance of $600. “I forced myself to think about it (the accident) every day in prison because I deserved to suffer.”

After prison, was working for $8.05 per hour at a Golden Corral.. A Rangers employee discovered him there, remembered.. While wearing a GPS tracking device on his ankle – had a tryout right there in the Gold Corral parking lot.

Twelve step meetings, beginning to understand addictions. “One good decision at a time.” Sober since 2012. Wanted a zero tolerance clause in his Texas Ranger contract. May 13, 2016, Major League Debut – twelve long years later. Wow, the in-between.

61 innings last year, 61 strikeouts. Thus far this season, he’s pitched 4 innings and has struck out 8.

I hadn’t meant to get so wordy on Matt the baseball player, but I thought it really fit the definition of in-between a person or thing that is between two extremes, two contrasting conditions, etc.: “

Continuing with contrast – I’ve been periodically visiting at an assisted living center. Twenty years olds may look at 40 year olds and be sad for them. 40 year olds, same about how they might feel about 60 year olds. Me, sad for the Assisted? Yes, but – also happy. Many never get to experience their age.

I hope that’s coming for you, for me. There is one helluva lot I can no longer do that I usedta – and I can do quite a bit that many of the Assisteds can’t. I know, the Good Lord willing, that's coming for me - slowing down, occasional confusion, falls, meds, frailty, etc - thus, the hopeful bright eyed bushy tailed outlook today. Until then. The in-between.

While I slip, occasionally mope, grump and groan, again – I try to remind myself this is the now, between two very contrasting conditions. Seems to lend a greater appreciation for every Monday, sunrise, yummy dinner, weekend, kiss, hug, sunset, now I lay me down to sleep.

I appreciate the now. The in-between. I know Matt does as well. Love, Victurd

WHAT DO YOU WANT?

Said like that, it sounds as if it’s come from a parent who has already been asked for 12 things that day from a youngster.

What do you want? This could be the order taker at Mickey D’s (Life should be happy and Victor you shouldn’t complain – I know, but, McDonalds has been around since most of us have been alive.. never fails though, one drives up, 7 cars behind.. and ya hear “gimme just a second” and they study the board they’ve perused 6,487 times. Really?)

What do you want? This could be a birthday question. Christmas. Baby shower?... It also could be used many, many ways by lovebirds (mind outta gutter, I was talking like as if someone got up from the dinner table and was asking if you wanted anything while they were up.)

Ned Yost wants another ring. Democrats want another try. Dogs want another treat. Kids want whatever is on their brain – NOW. I’m a horrible passenger in a car – I want a brake on my side (and maybe a valium.) MU fans want 2016 in the rear view mirror. Sad folks want happiness. Happy folks wanna spread it. Farmers want both rain and sun. Guy on United wants to stay on, other wanna drag him off. Polly want a cracker, Bob Dylan wants you, wants you, so baaaaaad.

Some want same ole. Some want change. Some wanna retire. Some retired wanna work. Some wanna start over – many others have enjoyed every stage of life and just wanna be blessed with another day.

I want a new car. A riding mower. To be a friend to have a friend (ie, get off my butt and contact those I’ve missed in the recent past, or, from even long ago.)

A gal I dated long ago (I know I’ve shared this before, sorry.. but, it’s what us old people wanna do).. I asked this gal “What do you want?” We weren’t at McDonalds, we weren’t dining out – the question was “about the resta your life.”
Nutshell, she was a nurse. Elderly couple came in, wife having heart probs. In fact, she coded a few times, they brought her back a few times. All the while, the gentleman sat calmly, quietly in the waiting room – learning several times though out the night what was going on from the Doctor. She finally expired. The old fella got up, and without a word – walked into the room where she lay, pulled the sheet back from her head.. planted a kiss on her cheek. Put the sheet back. Calmly, quietly walked away. “I want that” the chick I was with said. Comprende.
(There have been times I’ve wished someone had expired too – JUST KIDDING, I want you to not take me so serious!)

Many want to fight. Many want salvation. Many want a job. Many want simply a roof over their heads. Many want entitlement, and s’more, and s’more. Mick relates you can’t always get what you want. I want lasagna, a Busch Lite (cheap, sorry), a nap, Motown, to pet the dog, to kiss the girlfriend, to laugh at Shameless, to see others get what they want (If their want is for the betterment.)

Some want equality. Some want quality. Equal like. I wanna sleep thru the night without so many field trips to the john. I crave (want, just bigger) scrambled eggs, sausage (patty), hash browns, toast, jelly, COFFEE, water in the morning.

Lotta wants. Good health. Two front teeth. Outta the rain. To rain. Warmth. Laughter. Good tears.

I love contemplating about what I want. Former NW Missouri football coach, one of his simple rules “appreciate what you have, don’t worry about what you don’t have."(want)

Do you wanna dance.. I want to hold your hand.. Cal Ripken Jr said “You could be a kid for as long as you want when you play baseball” (or way too many years of softball, ha.)

I wanna go now. I wanna thank you for reading. I want you to have a nice day.

WHAT DO YOU WANT? Love, Victurd

Things I’ve learned from Facebook

Insomnia happens. To many. Often.

I remember some people that don’t remember me. Some people remember me and I don’t remember them.

Smoe people can’t splel.

Memes are funny, sometimes mean – often ‘speak’ for the poster.

Been long time since I remember seeing sheets on a clothesline. Sometimes dirty laundry here.

Alcohol happens and a card laid is a card played.

Weather sucks. Weather is wonderful. Texans and Floridians seem to be the proudest (and that’s cool). Liberty-ites are the most loyal, and never ‘leave’ no matter how faraway they live.

I see people share memories from years past – and sometimes within those memories are comments from people who are no longer here. I dunno if this is possible (but it’s happened to me) – I can smile and cry at the same time. I get the maddest at myself in these moments though – as I call myself an idiot for forgetting to (or maybe even never) tell someone “Hey, I really enjoy you.”

Those that ain’t never hit a deer, gone on a job interview, paid a bill, voted, ie, young folks, rock. They are gorgeous, loved, mostly fearless, ne’er depressed, live for fun, smiling – all’a that equates to: we should learn from them, not the other way around.

Clowns to the “left” of me, jokers to the “right” and there ain’t nobody stuck in the middle. (Victor, that’s a double negative… Uh huh, ‘tis).. Grass may be greener but no one ever jumps the fence. Whilst there are never cams on, it’s not hard to tell when one is blue in the face.

Kids remember teachers. More of us than of them. Remarkably, teachers remember kids.

A common theme is laughter.

A common thread can be family, school, work, town, neighbors, or, even a simple past place and time.

Like is good, love – even better. Emoticons interesting.

Some (of us) live here, some pass thru weekly, monthly, even yearly.

Keyboards are like mouths. The mouth and the send button are kinda similar. “I wish I hadn’t.” Yes, you can go back, delete the sent stuff on FB, but many have probably already witnessed one's skid marks.

Kinda like life, there are many one track minds: politics, sports (teams), babies, bikes, travel, cooking, religion, etc., and humor.

Some have more friends than others – and can maybe be proud of that. Some have a relatively few – and can be/are relatively happy about that.

Us old people can learn new abbreviations, smh, idk, L8R, nvm, myob, xoxoxo, jk, already knew that one.

Loyalty is huge.

Sometimes I back click one too many times and gotta go back thru all the damn ones u just read to get to where you were.

People can speak up (and speak up and speak up). It’s pretty impactive when you see/read a comment from one that rarely posts/comments.

Sadness, loss, physical ailment happens – and it’s a pretty damn fine network of support, well wishing, prayer.

FB, my take. Happy future posting, liking, loving, scrolling, enjoying, emoting. Victurd

The thrill of victory……..

Da' agony of da' feet……..

Shoe fly don’t bother me….. shoe fly don’t bother me. Ok, Ok, I know that ain’t the way shoo fly don’t bother me is spelled, but today’s blog (or ‘clog’) is about shoes – so put a sock in it!

There’s Shoe Sensation, Nike Shoe, Adidas Shoe, Payless Shoe, Bakers Shoe, Shoe Carnival, The Shoe Shoe Train, Skip to My Lou Shoe, Tippy Toes Shoe Store, And1, Asics, BOC, Bare Traps, Bass, Bates, Columbia, Converse, Crocs, Dockers, Dr. Scholl’s, Florsheim….. VICTOR? ALRIGHT ALREADY.. we get the idea!

I’ve always wondered (you chickies) what comes off first after a hard day at work.. the bra or the shoes? That feel you get when the shoes come off – yum. Soothing. I’ll just sneak into these house shoes.. prrrrrrrr…

Weird stuff.. All true (so says Wiki, Google, Bing.. one of ‘em, I forgot).. Men were the first people to wear heels (10th Century)… Sneakers got their name because their rubber soles do not make noise.. Your salary might determine the type of shoe you wear (According to Beso.com poll, whoeverinthehellthatis: 71% of women polled who make less than $40K NEVER wear heels.. 21% of those making over $150,000 wear heels EVERY day.) Audrey Hepburn brought loafers into style in the 1957 film Funny Face. In the 1940’s, due to economic sanctions against Italy, they could no longer purchase steel for the traditional heels – SO, Salvatore Ferragamo invented the Wedge Shoe.

