I wonder what Piggy Wiggly does with all the eggs cartons that have 11 unbroken eggs?

You do it, I seenya. I do it, every time.  We buy a six pack of Pepsi, we throw it in the cart. Same with a box of a dozen donuts.  A 12 pack of those little yummy cinnamon applesauce thingies.... Doest thou take the time to stop, hey what's that sound...  nope, oops, wrong lyrics... does thou take the time to open Sesame...  crap, that ain't it either. OPEN. INSPECT. BUY (or not.)  No, but...but... eggs?

At day's end, the Piggly will have at least eight cartons of eggs with only 11 good eggs.  The hell do they do with 'em?

Do they put em all in one basket, then sell em for like 20% off?  I always heard "Don't put your eggs all in one basket."  And I suppose that's twue, it's reawwy reawwy twue.

Life is hard.  Victor, are you saying buy powdered eggs instead?  Ahm, no, but nice swing... level it out, ya got a bit of an uppercut.

Diversify.

Risk mitigation.  Victor, don't do it, I'll fall asleep if you advise.  Eh, right you are.  I've had Port wine, but, I ain't had no Portfolio... but, the message, don't invest it all in one place, right Blockbuster fans? Elevator operators?  Yeah, what goes up must come down, but sometimes they get buttons and don't need ya on there anymores. 

What about Sony?  (Victor, you're prolly the only fool on the planet that remembers that commercial... and I must say, in spite of some tariffs, I think Sony is doing quite well.)

What about marriage?  (Ahm, Victor.  Don't swat me, but ain't you got the rule you [of all people] don't fork out advice on, relationships, quitting smoking, and.... investing?  Yeah, mebbe the yoke is on me, I have dropped a few baskets in my lifetime.)

That said, I see so many wonderful, happy couples.... marriages that thrive on exclusivity.  Then TURN LEFT Victor, here. NOW.  But, but, but.... I had my eyes done years ago... my left eye is for close up, it's hard for me to see cars comin' from thata direction.  Then Victor have mono surgery next time....... Nah, the light down there is red now, I can go, but tyvm.

Is there a purpose to this blog Mr. Olsteen...er, I mean Victurd?

Yeah, plan B.  Ya mean like having a gf waiting in the wings?  Yeah, I mean NO.  I mean like on investments....  if, mebbe in a dating situation, then yeah, don't just "Put me in coach, I'm ready to play... today... put me in coach... look at me, I can be Centerfield."  Ahm, no, in dating, play the field eh?  Why not, it's the one time it's ok to.

Back up plans.  You mean like them nifty back up cams they got in the brand spanking new F One Fitties?  Well, kinda I guess.  I did see a funny (VICTOR!)... ok, I did see where some guy was gonna complain to Ford because there was a glitch in his camera... it showed some guy walking behind getting run over.  NOT funny Victor.  Bite me, I kinda thought so.

, 

Niche, in work.  Ya gotta niche, that's all good.  But, we all need a back up plan in case the industry changes... and if ya watch, industries change. I saw an article on Indeed that listed 51 jobs that ain't no more. I started to peek but I had to do one'a those stupid 'prove you're human' things so I stopped.

Friends.  Wonderful column in KC Star today, a Dear Abby thingy..... Lady said her and mothers of other snotnoses got close, became friends when their kids were in Elementary school... it continued over the years... went on many very nice outings outside of their school stuff.... but, recently she finds herself not included with the group so much... she would see her buddies talking about things she wasn't included in.. "weekend hike"... "a brunch"... and sure, it worried her, she had no ID (that's the way we country folks, say idea, no ID) what to do, or why.

Abby's advice, solid I thought.  "You're not being needy.. your being a human with working eyes.  Friend groups rarely sit down and vote someone off the island. They do it the way you described: one brunch here, one concert there, a handful of "Oh, you would have loved it" and comments like that land like tiny paper cuts."  Yeah Victor, so what'd she say?

"Before you assume you did something wrong, consider the most common explanation, momentum. People fall into routines with whoever is loudest, closest, fastest to reply or easiest to coordinate with. That's not flattering, but it's often true.  Still, sure, "accidental" exclusion hurts the same."  Victor, I get it, but Abby ain't really advised her yet.  

"Pick one friend you trust... say, 'I've noticed I'm often hearing about plans afterward. If I've done something to cause that, I'd want to know.  And it it's just how things have shifted, I'm feeling a little left out."  Then, watch what happens next."  (Continued, wake up!)

"Real friends adjust.  Casual friends reassure you and keep right on brunching."  Victor, I get it, but the hell does this have to do with eggs in one basket at Piggly Wiggly?  Just that.

Abby continued "Don't put your social life in the hands of one group chat.  This is your sign to widen your circle: one new class, one new lunch or one invitation with someone who lights up when you suggest it. Friendship isn't supposed to feel like trying to get into an overbooked restaurant."

Thank Abby... but too... I go with my old standby for restaurants... "Party of two, last name Starving."  I give up Victor.

But Victor, just a song before I go........no, that ain't it.  Easter.  Easter is coming up.  You can't arm all the little snotnoses with more than one basket canya?

