My physical wallet is pretty boring. A few bucks. A Starbucks, Quick Trip, and WalMart gift card, with $0.67, $1.23 and $1.74 left on them, respectively. A $2 off coupon from when I got my haircut in 2017 at Great Clips, and yeah, the ink is gone, ya can't read it. Business cards from folks I've never done business with, nor probably ever will. See? Toldya, pretty boring.
Had a buddy. He was (and still is) in love with this chicky. Thirty years ago when they were dating, he had a pic in his wallet of her... and her ex boyfriend. He liked this one pic of her so much, he put masking tape over the dude, and kept her smiling face front and center for him to see when he opened his wallet.
Another buddy I worked with, Fernando Papi (originally from Argentina, well, he had trouble with 'J's. I ain't making fun of him, because he was accomplished in TWO languages - he yust had trouble with J. (John was Yohn, Yolly St. Nick.. Yoy to the world, you get the idea.) His famous phrase was "It not my yob man, it not my yob." Anyways, in his wallet, he kept a picture of his "Pride and Yoy, " which was, actually a picture of a bottle of Pride and a bottle of Joy.
Life brings us much, wonderfully, to our 'wallet.' Victor, are you gonna get all sentimental and talk about yesterday AGAIN? Uh huh, I am. Age, not giving much of a rat's ass (I wonder what the origin of that saying is?) brings one to "It's my party and I'll blog about the past if I want to... you could blog too if it happened to you."
And I'm sure it has.
BFF's. Some have one. Some have several, and I suppose many don't really have one. I have one, but life's twists and turns have kept us from doing much more than a few emails the last several years - BUT, he will always be my best friend. You?
LLF. That's life long friend. There's a gang of girls in the HS class one year older - I watch in amazement as they go (and have always gone as a LLF group) to concerts, sporting events, birthday celebrations, and most recently Maui, together. Lifetime wallet. LLF's. Yum, and kudos. I think we've all got LLF's.
CIW. (Coworkers in wallet).. Various lengths of time. Lord I've had way too many jobs, or yobs as Fernando would say - but I know I'm blessed in that, every time I run across one of them - a smile and memories instantly surface. Know what I mean Vern? I never actually worked with a Vern, but, there's a friend from HS named Vern.
Which brings us to classmates. Adored classmates. People in one's wallet, of ANY age, are special. But - Victor, you can't start a sentence with 'but.' But, wallet friends the same age are unique. We've gone thru much... being kids.. kisses at the Plaza Theater.. sock hops.. cruisin.. sports.. music.. some, moving, perhaps ne'er e'er to see again. But, shared, coupling, having/raising kids.. struggling thru a lifetime of that damn word 'work'.. RETIREMENT... I'd use a bigger size type if I could, but GRANDKIDS! We shared Elvis, doing the Twist in the dodgeball circle at Franklin School (remember getting in trouble for that?), landing on the moon, JFK's fateful day.. 9/11.. aging parents.. The sum is, this wallet friend is pretty damn special - MUCH, shared.
Educators. Not just teachers, but too, scout leaders, baseball/swimming/tennis/soccer coaches.. The people we learn much from, including representation, skills, teamwork, camaraderie. The niche of respect in our wallets..
Smidgits. These are fleeting friendships, wallet events, along the way. Could be the dude you talked to for two hours from MCI to LAX. The hairdresser, barber, grocery clerk, next door neighbor, insurance man/woman, lawyer, accountant, yada.. smidget friends. Some smidget-friendships continue fairly long, some, very fleeting - still, each/all, special. Smidgets make an impact in our wallets.
Blood. Yes, thicker than water. We may spat, we may take respites, we may not. No matter, wallet specials. A connection, forever. A sense of loyalty, a sense of love, respect, specialness. As one ages, tosses an old purse or wallet, ya always put these folks in your next wallet, purse - forever etched.
Inlaw/Outlaw. When one is in love, the love spills over into love for 'their blood.' Divorce, death, may happen - but too, hopefully you still have an attachment, a place in your wallet, for inlaws/outlaws. Outlaw is what my ex sister inlaw and I call each other. Different day, different situation, always though, the same wallet.
Can you think of other kinds in your wallet? Oh yeah, pets. I love my God, but mebbe it's backwards in length of life of pets as compared to our own. Someone once said "Isn't really all we want is to love and be loved in return?" Uh huh, and what better for the wallet than pets. Like the number of jobs (yobs) I've had, so too is the number of pets (thankfully) large. Too many to name (you're welcome) but, each, every one, special. Some no likey pets, and to each his/her own.. the majority of us though, look at these wonderful creatures with the love of a child, BFF, blood, that stuff. Good stuff. They're in our wallet, 4evr.
Time, trips around the sun, and sometimes illness cause us to slip, forget, what's in our wallets. (This aging thing is also the reason I keep a key to my car, and to my apartment in my actual wallet.)
I hope you are like me in that your wallet is full, and that's it's afforded many a smile over the years.
Upon death, it ain't so much about all the fives, tens, twentys, 401K's in one's wallet - it's moreso all of the above.
Have fun the resta your life, remembering "What's in your wallet?"
Love, Victurd
Saturday, July 27, 2019
Monday, July 22, 2019
Size matters....
If you're going up for a rebound.
With regard to your 401K at the time of your retirement. (Do as I say, not as I do..dear snotnoses, put 10% away every paycheck and 'no touchy.')
When the NFL ref tucks his head under the tarp covering the 6" TV screen for "Further review" whilst we at home watch on our 60" bigscreens.
"What counts is not necessarily he size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog." Dwight D. Eisenhower
I bet a kajillion dollars there are enough "That drawer is full of clothes for me 2 sizes ago that I will never-eva fit in again, but I'm keepin'" - to adequately clothe every homeless person in the World.
Matters when you're flying... in the middle seat.
Opines differ on where ya wanna live. Some, like the hustle-bustle of the city, choosing to live in a condo on the 39th floor, where they have on the ground a 2 foot by 20 foot grass strip for their dog to poop on. Some prefer, "Oh give me a home, where the buffalo roam, and they can poop any dangwhere they please. " I likes small towns with a square surrounding a Courthouse - where it doesn't take much gas money to get to where 'country' is, fast.
"Life is too short, and I'm Italian. I'd rather eat pasta and drink wine than be a size '0"." Sophia Bush
Awhile back at a Wellness event at work, one thing they measured was the size of your waist. "Pun perhaps intended ma'am, but you're 'wasting' your time measuring mine, I've been a size 36" waist since Ronald was in office.".... Yessir, I understand, but we actually measure around the belly button. Oops. Size matters where you measure.
Golfers want drivers the size of their baby's head... Country boys want tires on their pickups sooo big they gotta use a pogo stick just to get in. I think I hold the world record for number of Piggly Wiggly sacks in my two hands simply because I'm too lazy to make two trips.
Size comes into play in power.. ego.. hurdles.. the nose guard across fromya. (Chris Jones, KC Chief nose guard, begins every game looking across at his opponent, and offers "Whatsup fatty?") Size matters if you're going thru the metal detector at the Jackson County jail in Kansas City and ya gotta wear an underwire bra. "Ahm, ma'am, you'll have to take that off and place it in this bin."
Bear bed size mattered to Goldilocks. Goliath's size didn't matter to David. Size of inheritance share, sadly, is allowed to be the cause of family disarray, departure. The 1976 introduction of the Big Gulp changed the soft drink arena forever.
"First impressions matter. Experts say we size people up somewhere between 30 seconds and two minutes." Elliott Abrams
Tallest man, 8'11".. Woman, 7'7". Heaviest, 1,400 lbs. Thanks to Richard Simmons help, Rosalie Bradford went from 1,199 lbs to 200 lbs. a weight loss record for women at 999 lbs. Heaviest baby ever born, 22 lbs, ouch.
For his wife's birthday, a hubby bought her a dress two sizes too small to encourage her to lose weight, adding, "I look forward to seeing you in it." For his birthday, she bought him a coffin.
Many years ago, I shingled (by my lonesome, it was a money thing!) the roof of our three story house by tying myself to a rope attached to the chimney on the other end. Now, I don't think there is any 'test' rope that would hold me.
And "Oh, OK, for you perverts that've been waiting":
The 6th grade science teacher asked her class "Which human body part increases to ten times it's size when stimulated?" No one answered Finally, little Mary stood up and said "You should not be asking 6th graders questions like that! I'm going to tell my parents, then the principal, who will then fire you!"
The teacher ignored Mary, and asked the question again - and again it was met with silenece. She followed with "Anybody?" Finally, Billy stood up, looked around nervously and said "The body part that increases to ten times it's size when stimulated is the pupil of the eye."
"Very good Billy" the teacher replied, then glared at Mary and said "As for you young lady, I have three things to say: One, you have a dirty mind. Two, you didn't read your homework, and Three, one day you're going to be very disappointed."
Size matters. Damnit darnit.
Love, Victurd
With regard to your 401K at the time of your retirement. (Do as I say, not as I do..dear snotnoses, put 10% away every paycheck and 'no touchy.')
When the NFL ref tucks his head under the tarp covering the 6" TV screen for "Further review" whilst we at home watch on our 60" bigscreens.
"What counts is not necessarily he size of the dog in the fight, it's the size of the fight in the dog." Dwight D. Eisenhower
I bet a kajillion dollars there are enough "That drawer is full of clothes for me 2 sizes ago that I will never-eva fit in again, but I'm keepin'" - to adequately clothe every homeless person in the World.
Matters when you're flying... in the middle seat.
Opines differ on where ya wanna live. Some, like the hustle-bustle of the city, choosing to live in a condo on the 39th floor, where they have on the ground a 2 foot by 20 foot grass strip for their dog to poop on. Some prefer, "Oh give me a home, where the buffalo roam, and they can poop any dangwhere they please. " I likes small towns with a square surrounding a Courthouse - where it doesn't take much gas money to get to where 'country' is, fast.
"Life is too short, and I'm Italian. I'd rather eat pasta and drink wine than be a size '0"." Sophia Bush
Awhile back at a Wellness event at work, one thing they measured was the size of your waist. "Pun perhaps intended ma'am, but you're 'wasting' your time measuring mine, I've been a size 36" waist since Ronald was in office.".... Yessir, I understand, but we actually measure around the belly button. Oops. Size matters where you measure.
Golfers want drivers the size of their baby's head... Country boys want tires on their pickups sooo big they gotta use a pogo stick just to get in. I think I hold the world record for number of Piggly Wiggly sacks in my two hands simply because I'm too lazy to make two trips.
Size comes into play in power.. ego.. hurdles.. the nose guard across fromya. (Chris Jones, KC Chief nose guard, begins every game looking across at his opponent, and offers "Whatsup fatty?") Size matters if you're going thru the metal detector at the Jackson County jail in Kansas City and ya gotta wear an underwire bra. "Ahm, ma'am, you'll have to take that off and place it in this bin."
Bear bed size mattered to Goldilocks. Goliath's size didn't matter to David. Size of inheritance share, sadly, is allowed to be the cause of family disarray, departure. The 1976 introduction of the Big Gulp changed the soft drink arena forever.
"First impressions matter. Experts say we size people up somewhere between 30 seconds and two minutes." Elliott Abrams
Tallest man, 8'11".. Woman, 7'7". Heaviest, 1,400 lbs. Thanks to Richard Simmons help, Rosalie Bradford went from 1,199 lbs to 200 lbs. a weight loss record for women at 999 lbs. Heaviest baby ever born, 22 lbs, ouch.
For his wife's birthday, a hubby bought her a dress two sizes too small to encourage her to lose weight, adding, "I look forward to seeing you in it." For his birthday, she bought him a coffin.
Many years ago, I shingled (by my lonesome, it was a money thing!) the roof of our three story house by tying myself to a rope attached to the chimney on the other end. Now, I don't think there is any 'test' rope that would hold me.
And "Oh, OK, for you perverts that've been waiting":
The 6th grade science teacher asked her class "Which human body part increases to ten times it's size when stimulated?" No one answered Finally, little Mary stood up and said "You should not be asking 6th graders questions like that! I'm going to tell my parents, then the principal, who will then fire you!"
The teacher ignored Mary, and asked the question again - and again it was met with silenece. She followed with "Anybody?" Finally, Billy stood up, looked around nervously and said "The body part that increases to ten times it's size when stimulated is the pupil of the eye."
"Very good Billy" the teacher replied, then glared at Mary and said "As for you young lady, I have three things to say: One, you have a dirty mind. Two, you didn't read your homework, and Three, one day you're going to be very disappointed."
Size matters. Damnit darnit.
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, July 17, 2019
It's only words, and words are all I've got...
New kid (19-ish) interviewed with bossman for a job at the golf course where I work part time. "He's pretty shy.. nervous., literally twitching as we visited... I told him to relax, we have fun here." To me, those are good signs.. he cared about how he came off.. he didn't wanna screw up (versus someone who simply wants to screw off)... So, boss called School where he went. "Oh yea, great kid, you won't have any problems with him."
First day on job, I was fortunate to be there as the trainer kinda-sorta (more about kinda-sorta later.) He was just that. Shy. Caring. Didn't wanna mess up. I told stupid jokes, finally got a smile (more later about smile), then a laugh (that too)... soon, some comfort set in, we talked about college, and what his goal is... "Journalism." This excited me. A young gun, ANXIOUS to go learn, eventually work in a field with great return and utterly low pay.
He spoke "Went to Maryville one semester.. Now at Maple Woods" (Loved this too as I jumped in with "Me too!").. "Not sure where I'll go next.." "MIZZOU! They've got the greatest Journalism school around." "Can't do that.. mom won't lemme... entire family is/are KU fans." Bummer, maybe more on KU later.
So... his work morning was shortened by the need to go attend a Composition class. Thus, this blog was prompted by the word composition. I watched him walkout the door and I gleefully thought about all the words he's gonna share, opine in his lifetime.
Composition turned to words.. Words turned to "what are some favorites" and "least favorites." My take:
Of course God is first. Then I think smile is next. Been to way too many funerals, but the ones that draw the most tears, heart tugs, feel goods, feel sorrys, are, for people that smiled more times than not. Smiling on the outside, life be damn you, I will not allow you to effect (or is that affect) my outside. Smile = yummy.
Yummy is up there too. Yes, of course the male pig version, but too, anything that's fervent, uplifting, something that leaves one emotionally spent, but in a good way.
S'more on the Yours Truly WHB Top Forty list: passion, fervor, hubba hubba, oh baby oh baby (yes, I realize them ain't ONE word, still, hopefully you get the point.) Kinda-sorta, is wonderful for issuing one's opine (I likes opine too). Kinda-sorta is a way to state one's belief, beliefs, without hopefully peeving one off - yet, it's bassackwardly emphatic in "sorry, that's the way I feel."
Flashmob (creativity, organization, feel, yum, without monetary reward - what better?).. Words in the newspaper that have ya glued to the article, seeing "continued on page _" and you anxiously, excitedly turn the page, find it's almost a full page, you happily refold the paper - and continue in the feel good absorption of the words you're enjoying.
Not long after the kid left for Composition class. my boss said "Vic, it's kinda slow, do you mind clocking out?" "Nope." I must notta put the emphasis, passion, fervor on my answer, cause he asked "Are you mad?" Mad? Retirement = laziness (earned, my take).. Clocking out means nap. It's what retired people do I've learned. "No, I'm not mad.. only two things make me mad.. Tailgaters and arrogance.."
There, there's some words I ain't too fond of. Fish is one too. Aside from the fact the simple smell of fish makes me wanna run headfirst to the urinal bowl to upchuck - I no likey 'fish' as a technique some use to play the game "Ain't it awful", or, attempting to get your goat. I don't have a goat, don't want one, but pisses me off when people try to get it.
There's a buddy I love (born bred in Missouri, transplanted Kansan), but he continually posts things anti-Missouri, arrogantly pro-Kansas with the ease of a Zebco 33, and the frequency of trout fisherman lining the banks of Roaring River on opening day.. Sometimes he hooks me, I play the fool, but usually I try very bravely to not allow him to get my goat.
A few more yucky ones (yuck is a 'fav' unfavorite word): Death. Divorce. "I mean" when starting a sentence.. what if they don't preface with "I mean" in their next sentence? Congressional debate. My way or the highway (Fox News and/or CNN, real shitty bosses)... Uppity. Judgment. Victor, you just judged by stating 'uppity.' Uh huh, did, you see, blogging allows one to talk outta both sides of the mouth.