The boots Neil Armstrong walked on the moon with are still floating around in space. Fifteen % of women own over 30 pairs of shoes. It is illegal to walk down the streets in Maine with your shoes untied. In North Dakota, it is illegal to lie down and fall asleep with your shoes on. Most expensive shoes: Ruby Slippers from House of Harry Winston - $3000. (“Put your hands in the air and take off your shoes!”) The average person walks 2,000 miles a year. Not wearing socks makes your shoes smell, at least someone mentioned that to me.

A couple of my buddies, mid ‘fun argument’ tried some one-upping. I vote that the guy that won – he stole EVERY right shoe the other guy owned (temporarily anyways).. the poor guy had to get his golf shoes outta the truck to wear to work the next day….

“If the shoe fits, it’s too expensive” Adrienne Gusoff… “The one thing children wear out faster than shoes is parents” John J Plomp… “I DID NOT have 3,000 pairs of shoes.. I had one thousand and sixty” Imelda Marcos.

Take your shoes off at the door. Get your shoes off that couch. If the shoe fits. No tennis shoes, no PE today. If Cinderella went back to pick up her shoe, she wouldn’t have become a princess, so never look back. Don’t act your age, act your shoe size, forever young. Me without you is like a shoe with no laces. Shoe is on the other foot. An old shoe. Fill someone’s shoes. Shoestring budget. Wait for the other shoe to drop. Shaking in my shoes.

Ok, I think I’ll exit stage left before I stick my shoe in my mouth.

A little ditty (about Jack and Diane’s shoes?).. No.. a little ditty about shoes: (I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome).. always remember it’s impossible to walk in another’s shoes.. or to know what’s going on in their world. So keep it simple, be nice – and smile.

Lace up those friendships.. show a little sole.. and don’t be a heel or a loafer.

Love, Victurd

Of Republicans, Jayhawk fans and Management…….. or………. What Pogo said

A bit ago, I was a ‘transitional’ letter carrier – which is fancy for “you ain’t permanent.”
I very strongly remember walking up to doors, only to meet Fido there – with ‘that look.’
Ya know.. the lips slowly quivering apart.. teeth shown… that impending “I’m gonna attack your person any second” look.

That’s the way uh huh uh huh.. no, that ain’t it. That’s the way (the snarl look) I feel sometimes when in silent (or aloud) battle with Republicans, Jayhawk fans or management. Or, that feel when the TV at home is turned to Fox news.. (I DO love you though girlfriend!).. I like ‘em, all of ‘em, don’t get me wrong – it’s just that we have our occasional baby ‘battles’.

So where the hell does Pogo come into this then? Glad you asked. I rode into work today, admonishing myself for something or other – and the phrase “I have met the enemy” came to my head. I do occasionally argue with Repubs, Hawks, Mgmnt – but I always come out needing a double dose of my high blood pressure medicine – so I’ve tried to curtail those wincing moments. Oh yeah, Pogo.

After “I have met the enemy” went thru my brain – I Googled it ‘cause I wasn’t sure who’d said it. Turns out, on Earth Day 1970, the cartoon character Pogo said “We have met the enemy and he is us.”

Yes, that’s right. Pub, Hawks, Mgmnt aside – we are our own worst enemy and I am highly guilty. I can let a ‘one blurt’ error ruin a weekend, my stomach, my grinding teeth and even wipe out any potential emotional uplift.

Imagine if you will, an idiot standing at the clothesline with a baseball bat – a filthy carpet hanging on the line – and he’s beating the heck outta the carpet with his bat - dirt plastering him in the face. That’s me, fighting me upon occasion. We would defriend anyone else that treated us like that, so why do we treat ourselves so badly? Inquiring (hurting) minds want to know? I know this, it can be self –fulfilling.

I don’t have answers, but I can peek. One guy writes “You’re a fantastic person on an exciting journey, in the middle of creating a life that you want. If I were you, I wouldn’t put up with that negative voice in your head. You deserve better.”

Another adds “Beating yourself up over something dumb means that you associate a negative experience with it, so if it's a behavior that you'd rather avoid, this may be an effective technique for changing your behavior. To a point, it can be a good thing since it shows that you're Beating yourself up over something dumb means that you associate a negative experience with it, so if it's a behavior that you'd rather avoid, this may be an effective technique for changing your behavior.” Prolly not the best answer..

You know, the great thing about doing a blog no one reads is you can plag… plage.. ahm, plagia.. plagiarise.. damnit.. you can copy what other people say and not notate ‘em. Ha! S’more:

So the real reason why we beat ourselves up. In all honesty, I can't know for sure. But what I do know, is that accepting it can lead to a world free of negativity. And from an objective point of view I believe a negativity free world is the best world there is. Why choose pain above happiness, or hatred above love?

Remember to stay in the moment, don't try to replay the past or get into the "What if I had done that?" Yesterday is gone...........Leave it in the past.

It’s me again.. So, hopefully me learning, and anyone else that wants to hop on this float.. becoming aware of these negative thoughts.. squeezing them out.. hopefully into the future I can do that. I am human hear me roar. Yes, teeth gritted occasionally – but usually at me. You’re correct Pogo. I suppose, ya know Repubs – we need those checks and balances. We just can’t drown in ‘em.

I reckon in life, most everything can be solved (except those gosh darn math questions with the +, x, parenthesis, divided by stuff) by simply analyzing the problem, and discovering a solution by one’s self.

Perhaps simply admitting a fault is half the battle, using battle for lack of a better term. So… next time I’m gonna spray my dirty carpet with Fabreeze inteada beating the hell out of it with a baseball bat.

Happy day, (even you Repubs, Jayhawks, Management, Hannity), Victurd

Lookin for fun and feelin’ groovy..

Life resembles an album. (Millennials, Google it).

Pristine, wanted, enamored, held gingerly, day 1 - fer a long, long time.

Some, used, ill-used, maltreated, abused, harmed, dropped, cracked, bumped, nicked, chipped, spilt on, too much sun got ‘waves’ in it - “Owner’s” fault.

Slow down, you move too fast
You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feelin' groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feelin' groovy

Others – preserved from non-abuse. Appear as new. Cherished, treasured, pampered, babied. Disgustingly perfect. Taken good care of.

Hello, lamppost, what'cha knowin'?
I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't'cha got no rhymes for me?
Doot-in doo-doo, feelin' groovy
Ba da da da da da da, feelin' groovy

Differn’t sizes. 33, 45, 78 (ahem, millennials once again Google.)
Differn’t speeds.

Fancily adorned. Blase’. Colorful. Colorless. Some, fads. Some, passé. Some come back around in popularity. Some, forever a favorite. Some, tucked away in thought, lonely. Some play daily. Some, ne’er again to play.

I got no deeds to do
No promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morning time drop all its petals on me
Life, I love you
All is groovy.

We like ‘some’ of that album. Other parts, not so much. We find them joyous. We play, sometimes we don’t listen. Sometimes, taken for granted. Sometimes cranked. Sometimes turn’t down. Sometimes interrupted.

Spinnin’. Sinnin’. Grinnin’. In the beginning. Top of the inning. Bottom of the inning.

Some, ya never let loose. Some dropped. Sadly, some bought, traded. Some, simply changed. Some turn over. Some play on same side, over and over and over again.

Ya got me goin’ in circles. Put another quarter in. Life also is like the jukebox – fulla’ albums. Depends on your mood. Your pocketbook. The crowd. Hey, sometimes too it’s ok to be selfish, “I don’t care if no one else likes it.” Then play on.

Looking for fun and feelin' groovy. Love, RCA Victurd.

Android interruptus

So… there I was counting sheep…. I hear “Press 1 for English”…Dang!... Soon after, a pop-up ad from Geico telling me how much I could save.. rolled over… an amber alert… about to snooze when some GD (gosh darn) insomniac friend commented on a FB post.. pulled the blankets back that the dog had somehow pulled offa me.…

My phone provider texts me reminding me my automatic withdrawal is tomorrow, or hell, coulda been today, I ain’t sure what time it is… NO, I don’t wanna play Candy Crush.. I’ll try sleeping on my back now… eh, some foreigner emails needing help to move millions of dollars from his homeland - promises me a hefty percentage.

How’d we leave the light on in the living room?... a 3:34am email from Amazon expressing thanks and asking if I’d take a survey… Hey, I won a $100 gift card from Sam’s Club…

Weather alert? At 4:43am?.. One of my gf’s Hawaii friends texts.. musta been alcohol and forgotten what time it is here… Surely I’ll get an hour in… Damnit, the coffee is starting.. my reminder thingy goes off, I’ve gotta finish packing, run by the bank, yada…

There. I’m asleep! Uh oh. Dog, like clockwork, licking my face at 5:45am needing to go pee… My alarm goes off.. I snooze it.. it goes off again.. I find a bag of rice, grab a Ziploc, put my phone in it and toss it in the stool. Time to shower.