Blog reader, I too sometimes consider giving up.. but in this case, I suggest you call Piggly Wiggly aheada time, see if they'll donate all them cartons with 11 eggs, thataway, if someone does drop their basket, all their problems are solved, no yoke.

Have a hoppy day,

Love, Victurd

Puff the magic dragon, lived by the Landing

Happy first day of the Lunar Calendar.  I have ZERO prior knowledge of, what's it all about, Alfie?  I started to do a blog to 'Xplain Lucy', but, I'm a simpleton, it'd take me a year to unnerstand it....

Let's keep it simple, like.. the solar (Gregorian) calendar tracks the Earth's orbit around the Sun.. (365 days) staying synced with seasons.. whilst lunar calendars track the Moon's 12 phases (354 days) shifting 11-12 days earlier annually.  Don't read this, see? I'm still confused.

What I think we all know, like Noah...  animals.  Side note, heard a funny (VICTOR!  YOU TELL IT, WE'LL decide if it's funny....  OK, agree withya).. Guy said "He was running so hard it was like he was the third monkey trying to get on the Arc."  I liked it anyways.  Where was I?  Animals Victor.

Oh yeah.  The animals of the Lunar calendar. Rat. Ox. Tiger. Rabbit. Dragon. Snake. Horse. Goat. Monkey. Rooster. Dog. Pig.

It'd actually be kinda cool if we could pick, or, if mom and dad could pick which one, then... they'd wrap ya in a cute little onesie of a Rabbit... or, a Horsey... Doggy, yada.

But. Turns out, they've been recording lunar cycles since the Paleolithic era with artifacts like the Ishango bone.. huh?  Yeah, me too.  (c 20,000 BC, ie, quite awhile ago apparently.)

I guess, according to legend Buddha, or some Jade Emperior, held a race...  12 animals. To like get on the Arc Victor?  No sir, to assign associated animals to the calendar year.  Apparently, the rat was the fastest, so he was the first.  Ox, Tiger, Rabbit, Dragon, etc, etc, you can Google the rest.

I guess, everyone born within the 354 days of the lunar thingy, has the same animal designation. Do you know yours?  I didn't either.. so I Googled..  It's now 7:13 am Central, when I Googled to learn I was born in the year of the Dragon, that was a few hours ago and now I can't find the damn link to check.  You're on your own, sorry, but... let's have fun with it.  (Victor, YOU blog, we'll decide after if it was fun.)

Ohhhhhh, I see.  You could be a candidate for the Rat eh?  If you had your druthers, which would you pick?  Dragon, again, not my first choice.... and, don't tell, I even Googled "Were there ever dragons?" I'M A SIMPLETON, AND WHO KNOWS, IF IT'S BASED OFF ISHANGO BONES OF 20,000 YEARS AGO, WHO KNOWS MIGHTA BEEN, HELL THERE'S 33 TYPES OF DINOSAURS?"

No, no such thing as dragons.  Sorry Disney, pick another movie.

Howabout people we know?  Would it be fun to guess, label them?

Rat.  Wiki say 'resourceful, intelligent.'  Sorry if that's your birth year but I call bullsh*t.  Where, just where, are rats welcome?  Last time I saw one, I was sitting on a bench across from a restaurant in Liberty, little dude crawled out from the back door, went along the side of the buiding to the front door.  Musta been time for the buffet to start.  Message me, I'll tellya which restaurant. I hope you are ok, but I'd be mentally unstable to be a Rat all my life.  Some prolly think that anyways.

Victor, are you gonna spend this much time on each animal?  If so, I'll go paint the spare bedroom and watch the paint dry, or, wait for you to get to the Goat (sheep), take a nap and count em.  Bite me.

Let's do Goats them.  Wiki say calm, gentle, creative, sympathetic.  After some thought, it'd be pretty cool to be Year of the Goat. I mean, you ever watch 'em?  They are all about FUN.  Run here, have fun, jump there, more fun, then, EAT, EAT, EAT all day.  Not baahhh'd eh? That's a pretty good life nutshell.

Know any Roosters in your life?  Observant, hardworking, courageous, and confident. Again Wiki, I call BS.  Roosters text you at 5am. Loud. They molt, eww.. and what the hell is a cloacal kiss?  Doesn't sound like any Barry White song I ever heard. 

Would you wanna be born in the year of the animal deemed wise, intuitive and calm?  Congrats, you're now what Wiki calls Snake. That ain't what I think of when I thinka snake, you? I think of "RUN FORREST", antidotes and, 'where's the hoe?'

Ox. Diligent, dependable, strong willed and hardworking.  Them seem like mighty fine attributes to me, but, how'd you like a lifetime of introducing, "This here's my wife, Ox." Maybe ok for the zodiac calendar but don't seem cutout for no Girly Calendar.  VICTOR, you're a pig.