I anxiously await the day someone says "I simply want to treat all people the same" insteada "from the CEO to the Janitor", "from the trainer to the star quarterback", etc. Victor, you were doing OK on words you like, why don't you switch back? Good idea, I'll switch back:
Hound. Feline. Friend. Townie. Nostalgia. Kid. Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad. Baseball. Football. America. Truth. Compliment. Humility. Colors, all. Rainbows. Beautiful. Fun. Snickerfritz. Human. Delightful. Magnificent. Sunshine. Gobbledygook. Doohickey. Gadzooks. Goosebumps. Heebie-jeebie. Self deprecation. Mouthwatering. Heavenly.
Fart. Such a powerful word. Fart makes children giggle and coworkers run.
What are some of your favorite words? What ones conjure the need to vomit? When's the last time you farted, and did anyone else hear it?
Good luck to that young man and his quest for a lifetime of words.
A lover of lyrics and levity from (and for) Liberty, Victurd
First day on job, I was fortunate to be there as the trainer kinda-sorta (more about kinda-sorta later.) He was just that. Shy. Caring. Didn't wanna mess up. I told stupid jokes, finally got a smile (more later about smile), then a laugh (that too)... soon, some comfort set in, we talked about college, and what his goal is... "Journalism." This excited me. A young gun, ANXIOUS to go learn, eventually work in a field with great return and utterly low pay.
He spoke "Went to Maryville one semester.. Now at Maple Woods" (Loved this too as I jumped in with "Me too!").. "Not sure where I'll go next.." "MIZZOU! They've got the greatest Journalism school around." "Can't do that.. mom won't lemme... entire family is/are KU fans." Bummer, maybe more on KU later.
So... his work morning was shortened by the need to go attend a Composition class. Thus, this blog was prompted by the word composition. I watched him walkout the door and I gleefully thought about all the words he's gonna share, opine in his lifetime.
Composition turned to words.. Words turned to "what are some favorites" and "least favorites." My take:
Of course God is first. Then I think smile is next. Been to way too many funerals, but the ones that draw the most tears, heart tugs, feel goods, feel sorrys, are, for people that smiled more times than not. Smiling on the outside, life be damn you, I will not allow you to effect (or is that affect) my outside. Smile = yummy.
Yummy is up there too. Yes, of course the male pig version, but too, anything that's fervent, uplifting, something that leaves one emotionally spent, but in a good way.
S'more on the Yours Truly WHB Top Forty list: passion, fervor, hubba hubba, oh baby oh baby (yes, I realize them ain't ONE word, still, hopefully you get the point.) Kinda-sorta, is wonderful for issuing one's opine (I likes opine too). Kinda-sorta is a way to state one's belief, beliefs, without hopefully peeving one off - yet, it's bassackwardly emphatic in "sorry, that's the way I feel."
Flashmob (creativity, organization, feel, yum, without monetary reward - what better?).. Words in the newspaper that have ya glued to the article, seeing "continued on page _" and you anxiously, excitedly turn the page, find it's almost a full page, you happily refold the paper - and continue in the feel good absorption of the words you're enjoying.
Not long after the kid left for Composition class. my boss said "Vic, it's kinda slow, do you mind clocking out?" "Nope." I must notta put the emphasis, passion, fervor on my answer, cause he asked "Are you mad?" Mad? Retirement = laziness (earned, my take).. Clocking out means nap. It's what retired people do I've learned. "No, I'm not mad.. only two things make me mad.. Tailgaters and arrogance.."
There, there's some words I ain't too fond of. Fish is one too. Aside from the fact the simple smell of fish makes me wanna run headfirst to the urinal bowl to upchuck - I no likey 'fish' as a technique some use to play the game "Ain't it awful", or, attempting to get your goat. I don't have a goat, don't want one, but pisses me off when people try to get it.
There's a buddy I love (born bred in Missouri, transplanted Kansan), but he continually posts things anti-Missouri, arrogantly pro-Kansas with the ease of a Zebco 33, and the frequency of trout fisherman lining the banks of Roaring River on opening day.. Sometimes he hooks me, I play the fool, but usually I try very bravely to not allow him to get my goat.
A few more yucky ones (yuck is a 'fav' unfavorite word): Death. Divorce. "I mean" when starting a sentence.. what if they don't preface with "I mean" in their next sentence? Congressional debate. My way or the highway (Fox News and/or CNN, real shitty bosses)... Uppity. Judgment. Victor, you just judged by stating 'uppity.' Uh huh, did, you see, blogging allows one to talk outta both sides of the mouth.
I anxiously await the day someone says "I simply want to treat all people the same" insteada "from the CEO to the Janitor", "from the trainer to the star quarterback", etc. Victor, you were doing OK on words you like, why don't you switch back? Good idea, I'll switch back:
Hound. Feline. Friend. Townie. Nostalgia. Kid. Grandma, Grandpa, Mom, Dad. Baseball. Football. America. Truth. Compliment. Humility. Colors, all. Rainbows. Beautiful. Fun. Snickerfritz. Human. Delightful. Magnificent. Sunshine. Gobbledygook. Doohickey. Gadzooks. Goosebumps. Heebie-jeebie. Self deprecation. Mouthwatering. Heavenly.
Fart. Such a powerful word. Fart makes children giggle and coworkers run.
What are some of your favorite words? What ones conjure the need to vomit? When's the last time you farted, and did anyone else hear it?
Good luck to that young man and his quest for a lifetime of words.
A lover of lyrics and levity from (and for) Liberty, Victurd
Tuesday, July 09, 2019
Paper or plastic?..... or.. Papas got a brand new bag...
Bag:
A container made of flexible material with an opening at the top for carrying things.
One's particular interest or taste.
Put something in a bag.
(Of a hunter) succeed in killing or catching an animal.
Bag, to me, is a fun word. Mom's bag, as a kid, meant nearby Mercurochrome, Kleenex, quarters for ice cream, band aids, comb, yada.
"Lettin' the cat ourra the bag is a whole lot easier'n puttin' it back in." Will Rogers
I never under$tood "Coach" bags. I've always felt "rich in life" but, not so much in bank balance. Beyond me why anyone would spend $300 for a handbag, but then again, I ain't everyone. I always associate "Coach" with Po', cause I was a coach, and I was Po' (My first teaching coaching contract was for $9800 a year...ie, coach = Po'.)
"Just get a bag and drop a dream in it, and you'll be surprised what happens." Charles Nelson Reilly
The Piggly Wiggly. Some lanes gots baggers. Some ain't. The express lane (10 items max where folks bring 23 items and you glare at them) ain't got no baggers, so the clerk does it too. Speakinowhich, howintheheck do they stay on their feet so long with no breaks? I'm old. I pee. I pee a lot. I pee oftern. No way could I do that. Well, I guess if I had Depends on, but that congers up bad bag thoughts, 'feelings', so let's not go there.
Ya go to Aldi's, you gotta bring your own bags, and bag your own groceries. I always forget a quarter, so I never go there.
I probably will never be friends with Elvis, cause I ain't never caught a rabbit, nor have I ever gone hunting. BUT, I have 'bagged' three deer (One, with a Pinto Station Wagon, Two, with a Dodge Dart, Three with a Pontiac Grand Prix). Bambi/bumpers don't mix.
In college, where it took a bag of money to be there, strangely, we'd bag class. That's like paying for a smorgasbord and saying "no thanks, I ain't hungry" but we did it, we bagged classes.
"Marriage is like putting your hand into a bag of snakes in the hope of pulling out an eel." Leonardo di Vinci (Hey, watch it Vinny, MANY a happy ever-after couple out there!) "Oh yeah? Then why are them Cordell and Cordell brothers so damn rich?" Vinny
Some, no know when to shutup (windbags). As we age, we get saddlebags. The hell they come from? Teabag, beanbag, toolbag, fleabag, mailbag, scumbag, dirtbag, sleazebag, and, the guy with 23 items in the Express lane, douchebag.
Years ago it was "Are you ready for the (man) bag?" Oh the times they are a changin',.. The original "Are you ready for the bag", to many, carried bad connotations. Nomme. I had a long list of hero Doctors that long before carried a bag: Marcus Welby, Doc on Gunsmoke, Hawkeye, Trapper John, Ben Casey, Dr. Kildare, yada. A local hero was Doc Bowles, he always carried a bag.
No Doctor around, and getting hit in the bag... Nope, we men could never resemble anything close to the pain involved in childbirth, but getting hit in the bag'll bring you down to your knees faster'n a Catholic Mass. Redface, veins exposed, lowpitch turned to highpitched, suffice to say "Ouch." Profanity is permitted and encouraged in these instances.
"What a doctor I've got - he's really mixed up. Last week he grabbed my knee and told me to cough. Then, he hit me in the balls with a hammer." Rodney Dangerfield
Terrorism has changed the view of the bag. Awhile back, "45" came to Kansas City.. .Went with a friend.. took some water in a bag cooler, set it on the ground. Cops, here, there, everywhere. One came up to me.. "Is that your bag?" Yessir. "You need to pick it up because Captain said we need to confiscate every unattended bag." A truly sad statement about us, today.
The golf bag. 14 clubs max is the legal limit, but oh so many other things are/can be stored in there. The mundane: golf balls, tees, rain gear, pencils, water bottle, USGA Rule book (Ha!), sunscreen, bugspray, yada.. The more, mebbe amusing golf bag items, 2 year old full cans of PBR, year old half-eaten cookies, one guy pulled out a new ball and a condom fell out.. nudie tees, banana peel...
MY golf bag. Scroll to Po'. I've never gone to Nebraska Furniture Mart and bought an entire room of matching furniture (sofa, loveseat, chairs, coffee table, end tables, matching pictures, yada.) My golf bag has 14 clubs, maybe 2 of which are from the same set. I suffer from "Well, if I buy that new (chipper, driver, 3-wood, hybrid, putter, yada) I will become better." So, a mixed bag. Mebbe there is correlation to different lengths, styles, age, flex/non-flex and my really crappy ability. Oh well, I still enjoy the game.
Mixed bag = story of my life. Come to think of it, maybe story of everyone's life.
BRB, going to check and see if I've got cucumbers, or tea bags, or parsley, or oats, or an avacado, or almonds (mixed with milk).. all things helpful for baggy eyes.
There's even a website where you can order bags that have positive quotes written on them. Among them "Wake up, be awesome, Repeat."... "Create happiness.".... "Broken crayons still color."... "Never a failure, always a lesson."
He ain't no drag. Papa's got a brand new bag.
Love, Victurd
A container made of flexible material with an opening at the top for carrying things.
One's particular interest or taste.
Put something in a bag.
(Of a hunter) succeed in killing or catching an animal.
Bag, to me, is a fun word. Mom's bag, as a kid, meant nearby Mercurochrome, Kleenex, quarters for ice cream, band aids, comb, yada.
"Lettin' the cat ourra the bag is a whole lot easier'n puttin' it back in." Will Rogers
I never under$tood "Coach" bags. I've always felt "rich in life" but, not so much in bank balance. Beyond me why anyone would spend $300 for a handbag, but then again, I ain't everyone. I always associate "Coach" with Po', cause I was a coach, and I was Po' (My first teaching coaching contract was for $9800 a year...ie, coach = Po'.)
"Just get a bag and drop a dream in it, and you'll be surprised what happens." Charles Nelson Reilly
The Piggly Wiggly. Some lanes gots baggers. Some ain't. The express lane (10 items max where folks bring 23 items and you glare at them) ain't got no baggers, so the clerk does it too. Speakinowhich, howintheheck do they stay on their feet so long with no breaks? I'm old. I pee. I pee a lot. I pee oftern. No way could I do that. Well, I guess if I had Depends on, but that congers up bad bag thoughts, 'feelings', so let's not go there.
Ya go to Aldi's, you gotta bring your own bags, and bag your own groceries. I always forget a quarter, so I never go there.
I probably will never be friends with Elvis, cause I ain't never caught a rabbit, nor have I ever gone hunting. BUT, I have 'bagged' three deer (One, with a Pinto Station Wagon, Two, with a Dodge Dart, Three with a Pontiac Grand Prix). Bambi/bumpers don't mix.
In college, where it took a bag of money to be there, strangely, we'd bag class. That's like paying for a smorgasbord and saying "no thanks, I ain't hungry" but we did it, we bagged classes.
"Marriage is like putting your hand into a bag of snakes in the hope of pulling out an eel." Leonardo di Vinci (Hey, watch it Vinny, MANY a happy ever-after couple out there!) "Oh yeah? Then why are them Cordell and Cordell brothers so damn rich?" Vinny
Some, no know when to shutup (windbags). As we age, we get saddlebags. The hell they come from? Teabag, beanbag, toolbag, fleabag, mailbag, scumbag, dirtbag, sleazebag, and, the guy with 23 items in the Express lane, douchebag.
Years ago it was "Are you ready for the (man) bag?" Oh the times they are a changin',.. The original "Are you ready for the bag", to many, carried bad connotations. Nomme. I had a long list of hero Doctors that long before carried a bag: Marcus Welby, Doc on Gunsmoke, Hawkeye, Trapper John, Ben Casey, Dr. Kildare, yada. A local hero was Doc Bowles, he always carried a bag.
No Doctor around, and getting hit in the bag... Nope, we men could never resemble anything close to the pain involved in childbirth, but getting hit in the bag'll bring you down to your knees faster'n a Catholic Mass. Redface, veins exposed, lowpitch turned to highpitched, suffice to say "Ouch." Profanity is permitted and encouraged in these instances.
"What a doctor I've got - he's really mixed up. Last week he grabbed my knee and told me to cough. Then, he hit me in the balls with a hammer." Rodney Dangerfield
Terrorism has changed the view of the bag. Awhile back, "45" came to Kansas City.. .Went with a friend.. took some water in a bag cooler, set it on the ground. Cops, here, there, everywhere. One came up to me.. "Is that your bag?" Yessir. "You need to pick it up because Captain said we need to confiscate every unattended bag." A truly sad statement about us, today.
The golf bag. 14 clubs max is the legal limit, but oh so many other things are/can be stored in there. The mundane: golf balls, tees, rain gear, pencils, water bottle, USGA Rule book (Ha!), sunscreen, bugspray, yada.. The more, mebbe amusing golf bag items, 2 year old full cans of PBR, year old half-eaten cookies, one guy pulled out a new ball and a condom fell out.. nudie tees, banana peel...
MY golf bag. Scroll to Po'. I've never gone to Nebraska Furniture Mart and bought an entire room of matching furniture (sofa, loveseat, chairs, coffee table, end tables, matching pictures, yada.) My golf bag has 14 clubs, maybe 2 of which are from the same set. I suffer from "Well, if I buy that new (chipper, driver, 3-wood, hybrid, putter, yada) I will become better." So, a mixed bag. Mebbe there is correlation to different lengths, styles, age, flex/non-flex and my really crappy ability. Oh well, I still enjoy the game.
Mixed bag = story of my life. Come to think of it, maybe story of everyone's life.
BRB, going to check and see if I've got cucumbers, or tea bags, or parsley, or oats, or an avacado, or almonds (mixed with milk).. all things helpful for baggy eyes.
There's even a website where you can order bags that have positive quotes written on them. Among them "Wake up, be awesome, Repeat."... "Create happiness.".... "Broken crayons still color."... "Never a failure, always a lesson."
He ain't no drag. Papa's got a brand new bag.
Love, Victurd
Sunday, June 30, 2019
Human matter... Get it right the first time... The Sport's Page..
Coffee.. the morning news.. and hunger led me to McDonalds this morning. I know I know, but I've eaten fairly healthily this week, it's time to splurge.
As I sat drinking coffee... then as I drove to McDonalds,..my mind ventured on writing a blog about "being 60-something.. how things "roll off me" now like rain on a duck's feathers.. ie, I don't/won't, get bent outta shape any longer. Yeah, that's what I'll write about...
"Welcome back, may I take your order?" Ahem. How does she know I've been here before? What if I never have? VICTOR, remember... "roll off me." Oh yeah.. k.
"Yes, I'd like a sausage biscuit, a sausage McMuffin and a cup of water please."
"So... do you want both sandwiches?"... Me.. brief silence..
Simmer down old codger, remember, this person is trying their best at minimum wage. "Yes, please." Forgive me Father, I thought internally "WHY would she ask that? I would never ask that." As I pulled to the window, I wondered what she looked like.