Thanks goodness I can take a nap at my desk at work.

Sorry, don’t wanna.

Defiance at age two might be laying on the floor at WalMart, kicking and screaming for a reason you will forget in 3 minutes.

Elementary School defiance - it ain’t about a goal of annoying, disrespecting. It’s about the goal to feel significant. I reckon ya gotta be calm, but still hold the snotnose (said lovingly) accountable.

Defiance in High School is mebbe simply because you don’t wanna be under someone’s control or authority. Again, calm but firm can work.

In the working career, I’ve noticed it’s kinda fun to be defiant with management – (without tiptoeing and crossing over the fine line) ‘cause, there’s no way in hell you’d want that position, but I’ll be gol’ durned “I could do it better than you” – and, you point that out in a roundabout way.

My personal favorite: Defiance as an old person. For me, it’s like picking up the sport’s page this morning……. Article about steroids hovering over some famous baseball players dying to get into The Hall of Fame. Nope, no, not gonna (read.)

It’s about abhorring fish, and having your girlfriend say “You really need to try fish”… In the back of your mind you’re thinking “Honey, there’s no way in hell I’m gonna stick one morsel of dorsal in my trap”, instead, eeking out “We’ll see.”

Or, maybe thinking about working well past retirement age simply because ya love your job. No, huh uh, or, borrowing from my stepson “not no’s but hell’s no’s”………….. Alarm clock? Bite me.

Anything you don’t wanna, ya ain’t gonna. Don’t like it? TOUGH! Life, as an old fart, it’s like everything in life happens with “Caller ID” and ya getta pick, choose, don’t choose, don’t answer the damn doorbell, article, political post, yucky news about local murders, not being fished into the game “ain’t it awful?”

Can’t dance? Not really. Will, but, it might take a little ale.

You try to be the first one to end a phone call (or at least I do.) Ya see someone in the room that in the past you’d had a really difficult time talking to/liking, this person – so, ya switch the ends of the magnet force field and you stay the hell away. Nope, not gonna, HUH UH.

I’ve always had a little rebel in me, but this being old stuff, it’s the bomb for defiance. By now, you’ve learned to say (without coming right out and saying) things like: You’re an idiot. That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. It won’t work. Are you really going to wear that? Don’t you have mirrors at home? Your mom would be really proud. You got some change coming back on that haircut.

And the best part? A GUILT FREE SLEEP at night. Fingernails? Nah, they were for chewing when you were little.. when your kids were little.. when you didn’t know howinthehell or whereinthehell this month’s rent was coming from. Me? 60-something, nope, huh uh, not gonna, won’t worry. I love that, and it was my choice.

Ending this post now. Cause I wanna. Went a little long. Sorry. Not really. Hang on, the phone is ringing…………………….. NOPE, NOTTA, HUH UH, NOT GONNA.

Love, Victurd

Uncertainty…….

This I’m sure of: I’m uncertain of our future.

2016 has seen great loss.. and great gain.. Ya gots roughly 7 and ½ months (once ya find out) to know/watch/wait “great gain”.. Great loss can come in the flip of a light switch, when you had no idea it was so dark.

Politics. I know I know. Yes, I have a side. Yes, I will support. Yes, I pray for our country. Being led by someone who has never been in political office (some say “a wonderful thing”) to me, will be akin to wearing a blindfold on the Zambezi Zinger – never knowing if we’re one wrong turn from the noggin’ catching a steel girder – or, if we’ll eventually come to an exalting, emotional, safe stop.

Music. Who are these guys? Once we baby boomers ultimately check it in – will Ray Charles, Mick Jagger, Paul McCartney, Eric Clapton continue to hit the airwaves? Hell, will there still be airwaves?

I am really really certain, we daily go about our business, living next ta one-another that may not be the same color, size, religion, sex, sexual preference, culture, socio-economic status, big city, little city, suburb – and again, we daily go about our business pretty darn congenially. That said, I’m certain we’ll never end hardheaded, opinionated, prejudicial, biased people. The certainty of that leads to great uncertainty.

Family. Uncertain. When I was 9, I thought I’d live on Miller Street forever, devouring mom’s famous (to me) Spanish rice.. playing whiffle ball.. wearing out the knees of my jeans. That’s changed. Man has that changed. Family pictures over the years, great change. People die. Become estranged. Move to where visits become almost financially impossible, to ultimately physically impossible. Divorce. The certainty of uncertainty.

Sports. Will football lawsuits one day surpass profits? Will the New Yorker ever draw the line and say “I’ll be damned if I’m gonna pay $120 for a baseball ticket, or, refinance my house to buy post season tickets in the possibility we make it.” Will youth sports continue to hand out a trophy to all? Will the youth basics (baseball, basketball, soccer, etc) eventually be 365 days a year PER SPORT, and if/when that happens, what will we have accomplished?

Jobs. You name it, I/we’ve seen it. Continual smooth rides to retirement. Chapter 11’s and 7’s. Many companies fall to the wayside due to better things coming around, like Blockbuster. Like my great grandfather’s buggy building business when the first car came around. Relocation. Jobs cut. Jobs added, busy time ends, jobs cut. Companies that make it, no matter what, due to plan, focus, ambition, attitude, ethics, commitment to both customers and employees, train, assess. Wanna job there? Ya mostly never know. Oft time ya mostly got no choice.

Terror. Hideous. No certainty of “what’s next”, “is he on the ‘good team’”, and “I just didn’t see that coming”. A hop back on that rollercoaster of uncertain paths.

I’m certain I’ve gone on too long. Many thrive in uncertainty. Many can’t take it. Many painfully make it. Many, many absorb the ups, the downs.

Merry Christmas, certainly….
Victurd

Recollections of Christmas Caroling at Nursing Homes the last five years……

I remember the first – kinda sorta invited graduates (and friends) of the Liberty HS Class of 1970. I’d gone in advance to ask each home if it were permissible for us to come/carol… “Of course”, so in recent years, have just gone, not asked – and they’ve been very accommodating…

It’s been a different group almost each and every year. Different stars have shown, some years our ‘talent’ has left a little bit to be desired! (A couple of years ago, one resident tugged on my sleeve and said “I used to teach choir, and you gentlemen could use a little work” – and I very much knew she was correct!.)

I/we were maybe admittedly scared to go. Neither of my parents lived in a home as such, and we didn’t know what to expect. As we would enter the foyer, starting with “We wish you a Merry Christmas”, slowly, wheelchairs, walkers and regular walkers would gather..

The ones that meet in the foyer seemingly still have very good hearing, and a pep in their step. After a few songs, we’d make our way slowly, singing down the hall toward the dining area. It was here we’d pass one that we absolutely knew they could not, would not, get up for dinner – so we’d stop, sing, maybe even in more recent years, gone and shook hands.

Once in the dining area – we’d (initially) rigidly stand, sing a carol, turn the page, and sing another. Responses, of course, varied upon the resident’s condition – anywhere from gayly smiling, singing along with us – to, pretty much basically comatose.

I/we knew there would be sad – but it FOR SURE wasn’t all said. Very, very many happy, smiley people. A few within our singing group – in recent years, ‘taught’ us it’s ok to go shake a hand.. to kneel, hold the music up where you/the resident could see/sing along.. and we’d mingle.

We’ve been fortunate in most of the years to have children with us. They literally steal the show and are afforded many, many smiles…

Yes, we’ve gone through alzheimer's units, and they too are happy. They to would lip (or sing) the songs with us. A great appreciation has been afforded to us in these units.

Oft times, the staff will stop and sing with us. It’s a wonderful time of year, and it’s, of course, our hope it will bring back memories of yesteryear..

We, the initial mostly 1970 graduating class, even related “hey, we’re looking for our next residence” – and there very well could be truth in that. Sadly, I can recall two who have caroled with us in the past that are no longer with us. Wouldn’t want to know how many residents have been lost in these past 5 years.

Now, our group is very literally anyone and everyone. Yes, I know most, but we’ve had years where people come, support/sing, and I had no idea who they are. Cool. Very.

You never know the residents that have frequent visitors (or not.) They are people, just as us – a little bit older, a little bit slower, just as much as joyous, and, in keeping with ‘their era’, quick to stop and show appreciation, clap, simply say thanks. We return that gratitude for welcoming us into your home.

If you can’t sing, come. If I can blend in, it’s for sure you can too.

If you are scared, don’t be. It’s a happy event. Yes, some sad cases – but it’s the right side of the grass – and many are vibrant, leaders, communicators.

Just last year we were in a dining hall singing Silent Night.. allofasudden I hear this MOST BEAUTIFUL voice.. I didn’t think it was one of us, but was unsure. In checking further, one of our group members was kneeling down next to this beautiful lady.. with a beautiful voice.. a moment I’ll never forget.. We should have had her do a solo – it clearly would have been enjoyable.

You’re invited – I guarantee you’ll smile. I guarantee you’ll see smiles.