Victor Victor Bo Bictor Bonana Fanna Fo Fictor, let's do Pig.  Noble, considerate, fortune-seeking,  Like them attributes?  Would you marry a Pig?  Fortune-seeking?  Ain't there other terms for that?  It is said (one time, Band Camp, I usedta enjoy gambling) "Pigs get fat, hogs get slaughtered."

Victor?  How many more you gonna do?  Good idea blog reader, we'll do Rabbit next. Gentle, quiet, cautious and compassionate, which, you, that blog reader/writer ain't.  Good mate material?  You're no bunny till some bunny loves you?  Did you ever have to make up your mind, say yes to one and leave the other's behind...   (Bear in mind, ever seen a flat rabbit on the road?  Uh huh, me too.  Indecisive.

One more.  (THANK GOODNESS.) Bite me.  OK, we've got left.... Tiger, Horse, Monkey ad Dog.

Well... Tigers ARE cool, brave, strong.  Horses, I can't get the Budweiser commercial outta my head.. so strong, beautiful, cool...   Monkeys, nah, they throw poop. Let's do the Dog. Everyone loves the dog.

True. right away, tail wag, makes ya happy. They're always in a good mood.  Loyal. Sit. Stay. Come. Fetch. Protectors. BARK BARK BARK, GET THE HELL OUTTA MY YARD SQUIRREL!  

And we've all heard the story....... Lock your mate and your dog in the trunk... let 'em fester an hour.. open it up...  which one would be happy to see you?

Dog.  My first choice.  Yours?  Dragon. Not my first choice, but, I've been one for 73 years I guess.  What are you?

FYI, if you're having a baby in the next 353 days, it'll be a Horse.

Happy Lunar New Year.

Please know, you've been Mooned.

Love, Victurd

Happy George Birthington's Wash Day... or something like that....

Back in the dinosaur days, we snotnoses got to stay home (school was out) for BOTH Abe Lincoln's Birthday (Feb 12) and George Washington's (actually, it's Feb 22) but, in 1971 Congress said the kids needs more skoolin', we'll make it ONE day, call it President's Day and it'll be on the 3rd Monday in Feb.  Mikey doesn't like it, but, too bad kid, go get dressed for school.

Today, I am going to write a blog about Presidents and it's going to be the best blog ever.... read by more people than any blog has ever been read by.  No, no, no, I ain't pickin' sides, I'm including both.

DID YOU KNOW......the Coolidges damn near brought an Arc with them to DC?  Uh huh, included, five dogs, a cat, a bear, two lions, a bobcat, an antelope, a wallaby, a pygmy hippo, a raccoon named Rebecca, and a partridge in a pear tree. Kidding on the last part, but the other stuff, that's a fact Jack.

The Kennedy's tweren't far behind, zoo'ming to DC with dogs, horses, a rabbit, hamsters and cats. Caroline's pet Shetland pony, Macaroni, had free reign of the White House lawn.  My favorite though was Andrew Jackson's potty-mouthed parrot.

Lincoln logs were named after, uh huh, and the cabin where he was born.  Garfield was the first ever to pickup a telephone and say "Sarah, get me Alexander Graham Bell wouldya?"  Bell was 13 miles away.

There have been SIX President's with the first name James but I ain't gonna list 'em 'cause you'd forget just like me.  "De plane de plane" award (shortest President) goes to James Madison at 5'4" (he only weighed a hunnerd, and uh huh, he did whadever the Mrs asked him to do.)

Jefferson soaked his feet in a bucket of ice daily as he thought it would ward off a cold.  Woodrow Wilson painted golf balls black so he could still play golf in the snow. Garfield was the first lefty, Fillmore was the first to have a stepmom. Harrison was the only President who studied to become a Doctor and he called Jefferson an idiot because of the ice bucket. True, I seen it on his Instagram post, so, Minnesota ain't the first Ice controversy. In a response post on Twitter (it was still called that then) Jefferson reminded everyone Harrison was afraid to touch light switches.  True, was.

The very day Richard Nixon met his future bride Pat, he proposed to her, adding, "I am not a crook." LBJ proposed to Lady Bird with a $2.50 ring from Sears. RUN Lady Bird! Buchanan was the only President without a First Lady. Pat musta believed Richard.

Who do you think wrote an autobiography without mentioning his wife?  Shame on you Terry Hahn, no, it was Martin Van Buren.  Years before he was ever elected President, LBJ sold 'Muzak' to Ike when he was in office. Cheap basta, shoulda used the funds for a nicer ring. Bill Clinton's first job was selling comic books.  I don't write 'em, I just forward em to you.

Ulysses S. Grant was given a $20 speeding ticket for riding his horse and buggy too fast down a street in DC.

Carter believed in UFO's, Ford modeled for Cosmo.  Taft was the largest at 340 pounds, but huh uh, just a rumor he got stuck in a tub. True though, he took his 7' long tub that weighed a ton with him to Panama due to his affinity for baths. John Quincy Adams didn't need no tub, he got up early (4am) and went skinny dipping in the Potomac.

Harding lost the White House China in a poker game.  Garfield could write in Greek with one hand and Latin with the other.  (Liberty folks, was it Mr.Moore in HS that would start on the left side'a the chalkboard with left hand, get to middle, switch to right?)