I got to the window, a dude handed me my sandwiches. I giggled internally, as this goes against everything the young man had been trained to do. "Get the money first." I contemplated driving off, but it ain't hard to spot a beat up silver PT Cruiser with a black convertible top and a redheaded old man that has a porn-star mustache (that's what my son says I look like.) So I paid.
Then, the "so do you want both sandwiches" lady appears, without looking me in the eyes, hands me the water and says "have a nice day" and before I could shout out "You as well" the window was closed and she was off to argue with the next chap in line. VICTOR! Water off a duck's feather! Oh yeah, sorry.
In as much as the order taker needs to get it right the first time, so do I, the grumpy old man need to get it right. I AM convinced, the older I get, the less things bug me - but I gotta admit I slip. The get it right first, to me, applies to one's reaction. I think we all have instant reactions (we discussed horn honking at an intersection) - but, relaxing, asking "Does it really matter human?" helps us get to the point of "nope, grand schemea things, it don't."
As I drove to the City Park to chomp down on my "yes both please" sandwiches, I'd remembered a recent visit with a loved one going thru chemo. This person's attitude, approach is so, so wonderful. I gulped further into guilt for allowing the short order lady to upset me.
Sport's page first. Always been that way, Believe it or not there are usually more life lessons there than in the front section of the paper. The front section carries shootings, accidents, embezzlements, Left/Right argument and ends with the obits. Getting it right would be to have the Sport's page first.
Wonderful lead article about our Chief's 2nd round draft pick that had zero to do with touchdowns, 40 yd dash speed, ego, yada... it was about his love for assisting special needs children. Started in 6th grade and has been devoted to help ever since. So Victor, how are you feeling about now about getting bent outta shape at Mickey D's?
Then, an article about our local girl's soccer team that recently won the Missouri State Championship. In leading up to the long path, they were to play the crosstown rival who had beaten them earlier in the year.. The day before the game, the Liberty coach's brother committed suicide. Geez. I can't imagine. He didn't tell the girls before the game...
After, he did. In times when there are no answers as to "why", we all react in different ways. This coach preferred to seek any good from it, and he stated "We talk about these pillars that I want the girls to learn.. and one of the major pillars that I talk about is being able to handle adversity..I said 'Ladies, a lot of things will knock you down. You have to be able to pick yourself up." Wow. Four wins later, State Champs - way to go coach!
Yes, the Sport's page has a box score, results of Nascar, World Cup, Golf, who's injured, who's signed, who's cut.. who's fined.. but it also has things that matter to humans.
Dave Parker was/is, a vibrant personality. Dave was in town to be inducted into the Negro Leagues 2019 Hall of Game. He was Mr. Baseball in the 70's, and the Godfather of the "We are family" Pittsburgh Pirates. While the smile is as huge as ever, the heart maybe even bigger - 7 years ago Dave developed a tremor... Tests would reveal he has Parkinsons. So, what's Dave do? He's devoting the vast majority of his remaining life to raise funds for Parkinsons' research. Dave got it right the first time, and the second time. A human that matters.
Stephen Piscotty, star baseball player for the St. Louis Cardinals, had the world by a string. In the opening series of 2017, the Cardinals signed him to a 6 year $33.5 million dollar extension. At some point in the season, he learned his mother (living near Oakland, CA) had ALS. He skipped some games to go spend time with her. Yes, baseball is a business, but thanks to two GM's with an eye on the books - but a hand on their heart, a trade was arranged and Stephen (with contract) was dealt to Oakland - where he got to spend a great, great deal of time with his mother before her passing in 2018. They got it right, humans matter.
One more before I go. Atop the leaderboard at the current PGA golf tourney is a gentlemen named Nate Lashley, I am in his court rooting for him today. Nate turned pro in 2005.. has played on mini tours, the LatinAmerica tour.. and has sold real estate on the side to make ends meet. He FINALLY got his PGA tour card in 2018, then a knee injury shelved the remainder of the season. He's made some OK money, but a win today would earn him more money than he's made in 14 total years as a pro. Victor? Why you rooting for him?
I'm rooting for him because he probably doesn't get all bent outta shape at the drive thru window in McDonalds. You see, worse stuff has happened. His junior year in college, his parents and his girlfriend had flown to watch him golf in the NCAA golf tournament. As they flew home from Oregon to Nebraska, their plane crashed and all three expired in the crash. Imagine. I can't. I'm not certain I could ever deal with that kind of adversity, would have trouble picking myself up. Go Nate. Even if you don't win today, from my shoes, you've won. Kudos.
So if you've ordered ketchup and mustard only and you bite into a big old pickle, don't be like Victor. Water on the feathers. Scrape it off, go find a shade tree, park.. read the Sport's page. You, like me, may learn a lesson - and - find an idol to root for that has nothing to do with touchdowns, home runs, driving distance or penalty kicks.
Love, Victurd
As I sat drinking coffee... then as I drove to McDonalds,..my mind ventured on writing a blog about "being 60-something.. how things "roll off me" now like rain on a duck's feathers.. ie, I don't/won't, get bent outta shape any longer. Yeah, that's what I'll write about...
"Welcome back, may I take your order?" Ahem. How does she know I've been here before? What if I never have? VICTOR, remember... "roll off me." Oh yeah.. k.
"Yes, I'd like a sausage biscuit, a sausage McMuffin and a cup of water please."
"So... do you want both sandwiches?"... Me.. brief silence..
Simmer down old codger, remember, this person is trying their best at minimum wage. "Yes, please." Forgive me Father, I thought internally "WHY would she ask that? I would never ask that." As I pulled to the window, I wondered what she looked like.
I got to the window, a dude handed me my sandwiches. I giggled internally, as this goes against everything the young man had been trained to do. "Get the money first." I contemplated driving off, but it ain't hard to spot a beat up silver PT Cruiser with a black convertible top and a redheaded old man that has a porn-star mustache (that's what my son says I look like.) So I paid.
Then, the "so do you want both sandwiches" lady appears, without looking me in the eyes, hands me the water and says "have a nice day" and before I could shout out "You as well" the window was closed and she was off to argue with the next chap in line. VICTOR! Water off a duck's feather! Oh yeah, sorry.
In as much as the order taker needs to get it right the first time, so do I, the grumpy old man need to get it right. I AM convinced, the older I get, the less things bug me - but I gotta admit I slip. The get it right first, to me, applies to one's reaction. I think we all have instant reactions (we discussed horn honking at an intersection) - but, relaxing, asking "Does it really matter human?" helps us get to the point of "nope, grand schemea things, it don't."
As I drove to the City Park to chomp down on my "yes both please" sandwiches, I'd remembered a recent visit with a loved one going thru chemo. This person's attitude, approach is so, so wonderful. I gulped further into guilt for allowing the short order lady to upset me.
Sport's page first. Always been that way, Believe it or not there are usually more life lessons there than in the front section of the paper. The front section carries shootings, accidents, embezzlements, Left/Right argument and ends with the obits. Getting it right would be to have the Sport's page first.
Wonderful lead article about our Chief's 2nd round draft pick that had zero to do with touchdowns, 40 yd dash speed, ego, yada... it was about his love for assisting special needs children. Started in 6th grade and has been devoted to help ever since. So Victor, how are you feeling about now about getting bent outta shape at Mickey D's?
Then, an article about our local girl's soccer team that recently won the Missouri State Championship. In leading up to the long path, they were to play the crosstown rival who had beaten them earlier in the year.. The day before the game, the Liberty coach's brother committed suicide. Geez. I can't imagine. He didn't tell the girls before the game...
After, he did. In times when there are no answers as to "why", we all react in different ways. This coach preferred to seek any good from it, and he stated "We talk about these pillars that I want the girls to learn.. and one of the major pillars that I talk about is being able to handle adversity..I said 'Ladies, a lot of things will knock you down. You have to be able to pick yourself up." Wow. Four wins later, State Champs - way to go coach!
Yes, the Sport's page has a box score, results of Nascar, World Cup, Golf, who's injured, who's signed, who's cut.. who's fined.. but it also has things that matter to humans.
Dave Parker was/is, a vibrant personality. Dave was in town to be inducted into the Negro Leagues 2019 Hall of Game. He was Mr. Baseball in the 70's, and the Godfather of the "We are family" Pittsburgh Pirates. While the smile is as huge as ever, the heart maybe even bigger - 7 years ago Dave developed a tremor... Tests would reveal he has Parkinsons. So, what's Dave do? He's devoting the vast majority of his remaining life to raise funds for Parkinsons' research. Dave got it right the first time, and the second time. A human that matters.
Stephen Piscotty, star baseball player for the St. Louis Cardinals, had the world by a string. In the opening series of 2017, the Cardinals signed him to a 6 year $33.5 million dollar extension. At some point in the season, he learned his mother (living near Oakland, CA) had ALS. He skipped some games to go spend time with her. Yes, baseball is a business, but thanks to two GM's with an eye on the books - but a hand on their heart, a trade was arranged and Stephen (with contract) was dealt to Oakland - where he got to spend a great, great deal of time with his mother before her passing in 2018. They got it right, humans matter.
One more before I go. Atop the leaderboard at the current PGA golf tourney is a gentlemen named Nate Lashley, I am in his court rooting for him today. Nate turned pro in 2005.. has played on mini tours, the LatinAmerica tour.. and has sold real estate on the side to make ends meet. He FINALLY got his PGA tour card in 2018, then a knee injury shelved the remainder of the season. He's made some OK money, but a win today would earn him more money than he's made in 14 total years as a pro. Victor? Why you rooting for him?
I'm rooting for him because he probably doesn't get all bent outta shape at the drive thru window in McDonalds. You see, worse stuff has happened. His junior year in college, his parents and his girlfriend had flown to watch him golf in the NCAA golf tournament. As they flew home from Oregon to Nebraska, their plane crashed and all three expired in the crash. Imagine. I can't. I'm not certain I could ever deal with that kind of adversity, would have trouble picking myself up. Go Nate. Even if you don't win today, from my shoes, you've won. Kudos.
So if you've ordered ketchup and mustard only and you bite into a big old pickle, don't be like Victor. Water on the feathers. Scrape it off, go find a shade tree, park.. read the Sport's page. You, like me, may learn a lesson - and - find an idol to root for that has nothing to do with touchdowns, home runs, driving distance or penalty kicks.
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, June 26, 2019
Jesus loves me this I know.......
Because the Bible tells me so.......
Some other stuff I know... simply because observation, experience, 'been there' tells me so.....
If I have to pee, really REALLY bad, the light will turn yellow.
If I'm out driving, see an Aldi's, thus swerve into their parking lot - I will have 17 cents in change in my pocket.
The automatic flusher thingy at Wally World ALWAYS works when I exit the bathroom and there ain't no one in there. The time that it doesn't work, and I exit... uh huh... "Ahm, hi...howya doin'?"
40 pounds ago, i had this wonderful notion, "I know, I'm gonna try, really hard, to workout 100 consecutive days." Long about day 91, I was feeling perty darn proud of myself. Snowed that morning. Lots. Neither rain nor snow nor heat nor dark of night.. hell or highwater. Four blocks to gym. Twenty-seven minutes to start car, get snow off, scrape windows. Another, roughly 18 minutes to traverse those 4 blocks to the gym. It was closed.
(Day 92, severe case of bronchitis. Ha)....
Gloom, despair and agony on me....
Proud, PROUD 'new' owner (awhile back) of 1999 Grand Marquis. Proudly drove to watering hole to show my UAW townie friends.. "Oh, nice car - that will run forever." "I know," I tossed in, "my dad always drove (the sister cars) Lincoln Continentals..200K miles on each and every one." Next day, same UAW buddies, same watering hole. Uh huh. Won't start. "Hey, can you guys help me push this across the highway to the mechanic joint? " Did. "Well sir, it's your fuel filter." Whew, that can't be bad can it? "It's inside the gas tank, all in all, it will be $547 to fix." Gulp.
Proud, PROUD 'new' owner of 2008 Chevy Uplander Van. Nice. All grandkids fit in it, wonderful trip to Omaha 3rd day I had it. 5th day I had it, radiator bad ($500+). Inside first month, "Nah, I didn't pay that much for it.. I'll just get liability." Dropped a cig, leaned down to p/u, uh oh, overcorrected, drove into a fence. Engine caught fire. Totaled. Gulp.
Proud, PROUD 'new' owner of 2005 (CONVERTIBLE!) PT Cruiser.. Day 4, (NO VICTOR, please stop this!).. uh huh, engine computer out. Day 12, tranny probs. Some couple $K's later, all is good. Gulp.
Not all too long ago, I very quickly turned $100 into $200 (in like 5 minutes) playing blackjack. If you ever hear "I always win", huh uh, they speaky with forked tongue. On this day, I did, and had the good sense to get up, get out. Next day to Wally World to splurge, buy some fattening stuff I shouldn't, dropped phone on the ground. Uh huh, ruined. To Cricket, phone kaput. Uh huh, $100 for a cheapy replacement.
I have found... situations happen.. Relationships end.. Trivial stuff that seems large happens.. Just when the inclination to shout "Why me Lord?" I look around.. see REALLY crappy stuff happening to others - and I'm ridden with guilt.
Now, when "uh oh" happens, I'm ok. I laugh. It's really all one can do. Were it not for misfortune, I'm not certain one would appreciate fortune.
With age, loss seemingly happens with more frequency. Loss is sad. Yellow light having to pee.. no quarter for a grocery cart.. snow.. bronchitis.. radiators.. engine fires. engine computers.. trannys.. cracked phones.. a relationship ending - ain't loss (in the true sense of the word).
Victor, (trivial) gump happens. Sure, take a quick sigh, but then laugh at it. Love others/all. 'Cause one day others might not be here. Never fear using that word 'love', for one day you might not be able to. Have fun along the way, and remember how blessed each and every one of us is.
Got the runs. Er, I mean, gotta run. Swinging by WallyWorld to poop. Then off to buy a 'new' car. JK.
Gloom, despair, agony happens. Don't forget to Hee Haw about it. Laugh and love along the way, If you're here, I love you. If you're not, please know I love you and miss you.
Love, Victurd
Some other stuff I know... simply because observation, experience, 'been there' tells me so.....
If I have to pee, really REALLY bad, the light will turn yellow.
If I'm out driving, see an Aldi's, thus swerve into their parking lot - I will have 17 cents in change in my pocket.
The automatic flusher thingy at Wally World ALWAYS works when I exit the bathroom and there ain't no one in there. The time that it doesn't work, and I exit... uh huh... "Ahm, hi...howya doin'?"
40 pounds ago, i had this wonderful notion, "I know, I'm gonna try, really hard, to workout 100 consecutive days." Long about day 91, I was feeling perty darn proud of myself. Snowed that morning. Lots. Neither rain nor snow nor heat nor dark of night.. hell or highwater. Four blocks to gym. Twenty-seven minutes to start car, get snow off, scrape windows. Another, roughly 18 minutes to traverse those 4 blocks to the gym. It was closed.
(Day 92, severe case of bronchitis. Ha)....
Gloom, despair and agony on me....
Proud, PROUD 'new' owner (awhile back) of 1999 Grand Marquis. Proudly drove to watering hole to show my UAW townie friends.. "Oh, nice car - that will run forever." "I know," I tossed in, "my dad always drove (the sister cars) Lincoln Continentals..200K miles on each and every one." Next day, same UAW buddies, same watering hole. Uh huh. Won't start. "Hey, can you guys help me push this across the highway to the mechanic joint? " Did. "Well sir, it's your fuel filter." Whew, that can't be bad can it? "It's inside the gas tank, all in all, it will be $547 to fix." Gulp.
Proud, PROUD 'new' owner of 2008 Chevy Uplander Van. Nice. All grandkids fit in it, wonderful trip to Omaha 3rd day I had it. 5th day I had it, radiator bad ($500+). Inside first month, "Nah, I didn't pay that much for it.. I'll just get liability." Dropped a cig, leaned down to p/u, uh oh, overcorrected, drove into a fence. Engine caught fire. Totaled. Gulp.
Proud, PROUD 'new' owner of 2005 (CONVERTIBLE!) PT Cruiser.. Day 4, (NO VICTOR, please stop this!).. uh huh, engine computer out. Day 12, tranny probs. Some couple $K's later, all is good. Gulp.
Not all too long ago, I very quickly turned $100 into $200 (in like 5 minutes) playing blackjack. If you ever hear "I always win", huh uh, they speaky with forked tongue. On this day, I did, and had the good sense to get up, get out. Next day to Wally World to splurge, buy some fattening stuff I shouldn't, dropped phone on the ground. Uh huh, ruined. To Cricket, phone kaput. Uh huh, $100 for a cheapy replacement.