Sunday, 12/18 at 3:15pm (after the Chief’s game) we’ll meet in Conrad’s parking lost (NW corner shopping center @ 291/152 intersection.) Wear Christmas’y stuff if you can. Thanks and Merry Christmas, Vic

Life... and the horse.....

Life……

Is a tale of two cities. Mebbe sometimes more.

Stuff amazes me. That “the dog can take you for a walk” (ie, we have cars that can now drive FOR you)… motorcycles that will stay upright, ya ain’t gotta put your feet down, lean, etc. Yet, our new (assuredly expensive computer system at work) doesn’t have the capability to type Mcdaniel as McDaniel… and it’s possessed, because it sucks at possessive (Charlie’s sweater always comes out Charlies sweater.)

On the first part of the journey I was looking at all the life…
There were plants and birds and rocks and things.. there was sand and hills and rings…

In the midst of this journey comes hot, cold, really hot, really cold, storms (wet/freezing/blowing) mild, a smile.. hearing a funny story (to undoubtedly re-relate/butcher it later)… many political ads relating “ask not what your country can do for you, but what these SOB’s running surely cannot do”… an email from/to a loved one.. a compliment.. and then news of the passing of (another) classmate. Kinda rearranges the view from the horse.

I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name, it felt good to be out of the rain,
In the desert you can remember your name ‘cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain,
La la la la la las…

Life brings a first job, anudder job, a pay raise, a layoff, a promotion, a Chapter 11, then 7, work in a different metropolitan area.. fun coworkers.. great managers.. then some that you wonder howinthehell they even brush their own teeth, get their shoes on the correct foot.

After two days in the desert sun my skin began to turn red… after three days in the desert sun I was looking at a river bed.. and the story it told of a river that flowed made me sad to think it was dead…

You see, life is roses, thorns, “oh baby oh baby’s”, spitwads, missed field goals, routine balls bobbled, SPECTACTULAR catches.. good guys, bad guys, quiet guys, guys that won’t shut up (scroll to “but what these SOB’s running surely cannot do”.)

After nine days I let the horse run free
‘cause the desert had turned to sea..
There were plants and birds and rocks and things,
There was sand and hills and rings.. The ocean is a desert with it’s life underground
And a perfect disguise all above..

There are brides.. there are grooms.. there are those meticulously groomed.. or, a coworker that let’s her hair down (literally and figuratively) once a month.. VICTOR, you can’t talk about people! Watch me! Loose lips sink ships… ships traverse many across the sea.. ships help win wars.. The Titanic and The good ship lollipop…

You see I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name.. it felt good to be out of the rain.. In the desert you can remember your name ‘cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain.. La la la la la la la……

The vane says North, or South, or East, West, NE, NW, SE, SW.. Carly says you’re so vain… I’m gonna tie this rubber thingy around your arm, this won’t hurt a bit, now watch your vein kinda grow a bit.. OUCH! DAMNIT!

Victor, you continue to be weird. I am unique, just like you. We all are. Where we live, what we do, where we go, what we enjoy, what we don’t enjoy, what makes us upchuck, what gives us heartfelt emotional orgasms, what makes us wanna run punch a dude, and yes, ever what makes us spout “hold my beer Vern and watch this!”

I miss Life magazine. I miss out on life sometimes when the tortoise shell covers.. I stand atop the mountain and shout at times, when the pity party recovers..

When we ride atop the horse, reckon we ought remember life isn’t forever. When riding/struggling alone, you don’t even know when the horse poops – so, full steam ahead.. don’t let binders keep you from taking it all in. Run/ride like the wind. Or go slow, your call. That’s the best thing about life – it’s your call. Call me eh?

Love, Victurd

Nascar B Team...

In Nascar, they have the A team, full-time, consisting of the driver, crew chief, mechanics , engineer and some of them double on the pit crew on race day. Then, there is the B team, pit crew dudes and support team that works only on race day.

Well, that ain't what this is about.

It's about a 9 pound, huffin' and'a puffin', tail waggin' (if you consider a nub a tail), black and white miniature Schnauzer = Nascar.

He does though, have a propensity to correlate seeing the blue leash to race day. Pull he does, UP HILL, my 208 lb body. OK, 214 damnit.

If he hears another bark from behind a fence we're passing, he puts it in another gear and threatens my shoulder socket. Should another dog walking his owner happen on the path approaching us, it entails both hands on the leash to keep them apart.

Through it all, I kinda giggle and lend that stupid grin that I think I rolled out of the womb with. I love this hound, and I've told said girlfriend "If you ever kick me to the curb, I get visitation rights."

Said girlfriend, and I reckon me too, thought the man should walk the dog, not the other way around.

So....

To doggy obedience class we go. Now, by nature of his breed, his size, he perhaps is a little 'chirpier' than most hounds. I kinda like that about him.

He already does do some pretty cool stuff. He will fetch and return, sit, lay down, and stay, man will he stay. (I'm talking putting a treat on the floor, announcing "stay" (he does) as we binge watch an entire season of a Netflix sitcom, announce "OK go get it" and he does. A cool dog, but of course I'm biased.

Dog class day arrives. He sees the leash, and his heart (engine) goes from 75 beats (RPM's) to 250 before you can blurt out "ready?"

On the 'warm-up lap' (our drive to class) of course the window is down, his head is out (wind kinda compresses his hair to where he kinda looks mole-like. With every approaching car, he likens a Wal-Mart greeter. He's a social little dude.)

OK, out we go from the car, stopping at 32 trees, 7 poles on the trek from the parking lot.

What to expect? Twenty barking, slobbering, peeing, pooping, biting, other mutts? Probably.

We enter. Nascar flips out. Barking (saying "hi") insessently , pulling, yanking, slobbering... excited, to say the least. The other hounds?

Total quiet (WHAT?) All in 'laydown' position, totally ignoring - almost to the point of disgust, Nascar.

"Oh crap" we thought, this is going to be a bigger challenge than we thought. After a minute or so of "Nascar frenzy" the teacher lady walks up and asks "Were you here last year?" I thought to myself (facetiously) 'yeah lady, can't you tell what a good job you did', then actually replied "no, this is our first time" - to which she replied:

"Well this class, the 7pm class, is the advanced class. These dogs are all either service dogs, therapy dogs or show dogs. The Beginner class (aka Nascar B team) was at 6."

A sense of relief, embarrassment, and maybe even a sly 'SE-grin' ensued.

"Sorry", then back thru the 32 trees, 7 poles to the car, the wind, then home - where we X'ed off 7pm from next Wednesday and chickenscratched '6pm' over it.

FYI, the next week was totally as expected, 20 snarling, barking, peeing, pooping, biting, fellow mutts. The B team.

As the weeks went on, in spite of rave reviews on sit, lay down, stay/come - Nascar flunked doggy school. "Too social, should learn how to ignore other dogs."

Oh well. It was of some consolation the chick at the welcome counter (we had a test to see how the dogs would react away from their owner, so one by one they were walked from the training room, to the welcome counter for a five minute stay there) so anyways, as we were leaving that night I asked the chick "How'd he do?"... "Oh, NASCAR? He was my favorite! Bring him back anytime!"

B team or not, no doggy degree - he's my favorite too.

"Time for a walk Nascar... I'm a little tired tonight, can you help me up the hills?"

love, Victurd.

hAyseeds

We here in the Midwest – those of us that are maybe missing a tooth or two, have seen a hay bale, and are aware the Feed Store and the Piggly Wiggly ain’t one in the same – oft times add an “a” to our words. We’re basically laid back, ain’t in no big hurry – but, again, at times we add those “a’s”, thus, skipping a letter or two in haste to simply get it said.

Gonna. I’m gonna do that tomorrow. Frank? You gonna mow the yard? Gonna later, I woulda last night but ma’ back ached a bit.

Woulda is anothern. If that’d been me, I woulda whacked him. I woulda turned in my homework but mom couldn’t find ma’ backpack. You shoulda looked for it yourself.

Shoulda. Midwestern for “If I’d known then what I know now”. I shoulda never married her/him. I shoulda done what Mr. Brady said and started my 401K b’fore I lost any teeth. I shoulda paid more ‘tention in school. This here GPS is messed up, we shoulda been there by now.

Canya. Canya loan me a quarter? Canya take me to…….. watch my kid…… grab me a loafa bread… believe that?

Downta……. I’m going downta the store. I’m going downta the tractor pull. I’m going downta the basement. (Ouch, shoulda fixed that step. I woulda if I hadn’t wrenched ma’ back.. Gonna fix it tomorrow). I mighta been ok had I fixed it.

Mighta. I mighta just met ma’ 4th wife. If I’da known then what I know now, I too mighta been able to afford onea them big F-3 fitties.

Onea. Onea y’all ain’t listenin.’ Onea ya did it, come on, fess up. Onea these days. Onea these days I planta.

Planta is kinda like gonna. Now Hazel don’t be upset, I planta fix that table leg soooon. I’da done it last night by my arthritis was actin’ up.

I’da, not to be confused with the cashier Ida at the Piggly Wiggly. I’da fixed my car ma’self had I known how much the shop was gonna charge me. I’da never guessed that. I’da never voted for that Brackabama had’a known, you gotta believe me.