His wife was a strict Presbyterian so ya never heard nor seen folks dancing to Polk Salad Annie while James Polk was in office. Dancing was frowned upon.  Chester Arthur, president numero 21, held a yard sale (included within Abe's pants, Adam's hat), then, used the funds for a White House redecorating project. Hmmm.

Ike no like acorns on the White House lawn (they messed up the golf game he practiced there.. ordered all the squirrels to be shot.  Secret Service no like guns on WH lawn, trapped em and moved 'em instead.

Coolidge invented 'Pay it forward'... well, maybe. He awoke one night, found a burglar rifling thru his belongings, calmly talked him down, learned the guy was desperate to pay his hotel bill and buy a ticket back to college... Coolidge gave him all $32 from his wallet and helped sneak him out past Secret Service.

Andrew Jackson kept a 1,400 lb block of cheese in the WH, Teddy's son rode his pony on the WH elevator... LBJ conducted meetings while on the toilet. (Toldya to run Lady Bird).

Ford, after a standout football career at Michigan, was 'woo'ed' (not drafted, but woo'ed!) by both the Lions and the Packers.  Ike played football at West Point and once tackled Jim Thorpe. Next play, Thorpe ran over Ike for a touchdown. Taft started the 'throwing out the first pitch' tradition from his seat at a Washington Senator's game, tossing the ball to the pitcher. Reagan spent summers as a lifeguard in Dixon, IL and reportedly saved 77 swimmers there in the late 20's. A plaque now commemorates his time there.

Victor, I'm getting bored.  

Me too.  I'll sign off (THANK YOU VICTOR) with George's suggestion the day he gave his farewell address....... deducting the main message from his 32 page handwritten address that day, he advised Americans "to avoid excessive political party spirit and geographical distinctions."   I'm still pissed the Chiefs are moving to Kansas, but, I'll leave the other part alone.

Hail to the Chief(s)

Love, Victurd

WHAT'S YOUR NUMBER?-

Sadly, or, happily, or sumpin, numbers play a huge role in our lives.

First born.  Middle child. I'm the baby, gotta love me.  I was the 8th of 9 kids, "Gosh, did mom and dad even have time to work?"  Sorry, kinda.

It begins, of course, with one's birthday.  I was born on the 13th day of the month... so, excuse the heck outta me Jason, I've proudly worn, celebrated the 13th (even on Fridays) for years.

Social Security.  Turn left if you don't want history.  I guess, or, I read, originally, the first three digits (labeled 'Area') are based upon the applicant's mailing address, someplace I read "State."  The next two numbers ("Group Number"), described as "Grouped numbers within an area, assigned in specific, non-consecutive sequences for administative purposes." Are you like me? (GOSH I HOPE NOT!).. I can read crap, and then reread it, and still have no idea whatinthehell it just said. Like that italicized sentence there.  Baby headache this morning urges me "leave it alone as is Victor." OK, will.  (SSN continued below, sorry)

The last four digits (Serial Number) from 0001 to 9999 I guess assigned in order within each group.  Thanks, that, I can unnerstand. Then, after June 25, 2011 they changed all that crap above and assigned 'em randomly to prevent identity theft.

Victor? Yes? Is this whole damn blog gonna be about SSN's, cause if it is, I'm headed to IHop.  No, but if you go, say hello the the waitress Eileen.  We are hypnotized at birth to instantly be able to recall "what's your last four?"..  That's a cinchy as learning Freddie's Scaramouche Scaramouche will you do the fandango.  (SSN, done.)

Hire date.  Holy crap.  Sometimes, dweebs (VICTOR! THAT'S HATEFUL!).. sometimes, dweebs get preferential bidding, chores, pay, lots, based upon hire date.  Sometimes dweebs are even promoted. VICTOR!  (I'm beginning to agree with your fraternity brothers.)

Yeah, speakin' o them.  Everyone, at least the fraternity I was in, everyone is assigned a number.  One's entire pledge class, once you pass the test of Hell Week (that's a story for another blog, a brief snippet, it included giving mouth-to-mouth resuscitation to the carp that's in the toilet bowl) is assigned a number..  so, ALL the actives vote...  it's horrific, mostly, and even worse than when ya got two captains in PE class and one by one kiddos are selected for a team.

Anyways........ I personally was lucky.  Our Pledge class's first number was 844 (assigned to good buddy Nubert)... I got #845, but it's not what you think.  By then (when I arrived at Billy Jewell), I'd already flunked outta two colleges... so....  I'm pretty sure I was old enough to buy beer for all... that weighed heavily in my selection of 845, who knows, the carp mighta liked my technique.  The Actives, all thru Hell Week, would scream in your ear "WHAT'S MY NUMBER?" and if ya didn't know, they 'let you' wear a pink belly.  On the last day of Hell Week, we'd all had maybe 4 hours of sleep for the week, one guy asked me what his number was... I guess "I don't give a sh*t" was the wrong answer... heck, who knows, maybe I woulda been #844 had I known!