I have found... situations happen.. Relationships end.. Trivial stuff that seems large happens.. Just when the inclination to shout "Why me Lord?" I look around.. see REALLY crappy stuff happening to others - and I'm ridden with guilt.
Now, when "uh oh" happens, I'm ok. I laugh. It's really all one can do. Were it not for misfortune, I'm not certain one would appreciate fortune.
With age, loss seemingly happens with more frequency. Loss is sad. Yellow light having to pee.. no quarter for a grocery cart.. snow.. bronchitis.. radiators.. engine fires. engine computers.. trannys.. cracked phones.. a relationship ending - ain't loss (in the true sense of the word).
Victor, (trivial) gump happens. Sure, take a quick sigh, but then laugh at it. Love others/all. 'Cause one day others might not be here. Never fear using that word 'love', for one day you might not be able to. Have fun along the way, and remember how blessed each and every one of us is.
Got the runs. Er, I mean, gotta run. Swinging by WallyWorld to poop. Then off to buy a 'new' car. JK.
Gloom, despair, agony happens. Don't forget to Hee Haw about it. Laugh and love along the way, If you're here, I love you. If you're not, please know I love you and miss you.
Love, Victurd
Tuesday, June 25, 2019
Dlog.....
If only.....
Take a bow... wow...
We "get it." You humans. Sometimes you forget how fleeting life is. Nuh uh, not us. Hell to the yeah, when every year is actually seven, we're gonna go, do, WITH excitement.
That relationship that's going stale? Well... if you TOO would run to the door when your mate comes home, each and every time, wag your tail with the excitement like they just came home from Iraq, or Afghanistan, or any kinda vacation, then mebbe your coupledom would again be spiffy. Be like me, a 'woof woof', an anxious, loving look out the window - then, when the door opens, I'm allover ya. . Jumping up, trying to lick your face, tail wagging faster'n lightning.
We are ALWAYS up for go, do. The jingle of those car keys? I'm ready. Lemme ride shotgun. June bugs, cicadas be damned, my head is out the window. Faster, Faster! That rush one gets when the hair is blown back! Yum!
Game'a catch? Throw that sucker, I'll make Adalberto Mondesi look like a Little Leaguer.. Sure, I may need to lap up a quick drinka water now and then, but bet your bottom dollar you will tire out before I do.
I mean, come on, there's so much to be happy about. I ain't never gotta put on clothes. Gotta pee? Poop? No problem. Hey, don't get mad - wait a week or so and see how dadgum green the grass is where I pooped.
If you do tire out first, all good. I'll just practice fetching sticks, or maybe give a squirrel a heart attack scurrying him up a tree. I could stop and communicate with all my friends in the neighborhood. Ain't gotta text, email.. we simply bark hello. Gotta check occsionally and make sure it's all good in the doggyhood.
That backscratcher you bought at Dollar General? Ha! All I needta do is rollover on my back, twist, turn - presto, the acorns and baby sticks help.. and carpet, yum, carpet works too (dang I miss shag carpet though)...
Offended that I maybe didn't like what you offered up for dinner? Not too worry, I just might wait a bit, but it's a promise when I'm hungry, I'll eat it (and be thankful.)
I'm happy. Why not? I live a dog's life. Yum. Door open, I'll run like someone left the gate open. And what's with this negative connotation to 'dog ears'. (His homework was 'dog-eared').. I LOVE my ears. See? I put 'em up at attention when you talk to me. Just behind the feel of that backscratchin' on my own is when you rub my ears. Mesmerize me, I'll tap my tail to your beat. And I would NEVER eat your homework!
I love getting dirty. I ain't no prissy-sissy. Mud, ponds, rivers, lakes, creeks - I'm in, and all-in. You won't need no Tide Pods, just hose me off.
Your side of the bed? The other's side of the bed? BORING! Let's snuggle all night. I'll lay next to ya, on toppa ya, simply to show my love - and maybe too so I'll be sure to wake up when you wake up.
I like easy chairs, sofas, loveseats, even the floor. Ya ain't gotta run off to Nebraska Furniture Mart every time you paint the living room, get bored with 'same ole' - I'm happy with whatever we have in the room. I even like jumping up on the coffee table.
Red, blue, Trump, Trump-hater, Christian, Muslim, Jew, Atheist, big, small, fat, skinny, pretty, pretty ugly, white, yellow, red, black? Take me to the doggy park - I'll teach you a lesson on how to get along with those that are differn't. We are family, I got all my Sitters (and Beagles, Labs, Canardlys) with me. Get up every doggy and sing.
Ya know how you bought that gym membership, but you drive right past it on the way to Piggly Wiggly all the time? Don't waste your money any longer. Buy a leash, let's go. I'll pull, lead, smell stuff on this side, that side (just to make sure the path is safe for you) and I'll happily go, any, every time.
Don't mind me staring at you. It's what I, we, dogs do. I adore you, even if you ain't perfect. I look past that. I know too there will be times I don't getta go with you.. and you may be gone for a bit. It's ok. I'll listen for you. I'll watch for you. And, back to Iraq, Afghanistan, vacation, I'll love you each and every time you come home and never get mad at you.
And when I, old Yeller, get all old and gray - don't worry. I won't gripe about the weather, the Government, "Pups nowadays." My love for you is constant. Eternal. I may trudge about a bit slower, but the tail will always wag at 78 speed. I am loyal, hear me snore.
All I ask in return is that you crank up a little Bach or Beethoven come 4th of July time. Oh, and the pound. That's the only place I ain't gonna tag along with you. The Vet? Ah, Ok, but not to the pound.
I love being a dog. Mostly, and more importantly, I love you, whoever you are.
Love, Dogturd
Take a bow... wow...
We "get it." You humans. Sometimes you forget how fleeting life is. Nuh uh, not us. Hell to the yeah, when every year is actually seven, we're gonna go, do, WITH excitement.
That relationship that's going stale? Well... if you TOO would run to the door when your mate comes home, each and every time, wag your tail with the excitement like they just came home from Iraq, or Afghanistan, or any kinda vacation, then mebbe your coupledom would again be spiffy. Be like me, a 'woof woof', an anxious, loving look out the window - then, when the door opens, I'm allover ya. . Jumping up, trying to lick your face, tail wagging faster'n lightning.
We are ALWAYS up for go, do. The jingle of those car keys? I'm ready. Lemme ride shotgun. June bugs, cicadas be damned, my head is out the window. Faster, Faster! That rush one gets when the hair is blown back! Yum!
Game'a catch? Throw that sucker, I'll make Adalberto Mondesi look like a Little Leaguer.. Sure, I may need to lap up a quick drinka water now and then, but bet your bottom dollar you will tire out before I do.
I mean, come on, there's so much to be happy about. I ain't never gotta put on clothes. Gotta pee? Poop? No problem. Hey, don't get mad - wait a week or so and see how dadgum green the grass is where I pooped.
If you do tire out first, all good. I'll just practice fetching sticks, or maybe give a squirrel a heart attack scurrying him up a tree. I could stop and communicate with all my friends in the neighborhood. Ain't gotta text, email.. we simply bark hello. Gotta check occsionally and make sure it's all good in the doggyhood.
That backscratcher you bought at Dollar General? Ha! All I needta do is rollover on my back, twist, turn - presto, the acorns and baby sticks help.. and carpet, yum, carpet works too (dang I miss shag carpet though)...
Offended that I maybe didn't like what you offered up for dinner? Not too worry, I just might wait a bit, but it's a promise when I'm hungry, I'll eat it (and be thankful.)
I'm happy. Why not? I live a dog's life. Yum. Door open, I'll run like someone left the gate open. And what's with this negative connotation to 'dog ears'. (His homework was 'dog-eared').. I LOVE my ears. See? I put 'em up at attention when you talk to me. Just behind the feel of that backscratchin' on my own is when you rub my ears. Mesmerize me, I'll tap my tail to your beat. And I would NEVER eat your homework!
I love getting dirty. I ain't no prissy-sissy. Mud, ponds, rivers, lakes, creeks - I'm in, and all-in. You won't need no Tide Pods, just hose me off.
Your side of the bed? The other's side of the bed? BORING! Let's snuggle all night. I'll lay next to ya, on toppa ya, simply to show my love - and maybe too so I'll be sure to wake up when you wake up.
I like easy chairs, sofas, loveseats, even the floor. Ya ain't gotta run off to Nebraska Furniture Mart every time you paint the living room, get bored with 'same ole' - I'm happy with whatever we have in the room. I even like jumping up on the coffee table.
Red, blue, Trump, Trump-hater, Christian, Muslim, Jew, Atheist, big, small, fat, skinny, pretty, pretty ugly, white, yellow, red, black? Take me to the doggy park - I'll teach you a lesson on how to get along with those that are differn't. We are family, I got all my Sitters (and Beagles, Labs, Canardlys) with me. Get up every doggy and sing.
Ya know how you bought that gym membership, but you drive right past it on the way to Piggly Wiggly all the time? Don't waste your money any longer. Buy a leash, let's go. I'll pull, lead, smell stuff on this side, that side (just to make sure the path is safe for you) and I'll happily go, any, every time.
Don't mind me staring at you. It's what I, we, dogs do. I adore you, even if you ain't perfect. I look past that. I know too there will be times I don't getta go with you.. and you may be gone for a bit. It's ok. I'll listen for you. I'll watch for you. And, back to Iraq, Afghanistan, vacation, I'll love you each and every time you come home and never get mad at you.
And when I, old Yeller, get all old and gray - don't worry. I won't gripe about the weather, the Government, "Pups nowadays." My love for you is constant. Eternal. I may trudge about a bit slower, but the tail will always wag at 78 speed. I am loyal, hear me snore.
All I ask in return is that you crank up a little Bach or Beethoven come 4th of July time. Oh, and the pound. That's the only place I ain't gonna tag along with you. The Vet? Ah, Ok, but not to the pound.
I love being a dog. Mostly, and more importantly, I love you, whoever you are.
Love, Dogturd
Sunday, June 23, 2019
On the 12th Day of Christmas my true love gave to me.... (I was bored, sorry)
You forgot didn't you....
Twelve drummers drumming....
Dozen. The dime was introduced in 1795. Tweren't too long after, vendors started advertising all kinda food goodies (apples, peaches, eggs, oranges) as "Dime a dozen." Sure, dime went a lot further back then, but, still meant abundent in quantity and/or very cheap, something that's easily acquired.
I was gonna share the 'why' as to eggs are sold as a dozen, but it really ain't very interesting. Oh, ok damnit: "Under a system that came to be known as English units, which was a combination of old Anglo-Saxon and Roman systems of measurement, eggs were sold by the dozen. It made sense to sell them that way because one egg could be sold for a penny or 12 for a shilling, which was equal to 12 pennies. " Seez? Toldya. You just wasted 12 seconds of your life reading that. Sorry (but it was your call.)
I read the news today oh boy - and I came to my Horoscope, Libra. First thought was "Is/are 1/12th of the folks on the planet suspected/supposed to have a day just like me?" Why 12? Something about the position of the planets and the sun and the moon on the Ecliptic at the moment of birth, Earth, Wind and Fire mighta been in the definition too, but then again, I think mebbe that's a musicial group and it was actually Air, Fire, Water and Earth and me and you and a dog named Boo.. The difference in Astronomy and Astrology? Who cares. Kinda like soccer. Least to me anyways.
"In all my work, I try to say - 'You may be given a load of sour lemons, why not try to make a dozen lemon meringue pies" That "Maya" lady.....
Clock on the wall has 12 hours. We gots 12 months a year. Twelve inches in a foot. (Band camp, long ago, friend of mine worked in the ER at a local hospital. "COME HERE COME HERE" she said loudly in the breakroom. "YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!! Ok, the patient had a ruler tattooed on his uh huh. And no, I didn't ask if an inch really equaled an inch. Just thought bizarre. 12 dozen is gross BTW.
In that one song, George Thorogood orders a total of 12 bourbons, scotches and beers.
Jacob has 12 sons, Jesus 12 disciples, Twelve tribes were started after Moses led his people out of Egypt. Twelve is also XII. The largest number with one syllable? Yep, twelve. Under British law, one can buy at pet at 12. (I wish they'd do the same and make kids wait for cell phones here until 12.)
"If there are nine guys auditioning and they're all gorgeous, I have an advantage, because gorgeous guys are a dime a dozen. But if they need someone else - like a goofy guy with bad hair who is just okay - then that's me. And finally, the other 2 percent who audition are geniuses that I could never touch. " Tom Hanks
Twelve men have walked on the moon. The Beatles had 12 studio albums. Our bodies have 12 cranial nerves, 12 ribs, and 12 systems. Twelve knights were seated at King Arthur's roundtable. On the color wheel, there are 12 basic hues.
"Man who bring home a dozen roses has ulterior motive." Victurd
Carpenter's ruler has 12 subdivisions, pharmacists and jewelers use the 12 ounce-pound, miners divide shillings into 12 pence, and bakers who dropped outta school in 4th grade give out one too many a donut.
"People have asked me a lot of times, because I didn't hit a lot, how long a dozen bats would last me. Depending on the weight and the model I was using at the time, I would say 8 to 10 cookouts." Bob Uecker.
Sold as 12: Beer. Pop. Condoms. I just report it, i don't write it. Oysters. Golf balls (6 for Saturday, 6 for Sunday). 12 face cards in a deck. In bowling, a perfect game is, uh huh, 12 strikes.
Almost twelve o'clock, I'm outta here.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..... uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, otcho, nueve, diez, once, doce.
By Henry Gibson the XII-th....
Love, Victurd
Twelve drummers drumming....
Dozen. The dime was introduced in 1795. Tweren't too long after, vendors started advertising all kinda food goodies (apples, peaches, eggs, oranges) as "Dime a dozen." Sure, dime went a lot further back then, but, still meant abundent in quantity and/or very cheap, something that's easily acquired.
I was gonna share the 'why' as to eggs are sold as a dozen, but it really ain't very interesting. Oh, ok damnit: "Under a system that came to be known as English units, which was a combination of old Anglo-Saxon and Roman systems of measurement, eggs were sold by the dozen. It made sense to sell them that way because one egg could be sold for a penny or 12 for a shilling, which was equal to 12 pennies. " Seez? Toldya. You just wasted 12 seconds of your life reading that. Sorry (but it was your call.)
I read the news today oh boy - and I came to my Horoscope, Libra. First thought was "Is/are 1/12th of the folks on the planet suspected/supposed to have a day just like me?" Why 12? Something about the position of the planets and the sun and the moon on the Ecliptic at the moment of birth, Earth, Wind and Fire mighta been in the definition too, but then again, I think mebbe that's a musicial group and it was actually Air, Fire, Water and Earth and me and you and a dog named Boo.. The difference in Astronomy and Astrology? Who cares. Kinda like soccer. Least to me anyways.
"In all my work, I try to say - 'You may be given a load of sour lemons, why not try to make a dozen lemon meringue pies" That "Maya" lady.....
Clock on the wall has 12 hours. We gots 12 months a year. Twelve inches in a foot. (Band camp, long ago, friend of mine worked in the ER at a local hospital. "COME HERE COME HERE" she said loudly in the breakroom. "YOU GOTTA SEE THIS!! Ok, the patient had a ruler tattooed on his uh huh. And no, I didn't ask if an inch really equaled an inch. Just thought bizarre. 12 dozen is gross BTW.
In that one song, George Thorogood orders a total of 12 bourbons, scotches and beers.
Jacob has 12 sons, Jesus 12 disciples, Twelve tribes were started after Moses led his people out of Egypt. Twelve is also XII. The largest number with one syllable? Yep, twelve. Under British law, one can buy at pet at 12. (I wish they'd do the same and make kids wait for cell phones here until 12.)
"If there are nine guys auditioning and they're all gorgeous, I have an advantage, because gorgeous guys are a dime a dozen. But if they need someone else - like a goofy guy with bad hair who is just okay - then that's me. And finally, the other 2 percent who audition are geniuses that I could never touch. " Tom Hanks
Twelve men have walked on the moon. The Beatles had 12 studio albums. Our bodies have 12 cranial nerves, 12 ribs, and 12 systems. Twelve knights were seated at King Arthur's roundtable. On the color wheel, there are 12 basic hues.