Gotta. I gotta new car. On vacation back when we were termites, we'd tell dad "I gotta go I gotta go I gotta go to Conoco."

From the land of butthurt, hayseeds, twerkin’, rubes, bumkins and yokels: Have a happy day… wouldya?

Love, Victurd

Lane change………

As I drive to work – I’m a true wuss. Not even JJ Watt himself could unhinge my paws off the steering wheel. Nervous, I reckon. Old, too. I have noted, most traffic incidents are due to lane changes.

Almost saw a “good one” this morning. Three lane highway, cement truck in far right lane.. Speeding car in far left lane. Each, decided at same time “wouldn’t it be nice to be in the Center lane.” Thankfully, each saw the other at the same time – swerved back, shimmied – and there were no cars in their path back, thank God. Not always the case.

Day before. Made it into the big city where there lay (overturned) a U-Haul trailer being towed by a pickup. He’d tried to change lanes whilst going around a corner, the trailer had other idea, and now – as you drive past, it said lnɐɥ-n.

Rain, snow, nighttime for us old farts. There ain’t no seein’ lane change, so, ‘wooo-hoooo!’, we probably change lanes all the time and never know it!

Head-ons. Yuck. Disastrous lane changes. Who knows why… alcohol, health reasons, texting, inattention, yada.. never fun..

Listening to talk radio yesterday (mebbe THE best thing ever for me, my AM went out on my car, forcing me to listen to something besides sports).. they were talking about fat bias. Dude that worked at station, admittedly large, didn’t mind the bias, admitted it happens – but his take was “it’s more non-beauty bias.”

Continued to spiel about being at Wally World, ready to checkout – and even though lane #13 was longer, he ‘lane changed’ from #12 to where the checker was a beautiful person. Nomme. I damn near count items in checker-outers I might be behind, and I ‘lane change’ to the line that will get me out the damn door the faster.. checker with or without teeth, it no matter to me.

Radical Islamist, certainly a lane change somewhere there along the way. Transgendered, lane change? Perhaps, but most would say “I was in that lane all along.”

Many marriages, they have this lane of grass.. usually enclosed by some means, certainly measured by the taxation folks. Nearby on the other side of the fence, is another ‘lane’. Some take look on other side, then look back on their side. Do so again. Many stay in their lane, but some choose the (perceived) titillation of “if I lane change here, the grass appears to be greener.” If children involved, they obviously will have to continue changing North/South or East/West lanes – whilst either parent drives their own certain direction. Just my opine, selfish. Till death do us part, or, I might decide to make a lane change.

Religious zealot. Many/most have changed lanes……. Now on a full-speed-ahead path, but, attempt to force others who are not willing to change lanes. Interesting traffic, to say the least.

Bernie says – if he doesn’t make it – folks going to make a lane change to Trump. Eh, perhaps so. It’s been an interesting year.. Seems we’re either gonna get a female, or a male that’s never been in office – a definite lane change either way.

Instead of writing, thinking, talking on and on (and on).. gonna make lane change today and keep it short. I believe I kinda keep my convictions, thoughts, beliefs in the same lane – but too, am open to listen to any/all opines. I mean, hell, just the other day, age 63, I tried my first broccoli. Ya know what? It twerent bad!

Happy driving.. keep your eyes (and your mind) open. Love, Victurd

They're coming to take me away........... ha ha...

Hi, my name is Victurd and… I’m going nuts. You see, I no comprende human behavior. I walky down hall at work. I meet approaching coworker, eye to eye, 12’ apart. Offer: “Hi!”…… and… and…. Crickets. WHYINTHEHELL is it so hard for some folks to muster a return salutation, or hell, even get a little neck exercise and nod back…… They, them human behavior experts, offer “eh, don’t worry, people are different.” Duh. It still drives me nuts.

And They're coming to take me away Ha Ha
They're coming to take me away ho ho he he ha ha
to the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time, and I'll be happy to see those nice young men in their clean white coats and they're coming to take me away ha ha

I telephoney vendor at work, give my 47 second spiel on my specific need… then I hear “Just a moment” AND IM TRANSFERRED… The hell? I gotta do that crap allover again? WHATTHEHELL IS YOUR JOB? I want an “all you have to do is simply answer the phone” job. This is happening with more and more frequency. I see Nurse Ratched in my near future.

You thought it was joke and so you laughed, you laughed when I had said that losing you would make me flip my lid, right? You know you laughed, I heard you laugh, you laughed, you laughed and laughed and then you left, but now you know I'm utterly mad.

People… people who need people.. NO THAT’S NOT THE RIGHT SONG DAMNIT! Another one. All I want is one Gosh Darn McChicken (ketchup and pickles only) and a cup of water. I speaky that. I hear “I’m sorry, could you repeat that please?” I stay calm but wanna holler “PUT YOUR GOSH DARN PHONE DOWN, YOU CAN READ NOAH’S TEXT LATER. I’M GONNA ORDER AGAIN, WILL YOU BE LISTENING YOU LITTLE SNOTNOSE?”

And they're coming to take me away Ha Ha
They're coming to take me away ho ho he he ha ha
To the happy home with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers who sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes, They're coming to take me away ha ha...

OLD PEOPLE. VICTOR! You’re an OLD PERSON. I know I know, but…. At Wallyworld, or PigglyWiggly, or CVS, Wallgreen, Lowes, Hope Depot, WHEREVER: Old people pay. And they talk. They no move. They no worry about me (and 12 others behind them) holding a bag of dirt, or four prescriptions, or a case of oil. I sometimes wish my eyes were mildly hot lasers.. so I could buzz/shock some sense into folks. Remind me (soon): Pay, then get the hell outta the way, fast.

I cooked your food, I cleaned your house, and this is how you paid me back for all my kind unselfish loving deeds. Huh? Well you just wait they'll find you yet, and when they do they'll put you in the ASPCA you mangy mutt.

I with friend. Really good friend. I ask question. They no answer, no comment. Two bits, four bits, six bits a cactus, I ask questions just for practice. Life, as I age, is changing from “no reaction whatsoever” to “Are you a lunatic, can you not hear me? How can you be so damn insensitive?”

People, people who need people... GOSHDARNIT NOT THAT ONE!!…..

And They're coming to take me away Ha Ha
They're coming to take me away ho ho he he ha ha
To the funny farm where life is beautiful all the time and I'll be happy to see those nice men in their clean white coats. They're coming to take me away Ha Ha
To the happy home with trees and flowers and chirping birds and basket weavers who sit and smile and twiddle thier thumbs and toes. They're coming to take me away Ha Ha Ha

This much I have figured out. People are different. I am too, we all are. I’ve figured out, there’s no figuring out. If I don’t go crazy first – maybe I can take that approach: Hey, this is unique, I’m gonna ask this.. and let’s see what this person says… and that person… (if they say anything).. maybe they’ll transfer my question to a friend? Maybe they’ll say “can you repeat that please?.” This could be fun!

And They're coming to take me away Ha Ha
They're coming to take me away ho ho he he ha ha
To the loony bin with all you can eat perscription drugs like thorizine, and lithium, and electric shock and insulin. They're coming to take me away Ha Ha

People… people who understand people.. are the luckiest people in the world. Call me weird, call me crazy I don’t care. I scratch my head sometimes – but, then I know I’m different too… so it’s all good.

“Hi Nurse, how’s your day?”…………….. Love, Victurd

Lightning bugs, 2 lane highways, fill her up – ethyl…..

To say “a simpler time” might be misleading. I guess you could look at it as exercise to get up and turn the TV channel.. walk to the the den to grab the “EFG” encyclopedia…

Was driving out in the country to play golf.. 2 lane highway, 45 MPH, curves – hills – aplenty. How did we do it? Did we go pee a bit when a semi approached from the distance? Howinthehell did we ever get a left front tire changed? Motorist’s assist? HA! The hell would they park?

Passing could lead to a coronary.. having a tailgater is why we smoked.. and ashed out the wing, remember those? What kid today knows the true meaning of “roll up the window”? The hell is an inner tube?

TV’s with tubes? Mercurochrome cured everything and a butter knife down the back stopped nosebleeds.. I remember the 10:30pm Johnny Carson show was a family ritual.. Rare is the night my eyes are still open at 10:30pm… VHF/UHF? Test patterns?

Baseball was by radio – unless you were fortunate enough to be on the Game of the Week (seems to me it was always either the Yankees or the Dodgers.. ) Dirt was hidden in shag carpet, waterbeds were the bomb (until they burst, or, the heater went on the fritz.

Sleeping on sheets dried on the clothesline, yum! Fried chicken straight from the chicken coop – “Oh Granny, you didn’t?”..

We worked our fine motor skills turning/tuning the radio dial.. We caught (and saved in jars) lightning bugs.. WHY? A trip to the grocery store with pop bottles in a wagon yielded an ice cream cone, two packs of baseball cards and a wax bottle – remember those?

We walked to school by ourselves, or, with the neighbor who was 4 years older, or 3 years younger.. and mom’s only fear was “look both ways when crossing”….