1st grade, 2nd grade, 3rd grade.. etc... at some point, school ends.  Real world ain't numbered, prolly should be.  My own personal education (VICTOR, do we haveta?) Yes, get your own damn blog.  Mine was 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 13, 14, 14, 15, 16, finally. (I very much enjoyed college, so, did both the freshman and sophomore years twice.  Embarrassing you say?  BS, it helped me get #845 because I could buy my buddies beer.   I jest, but only some.

PE Class. Having grown up, like us all, and watching how wrongful it is, was, to have captains pick.... and have the dreaded "last one picked" known to all.  I ended up teaching PE, so, I'd line em up, switch so and so around, and so and so.. then have 'em count off, they never were the wiser but it worked, sans tears.

What other numbers in our lives?  401K, right Pam?  BP, aye yai yai, BMI, AYE YAI YAI. VICTOR, don't forget to tell 'em about Woody.  OK, but wait your turn dude, your number will come up.

We got married (in a fever) on such and sucha date, AND DON'T YOU FORGET IT HENRY. Then there's 6,7 of which I have NO IDEA.  Of course, 65, "Take this job and shove it", we're taking Social Security.  Note to you whippersnappers who ain't that (65) yet.  Plan ahead.There's a waiting month.  If you say "I want my SS to start in October".. they'll say "OK" but then, you won't get a check until November. I guess it's the Waiting Month.  I suppose they cut that check when you keel.  Mebbe we can get a nicer urn with it, I dunno.

Then, there's Herkimer and his pickup line....... "You look just like my 6th wife!" GOOD LORD MAN, HOW MANY TIMES YOU BEEN MARRIED?  "Five."

One is the loneliest number that you'll ever do.. Two can be as bad as one, it's the loneliest number since the number one.

We number, or label, our restroom proceedings. Days of the week, month, our years. Our age.  We get our face smashed in the cake on the first birthday, the fender to mom and dad's car on our 16th, and some get smashed again at 21.  

. 

We dread 30, then 40, then fitty. 60 we look for discounts at places, 70, we send thanks for simply still being here..  I would say some can't wait for 48, but hell, some of you would get up and leave.  Victor?  Woody, tell 'em about Woody. Calm down Mister.

50 ways to leave your lover.  96 tears.   8 days a week.  In the year 2525.  Land of 1,000 dances, sing it Wilson!.. Mambo #5.  7 bridges road.  16 tons.  99 bottles of beer on the wall.

Golf scores.  Restaurant ratings.  40 hours.  Time and a half.  Double time.  Hup 2, 3, 4.

"Numbers don't lie. Women lie. Men lie, but numbers don't lie." Max Holloway

VICTOR! WOODY!

OK, there usedta be a dog track in Kansas City, KS..  (Kansas, now home to our Kansas City Chiefs, one too many States, but my opine only Schwabby)..  you'd bet on dogs.. greyhounds. Win (1) Place (2) Show (3)... this mechanical thing would come, start, guide 'em around the track and the announcer would holler "HEEEEEEEEERE COMES WOODY!"  No damnit Victor, not that Woody.

OK, but it's really not that interesting.  Way back in the day, age 16, I worked for Woody's Appliance, an institution here in our little town. (There is NO TRUTH to the rumor i hooked up an icemaker to the hot water line.  OK, maybe some truth.)  Anyways, Woody knew, by looking, EXACTLY how much each appliance, record player, stereo, washer, dryer yada, cost - simply by looking at the box and what he'd written in Magic Marker on it. How so Victor?  Did he write the cost on the box? (Too longa paragraph, see below)

No.  He used BLACK HORSE. Huh?  Uh huh, ten different letters.  B was 1, L was 2, A was 3, C was 4, etc etc.  So if he had LCH on a fridge...... his cost was $246.  There was no set markup, it just depended upon the sales of the day... or I suppose Woody's mood (which was always good..)  There, I told em about Woody and now they're all asleep.  Happy?

"I'm writing a book.  I've got the page numbers done." Steven Wright

I'd better go......... I've got to go #.........................

NVMD

Just a song before I go.  There is also NO TRUTH that when I coached basketball, I entered EVEN numbers in the scorebook when we were wearing our ODD number uniforms.  The game started with 5 technical fouls, one for each wrong number.  Whenever I'd sub someone that hadn't been in yet, uh huh, another technical foul. Our manager did it.  I just forgot to double check the book. My bad.

Love, Victurd

Old age........

Old age is having the ability to hold the remote of life... find glee in watching it go by, and.... fast forwarding thru 'the weather outside is frightful'... political banter... commercials (except for the Super Bowl ones.)....super fast forward thru the local news parts with homicide statistics and clogged highways due to fatality accidents.

It's rejoicing about the colors of the world...  not just those of our diverse brethren, but too, the wondrous ones of Nature.... the faded threads of our favorite shirt, coat, hat, slacks, jeans... and even the "Oh well" of the ones "there ain't no way in hell I'll ever fit in those again" as we toss the sack on the dock at Goodwill.