"Man who bring home a dozen roses has ulterior motive." Victurd
Carpenter's ruler has 12 subdivisions, pharmacists and jewelers use the 12 ounce-pound, miners divide shillings into 12 pence, and bakers who dropped outta school in 4th grade give out one too many a donut.
"People have asked me a lot of times, because I didn't hit a lot, how long a dozen bats would last me. Depending on the weight and the model I was using at the time, I would say 8 to 10 cookouts." Bob Uecker.
Sold as 12: Beer. Pop. Condoms. I just report it, i don't write it. Oysters. Golf balls (6 for Saturday, 6 for Sunday). 12 face cards in a deck. In bowling, a perfect game is, uh huh, 12 strikes.
Almost twelve o'clock, I'm outta here.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways..... uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis, siete, otcho, nueve, diez, once, doce.
By Henry Gibson the XII-th....
Love, Victurd
Monday, June 17, 2019
The eyes have it......
I thought maybe I was a goner. Band camp, awhile back, I was at an establishment with fellow Bubbas (again, that's our group of po' po' pitiful me men who've run off every mate we've ever smooched due to our own oopsies, so, we gather with good frequency to berate them. HA).
Anyways, I hadta pee. So, without looking, I jumped up (well, as close to 'jump' as a 66 yr old can) and I was immediately (accidentally) clobbered by a biker dude headed the opposite direction. He was roughly 6'4", two-fitty, and I am thinking "uh oh, he's gonna eat me faster'n a chocolate donut hole")... Just then it was "SIR, SIR.. I'm sorry!" Only it wasn't me that said it, it was him.
I smiled, muttered, "I'm sorry too," went on my way and cussed myself for being judgmental all the way to the John.
On this day, a biker dude was kinda close behind me... road was a four lane 30mph road, alluvasudden he pulls around me to pass - only he backs off the gas to equal the speed limit I was going. Then, he gestures the ole "roll down the window" gesture. Gulp. Victor, you judgmental basta', remember bumping into that guy on your way to the John? Uh huh. Then it'll all be ok. OK. As I complied and got my window down, I heard, "Hi sir.. just wanted to let you know your blinker is on." I giggled, felt 66 years old, wrote it off to wrinkles, said "thanks" with a smile and continued my 5mph under the speed limit we old farts drive with.
Twelve years ago, I sat in the office of an optician. I've been to church before. I've even been to Hawaii, and yes, Wrigley Field too - but I ain't never been in an optician's office. After nearly 30 minutes of silence, eye doc looks at me and says "Victor, how old are you?" 54. "Well, you've got cataracts in both eyes."
So, a few weeks later, I'm back in his office (I've been to church more than once, to Hawaii twice, but Wrigley Field only once) and he takes some kinda tool, whacks out my left eye lens (I'm left looking at egg whites, that's all I saw.. and that's prolly what my eyeball looked like.).. Then, he puts in a new, fake lens, and wow, clear. Very clear. Ain't been thataway in awhile. Same procedure on the right eye. Wow, even clearer. THANKS Doc!
So... I walked in the grocery store, saw real life colors like I ain't seen in years... not to mention greater clarity, definition of the derrieres of female shoppers (sorry, kinda, not).. And I spent the next few days rejoicing, throwing away the 8 pairs of $1.49 'readers' I've compiled over the years.. You see, I now see, and life is very good.
I no longer read the paper using my extended Olive Oil arms. I can now look in the mirror and say things like "Damn, you've aged" and "Victor, that ear hair is prolly three-quarters of an inch long, geez." All good.
I got onea them 'close up' lenses.. and one for seeing far away. Not many years after, this coincided with retirement from softball, cause, haveya ever tried to catch a pop-up with one eye that now sees close-up, and one that sees from a distance? It ain't an easy thing. (Neither is navigating tweezers to pull an ear hair when one eye is closeup, one is for distance - kinda like life, the struggle is real.)
Victor, you're rambling..is there a point to all this? Well mebbe. Yes? And that point is?
It's kinda that I find myself liking to use the close-up eye the most. You know, like 'waking up and smelling the roses' that are in the garden now, not the ones you wanna plant and see years from now. It's today, not five years from now, not when I'm maybe 80..it's today. Tomorrow ain't promised, so use that 'see far away' eyeball for when you're at a stop sign, ya gotta squint (close the close up eye) to see things at a distance.
I've never been any good with compound interest anyways - but my focus now is on today, Monday.. not Friday, or July, or 2020.... Live the day. Today. See it close up. Appreciate.
I''ve wandered from the Bubba table a time or two to visit, get to know somea them biker dudes. Nice, nice folks. Damn me. I even appreciate their 'burn-outs' now, and I can even read all the patches on their jackets.
I'm enjoying grandkids that are 2, 6 and 8. Sure, I think of them one day in high school, college, married, as a parent - but today is yummy. Close up. Worry later about "I do" and treasure today and hearing "papa" as one of the first ever said words. Save that far away eye for when you're at the stoplight and ya gotta see traffic in the distance.
I've lived a life where I ain't had very good long range planning. That's ok, I can live with that. At 9:28am Central, my long range planning is lunch today.
I may go to church Sunday. Might even plan for Hawaii, or a train ride to Wrigley - but now, right now, I'm gonna jump in my car and head for the hot tub at the Community Center.
In my late 40's, I found myself alone, soon to be divorced. I joined the Community Center, figured I'd lift some weights, ride the elliptical for a bit, sit in the sauna, then head to the Jacuzzi where I'd be met by a score of beautiful, fit, perfect, scantilly clad gorgeous women. I did all that (lifted weights, the elliptical, the sauna, and headed for the Jacuzzi).. Minutes after i got there, the 70-something age women's arthritis class was making their way out of the pool, and to, uh huh, the Jacuzzi. Ha.
Today, hey, mebbe somea them women won't look too bad to me! I'm going, today, now, 9:37am Monday, 6/17/19.
Victor, your blinker is on. I know, my checkenginelight too.
Band camp, I'd bought an ole Mercury clunker from the daughter of the owner who'd passed. Nice car. The code to punch in on the door to get in was his birth date, 07-06-1920. I didn't change it. Also, his checkenginelight was on - BUT, he'd covered it up with electrical tape so it wouldn't bug him. I like your style Mister. Me too. I'll worry about that.... tomorrow. I'm gonna live today.
Happy today,
Love, Victurd
Anyways, I hadta pee. So, without looking, I jumped up (well, as close to 'jump' as a 66 yr old can) and I was immediately (accidentally) clobbered by a biker dude headed the opposite direction. He was roughly 6'4", two-fitty, and I am thinking "uh oh, he's gonna eat me faster'n a chocolate donut hole")... Just then it was "SIR, SIR.. I'm sorry!" Only it wasn't me that said it, it was him.
I smiled, muttered, "I'm sorry too," went on my way and cussed myself for being judgmental all the way to the John.
On this day, a biker dude was kinda close behind me... road was a four lane 30mph road, alluvasudden he pulls around me to pass - only he backs off the gas to equal the speed limit I was going. Then, he gestures the ole "roll down the window" gesture. Gulp. Victor, you judgmental basta', remember bumping into that guy on your way to the John? Uh huh. Then it'll all be ok. OK. As I complied and got my window down, I heard, "Hi sir.. just wanted to let you know your blinker is on." I giggled, felt 66 years old, wrote it off to wrinkles, said "thanks" with a smile and continued my 5mph under the speed limit we old farts drive with.
Twelve years ago, I sat in the office of an optician. I've been to church before. I've even been to Hawaii, and yes, Wrigley Field too - but I ain't never been in an optician's office. After nearly 30 minutes of silence, eye doc looks at me and says "Victor, how old are you?" 54. "Well, you've got cataracts in both eyes."
So, a few weeks later, I'm back in his office (I've been to church more than once, to Hawaii twice, but Wrigley Field only once) and he takes some kinda tool, whacks out my left eye lens (I'm left looking at egg whites, that's all I saw.. and that's prolly what my eyeball looked like.).. Then, he puts in a new, fake lens, and wow, clear. Very clear. Ain't been thataway in awhile. Same procedure on the right eye. Wow, even clearer. THANKS Doc!
So... I walked in the grocery store, saw real life colors like I ain't seen in years... not to mention greater clarity, definition of the derrieres of female shoppers (sorry, kinda, not).. And I spent the next few days rejoicing, throwing away the 8 pairs of $1.49 'readers' I've compiled over the years.. You see, I now see, and life is very good.
I no longer read the paper using my extended Olive Oil arms. I can now look in the mirror and say things like "Damn, you've aged" and "Victor, that ear hair is prolly three-quarters of an inch long, geez." All good.
I got onea them 'close up' lenses.. and one for seeing far away. Not many years after, this coincided with retirement from softball, cause, haveya ever tried to catch a pop-up with one eye that now sees close-up, and one that sees from a distance? It ain't an easy thing. (Neither is navigating tweezers to pull an ear hair when one eye is closeup, one is for distance - kinda like life, the struggle is real.)
Victor, you're rambling..is there a point to all this? Well mebbe. Yes? And that point is?
It's kinda that I find myself liking to use the close-up eye the most. You know, like 'waking up and smelling the roses' that are in the garden now, not the ones you wanna plant and see years from now. It's today, not five years from now, not when I'm maybe 80..it's today. Tomorrow ain't promised, so use that 'see far away' eyeball for when you're at a stop sign, ya gotta squint (close the close up eye) to see things at a distance.
I've never been any good with compound interest anyways - but my focus now is on today, Monday.. not Friday, or July, or 2020.... Live the day. Today. See it close up. Appreciate.
I''ve wandered from the Bubba table a time or two to visit, get to know somea them biker dudes. Nice, nice folks. Damn me. I even appreciate their 'burn-outs' now, and I can even read all the patches on their jackets.
I'm enjoying grandkids that are 2, 6 and 8. Sure, I think of them one day in high school, college, married, as a parent - but today is yummy. Close up. Worry later about "I do" and treasure today and hearing "papa" as one of the first ever said words. Save that far away eye for when you're at the stoplight and ya gotta see traffic in the distance.
I've lived a life where I ain't had very good long range planning. That's ok, I can live with that. At 9:28am Central, my long range planning is lunch today.
I may go to church Sunday. Might even plan for Hawaii, or a train ride to Wrigley - but now, right now, I'm gonna jump in my car and head for the hot tub at the Community Center.
In my late 40's, I found myself alone, soon to be divorced. I joined the Community Center, figured I'd lift some weights, ride the elliptical for a bit, sit in the sauna, then head to the Jacuzzi where I'd be met by a score of beautiful, fit, perfect, scantilly clad gorgeous women. I did all that (lifted weights, the elliptical, the sauna, and headed for the Jacuzzi).. Minutes after i got there, the 70-something age women's arthritis class was making their way out of the pool, and to, uh huh, the Jacuzzi. Ha.
Today, hey, mebbe somea them women won't look too bad to me! I'm going, today, now, 9:37am Monday, 6/17/19.
Victor, your blinker is on. I know, my checkenginelight too.
Band camp, I'd bought an ole Mercury clunker from the daughter of the owner who'd passed. Nice car. The code to punch in on the door to get in was his birth date, 07-06-1920. I didn't change it. Also, his checkenginelight was on - BUT, he'd covered it up with electrical tape so it wouldn't bug him. I like your style Mister. Me too. I'll worry about that.... tomorrow. I'm gonna live today.
Happy today,
Love, Victurd
Saturday, June 15, 2019
Who the heck is Ramjit Raghav?
Patience my friend!
As always, vast majority of the below is plagiarized.
When Sonora Louise Smart Dodd was 16, her father became a widower and was left to raise Dodd and her five younger brothers alone. In 1909 she was listening to a Mother's Day Sermon and she realized the need for a day to celebrate fathers.
She drew up a petition for the first Father's Day to be celebrated in early June on her father's birthday. It was signed by only two, and presented to local clergy in the Spokane, Washington area. They liked the idea, but convinced her they needed more time, thus, it's celebrated later in June to give them more time to prepare. Happened, finally, on June 19th, 1910 at the YMCA in Spokane.
Dodd spent the better part of the next 62 years traveling the US, campaigning for it to become a national holiday. Finally, it was formally proposed in 1970, but it took Tricky Dick's signature (wouldn't you know it) in 1972 to become a formality nationwide.
"My dad is my hero." Harry Connick, Jr.
Ramjit Raghav? Glad you asked. He's the oldest known man to sire a child. He was 96 years young when his SECOND child was born. He first became a father much earlier when his first child was born when he was 94. Bless him and the cradle he robbed.
The, as always, long and winding road tells us Don Messick was the voice of Papa Smurf (as well as Scooby Doo, Ranger Smith on Yogi Bear, as well as Astro and Rudi on the Jetsons.
The ONLY #1 single recorded by father-daughter was Frank and Nancy Sinatra's "Something Stupid" in 1967.
"My dad's not here, but he's watching in heaven," Bubba Watson
If she can do it, so can I. The male seahorse carries the eggs and gives birth to the babies.
In 1950, after a Washington Post music critic gave Harry Truman's daughter Margaret's concert a negative review, he came out swinging. "Some day I hope to meet you and when that happens you'll need a new nose, a lot of beefsteak for black eyes and perhaps a supporter below." Mebbe this is where "Give 'em hell Harry" originated?
A.A. Milne created Winnie the Poof for his son, Christopher Robin. Pooh was based on Robin's teddy bear Edward, a gift Christopher had received on his first birthday. Father/son visits to the London zoo led to Christopher's favorite bear Winnie. Pooh comes from the name of Christopher's pet swan.
Stevie Wonder's song "Isn't she lovely" is about his newborn daughter Aisha, and if you listen carefully, you can hear her crying in the background.
Dick Hoyt has pushed and pulled his son Rick, who has cerebral palsy, through hundreds of marathons and triathlons. Rick cannot speak, but using a custom-designed computer he has been able to communicate. They ran their first five-mile race together when Rick was in high school. When they were done, Rick sent his father this message: "Dad, when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!"
Next time you take a swig at a drinking fountain, please know the drinking fountain was invented by Halsey Taylor in 1912 as a tribute to her father who succumbed to typhoid fever after drinking contaminated public water in 1896.
"I've never been jealous. Not even when my dad finished 5th grade a year before I did." Jeff Foxworrthy.
Dad is believed to have originated because it's most often the babies first syllable(s) "Da-da"... Mom is believed to have originated from the sound of baby suckling on mom's breasts. I don't write tit (er, it) I just repor tit, er, it.
(Moms, don't get mad!) "My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mom would come out and say "You're tearing up the grass!" Dad would reply "We're not raising grass, we're raising boys." Harmon Killebrew.
By virtue of this being my own blog, you're stuck with a note about my father. He was fair, fun, smart, handsome and enjoyed the heck outta life. A very good father, husband, person. My sister and I were raised by our folks take "If we can afford it, if you won't get hurt, or hurt others, then sure, it's ok for you to do."
Happy Father's Day.....
Love, Victurd
(I also owe thanks, i think, to my father for mostly silently mostly under the breath creating the name Victurd.)
As always, vast majority of the below is plagiarized.
When Sonora Louise Smart Dodd was 16, her father became a widower and was left to raise Dodd and her five younger brothers alone. In 1909 she was listening to a Mother's Day Sermon and she realized the need for a day to celebrate fathers.
She drew up a petition for the first Father's Day to be celebrated in early June on her father's birthday. It was signed by only two, and presented to local clergy in the Spokane, Washington area. They liked the idea, but convinced her they needed more time, thus, it's celebrated later in June to give them more time to prepare. Happened, finally, on June 19th, 1910 at the YMCA in Spokane.
Dodd spent the better part of the next 62 years traveling the US, campaigning for it to become a national holiday. Finally, it was formally proposed in 1970, but it took Tricky Dick's signature (wouldn't you know it) in 1972 to become a formality nationwide.
"My dad is my hero." Harry Connick, Jr.
Ramjit Raghav? Glad you asked. He's the oldest known man to sire a child. He was 96 years young when his SECOND child was born. He first became a father much earlier when his first child was born when he was 94. Bless him and the cradle he robbed.
The, as always, long and winding road tells us Don Messick was the voice of Papa Smurf (as well as Scooby Doo, Ranger Smith on Yogi Bear, as well as Astro and Rudi on the Jetsons.
The ONLY #1 single recorded by father-daughter was Frank and Nancy Sinatra's "Something Stupid" in 1967.