Ya knew what year virtually any car was, and model change was a HUGE event. The phone cord stretched from the kitchen to the dining room – and we’d never heard of the ‘five second rule’ should an orange slice make its way to the floor.

Dogs helped wash dishes and somehow we survived. Playing an album was awesome – until your younger brother did a handspring and landed two feet from the record player, ruining the album forever..

Police were respected.. By teachers we were directed.. Our parents backed the principal.. I don’t ever recall “a problem” with an adult leading/working with little leagers, cub scouts, girl scouts and the like.

Who knows what ‘antiquated’ lifestyles children of today will write about 50-60 years from how.. This much I know – I’m glad I saw it, lived it, loved it – and I will hopefully take that same fervor into tomorrow – the Good Lord willing.

May your day be keen, swell, groovy, The Most. Don’t pop the clutch, dig? Right on, let it all hang out (that’s gnarly).. keep on truckin’.. don’t be a square… peace out. Love, Victurd.

Dream weaver......

Quilts. Wiki relates they mighta originated as far back as “Ancient Egypt”.. Being a C+ history student, I wasn’t sure wheninthehell that was, so I Googled, which led me back to Wiki, which told me as far back as 3100 BC. Dats a long time ago.

When I thinka quilts, I thinka grannies proudly sitting in the rocking chair, specs on, pieces of cloth about, hand-sowing a bright, vibrant quilt for a loved one, friend.. or for their own warmth.

The whole is greater than the sum of its parts. A 6 inch by 6 inch piece of cloth ain’t nuttin. Strewn together with hundreds of other 6 by 6 pieces – it’s strength. Beauty. Fun 'work'. Giving. Laborious love.

Reviving. Hamilton MO. Smalltown America is, sadly, dwindling. Folks flock from quiet rural farms to hubba-hubba suburbia for employment and opportunities. Jenny Doan had other ideas and preferred to stay put. She turned her quilting hobby into a multi-million dollar business, and she’s “The most famous quilter in the world”. It’s literally woven the town back together as well, thus, the symbolism of quilt to the strengthening of fabric, life, people, teams, yada, yada. I love the words quilt/woven, the idea of small parts joining forces to become a strong unit.

My girlfriend’s daughter surprised her with a quilt. It’s really quite unique as it’s composed of actual T-shirts from her mom's 'yesterday'... Companies she's worked for, places she’d been, sayings, bands she’d heard, etc. It’s not only woven together for her mother’s warmth – it's woven with love, and it’s woven for a synopsis of her mom’s life. Pretty cool. Now what was all that talk about Millennials being selfish, entitled?

Lawn chairs are woven, quilted so to speak. New – proud, strong. Old? Sun-bleached, not quite as strong – and moments happen where one’s butt (larger than last remembered) purges thru the woven fabric – embarrassment happens….. but again, it’s kinda symbolic. Virtually everything ages, becomes frail – at least the lucky ones.

Life is a quilt. Friends, family, jobs, school(s), neighbors, vendors, customers, acquaintances, old folks, young folks, in-between folks, yada.

Facebook is, in a way, our own uniquely planned quilt. The T-shirts of our past. The laughter, the tears, the sharing, the compassion, the silliness, the camaraderie… all molded us into who we are.

Victor, you CAN NOT repeat a line you’ve already written. (Sorry).. Virtually everything ages (quilts, cars, buildings, bodies, brains, etc), becomes frail – at least the lucky ones. I wish you mesh happiness, love Victurd.

Someone's knockin' at the door...

Do you let friends in?

Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let 'em in

Nuh uh, don’t mean ‘opening the door’, I mean do you let friends in to be very very close to you?
Not certain I really do. Not really certain I know why. I make all this talk about feel, emotion, deep – but then I can ‘cover up’ like onea them roly poly bugs..

Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah, let 'em in

Prince, RIP. Described this morning on the news as “painfully introverted.” I write too damn much here, so I don’t think I’m necessarily introverted. I think sometimes I don’t let people in (intimately) so it won’t hurt so much should they ‘go’. You?

Sister Suzie, brother John
Martin Luther, Phil and Don
Brother Michael, auntie Gin
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah

I do have a BFF, since childhood. While we’re still, and always will be very close – marriage(s), kids, grandkids, work – stuff like that have gotten in the way – so it’s different… but, still the same closeness/appreciation whenever we do catch up. Just like yesterday (another Beatle's song, ha!)

Sister Suzie, brother John
Martin Luther, Phil and Don
Uncle Ernie, auntie Gin
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah

I so admire certain friends, relatives that have multiple close, lifelong friends. The "drop everything I'll be there in a sec" kinda friends. I too believe I do, but not sure I don’t occasionally roly poly in certain areas.

Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let 'em in, ooh yeah, let 'em in

I do cry at funerals. I cry (inside) when I hurt. I cry when I see others hurt. When it’s all said and done, maybe I actually do let them in. You?

Sister Suzie, brother John
Martin Luther, Phil and Don
Uncle Earnie, uncle Lin
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah

Life’s a shell game… I guess.. Where we look around, look for friends.. Should we, do we, open the door?

Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Someone's knockin' at the door
Somebody's ringin' the bell
Do me a favor
Open the door and let 'em in, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Love, Victurd

Blurt

Blurt

Blurt can be curt and can cause hurt.
I go about quite nicely, and then I slip and spurt.

Words they’re sharp, both East, West, North and South –
Blurt, curt, spurt – damnit, you’ve opened your mouth.

Ya can’t yank ‘em back with a rope - you dope…..
Soooooooo, don’t sit there and mope.

Blurt curt spurt, sure can cause a big frown…
Pride is hard to swallow, but it will eventually go down.

Others blurt, and man it can hurt.
Wanna run, hide, drop down in the dirt.

Don’t girt, don’t be pert – simply turn around, lead with your shirt.

When one blurts, damn it does echo…… and echo,
Makes one hurt, sad, green like that damn gecko.

Practice what we preach… Cause once gone, them words we can’t reach.
Suckup the lesson leech.. every waking moment, opportunity to teach.
(Our turn to learn)

Blurt can hurt, tether up there forever….
No temp, no scrape, no bruise, still - belly under the weather…

You can run but you can’t hide – careful what you say or you’ll hurt inside.

He/she repeated, seemed conceited, left one defeated, depleted, mistreated.
The rule is quite simple.. Treat one another how you’d like to be treated.

By Henry Gibson

Those were the days....

Hey Edith, what say we binge-watch a couplea Gunsmoke seasons tonight?
I dunno Archie, I kinda had my heart set on unplugging our phones, taking them to Perkins,
having a bite to eat and staring at them all night….

Boy the way Glen Miller played
Songs that made the hit parade.
Guys like us we had it made,
Those were the days.

Edith, how bout some dinner? Sure Arch, just as soon as I download this S&H Greenstamp app.. Ok, then after supper maybe we’ll get to see Ann Margaret do some twerking on the boob tube eh? Hey, and why don’t you ask Siri to find out where Gloria and Meathead are, see if she'll GPS ‘em, then maybe they can eat with us?

And you knew who you were then,
Girls were girls and men were men,
Mister we could use a man
Like Herbert Hoover again.

Hey Edith, don’t this upcoming election trump all? Next thing ya know we’ll have a female in the White House.. Ohhh I dunno Arch, how could ya cook, clean, entertain AND run the country? The times there’a changin’ Edith.. the times there’a changin.

Didn't need no welfare state,
Everybody pulled his weight.
Gee our old LaSalle ran great.
Those were the days.

Slow down, you move too fast

You got to make the morning last
Just kicking down the cobblestones
Looking for fun and feeling groovy
Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy

Life’s a garden, dig it. Life goes fast, remember/enjoy it. With all the hustle/bustle of November 2016 elections, ISIS, Immigration, refugees, global warming, healthcare costs, yada – I thought it’d be nice to close ones eyes for a sec and simply ‘remember good’.

So I did so. One recent feel good was simply that, closing my eyes and remembering yesteryear.. painting my youth’s Big Screen on the insides of my eyelids. Performers were parents, sister, grandparents, extended family, friends, coworkers, the gamut of folks who’ve wondered in/out of my life.

Hello lamppost, what'cha knowing
I've come to watch your flowers growin'
Ain't cha got no rhymes for me?
Doo-ait-n-doo-doo, feeling groovy
Ba da-da da-da da-da, feeling groovy

Can I be a witness? Song for another day – but, things I’ve recently witnessed making me feel groovy: a crowd of 70, 80-somethings bouncing to the beat of Big Band era songs. Their yesterday returned as well. A baby’s first steps. A dog at play. 70 degrees in February. Four friends in the pasture of the golf course.

I got no deeds to do, no promises to keep
I'm dappled and drowsy and ready to sleep
Let the morningtime drop all its petals on me
Life, I love you, all is groovy

The autistic student manager of a high school basketball team, inserted in the lineup of a ‘real’ game – he sinking a 3 pointer, mobbed by teammates, classmates. Glee. The chicken runs at midnight (long story, teared me up in a feel good way).. The sights/sounds of baseball – a reminder life is cyclical – and for all the yuck we ‘drive thru’, feeling groovy is sure to happen soon.