We can turn the sound up.  I've got an app on my phone.... it listens for the birds and their chirping, shows ya when it finds a match... I can braggadociously tellya I've learned a half dozen or more bird calls. If you woulda told 20-something Victor that he would enjoy something like that later in life, I woulda searched for the rocker you just fell off.

Old age is using words like braggadociously, having grammar Nazi's underscore it in red, then, having the ability to "I call BS, I'm using it."

Back to sound. Oh yeah, those pings of metal bats once Spring finally gets here...the enjoyment and appreciation for those moments when we're given the ability to go, see, hear, real wooden bats again.

Frogs. Frogs in throat. The dadgum basta's makin' funna Mahomes's Kermit voice. Hearing Lester and Earl's 1949 rendition of "Froggy Mountain Breakdown," or something like that.

Singing songs with the wrong lyrics.  SO?

For us old, single, divorced, widowed codgers- and maybe even some'a you ole married folks once Herbert has fallen asleep in the easy chair again, a date with YouTube, playing, listening to, any damn song ya wanna.  Even, twice if you want.

Sound, coupled with touch.  Instant message.  Caller ID.  Knock knock. Friend? Foe? Jehovah's? Police? Girl Scout cookies? Please please please please!  Sirens.  Oh, it's the first Wednesday of the month... it's just a test.  Sirens, other days. Prayer.

Fun sounds.  A baby's giggle.  A basketball swish. Marching soldiers.  Remembering the first cussword ya ever heard.  For me, I was mebbe six, Uncle Jim's "Ahhhhhh Ssshhh****ttt" sneeze.

Taking that remote... closing one's eyes...  pressing play to listen to voices of those gone before us.  Accompanying smiles... sure tears too.... and the acknowledgement "yes, they are gone... but they are a part of what's in us, the decisions we make, the way we treat people, the love we learned to offer."

The accompanying noises we make when we stand. Sit.  Walk.  Earned, well earned them noises are

Golf.  VICTOR?  Uh huh?  We don't all play golf.  That ability, being a blogger, to write whadever ya wanna, whenever ya wanna. Like FORE.  The moaning "Cha ching" when you hit an all too costly ProVI into the woods, accompanied by the solace "The jokes on you, I found TWO balls on the last hole", even if they were Noodles.  Another missed 4 foot putt and the positive outlook "I'm consistent" .

Humor, in golf.  "Does your husband play too" after a 50 yard drive... Having honors, teeing off first, then announcing to your partner "Ya might wanna wait a minute Tommie, I just farted." You notice your putt roll across fresh goose poop up to 'gimme range', "Hey Tommie, you mind grabbin' my ball?" Three of the four, donning bicycle helmets just before Mac steps up to hit because last week, he violently threw his club after a shank on 6. Winning the all important 'George' after it's handed to you on the deck of the course.  Losing the next time, but smirking, as you hand over two rolls of pennies.  

Old is when ya are but ya think ya ain't.  It's MY turn signal and I'll leave it on 12 miles if I damn well please.  Old is fast food apps, the 55 and over menus, half price days at the Thrift Store.

If you're afflicted... VICTOR, most of us ain't afflicted! That ability, being a blogger, to write whadever ya wanna, whenever ya wanna.  Ya hop in a geezer scooter at WallyWorld.  35% charge. Ya cuss. That's legit cause to cuss.  It's rollin' down that Notions aisle, seeing fellow geezer on geezer scooter, asking "Got a notion to race me?" (Geezer scooter continued)

You're in the cracker and cookie aisle.  Ya shouldn't be, but long ago ya lodged that "Screw you, I'll eat what I want, when I want" attitude.. There's a lady ahead.  Twelve foot wide aisle.  Six foot of her is blocking the left part of the aisle.  Her cart is blocking the right.  She's oblivious.  This is legit cause to cuss... but ya don't.  Ya think "What's my hurry, I'm retired, take as long as you need Gladys."  (Geezer scooter continued)

This here is where fellow blog readers call you a Misogynist due to the "Gladys" comment.  Well, I'll Johnny Mathis lookya in the eyes and say "Chances Are" good, very good, it was a lady.  Sorry, but not really.

Old age is when one rambles.  Fellow blog readers are reminded, thinking about the Animals.. and "We gotta get outta this place"... 

So, you Alvin type "OK OK OK OK" then, you think, I wonder if there are any whippersnappers here reading, and if there are, why?  And they might respond "Who the hell is  Alvin?"

I get it... that's a thought that goes thru the brain of every Senior Citizen every day.  I need to leave, OK.  First, i gotta pick out 17 scratchers tickets..  "Yep, and finally #22 there..  say, did I ever showya pics of my hound Gabe?  We usedta go for a ride and he'd stick his head outta the car and snap at cars going the other way!"  (Back to sounds... "Ahems" from the lady two back in line..  the tapping toe of the snotnose right behind ya.)

OK OK OK, I'll go..............

HEY WAITTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT! I left ma' teeth in the cart!

Victor, parts of that were crude.  Crude is legal, rude ain't.