"My dad's not here, but he's watching in heaven," Bubba Watson
If she can do it, so can I. The male seahorse carries the eggs and gives birth to the babies.
In 1950, after a Washington Post music critic gave Harry Truman's daughter Margaret's concert a negative review, he came out swinging. "Some day I hope to meet you and when that happens you'll need a new nose, a lot of beefsteak for black eyes and perhaps a supporter below." Mebbe this is where "Give 'em hell Harry" originated?
A.A. Milne created Winnie the Poof for his son, Christopher Robin. Pooh was based on Robin's teddy bear Edward, a gift Christopher had received on his first birthday. Father/son visits to the London zoo led to Christopher's favorite bear Winnie. Pooh comes from the name of Christopher's pet swan.
Stevie Wonder's song "Isn't she lovely" is about his newborn daughter Aisha, and if you listen carefully, you can hear her crying in the background.
Dick Hoyt has pushed and pulled his son Rick, who has cerebral palsy, through hundreds of marathons and triathlons. Rick cannot speak, but using a custom-designed computer he has been able to communicate. They ran their first five-mile race together when Rick was in high school. When they were done, Rick sent his father this message: "Dad, when we were running, it felt like I wasn't disabled anymore!"
Next time you take a swig at a drinking fountain, please know the drinking fountain was invented by Halsey Taylor in 1912 as a tribute to her father who succumbed to typhoid fever after drinking contaminated public water in 1896.
"I've never been jealous. Not even when my dad finished 5th grade a year before I did." Jeff Foxworrthy.
Dad is believed to have originated because it's most often the babies first syllable(s) "Da-da"... Mom is believed to have originated from the sound of baby suckling on mom's breasts. I don't write tit (er, it) I just repor tit, er, it.
(Moms, don't get mad!) "My father used to play with my brother and me in the yard. Mom would come out and say "You're tearing up the grass!" Dad would reply "We're not raising grass, we're raising boys." Harmon Killebrew.
By virtue of this being my own blog, you're stuck with a note about my father. He was fair, fun, smart, handsome and enjoyed the heck outta life. A very good father, husband, person. My sister and I were raised by our folks take "If we can afford it, if you won't get hurt, or hurt others, then sure, it's ok for you to do."
Happy Father's Day.....
Love, Victurd
(I also owe thanks, i think, to my father for mostly silently mostly under the breath creating the name Victurd.)
Tuesday, June 11, 2019
Thank you for being a........
Teacher........
Traveled down a road and back again
Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant
I'm not ashamed to say
I hope it always will stay this way
My hat is off, won't you stand up and take a bow.
Impact. To me, that's the first word I think of when I think of 'teacher.'
When we, as parents, long to hire a baby sitter for escape.. or.. have both eyes focused on The Voice, GOT, the playoffs... CNN... Fox, whatever... and that youthful interruption comes - I certainly admit there were times I didn't handle it well. Tried, but admittedly, occasionally slipped.
Why did you say all that Victor? Because it makes appreciation for someone choosing to be a teacher all-the-more sweet. You mean, they CHOSE to work with, be with, kids? Nice.
I believe suffice to say we've all been impacted by teachers. The yummy ones that were "demanding but supportive... caring.. interested in us.... excited about what he/she taught.. had a good sense of humor..."
As with any field.. then there were the ones that could be demeaning, boring, dull, intimidating, not interested in us... seems to me, these types didn't stick around too long.
The really good ones that can detect little things like shyness.. and how they'd never embarrass in front of the entire class, but would pull aside at another moment and challenge/converse in a more comfortable setting.
Reinforcement of self-esteem - which, in turn leads to increased motivation and learning. Once heard an elementary school principal tell the teachers "catch 'em being good" and OH does that go a long way. I enjoyed when a teacher would read your essay and then take the time to add a comment like "I really enjoyed this..I'd love to see you take it even further and maybe add (enter suggestion here):".. Versus, maybe denoting "B-" at the top of the page - and that's it. (It's probably known I can occasionally be a wise-acre, particularly in writing, and I once had a boss tell me in a salary review "You need to work on your emails." HA! And that was IT, the end. )
We all have our favorites.. unique styles they had.. I'll never forget the teacher who would be reading to us, it became clear our minds were elsewhere, and she would continue to read but raise her voice to ULTRA LOUD in (successful) effort to get us back on track....
Smiles. So important not only in life but in education. Another favorite teacher would take a reasonably long path to make a point, teach the lesson - and finish with (a smile and asking) "Dig?" That was 45-50 years ago that was said, and to this day I remember how it was fun, provoked "yes.. no".. asking for more explanation.. yada.
Goofily, as a kid I remember when I'd see a teacher in the grocery store and I''d think to myself "WHAT? You mean they're a PERSON too? They have lives outside of the schoolhouse?" Special, special they are/were.
Of course the long arm of the law. Pushups, setups, and uh huh, back then, paddles. Detention, "We don't do that at Fulton High School." <-- that was the edict my cousin the teacher/administrator laid down - and it must have worked as they named the gym after him. His brother continued in his ways, and that too musta worked as they named the baseball field in his honor. Back then, we didn't live in fear, but we cared about what our teachers related about us (and our performance) back to our folks.
I was lucky to have taught for a total of six years. Stupid I was to get out. With a growing family, costs therein associated (and an admitted dummy who got behind in his continuing education) I ran... I went to load airplanes for $10,000 more a year. I repeat, I left to go load airplanes for $10,000 more a year. I'm reminded of the pictures teachers would hand us, and we're left to deduct "what's wrong with this picture."
Teacher = special. Many of us are fortunate to stay in contact with teachers we had. Respect, thanks, and still maybe a little "better be on my best behavior around him/her."
We lost a really really good one yesterday. MMO. I was fortunate to work with MMO for five years. She took on educating children with behavior difficulties. Her choice. Those were the types that made me wanna run. Not her. EASY to tell she was caring. Easy to tell she didn't let up. Easy to see her catching them doing good. Consistent. Dedicated. Smiling. Special.
I hope you too have memories of your favs.. Teachers = special. Folks who WANNA be with kids.
Thank your for being a teacher.
Traveled down a road and back again
Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant
I'm not ashamed to say
I hope it always will stay this way
My hat is off, won't you stand up and take a bow.
(The 'pal' part, at first, didn't seem to fit.. but with age, comes becoming a pal with former teachers. I think that's ok. You? Dig?)
Love, Victurd
Traveled down a road and back again
Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant
I'm not ashamed to say
I hope it always will stay this way
My hat is off, won't you stand up and take a bow.
Impact. To me, that's the first word I think of when I think of 'teacher.'
When we, as parents, long to hire a baby sitter for escape.. or.. have both eyes focused on The Voice, GOT, the playoffs... CNN... Fox, whatever... and that youthful interruption comes - I certainly admit there were times I didn't handle it well. Tried, but admittedly, occasionally slipped.
Why did you say all that Victor? Because it makes appreciation for someone choosing to be a teacher all-the-more sweet. You mean, they CHOSE to work with, be with, kids? Nice.
I believe suffice to say we've all been impacted by teachers. The yummy ones that were "demanding but supportive... caring.. interested in us.... excited about what he/she taught.. had a good sense of humor..."
As with any field.. then there were the ones that could be demeaning, boring, dull, intimidating, not interested in us... seems to me, these types didn't stick around too long.
The really good ones that can detect little things like shyness.. and how they'd never embarrass in front of the entire class, but would pull aside at another moment and challenge/converse in a more comfortable setting.
Reinforcement of self-esteem - which, in turn leads to increased motivation and learning. Once heard an elementary school principal tell the teachers "catch 'em being good" and OH does that go a long way. I enjoyed when a teacher would read your essay and then take the time to add a comment like "I really enjoyed this..I'd love to see you take it even further and maybe add (enter suggestion here):".. Versus, maybe denoting "B-" at the top of the page - and that's it. (It's probably known I can occasionally be a wise-acre, particularly in writing, and I once had a boss tell me in a salary review "You need to work on your emails." HA! And that was IT, the end. )
We all have our favorites.. unique styles they had.. I'll never forget the teacher who would be reading to us, it became clear our minds were elsewhere, and she would continue to read but raise her voice to ULTRA LOUD in (successful) effort to get us back on track....
Smiles. So important not only in life but in education. Another favorite teacher would take a reasonably long path to make a point, teach the lesson - and finish with (a smile and asking) "Dig?" That was 45-50 years ago that was said, and to this day I remember how it was fun, provoked "yes.. no".. asking for more explanation.. yada.
Goofily, as a kid I remember when I'd see a teacher in the grocery store and I''d think to myself "WHAT? You mean they're a PERSON too? They have lives outside of the schoolhouse?" Special, special they are/were.
Of course the long arm of the law. Pushups, setups, and uh huh, back then, paddles. Detention, "We don't do that at Fulton High School." <-- that was the edict my cousin the teacher/administrator laid down - and it must have worked as they named the gym after him. His brother continued in his ways, and that too musta worked as they named the baseball field in his honor. Back then, we didn't live in fear, but we cared about what our teachers related about us (and our performance) back to our folks.
I was lucky to have taught for a total of six years. Stupid I was to get out. With a growing family, costs therein associated (and an admitted dummy who got behind in his continuing education) I ran... I went to load airplanes for $10,000 more a year. I repeat, I left to go load airplanes for $10,000 more a year. I'm reminded of the pictures teachers would hand us, and we're left to deduct "what's wrong with this picture."
Teacher = special. Many of us are fortunate to stay in contact with teachers we had. Respect, thanks, and still maybe a little "better be on my best behavior around him/her."
We lost a really really good one yesterday. MMO. I was fortunate to work with MMO for five years. She took on educating children with behavior difficulties. Her choice. Those were the types that made me wanna run. Not her. EASY to tell she was caring. Easy to tell she didn't let up. Easy to see her catching them doing good. Consistent. Dedicated. Smiling. Special.
I hope you too have memories of your favs.. Teachers = special. Folks who WANNA be with kids.
Thank your for being a teacher.
Traveled down a road and back again
Your heart is true, you're a pal and a confidant
I'm not ashamed to say
I hope it always will stay this way
My hat is off, won't you stand up and take a bow.
(The 'pal' part, at first, didn't seem to fit.. but with age, comes becoming a pal with former teachers. I think that's ok. You? Dig?)
Love, Victurd
Monday, June 03, 2019
I shoulda just asked Holzhauer,,,, or Google,,
I'm kinda reminded of John Wayne... as always, my blog is seemingly nonsensical, but there really is a madness to my method.
Forgive me, for I said "Bullshit."
OK, after that line, I've probably run off a few, but that's ok, I happen to think bullshit is/can be, a fun word.
Band camp, I went with two sisters (I was dating one of them) to a Balloon Festival in Northern Missouri. Said sister's father is a wonderful man, he truly is. the kind that literally ain't gonna hurt a flea.
He does, though, tend to admonish. I was welcomed with open arms by the other sister's boyfriend, because for several years HE had been on the receiving end of "Pops"s storytelling. Now, it was me.
As happens with age, we oft times repeat stories thinking each and every time it';s the first time we'd told the story.
As happens with age, we oft times repeat stories thinking each and every time it';s the first time we'd told the story.
Pops was that way as well.. and with pretty decent frequency. There was a story, mostly true I'm certain, where Pops (and wife) were in a boat that suffered some pretty severe mechanical issues. It was headed out-of-control and believe the original, true, story was it was a non-event, and the boat was under control in no time.
Seeing that I'd never heard this story, Pops had told it to me a few times prior to the trip to see the Balloons. The first time I heard it, it was "And I could see the Captain had passed out, so I ran to the front of the boat, pushed him aside and took control." BULLSHIT, the sisters chimed in. Have you ever been in a situation where you really really wanted to laugh but circumstances said "Nuh uh, ya can't."? I was.
The second time I heard this story, Pops had taken over the wheel to guide the boat, "I got it to go to shore and I swear to goodness, and I ended up maneuvering it into a nearby swimming pool." BULLSHIT, the sisters offered. OK, I couldn't help it any longer, I laughed. Not at him, with him.
The third time I heard this story, yes, the Balloon trip, it was "and there we were, the boat was out of control headed for shore.. just about that time, two natives ran out of the jungle, they both knew what to do, how to guide/stop the boat" and BULLSHIT! I wanted to rollover, but I was driving, so couldn't.
Victor, whothehell is Holzhauer? Ah, just hold your horses life-preserver-breath, we'll get there.
Enough about Pops. Enough, except just know he's a cool dude, has a truly affectionate smile, never met a stranger, and yeah, the flea part.
Recently, my car shot craps. Junked it, bought another. Four days after purchase, the engine computer went out. I didn't know what was wrong at the time...............so,
I went online. I found a site, for a one-time fee of $5, I could directly ask a question to a bonafide Chrysler mechanic. (Word red-underlined 'bonafide', again, but I went to Google, asked, and that's how they say it's spelled, so I call BULLSHIT red-line.)
So, I asked my $5 question, I admittedly got really good, IMMEDIATE advice on what the problem might be, so immediate, in fact, I thought it had to be a bot. But, I took the advice, ran, and the mechanic I took it to confirmed the result of my $5 question, and after paying them to fix it, life was again good.
The other day, I was at Happy Hour with lifelong friends.. and onea my buddies said "First thing I do every morning is look at my bank account." Victor, the hell does this have to do with your story, and whointhehell is Holzhauer?
Glad you asked. After hearing my buddy say that about his account, I started doing the same. Last week there were four $9.99 movie rentals on my account. Fixed that problem. This morning, there was a $34 payment to a company called 'Just Answer dot com." I did that on porpoise so them dudes wouldn't track me down!
Apparently, prior to me asking my $5 question, there was a 'terms and conditions' part that was longer, bigger'n the Sunday Kansas City Star. Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm an idiot, I don't/won't read those things, so I scrolled down, clicked "yes" I agree... "it's $5, all that for $5, but I agree."
The $34 payment on my bank account, had an 800 #, yes, it was the Just Answer dot com folks, i called... and I hadn't taken my high BP meds yet, ha. I've pulled the "Let's pretend I'm irate, I'm not, but let's pretend" statement outta my pockets a few times in life - but this morning, I prefaced with "I'm not gonna cuss" to let them know I was angered by their $34 fee.
Turns out, they sent me an email asking me how I thought the $5 question/answer went, was I satisfied, all that... I don't read those things, don't answer, and thought to myself "yeah, yeah, yeah."
I guess, with me ignoring the way-too-long terms and conditions and the email, I'd unwittingly signed up for the monthly membership of $34 to be able to ask any question on any subject to Just Answer Dot Com. In their defense, I read reviews, good reviews, folks who'd had car questions, legal/lawyer questions, yada.
Along side all those rave reviews were MANY from folks like me who thought they'd received their $5 answer, all was well and good, then, they too got the membership fee taken from their bank account.
Where was I? I think you were gonna tell us who Holzhauer is Victor. Oh yeah, he's the guy on the Jeopardy streak that's won over a million and is set to break the alltime record tonight. That, him, he's who I shoulda asked.
So, again, I'd told the friendly customer service rep "I ain't gonna cuss" so he'd know the severity of my mood. He was pretty good in that he acted like he'd never heard a complaint like mine, ever. I bet he goes home at night and says "Oh honey, it's been a rough day, I had 276 pissed off customers in a row today."
He told me "well, we sent you and email, you didn't cancel, so your membership started." I tend to believe all people are good. It's bit me in the butt on more than one occasion. He agreed to cancel my membership, but would not refund my $34.
Just then.......
Two natives ran out of the jungle, tapped me on the shoulder, said "Sick him Victor!!" and I slipped. Forgive me, I cussed. "THIS is BULLSHIT! I agree your company has/gives good advice, but the membership thing, from my stinky feet, is deceptive, bad business, unscrupulous, etc."
Thanks to Pops, two natives, and BULLSHIT, he begrudgingly agreed to refund my $34.
So... I shoulda asked Holzhauer... or Google.. or Sherwin Williams.. somebody.. just not Just Answer Dot Com.
Victor, you mentioned John Wayne, whatsup with that? Oh come on, I call bullshit. You gotta remember his line in the movie.. "I'm not gonna hit ya.. the hell I'm not."
By Henry BS Gibson,
Love, Victurd
Forgive me, for I said "Bullshit."
OK, after that line, I've probably run off a few, but that's ok, I happen to think bullshit is/can be, a fun word.