Life I love you, all is groovy. Love, Victurd.

Carry on my wayward son,

For there'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Wayward as in capricious, erratic, or unpredictable. Yesterday… Attended a fascinating “Big Band Era” production – twas really really marvelous. The second act opened with a long, soft, mellow instrumental – and I closed my eyes – envisioned – in what seemed like forever, was but a quick respite… a respite to look at those close, but now gone.. of youth, but no longer.. of good/great times – etched forever – but in the aft of life.

Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond the illusion
I was soaring ever higher, but I flew too high
Though my eyes could see I still was a blind man
Though my mind could think I still was a mad man
I hear the voices when I'm dreamin', I can hear them say

I can still ‘hear’ my mother’s voice… my sister’s.. father’s… grandmother’s.. teachers, coaches, youthful friends, classmates, college buds – ago…. Songs of yesterday, sounds of yesterday, Long ago..

Carry on my wayward son,
For there'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Carry on, as in, the river will still flow. The pages to the book will still turn. The characters they come, the characters they go – there’ll be peace when we are done.


Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that I don't know
On a stormy sea of moving emotion
Tossed about I'm like a ship on the ocean
I set a course for winds of fortune, but I hear the voices say

Stormy, tossed, masquerading, charades – “wise”.. course for winds of fortune.. Those before us, those after us. Even those after them. Carry on.

Carry on my wayward son,
For there'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Weary ultimately happens.. sooner for some, later for others.. Fleeting, time here.
Carry on, you will always remember
Carry on, nothing equals the splendor
Now your life's no longer empty

Surely heaven waits for you
Carry on my wayward son,
For there'll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don't you cry no more

Carry on… and let’s do so righteously… congruently (at least with peace amongst one another).. Harmonious.. in brotherhood.. Our paths always end, but others will carry on. Life is fleeting, let’s not cry no more.

Happy trails to you......

Perhaps the slug does it best.. at least you can see the trail they’ve left behind.. a bit gooey though.. Us humans – we have all this ambition.. we mate.. we populate.. we accumulate.. we assimilate.. we aim to have the best… the most.. the biggest.. the baddest..

Happy trails to you, until we meet again.
Happy trails to you, keep smilin' until then.

Then.. we spend our latter years downsizing.. on our way out.. .

Who cares about the clouds when we're together?
Just sing a song and bring the sunny weather.
Happy trails to you, 'till we meet again.

Packing I was (to move hopefully a FINAL time).. .. going thru old stuff.. parent’s old stuff.. not much left. Of course precious pics (What’s to come of digital pics into the future?.. Saved forever? There’s simply something about holding a 5 by 7 in one’s hand – lifelike).. I think of all they owned (and I don’t mean “ha ha look at me”.. I mean that we were a very average family.. but we, like all, had ‘stuff’, belongings)..

Some trails are happy ones,
Others are blue.
It's the way you ride the trail that counts,
Here’s a happy one for you.

Then we die. Our trail comes to an end. We know our own trail. We vividly remember our parent’s trail. We have our youthful take of our grandparent’s trail.. the vast majority of us have no idea on our “great” grandparent’s trail. Trails evaporate. By the wayside. Poof.

Happy trails to you, until we meet again.
Happy trails to you, keep smilin' until then.
Who cares about the clouds when we're together?
Just sing a song and bring the sunny weather.

Seems here we should mebbe change songs to “What’s it all about, Alfie?”.. Or mebbe "All we are is dust in the wind".. so… reckon we have to make our trail the best, for ourselves.. One day no one will remember us anyways.. WE need to make that trail nice – nifty. We need to make that trail happy. We need to remember it ain’t about stuff.. we ultimately get ridda all that.. – it’s about stuffing fun, family, love, comeraderie, niceness, smiles – all that, into our trail. Roy and Dale seemed to ‘get it’. Hope we do too.

Happy trails to you, ‘till we meet again… Let’s make a pact not to be a gooey slug. Love, Victurd

Got any spare change?

Personalities.. Looks. Mates. Opinions. Financial status. Stock market. Weather. Undies. Spare. Roller coasters. Tides. Solar/Lunar. Style. Jobs. Choices. Path. Priorities. Self-talk. Motivation. Friends. Waistlines. Commitments. Inputs. Methods. Intensity. Spending.

Uh huh, things that change (or can).. 180’s. Some do 180’s. Some, 360’s. Some change there is no control over. Some changes are ones we very badly want to do – but ain’t got the chutzpah to do so.
We close our eyes and see our perfect person in the mirror, yet, we devour that twinkie anyways.. we puff away “just this one”.. we have another.. we repeat the same behaviors in spite of inching along on the balance beam of intention. We swim toward the wall, but the current keeps us from gaining any ground.

Some change is really really good. A new dog. A new mate. A new job. A new lease on life. A 180. I had cataracts 9 years ago. Doc literally ‘busted’ my lenses, replaced with lens implants. I walked into the Piggly Wiggly shortly after and the change was unreal. Bright, flamboyant, beautiful – I’d trudged in greyness seemingly forever and forever without knowing so. “Po’ but didn’t know it” I believe my mother would have likened it to. My eyes were depressed, so to speak.

For many, change is accompanied by proudness. Cool. Hard work rewards. Change can lift from depression. Sometimes change happens due to luck.

I ain’t no shrink, but I think depression is 360. It’s same ole same ole. Stuck. Treading water –arms that grow tired doing so. Drink, smoke, Candy Crush, online slots, worse, mire. Sleep 12 hours. Sleep zero hours. This usedta be fun. Ashamed. Agitated. Headache. Eat. Don’t eat. Tired.

Miracles, good friends, new mates, better outlooks, self help, 180’s – do/can happen.

Never give up. Each day is a gift, each sunrise a blessing.. Every breathe we take. Life is good, somewhere in there – wait for it. Visualize it. Trust it’ll happen. Up follows down. Teeters totter. Frowns change. Osmosis is real.

Change is a miracle. Striving for even perhaps a greater thing. Love, Victurd

Your Phil……..

Way more than you ever ever wanted to know about Punxsutawney Phil.

Tradition started in 1887. “They” say “there is only one Phil, and all the other groundhogs are imposters".. This is interesting since the life expectancy of a groundhog is 6 years.

Phil’s wife is Phyllis (of course) and their daughter is Phelicia (uh huh). Their home is actually a couple miles East of Punxsutawney.

Groundhog Day was actually filmed in Woodstock, Illinois.

In 1995, Phil flew to Chicago for a guest spot on Oprah.

In March of 2013 an Ohio County prosecutor sent an email calling for Phil to get the death penalty for “misrepresentation of an early Spring, an Unclassified Felony, and against the peace and dignity of the State of Ohio.” (Temps that day reached a record low, snow fell.. and temps remained below seasonal average for some time.)

In February of 2015, the Merrimack Police Department in New Hampshire issued an arrest warrant for Punx for having failed to disclose the extreme amounts of snow that would ensue after Groundhog Day.

Phil has now made predictions for 120 years. He’s predicted an early spring (no shadow) only 18 times (including this year, an early Spring, 2016). Those keeping tabs say his predictions have proved correct 39% of the time. This is significantly worse than chance – and the traditional interpretation of Punxsutawney Phil’s predictions should be reversed.

Crap. 6 more weeks of winter. At least, he’s as accurate as Busby, Lezak, Thompson.

Your Phil for today. Quick, close your eyes. Can you spell Punxsutawney?

Victurd

It's my life and I'll do what I want........... kinda

It's a hard world to get a break in
All the good things have been taken
But girl there are ways
To make certain things pay
Though I'm dressed in these rags
I'll wear sable some day

Yeah yeah yeah, and some day the Chief's wide receivers will score 4 touchdowns, HA!

This is about life and NOT being able to do what you want.

You will spend 12 hours in life backing out of a parking space, only to find someone that JUST HAS TO go by, so, you pull back in.

You will spend 3 days, 6hours, 12 minutes searching your email for your (Gas company, electric company, Yahoo, Facebook, Hotmail, Gmail, Pininterest, LinkedIn, Instagram, snapchat, twitter, 401K, your pornsite you pervert, etc) user id/password.

Hear what I say
I'm gonna ride the serpent
No more time spent sweatin' rent
Hear my command
I'm breakin' loose, it ain't no use
Holdin' me down, stick around

You will burn 6 days, 4 hours (and enough calories to eat a small ordera fries) in line at the McDonalds drive thru.

8 hours of your life will be spent getting frisked by some pervert at the airport, the ball stadium, the arena.

And baby, baby
Remember, remember
It's my life and I'll do what I want
It's my mind and I'll think like I want
Show me I'm wrong, hurt me sometime
But some day I'll treat you real fine

Measured frustration as you'll spend 3 days, 7 minutes at stop signs awaiting someone coming from the left who doesn't signal, and then they turn right onto the street you are on. Grrrrrrrrr.