Old age is Blessed..Not everyone is afforded the opportunity.  Happy Valentine's Day

Love, Victurd

Can do..........

Rite........Rights.....  Writes.... lot of em....

The rites of Spring....... why hello Mr Robin...the grass is kinda showing some green...buds on some trees...The rites of ceremony...  Baptism, Bar Mitzvah, Marriage....and Last (not to be confused with Marriage..)

The right of George Foreman, as in Down Goes Frazier...  The bus seat, a right of Rosa Parks, to NOT give it up, suffer indignity....  You go girl... er, I mean stay... Moral, Legal and Human Rights......

Victor...  something in the above tells me you're like, packing tabacky in some paper, getting ready to light something up.... to have it all hopefully make sense (Oh please Mr. Blog writer, can you do that, just this once?)

Thanks...I think.. and yes, correct.   I obsess about much.  Well, second thought, I'm a simpleton, so... not extremely academic... but little stuff... like a skeeter when you're sitting on the front porch and ya ain't got no screened in front porch.  Gotya.

The right of old age. Ya already thought ahead didn't ya?  We can gripe about the Government, taxes, git the hell outta my yard young'n, much.  We're wrinkled. It takes wrinkles to frown, and don't you whippersnappers forget it!

I really can't believe I'm sharing this one gripe, but, what the hey, can do.  It's me it's me it's Ernest T.  No, that ain't it, it's me the blog writer.  McDonalds, and Dave, Flame Broiled, KFC, go to Taco taco taco taco taco bell....all'a them, in the hurry up mode of today, have these wonderul time saving apps...you know... if ya don't ya should... they save hella...  anyways, you can order, even picky picky strip the cheeseburger ya order of mayo, lettuce, ketchup, pickle, any'a that crap you don't like... pay..... go the to speaker and let em know AV46 is here to get his yummies.

"OK sir, please pull thru to Window #2."  Ma'am?  "Yes?" Can I add a water to that (I ask as I cuss unner my breath "cause your damn app ain't got no place to do that, I get it, there's no buckaroos in it for Old McDonald).. "I'm sorry, I don't have any way to do that, you'll have to tell them at the window." Yes, I've probably bitched about this before (remember, we're talking old age and rights)... I've had them, at the window, in their angst to please the franchisee in "Look how fast ole Charlotte's crew is" tell me, "we'll get your water, but I'm gonna have to ask'ya to pull up to that waiting spot #3 and we'll bring it out."  Once before, they forgot. I had to call them by phone to git er done.

Victor, you're REALLY griping about this?  Uh huh. I just looked up.  McDonalds profited $25.92 BILLION last year.  "With a shout out to NASA, and the soon to be quest of getting a man (or a woman, or a man and a woman) on Mars, but sorry, we can't do the water, spot #3 perty please."

I guess maybe it's because I've spent the vast majority of my career in underpaid service industry positions. Wiseacre frat brothers might say "WOW, Victor needs to get laid"... to that I say...  I just want my water.  Surely they can do it.

I'm serious but I'm not, or, I am...  I think we've backtracked with the 'can do' attitude in service.  Nuttin' better when you go somewhere and that ain't the case.

On we go. (THANK GOODNESS VICTOR)

I was in the obits today. No, wait, that ain't quite rite, or right.  If I was in the obits, and I blogged too, that'd be something, eerie, skeery.  All that.  I was reading the obits today, how's that?  There was a gentleman, quite talented, an educator who did many things in addition to teaching.  Then, I don't know the exact disease, affliction, injury - but he was set back. His attitude... "Now I will do what I can do."

Aging is wonderful, blessed, and sucks all in one.  It's hard, for me at least, to acknowledge, the old grey mare ain't gonna be in any Budweiser commercials with an eagle on it's back, ever, again.

Then I see buddy Sam.  He's had some serious vision issues. I see Sam pulling a 6 pound bass into the boat. I see Terri, longtime runner of marathons, get a knee replacement... admonish "Oh no, what am I gonna do?" Well, in less than a year, she ran a 5K.  Did you catch the ran word?

With life, woes abound.  For many, I lost my job.  I can't fully rotate in my golf swing,  I got divorced, it's over. In my case, I was WAY OVERDO to quit playing softball (and it showed) but, the manager called me every year because if he didn't, then he would be the oldest one on the team, haha.

My buddy Steve. He got a hole in one.  Sure, many do.  But, how many do you know that can't walk, and do?  He's got a specialized cart where the seat rotates, allowing him to sit and swing.

Can do.  Cant do what we usedta, but can do what we can do.

Thanks to the gentleman in the obit for putting it so succinctly.  Much in life changes.  Sure, divorce... sadly, loss of mate... loved one... smaller house, smaller yard, smaller garden, harder to see white lines at night... sleep... need sleep (and more)... The 9pm news as replaced te 10pm news, and oft times I don't even make that.

LOTS. LOTS we can still do.  Victor, you're approaching the sappiness of Joel Olsteen....

OK, OK, OK!  We can get a grocery pickup delivery... new houseshoes overnight from Amazon... wear our PJ's and go get our meds from Walgreen at 3am if we wanna.... go to a movie with a friend instead.... heck, have some over or the game.  Don't give up, right Jimmy V?