Band camp, I went with two sisters (I was dating one of them) to a Balloon Festival in Northern Missouri. Said sister's father is a wonderful man, he truly is. the kind that literally ain't gonna hurt a flea.
He does, though, tend to admonish. I was welcomed with open arms by the other sister's boyfriend, because for several years HE had been on the receiving end of "Pops"s storytelling. Now, it was me.
As happens with age, we oft times repeat stories thinking each and every time it';s the first time we'd told the story.
As happens with age, we oft times repeat stories thinking each and every time it';s the first time we'd told the story.
Pops was that way as well.. and with pretty decent frequency. There was a story, mostly true I'm certain, where Pops (and wife) were in a boat that suffered some pretty severe mechanical issues. It was headed out-of-control and believe the original, true, story was it was a non-event, and the boat was under control in no time.
Seeing that I'd never heard this story, Pops had told it to me a few times prior to the trip to see the Balloons. The first time I heard it, it was "And I could see the Captain had passed out, so I ran to the front of the boat, pushed him aside and took control." BULLSHIT, the sisters chimed in. Have you ever been in a situation where you really really wanted to laugh but circumstances said "Nuh uh, ya can't."? I was.
The second time I heard this story, Pops had taken over the wheel to guide the boat, "I got it to go to shore and I swear to goodness, and I ended up maneuvering it into a nearby swimming pool." BULLSHIT, the sisters offered. OK, I couldn't help it any longer, I laughed. Not at him, with him.
The third time I heard this story, yes, the Balloon trip, it was "and there we were, the boat was out of control headed for shore.. just about that time, two natives ran out of the jungle, they both knew what to do, how to guide/stop the boat" and BULLSHIT! I wanted to rollover, but I was driving, so couldn't.
Victor, whothehell is Holzhauer? Ah, just hold your horses life-preserver-breath, we'll get there.
Enough about Pops. Enough, except just know he's a cool dude, has a truly affectionate smile, never met a stranger, and yeah, the flea part.
Recently, my car shot craps. Junked it, bought another. Four days after purchase, the engine computer went out. I didn't know what was wrong at the time...............so,
I went online. I found a site, for a one-time fee of $5, I could directly ask a question to a bonafide Chrysler mechanic. (Word red-underlined 'bonafide', again, but I went to Google, asked, and that's how they say it's spelled, so I call BULLSHIT red-line.)
So, I asked my $5 question, I admittedly got really good, IMMEDIATE advice on what the problem might be, so immediate, in fact, I thought it had to be a bot. But, I took the advice, ran, and the mechanic I took it to confirmed the result of my $5 question, and after paying them to fix it, life was again good.
The other day, I was at Happy Hour with lifelong friends.. and onea my buddies said "First thing I do every morning is look at my bank account." Victor, the hell does this have to do with your story, and whointhehell is Holzhauer?
Glad you asked. After hearing my buddy say that about his account, I started doing the same. Last week there were four $9.99 movie rentals on my account. Fixed that problem. This morning, there was a $34 payment to a company called 'Just Answer dot com." I did that on porpoise so them dudes wouldn't track me down!
Apparently, prior to me asking my $5 question, there was a 'terms and conditions' part that was longer, bigger'n the Sunday Kansas City Star. Yeah, yeah, yeah... I'm an idiot, I don't/won't read those things, so I scrolled down, clicked "yes" I agree... "it's $5, all that for $5, but I agree."
The $34 payment on my bank account, had an 800 #, yes, it was the Just Answer dot com folks, i called... and I hadn't taken my high BP meds yet, ha. I've pulled the "Let's pretend I'm irate, I'm not, but let's pretend" statement outta my pockets a few times in life - but this morning, I prefaced with "I'm not gonna cuss" to let them know I was angered by their $34 fee.
Turns out, they sent me an email asking me how I thought the $5 question/answer went, was I satisfied, all that... I don't read those things, don't answer, and thought to myself "yeah, yeah, yeah."
I guess, with me ignoring the way-too-long terms and conditions and the email, I'd unwittingly signed up for the monthly membership of $34 to be able to ask any question on any subject to Just Answer Dot Com. In their defense, I read reviews, good reviews, folks who'd had car questions, legal/lawyer questions, yada.
Along side all those rave reviews were MANY from folks like me who thought they'd received their $5 answer, all was well and good, then, they too got the membership fee taken from their bank account.
Where was I? I think you were gonna tell us who Holzhauer is Victor. Oh yeah, he's the guy on the Jeopardy streak that's won over a million and is set to break the alltime record tonight. That, him, he's who I shoulda asked.
So, again, I'd told the friendly customer service rep "I ain't gonna cuss" so he'd know the severity of my mood. He was pretty good in that he acted like he'd never heard a complaint like mine, ever. I bet he goes home at night and says "Oh honey, it's been a rough day, I had 276 pissed off customers in a row today."
He told me "well, we sent you and email, you didn't cancel, so your membership started." I tend to believe all people are good. It's bit me in the butt on more than one occasion. He agreed to cancel my membership, but would not refund my $34.
Just then.......
Two natives ran out of the jungle, tapped me on the shoulder, said "Sick him Victor!!" and I slipped. Forgive me, I cussed. "THIS is BULLSHIT! I agree your company has/gives good advice, but the membership thing, from my stinky feet, is deceptive, bad business, unscrupulous, etc."
Thanks to Pops, two natives, and BULLSHIT, he begrudgingly agreed to refund my $34.
So... I shoulda asked Holzhauer... or Google.. or Sherwin Williams.. somebody.. just not Just Answer Dot Com.
Victor, you mentioned John Wayne, whatsup with that? Oh come on, I call bullshit. You gotta remember his line in the movie.. "I'm not gonna hit ya.. the hell I'm not."
By Henry BS Gibson,
Love, Victurd
Tuesday, May 28, 2019
If I had a hammer.....
Life brings, or at least it seems to me, round pegs, square holes.
You know the kids wooden hammering toy. Goldilocks-like. "Too big", "too small", "too hot", "too cold." JUST RIGHT. Where does one fit in?
I ain't sure I've ever found just right.
We hear "dare to be different" all the time. Yet we seemingly thirst for fitting in.
I enjoy Classic cars. I sometimes put an eye on Nascar. I know "lefty loosy righty tighty" but I have no desire to be a mechanic, or a gearhead, or, to follow the yellow brick road to the Indy 500.
I like golf, I do, but it doesn't consume me. I frankly enjoy swinging by the Corner Bar, but if I didn't go for three months, I'd be ok.
I really enjoy the newspaper, but if I never ever pickup a paperback book I'd be fine and dandy. It just ain't for me. Read away if you like, I guess I'm weird. My obsession with the newspaper must be about 80% because if I go on vacation I've got the option to "hold and deliver all" newspapers missed, or, "simply begin again" on such and sucha date. I do the latter.
Virtually every school, community center, airport, yada, have "Lost and Found"s. They ain't never empty. So, some things, like me I guess, stay lost forever.
Witness the fact I could never be a Jehovah Witness. All consuming ain't me.
Would I then be lost? Or, am I found?
I'm ok if I never place my butt on a Harley. Many would go ape if that feeling ever existed within for them.
Can I still be unique if I never get a tattoo? I've long joked about getting a tattoo. "down there".. in teenie tiny letters that spell "Morticians suck". You know, you gotta go down makin' 'em laugh.
But, am I weird because I enjoy laughter too much? I can be serious, but I know folks who would look at me and scoff because I rejoice in frivolity mebbe a tad too much.
It's said there is no "I" in team, but can one occupy the bench, mebbe play centerfield if he/she has a "mind of their own?"
I don't fish. I don't eat fish. WHAT? Nope, not even crustaceans. I will one day be sieved into my urn, and I'll be fine with the fact there ain't a speck of salmon within.
There are folks that fit into amusement parks. They literally travel the world to experience the newest, fastest, biggest turned rollercoasters of the land Nomme. All I see is my taught neck wondering exactly which steel girder will ultimately take me down. Man at work - there is no such thing as perfection - as in, what if the guy folding the parachute into place is hungover? Got bronchitis? Going thru relationship strife? What if Rosie or Ronnie the riveter, forgets to tighten a critical bolt on the Zambezi Zinger? Drop me off here Uber.
Yes, I realize this blog is weird, nonsensical, but mebbe that's my fit. My porridge. It's my bed, but I rarely make it.
I truly admire passion. Mind outta gutter, yes, I enjoy that passion, but I'm ok with life if I don't fit sometimes, don't have the equal passion another has about important things in their lives. I can name maybe two Civil War battles, but some make a life of it. All good, just not for me.
Round peg, square hole.
Older I get, less I give a rats.
Awhile back /i was sitting in new hire orientation at Home Depot. Me and a little friendly gal all of 20, a new mom I'd learned in our conversation before the trainer got there. Trainer got there. Put us thru a solid hour of (boring, sorry, it's just me) things about what we can/can't/should/shouldn't do under their employ. "Are there any questions?" trainer asked upon completion. "Yes, I have one" the new mom, 20 yr old lass piped up with. I'm thinking she's gonna ask about "what if my kid is sick?" or, "what kind of shoes should we wear?" and she comes with "Can I have pink hair when I work the checkout?"
Her thing. Her just right porridge.
I love much. Basketball, grandkids, driving with my top down, weekly Happy Hour with lifelong townie friends, the KC Star, Royals/Chiefs, golf, many trades, but master of none. Consumed a hunnerd percent of the time by none.
Older I get, the more I'm ok if I don't necessarily fit, ain't pigeon holed.
If I had a hammer.. I'd hammer in the morning.. but probably not at night.
Love, a wierdo
You know the kids wooden hammering toy. Goldilocks-like. "Too big", "too small", "too hot", "too cold." JUST RIGHT. Where does one fit in?
I ain't sure I've ever found just right.
We hear "dare to be different" all the time. Yet we seemingly thirst for fitting in.
I enjoy Classic cars. I sometimes put an eye on Nascar. I know "lefty loosy righty tighty" but I have no desire to be a mechanic, or a gearhead, or, to follow the yellow brick road to the Indy 500.
I like golf, I do, but it doesn't consume me. I frankly enjoy swinging by the Corner Bar, but if I didn't go for three months, I'd be ok.
I really enjoy the newspaper, but if I never ever pickup a paperback book I'd be fine and dandy. It just ain't for me. Read away if you like, I guess I'm weird. My obsession with the newspaper must be about 80% because if I go on vacation I've got the option to "hold and deliver all" newspapers missed, or, "simply begin again" on such and sucha date. I do the latter.
Virtually every school, community center, airport, yada, have "Lost and Found"s. They ain't never empty. So, some things, like me I guess, stay lost forever.
Witness the fact I could never be a Jehovah Witness. All consuming ain't me.
Would I then be lost? Or, am I found?
I'm ok if I never place my butt on a Harley. Many would go ape if that feeling ever existed within for them.
Can I still be unique if I never get a tattoo? I've long joked about getting a tattoo. "down there".. in teenie tiny letters that spell "Morticians suck". You know, you gotta go down makin' 'em laugh.
But, am I weird because I enjoy laughter too much? I can be serious, but I know folks who would look at me and scoff because I rejoice in frivolity mebbe a tad too much.
It's said there is no "I" in team, but can one occupy the bench, mebbe play centerfield if he/she has a "mind of their own?"
I don't fish. I don't eat fish. WHAT? Nope, not even crustaceans. I will one day be sieved into my urn, and I'll be fine with the fact there ain't a speck of salmon within.
There are folks that fit into amusement parks. They literally travel the world to experience the newest, fastest, biggest turned rollercoasters of the land Nomme. All I see is my taught neck wondering exactly which steel girder will ultimately take me down. Man at work - there is no such thing as perfection - as in, what if the guy folding the parachute into place is hungover? Got bronchitis? Going thru relationship strife? What if Rosie or Ronnie the riveter, forgets to tighten a critical bolt on the Zambezi Zinger? Drop me off here Uber.
Yes, I realize this blog is weird, nonsensical, but mebbe that's my fit. My porridge. It's my bed, but I rarely make it.
I truly admire passion. Mind outta gutter, yes, I enjoy that passion, but I'm ok with life if I don't fit sometimes, don't have the equal passion another has about important things in their lives. I can name maybe two Civil War battles, but some make a life of it. All good, just not for me.
Round peg, square hole.
Older I get, less I give a rats.
Awhile back /i was sitting in new hire orientation at Home Depot. Me and a little friendly gal all of 20, a new mom I'd learned in our conversation before the trainer got there. Trainer got there. Put us thru a solid hour of (boring, sorry, it's just me) things about what we can/can't/should/shouldn't do under their employ. "Are there any questions?" trainer asked upon completion. "Yes, I have one" the new mom, 20 yr old lass piped up with. I'm thinking she's gonna ask about "what if my kid is sick?" or, "what kind of shoes should we wear?" and she comes with "Can I have pink hair when I work the checkout?"
Her thing. Her just right porridge.
I love much. Basketball, grandkids, driving with my top down, weekly Happy Hour with lifelong townie friends, the KC Star, Royals/Chiefs, golf, many trades, but master of none. Consumed a hunnerd percent of the time by none.
Older I get, the more I'm ok if I don't necessarily fit, ain't pigeon holed.
If I had a hammer.. I'd hammer in the morning.. but probably not at night.
Love, a wierdo
Monday, May 27, 2019
Karen Jacobsen musta been on vacation.
A few years back, I was driving South in good ole Missouri to a wedding outside a very small town, in a barn @ someone's house. GPS told me it was roughly 38 minutes to get there. I drove the 'assigned' "Turn left in a quarter mile", "veer right at the intersection" commandments for well over an hour. Uh oh. Uh huh, I was lost, WITH GPS. Finally I came to a T at a fence line - and "You have reached your destination." Not a bride, a groomsman, flower girl, crying mom, or even a cow in sight.
I'd never had that happen. I was actually 20 miles into Kansas when the wedding was in Missouri. Victor, whotheheck is Karen Jacobsen? Glad you asked. She is the calming voice of Garmin/GPS.
Oft times I will drive somewhere (be it known I hate hate hate tailgaters.. I get very nervous in filled to the gills traffic) - so, I will rebel against GPS instructions, purposely make a turn against the grain, and will hear "Recalculating." Karen had to be on vacation that day for she guided me as if I had entered "Middle of nowhere" as my destination.
I pinched Karen that day, she awakened, I reentered my destination - she recalculated (correctly this time) how to get me there, i made it to the wedding in time, all was good.
The bride, two kids of her own partially grown, he, three kids mostly grown, and age difference between bride/groom - happy to report, they recalculated life and it's worked out very well.
Life - it seems to frequently throw us in those (oh shit...uh oh.. NOW WHAT) moments of recalculation. Sometimes due to our own error, but oft times, beyond our control. It don't come with no GPS (wouldn't it be groovy if it did?) so we're left to navigate ourselves "turn left here", "in a quarter mile get in the middle lane" and wouldn't it be nice to hear "pullover at the next exit, you need a break, a cup of coffee, and maybe a cig if you smoke."
OH the recalculations of life. Marriage. NOW WHAT? Children. WHERE'S THE MANUAL? Divorce - "entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after me" HUH? Whar'd ya go? That tweren't on our GPS plan?
Eating too much. Recalculating sizes in Kohls, or, on Amazon. I cannot believe what my 'friend' just said to me. Recalculating.
You name it, life recalculates it. Weather. Financial woes or yippees. Health. Death. The remote control mid a boring show. Writing a blog and you've had too much coffee and all of a sudden it hits you and you have to get up and go to the............ oh, sorry. Shoulda left that one out. Hey, recalculating and #2 seemingly have a lot in common.
I'm a bit envious of "Karen." She probably drives an Audi, selects/cooks any cut of beef she desires, has dessert on toppa that, still maintains a size 4 dress, AND gets laid five times a week. Her kids are undoubtedly in the church choir, and never get lost at the swimming pool or park. Things are well planned, and if something is amiss by golly, her vocal cords have the recalculation on the tip of her tongue.
I'd never had that happen. I was actually 20 miles into Kansas when the wedding was in Missouri. Victor, whotheheck is Karen Jacobsen? Glad you asked. She is the calming voice of Garmin/GPS.
Oft times I will drive somewhere (be it known I hate hate hate tailgaters.. I get very nervous in filled to the gills traffic) - so, I will rebel against GPS instructions, purposely make a turn against the grain, and will hear "Recalculating." Karen had to be on vacation that day for she guided me as if I had entered "Middle of nowhere" as my destination.