4 days, 9 hours, 33 minutes closing pop-ups and 3 days, 6 hours not watching until you can "skip this ad".

There'll be women and their fortunes
Who just want to mother orphans
Are you gonna cry
While I'm squeezin' them dry
Takin' all I can get, no regrets
When I, openly lie
And live on their money
Believe me honey, that money
Can you believe, I ain't no saint
No complaints
So girl throw out
Any doubt

Two full days at age 60-something awaiting an open urinal, meanwhile peeking down to see if you've dripped a bit.

9 hours throwing away receipts for things such as a bag of Cheetos, a Coke, a packa cigs, laundry detergent, TP, etc.

And baby (baby)
Remember (remember)
It's my life and I'll do what I want
It's my mind and I'll think like I want
Show me I'm wrong, hurt me sometime
But some day I'll treat you real fine

You, you ornery polecat will waste 9 days, 14 hours, 23 minutes of company dollars standing, watching the clock go from 4:59.13 to 5:00.00 before you punch out.

3 full days farting, 2 and 1/2 days looking around to see if anyone heard it, and another full day scooting away from the odor.

(It's my life and I'll do what I want) Don't push me
(It's my mind and I'll think like I want) It's my life
(It's my life and I'll do what I want) And I can do what I want
(It's my mind and I'll think like I want) You can't tell me
(It's my life and I'll do what I want)

7 hours speaking to "Suez-ee" in Customer Service from Taiwan, 2 days listening to voicemail, 6 hours REPEATING your order at a fast food joint when the snotnose says "ahm, could you repeat that please?"

1 day, 46 minutes boiling, counting "By God I KNOW that's more than 20 items" at the Piggly Wiggly.

7 days in Doctor's waiting offices, a full month avoiding the call to make that Dental appointment, 3,456 frequent flyer miles next to the crying infant...

And finally, 7 full months holding in what you really really wanna say.

It's my life and I'll do what I want...... kinda.

Love, Victurd

Calm.

I love calm. Don't get me wrong - it's fun hearing the rain on the roof, running from the car to seek shelter from storm.

I love the calmness of familiarity, of treating others how you want to be treated. Those fun, stand back and take it all in moments that conjure inner smile.

To have shared the boat-ride of life on a turbulent sea - with finally that rewarding glance when calm hits.

Calm always beats vituperation. Calm is that over-the-counter antidote we use to seek/remind "just calm down."

Calm is a hound chasing a ball, a teammate's smile after an awesome play - the potion that radiates a gathering of friends after the last in line has been thru the buffet and all are seated.

Calm is awakening from slumber - closing the eyes for a moment to say "thanks for another day."

Calm is audial - or course during silence, but too, to the conversation of friends, loved ones, and even thru the amp of a band, the CD in car, Pandora on the porch.

Calm is nothingness yielding everything. Calm reminds "it's not so bad, times always get better."

I've demonstrated being pretty good at sitting, doing nothing, yet it's those times, moments of reflection, appreciation that rejuvenate the soul to march on.

Forecast for life: calm, with intermittent showers, snowstorms, hot, cold, gale force winds, drought, flooding, calamity, loss - all viewed from the easy chair of calm.

Beats the alternative. Love, peace and soul: calm.

Facebook, a Liqueur...

Ever strum thru your friend list and think "Oh yeah.. I remember him/her... wonder how they're doing, haven't seen or heard for quite awhile. To equate alcohol to Facebook, this person would be "not much of a drinker".. Family gatherings, a wedding toast.. He/She is quite comfortable without drink/Facebook no matter where he/she is.

The complete non-drinker/Facebooker. This person "never touches the stuff", so, you'll never see 'em on FB. Certainly one's prerogative.

The Social Facebooker/drinker. Their choice as to the 'when.' Could be once a month bunko, monthly fraternity-sorority/coworker/HS-college friend meeting.. A time or two a month.

The pressured drinker/FBe'r.. "only to keep an eye on my kid(s), parent(s), coworker(s), good friend(s)... Doesn't really like drinking/FB, but kinda feels pressure to join in.

The Daily Drinker/FB'er.. Perhaps not thought to be dependent, there's that pull to check in every day to 'keep up.

The Binge Drinker/Faceooker... Gone for awhile, back for awhile, gone for awhile, back for awhile.

The Compulsive Drinker/FB'er.. need or strong desire. You know the type, ya get sick and tired of their Candy Crush invites, Record Slot Machine winnings, or their Blog forced down your throat.

The Addicted Drinker/Facebooker. Sometimes 6 consecutive posts before you surface to the water of a different person. We're kept in touch with how cold it is, where it's raining, how mean an unsaid relative/friend was, what body part is hurting (and how many hours of no sleep that led to) and an unlimited list of (will never happen) wants.

I ain't real sure where I fit in. I do admittedly peruse quite frequently. Sorry to steal Chumbawamba, but some days are I GET KNOCKED DOWN (PLEASE no more left/right Political rants) BUT I GET UP AGAIN (there can be some invigorating, motivating, tear-bringing, FUNNY stuff)..

Today, I'm having one of those "I could care less" days. More important goings on.. Tomorrow is another day, so I reckon I'll decide on one token sip of wine, or a 12 pack of Milwaukee's Best Ice". Happy drinking/Facebooking Cliffy, Norm, Otis, whatever is pleasing to your pallet. Love, VIcturd.

Observations..

Rain. And s'more rain. River up. Enuff perty please, think we're caught up. Play ball.

Like people watching. Trying to "think/live from their shoes." Sometimes they don't fit, but interesting nonetheless.

Was visiting with very good friend, discussing someone, I forget who.. Yapping of the demeanor of friends/people in public. So-and-so is outgoing. You (my friend) are outgoing. I'm really not outgoing. "Yeah, you're more into observation." It's twue, it's twue, it's reahwy twue. Better thought a fool. Listen more, talk less.

Wish (kinda) I could say the same behind the keyboard. I really don't enjoy observing someone in a down situation when not handled well. (Hey, been there myself.) BUT, REALLY enjoy seeing someone in a down situation fighting that bastard with smiles, positive attitude. Lady at work battling cancer - THE BEST. I love her attitude.

I've noticed kids are resilient. Of course, normally 'get well', as quick as they get sick. Noticed too, tears can be replaced by smiles in no time. Like puppies, exuberant, happy to all - and it takes aging before learning 'some ain't real happy/fun.' That's sad (just an observation.)

Seing friends, from yesteryear - in WalMart, gas station, Piggy Wiggly - that initial smile when the eyes meet speaks volumes - congers up old times, memories, and very briefly turns one back into 12, 17, 21 or 30. A very nice feel, way to walk life's path (again).

Pets. Loyal. Ok, dogs moreso than cats but cats too are of the Fifty Shades ilk. You don't own/control them... rather they, you. If only husbands, wives, family members, coworkers greeted one another at the door the way hounds do (or the way a smile child does)- divorce statistics would drop, family quarrels would be minimized - office tension would lower.

Just an observation - maybe we could learn from kids/hounds.

Money doesn't buy happiness (suppose it couldn't hurt though, damn I'd like to find out.) Kissing never gets old. We all are human.

Overheard a young lady addressing her/hubby's recent travails - and how they're doing online counseling (never hearda sucha thing) "and it's really been helping." Me, the one who normally sits/observes, bolted out with "Well GOOD for you! Most give up too easily - kudos!"

One time, long ago, a friend (probably a drunk one) sent me a message "you should consider writing a book." Ha! Just an observation, but these goofy blogs go allover the place. My train of thought lasts about as long as the mailman at a mailbox. At work, diligently working on a task.. buddy comes over to tell me something that happened in their weekend... finish story.. and I can't remember whatinthehell task I was even doing. Chapters? IN ORDER? There's gotta be a pattern here? No thanks, I'll continue to blog here and jump allover the place.

Facebook is a rather nice quilt. Weaves the past, present, future. Provides laughter, showing off little tykes, Group sites of those same age, or interest, where you know what you say will be kinda sorta private, and even a Swap and Shop to sell your $200 used purse. Whointhehell would pay $200 for a used purse? Just an observation.

I'm rambling. I do that - here, but not in public. Upon rare occasion, I can recall/relate a funny story from the past - but I'm way more comfy simply observing, enjoying the vivacity of others.

Gotta run now. Ok, Ok, I know at age 62 it's really not called running. I'd better go now, there, how's that? Big night of observing planned tonight. I will enjoy watching the smiles, trying to figure out what makes 'that one' (or 'that one') perk, and perhaps occasionally (but very briefly) leave my observation 'tower', come from rightfield, and hopefully payback friends with a laugh they/life has provided me.

Not so much into "I hate Mondays", "Come on 5-O'clock", "I've GOT to go to my kid's (soccer, softball, baseball, volleyball, etc game).. no, you "GET" to go. I love love love my dadgum friends that always beat me to the punch with "how are you doing?" I love positive sayings. Sometimes I can be so wimpy, I even love Ned Yost. (Footnote, everything he's touched of late HAS turned to gold.)

Just an observation. A life full of observation. Love, Victurd.