We can.

Can do.

I'll seeya later, I'm calling Door Dash to get a bottle'a water from Mickey D's!

Love, Victurd

...---... It's just another day......du du du du du du.. ...---...

Yes, Victor it is........ hey, whatsup with the dots and the dashes?

AY, CHIHUAHAHA!   HEY! WAIT, leggo.  Here's my driver's license.. See my hair?  It's reddish... I've got some Irish in me... oh, and German...NO, WAIT!  Also, English and a tad of Osage.  Born in St. Louie...  whew, close one.

The ...---.., thanks for asking, is Morse Code for SOS.  My father was a Code guy in WWII.  He never enjoyed fun. JK.  He would dit dit dit dot dot dot (Lionel Richie) all night long when I was a kid.  And too, he'd raise his arm, holler "HEIL HITLER!" then, under his breath add "In case we lose."

So, of course, we're gonna talk Sports.

Victor, you need GPS for your blog, we're friggin' always lost.  Me too, that's what I enjoy the most!

In Sport's news.........

Royal's 2nd Baseman Jonathan India CUT HIS HAIR.  Good gosh i hope it makes him hit better... HEY, calm down, this ain't social media, it's a blog, scram!

Article in the paper this morning about a dude the Royal's signed (Pitcher, Alex Lange, went to Lees Summit West HS, lived 20 minutes from the Stadium).. "Oh man, we used  to go to games for five bucks... park for five bucks.  Dollar hot dog nights, we'd down as many as we could."   I think one'a the new hires in the Royal's PR Department was formally a Butcher at Hy Vee before because virtually in the same breath he announced "insteada Dollar Dog night every Friday, it's gonna be once a month now instead."

WHO LEFT THE DOGS OUT?  Hey, it cost a lotta money to build a stadium.

Speakin'a dogs.....

Surprise (Arizona)... Pitchers, Catchers and Dogs reported yesterday.  Salvy, last year rookie phenom Carter Jensen (catchers) shook hands with all the pitchers (Michael, Seth, Kris, Lucas, Carlos, Cole, etc, "And over here, this'here is Barry, he's Bobby and Maggie Witt's Bernedoodle (a Poodle and Bermese Mountain Dog for those'a you keepin track'a draft status)  Preseason Bark at the Park.  Hey, nobobby said he couldn't bring him.

And finally........

STAY OUTTA THE KITCHEN!

Right about when Pickleball was making it's meteoric rise across the land, affliction set in for me.  Which, was fine cause I always sucked at racket/paddle sports anyways. (VICTOR that is so not true.. don't you remember 1971, your hair was filthy long, you went [kinda] to Maple Woods Junior College... you skipped SO MANY classes (I know, I remember... a 1.6 GPA) BUT, you spent so much time "during class" in the Student Union that you at least became semi proficient in something and you won BOTH the foosball AND the ping pong intramural tourneys?  Oh yeah, thanks. I forgot, or, was trying to)

THE KITCHEN.

Apparently, the Kitchen is the small rectangle on either side of the net...where ya can't hit the ball out of for fear you might knock an opponent over due to the closeness of it all.  So, it's gotta bounce in there, then you can hit it but ya still can't hit it whilst any part of your person is in the kitchen.

I'm tellin'ya, Pickleball is some serious stuff. At least it is, was, at the Spruce Creek Country Club in Florida yesterday.  A friendly game amongst seniors. The Sapienza's (Anthony, 63 and Julianne, fitty one) were playing another couple when Anthony accused a the lady on the other team of hitting (SMASHING) the ball at his wife while standing in the KITCHEN.  Now this, again, was a big deal, I think it was a loser's bracket match in the Weekly Class B Senior Tourney.

The other guy apparently said "Nuh uh, she wasn't in the kitchen!".... Anthony no likey the answer. The winners were walking off when Anthony yelled "YOUR WIFE IS A (ENTER A VERY UGLY WORD HERE)"  Ruh roh, paddles was'a flyin, Anthony used the handle to 'say hi' to the other dude's nose, drawing blood, THEN, knocked down his wifey who was trying to save him..  you know, the one who stepped in the kitchen.. Julianne jumped in, got a lick in for good measure, Someone called 911 (Had my pa been there he woulda done his ...---... thing)

Anthony said "Come on Julianne, jump in"... drove away in some kinda getaway car..cops came to their house... She, one count of felony battery on a person over 65, he, TWO counts of felony battery on a person over 65.  Folks at the Spruce Creek had no further comment other than to say the court had been wiped up and that matches were ongoing.

 It's just another day......du du du du du du..   .

"Honey?"  Yeah?   Breakfast... you want me to cook up some ...---...? (Same ole Same ole?)  ah, hmmm. Nah, let's take a break from the kitchen today and go to the Awful Waffle.  Deal, I'll get the car.

Tune in tomorrow (I wouldn't, if I were you)...ya never know when I'll write one worse than this.

Happy day,

Love, Victurd