I pinched Karen that day, she awakened, I reentered my destination - she recalculated (correctly this time) how to get me there, i made it to the wedding in time, all was good.
The bride, two kids of her own partially grown, he, three kids mostly grown, and age difference between bride/groom - happy to report, they recalculated life and it's worked out very well.
Life - it seems to frequently throw us in those (oh shit...uh oh.. NOW WHAT) moments of recalculation. Sometimes due to our own error, but oft times, beyond our control. It don't come with no GPS (wouldn't it be groovy if it did?) so we're left to navigate ourselves "turn left here", "in a quarter mile get in the middle lane" and wouldn't it be nice to hear "pullover at the next exit, you need a break, a cup of coffee, and maybe a cig if you smoke."
OH the recalculations of life. Marriage. NOW WHAT? Children. WHERE'S THE MANUAL? Divorce - "entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after me" HUH? Whar'd ya go? That tweren't on our GPS plan?
Eating too much. Recalculating sizes in Kohls, or, on Amazon. I cannot believe what my 'friend' just said to me. Recalculating.
You name it, life recalculates it. Weather. Financial woes or yippees. Health. Death. The remote control mid a boring show. Writing a blog and you've had too much coffee and all of a sudden it hits you and you have to get up and go to the............ oh, sorry. Shoulda left that one out. Hey, recalculating and #2 seemingly have a lot in common.
I'm a bit envious of "Karen." She probably drives an Audi, selects/cooks any cut of beef she desires, has dessert on toppa that, still maintains a size 4 dress, AND gets laid five times a week. Her kids are undoubtedly in the church choir, and never get lost at the swimming pool or park. Things are well planned, and if something is amiss by golly, her vocal cords have the recalculation on the tip of her tongue.
Is this the real life?
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go
A little high, little low
Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me, to me.
Is this just fantasy?
Caught in a landslide
No escape from reality
Open your eyes
Look up to the skies and see
I'm just a poor boy, I need no sympathy
Because I'm easy come, easy go
A little high, little low
Anyway the wind blows, doesn't really matter to me, to me.
Moose, Hos, Cain, Esky, Vargie... oops, free agency, smalltown market, "recalculating, bring up 4 kids from Omaha, two from Northwest Arkansas." Recalculate, cause there's no crying in baseball - Ray.
Sorry.. I gotta go. No, not that again. I gotta go to work. You see, Karen/GPS weren't invented until I was well into "it's too damn late now to worry about a 401K"... I haven't the foggiest idea how long or how short I'll live. So.. a day or twelve before Social Security payday I've found myself recalculating, transferring funds from Savings to my gotta spend Checking account.
Thus, I'm outta retirement, working a few hours a week at my fun little golf course. And, I needs to get my butt going, shower, and be there by 10.
Mama, truly, always said "The secret to success is how you handle plan B."
"Victor, to get to the golf course in Kearney, you need to merge onto I-35 and continue for 7 miles." Screw that Karen, and oh BTW, your slip is showing. I'm heading up Highway 33. More scenic. Barns, cows. Green acres is the place to be.
May your ventures in life go well, and if you wander off the suggested path, hey, it's what we children of the 60's do. To every "Why" it's "Why not?" To every thing, turn, turn, turn. Sorry, that was kinda corny.
Love, Victurd
Wednesday, May 22, 2019
The back nine......
Life really likens golf. If you've never played, well yeah, ya really have.
The front nine.....great concern for score, do good, pass others... Your attire is well thought out, and you just busted open a 'sleeve' (box of 3 balls) of Pro V-1's, the most desirous ball in golf. So, life, I'm ready... I wanna win.. I'm dressing to keep up/surpass the Jones's... My golf ball (car/house/neighborhood) is the best there can be.
I am so intent on the front nine, I don't notice the Canadian geese on the pond by the first hole. I did catch a glimpse of that doe on #4, but I'm eyeballing where my ball is in relation to the green, the wind, my lie, what club to use, so the doe isn't on the radar.
I check my score after every hole, don't wanna be embarrassed in this thing called golf (life).. Must keep up.. must surpass.. blinders.. full steam ahead. My concentration is such, I hear the others in the foursome talking, I pleasantly grin, but my mind ain't there. I'm all about 'winning.'
The 9th hole is a tough one, so in spite of what they say about keeping a loose grip, I hold the club tightly. A few shots later, we tally the halfway score.. work to do.. some good, some bad.. but I must do better.
We stop in the clubhouse for a beer, a diet coke, a hot dog.. a bag of Fritos. Not standing on the green green grass gives me the capability to listen more closely to my buddies. They're enjoying, I'm semi frantic, more worried about later getting in my car to "I won" or "I lost."
Driving to the 10th tee, something comes over me. I look at my playing partners.. i remember being on the same little league team with him. That one, he and I were in the 8th grade play "Robin Hood" together. The 4th guy, he was a jovial as the day I'd met him 50+ years ago. i don't know how he does it, what, losing his mate after all these years.
I'm tired. Golf/life does that to you. I can't hit the ball near as far on the back nine. My body doesn't have the energy it did on the 1st hole. For some reason, I'm more concerned that my buddies do well, and how I play is of little significance.
I hit one in the woods. A few holes ago, that woulda really bugged me, but, my buddy hollered out right after we watched it go into never-never land, "Cpme on Vic, you're gonna hit this one right on the green!" And I did. Two holes later he bonked one in the woods and I got to play the role of supporter.
I realized it'd been at least four holes since I peeked at the scorecard.
I finally laid my eyes on that doe again. This time, she was accompanied by the buck and the yearling. My eyes following in amazement, and in thanks for nature. I barely heard "Vic, you're away, it's your turn," I'd learned a little bit from the front nine of golf (life) so it didn't take long to pick the hopeful right club. Older, but much more relaxed than i was on the front, a fairly decent shot followed.
I paid a lot more attention to conversation on the back nine. Buddies came close to being tearful as they discussed ailing relatives, hip and knee replacements, cataracts, and the price of tea in China (ha!)..
I heard things. Nature. Friends. The sound of the ball off the club. I saw things. The geese, my buddies smiles, the afflictions that slowed them down but were accompanied by smiling faces.
The tune of winning changed. We all were winning. I'm so very glad golf (life), my buddies, moved me to "stop and smell the roses/fertilizer/Ben Gay/geese droppings, yada." The front nine of golf left me in such a hurry, I didn't make time for that. I was climbing the ladder, or trying to, when I shoulda been putting buckaroos away as the day would finally come, needing a ladder for a job, I could say "there are people we can pay to do that."
I recall my score that day, but it didn't control me, make me sad, make me happy, on the way home. I very much though, recall the hugs, goodbyes, laughter, as we departed. Recognition of being blessed.
We made plans to one day do it all again.. and yes, /i think I remember hearing "The Good Lord Willing."
The back nine of golf (life) is so enjoyable, even if I am not near as physically able as I/we were in our youth.
Band camp, a couple years ago, my buddy Rick called me to relate "Spring Softball is about to begin, we're having practice at the City Park at 3pm on Sunday." I truly was thankful of Rick's call, what, me being the eldest on our team. In fact I related to him, "Rick, I keep waiting for the day, year, when my phone doesn't ring regarding softball." Quickly, Rick shot back "But Vic, if I didn't ask you, then I would be the oldest one on our team." Ha.
I appreciate every phone call, text, email, instant message, smile, hug, "Love you", "love you too", high five, knuckles..laugh.. so much more today than I did on the front nine of golf (life.)
I can't hit it as far today, I buy boxes of recycled golf balls (24 for $9.99) insteada those $39.99 a box of 12 Pro V-1's... Somehow, that's ok, and all the more enjoyable.
Sure, "hitting them straight", staying outta the rough/woods matters to me today, but thanks to old age (and mebbe high blood pressure and anti anxiety meds) it really, really doesn't bug me. Besides, it's only fitty cents a ball.
May you enjoy the back nine of life.
Love, Victurd
The front nine.....great concern for score, do good, pass others... Your attire is well thought out, and you just busted open a 'sleeve' (box of 3 balls) of Pro V-1's, the most desirous ball in golf. So, life, I'm ready... I wanna win.. I'm dressing to keep up/surpass the Jones's... My golf ball (car/house/neighborhood) is the best there can be.
I am so intent on the front nine, I don't notice the Canadian geese on the pond by the first hole. I did catch a glimpse of that doe on #4, but I'm eyeballing where my ball is in relation to the green, the wind, my lie, what club to use, so the doe isn't on the radar.
I check my score after every hole, don't wanna be embarrassed in this thing called golf (life).. Must keep up.. must surpass.. blinders.. full steam ahead. My concentration is such, I hear the others in the foursome talking, I pleasantly grin, but my mind ain't there. I'm all about 'winning.'
The 9th hole is a tough one, so in spite of what they say about keeping a loose grip, I hold the club tightly. A few shots later, we tally the halfway score.. work to do.. some good, some bad.. but I must do better.
We stop in the clubhouse for a beer, a diet coke, a hot dog.. a bag of Fritos. Not standing on the green green grass gives me the capability to listen more closely to my buddies. They're enjoying, I'm semi frantic, more worried about later getting in my car to "I won" or "I lost."
Driving to the 10th tee, something comes over me. I look at my playing partners.. i remember being on the same little league team with him. That one, he and I were in the 8th grade play "Robin Hood" together. The 4th guy, he was a jovial as the day I'd met him 50+ years ago. i don't know how he does it, what, losing his mate after all these years.
I'm tired. Golf/life does that to you. I can't hit the ball near as far on the back nine. My body doesn't have the energy it did on the 1st hole. For some reason, I'm more concerned that my buddies do well, and how I play is of little significance.
I hit one in the woods. A few holes ago, that woulda really bugged me, but, my buddy hollered out right after we watched it go into never-never land, "Cpme on Vic, you're gonna hit this one right on the green!" And I did. Two holes later he bonked one in the woods and I got to play the role of supporter.
I realized it'd been at least four holes since I peeked at the scorecard.
I finally laid my eyes on that doe again. This time, she was accompanied by the buck and the yearling. My eyes following in amazement, and in thanks for nature. I barely heard "Vic, you're away, it's your turn," I'd learned a little bit from the front nine of golf (life) so it didn't take long to pick the hopeful right club. Older, but much more relaxed than i was on the front, a fairly decent shot followed.
I paid a lot more attention to conversation on the back nine. Buddies came close to being tearful as they discussed ailing relatives, hip and knee replacements, cataracts, and the price of tea in China (ha!)..
I heard things. Nature. Friends. The sound of the ball off the club. I saw things. The geese, my buddies smiles, the afflictions that slowed them down but were accompanied by smiling faces.
The tune of winning changed. We all were winning. I'm so very glad golf (life), my buddies, moved me to "stop and smell the roses/fertilizer/Ben Gay/geese droppings, yada." The front nine of golf left me in such a hurry, I didn't make time for that. I was climbing the ladder, or trying to, when I shoulda been putting buckaroos away as the day would finally come, needing a ladder for a job, I could say "there are people we can pay to do that."
I recall my score that day, but it didn't control me, make me sad, make me happy, on the way home. I very much though, recall the hugs, goodbyes, laughter, as we departed. Recognition of being blessed.
We made plans to one day do it all again.. and yes, /i think I remember hearing "The Good Lord Willing."
The back nine of golf (life) is so enjoyable, even if I am not near as physically able as I/we were in our youth.
Band camp, a couple years ago, my buddy Rick called me to relate "Spring Softball is about to begin, we're having practice at the City Park at 3pm on Sunday." I truly was thankful of Rick's call, what, me being the eldest on our team. In fact I related to him, "Rick, I keep waiting for the day, year, when my phone doesn't ring regarding softball." Quickly, Rick shot back "But Vic, if I didn't ask you, then I would be the oldest one on our team." Ha.
I appreciate every phone call, text, email, instant message, smile, hug, "Love you", "love you too", high five, knuckles..laugh.. so much more today than I did on the front nine of golf (life.)
I can't hit it as far today, I buy boxes of recycled golf balls (24 for $9.99) insteada those $39.99 a box of 12 Pro V-1's... Somehow, that's ok, and all the more enjoyable.
Sure, "hitting them straight", staying outta the rough/woods matters to me today, but thanks to old age (and mebbe high blood pressure and anti anxiety meds) it really, really doesn't bug me. Besides, it's only fitty cents a ball.
May you enjoy the back nine of life.
Love, Victurd
Tuesday, May 21, 2019
Heroes in a half shell....
TMNT. The little fellas first came on the TV screen in 1987. Many a spin around the living room watching back then, several bags of candy attained thanks to Michelangelo at Halloween time.
The old man says, "When you're driving down a country road and you see a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a post turtle. You know he didn't get up there by himself. He doesn't belong there; you wonder who put him there; he can't get anything done while he's up there; and you just want to help the poor, dumb thing down."
Going full circle, now, my grandson spins around the room, watches, and has a trunk full of TMNT toys. Sitting down one day to enjoy with him, many similarities, but they've added a little hip-hop to the music in keeping with the times. Cool.
Interspersed, and stolen from Google, a kid walks into the library and asks the librarian for a book on turtles. Librarian replies, "Hard back?" The kid replies, "Yeah, with little heads."
This morning, someone posted a video of a turtle on its back. Nowhere, no way to run, hide. Immobile. Life is all about trying to be Pollyanna, but sometimes, we all get this feeling I reckon, stuck on our back, howintheheck, whatintheheck do I do now?
Kinda reminds me of the Hank and Harley story. There were camping, found themselves awake, on their backs, staring at the stars. "What are you thinking Harley?"... "I'm thinking someone stole our tent." See? You too can blog, all ya gotta do is steal crap.
Back to the turtle on its back. Thankfully, there was a husband turtle too, and he pushed, shoved, until momma turtle was finally upright, and off they went. Then again, it very well coulda been a wifey turtle that was trying to upright a hubby turtle, but then again folklore would have "Why would she wanna do that?"
Feel free to make any assumptions you like: An old rancher is talking about politics with a young man from the city. He compares a politician to a "post turtle". The young man doesn't understand and asks him what a post turtle is.
The old man says, "When you're driving down a country road and you see a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a post turtle. You know he didn't get up there by himself. He doesn't belong there; you wonder who put him there; he can't get anything done while he's up there; and you just want to help the poor, dumb thing down."
The longest trip I ever took was to St. Thomas. I think Branson was 2nd longest, ha. Whilst there, got to go on a snorkeling cruise. Sea turtles are amazing creatures. They've been around for 110 million years. (Editor's note: Really? Howinthehell do they know that?)... They can migrate as far as 1400 miles, but they always go back to where they were born. Kinda like growing up in Liberty I guess.
After hatching, it may take a week for them to dig themselves out of the nest. They emerge at night, move to the ocean and remain there, solitary, until it's time to mate. Sea turtles live about 80 years. Holy crap, I could move to the ocean and remain there, solitary, until it's time to mate, but I don't think I got 80 more years in me! I'm done! Go ahead, flip me on my back...
What do you call a turtle with an addiction to pastries? Donutello.
There are differing statistics on how long a sea turtle can stay under water without emerging. I think it was the guy who claimed they were 110 million years old that came up with "months and months." One place said "30 minutes".. another "5 hours, though a feeding dive is usually 5 minutes or so." The lady in charge of the snorkeling cruise thingy, she would tap us on the shoulder when she saw a sea turtle, and it was usually like 5-7 minutes they'd stay down and feed, then surface to the top. Pretty cool to observe.
What kind of pictures do turtles take? Shelfies. (Thus, the name, snapping turtles.)
One time, band camp, I heard a story about a man and his wife that had separated. She moved in with her sister. Once, she put the remnants of an ashtray in the trash bag, set it in the garage, and uh huh, it caught on fire. Holy crap. Victor, what's this got to do with turtles? Hang on. Anyways, fire department was called. Hear tell there was pretty severe damage, but thankfully, it was reported "all ok, everyone got out, no one was burned." A couple days later, hubby went to pickup his child at the sister's place, and his wifey came to door... she had a huge hickey on her neck. Laughing on the inside, he pretended to be frantic on the outside "OMG. OMG. I THOUGHT YOU SAID NO ONE GOT BURNED?!!!".. Moral, she shoulda worn a turtleneck. There, there's your turtle correlation.
OK. I'm turtled out. May your life be lived rightside up. I'm moving to the ocean and will remain there, solitary, until it's time to mate.... Seeya what.. 2064 or so?
Cowabonga,
Love, Victurtle
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