Usedta coulda........

Push up, every morning - ten times!

Push up, starting low...

Once more on the rise, nuts to the flabby guys!

Go, you chicken fat go, go away!

Go you chicken fat go!

 

Can't no more.......

 

Take me out to the ballgame, take me out to the crowd,

Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks, I don't care if I never get back  

 

Can't no more.......Well, I guess we can 'till 2031, then it'll be....

 

Take me out to the Hallmark, take me down(town) to the crown..

Buy me some ornaments and Christmas wrap

We wanted baseball (Ray), they gave us this crap? 

 

Usedta coulda... feel this way.  Don't no mo'....  oh, a tad mebbe.  Coulda, coulda been worse (Oracle Health Field...  JE Dunn dun' building another rebuild small market team..  Garmin, GPS Field "We'll get you to parking, and, home to Liberty, Lees Summit, Lenexa too."

 

Now I think it's kinda cool.  2031 ain't about me, us old folks.  It's about kids.  Hallmark has earned Kansas City's respect.  All we need is a drummer, for people who only need a beat... No, that ain't it.  All we need is a little chocolate, to make it a perfect Kansas City Smore... The Royals, Hallmark, and hey, why not, Russell Stover.  Besides, don't all Hallmark movies end happy?

 

Casey's.  Everyone loves Casey's.  WELL, NOMME.  OK, OK, at least the one in Fulton, Missouri.  You see.......My Granny's place..... where, as kids, we played wiffle ball... sat with Gramps on the front porch listening to Harry Caray's St. Louis Cardinal call "It' MIGHT be... it COULD be... It IS... a HOME RUN" on the transistor radio.  Victor?  What's this got to do with Caseys?  Hang on....

 

Granny's IS Christmas.  Presents stacked halfway to the ceiling around the tree.  Those liquid bulb thingys.. strewn tinsel and popcorn strung by us little turds..  Christmas carols for the ears, Granny's pies keeping warm on the living room gas-stove-furnace thingy for the nose.... Family.  20 or so of us packed in a bit smaller than average living room.  Who cares.  WE LIVED. WE LOVED.

 

But, then again.  NOW.  They tore that sucker down.  Granny's is a Casey's.  Oh Victor., say it ain't so!  So.

 

So. I gotta thinkin'.  My grands loved Fulton, Missouri. (Me too.)  My grands loved people, friends. (Eh, me too I guess!)...  WHAT BETTER THAN PEOPLE BEATIN' FEET IN, OUT..  Fillin' up their gas tanks, and, their bellies (pizza, chicken wings, drinks to warsh 'em down).. Folks saying "Hi neighbor, how ya doin?"  Granny Casey's.  Gotta nice ring to it.

 

And then................ what once was THE most wonderful childhood memory... the wiffle ball field in the front yard of the house I grew up in.. .............. To be continued:

 

Don't ya mess with my toot toot.  Don't ya mess with my toot toot.  When I was born the doctor slapped my behind, he said "You're gonna be special you sweet little toot toot."   Toot toot = Wiffle ball field.  Perfection.  Don't mess with it.

 

Well...........

 

Time did.

 

Years (and years) after driving by the place, the wiffle ball field we kids literally spent up to 8 hours a day....  In the years since... we'd drive by.. 
"Remember? First base was right over there... and.. the water meter is still there..  that was second base.. .  where the sidewalks "L".. third... and home plate.. .ten feet or so from the 'backstop', our screened in front porch where we hadta repair the screen a time or fitty ("Sorry dad!)...  and look.. there's a cute little sapling where the pitcher's mound usedta be!

 

Well, the years piled up.. as did the pounds around my belly.  The Wellbutrin for anxiety has helped...but...... I sometimes quote that spinach sucking feller, "I've had all I can takes and I can't takes no more!"..........

 

I CAN'T DO PUSHUPS EVER DAYUM MORNING. WE AIN'T GOTTA PLACE TO TAILGATE, toss the frisbee across twenty car lengths.. "Go deep Smitty" as we toss the football.... THE SMOKE FROM THE BEST BBQ IN THE US (Sorry Petula, no open fires when you are alone and life is making you lonely you can always go downtown, but keep yo' dayum matches in your purse)...  Easy in and outta the stadium as we ain't gotta wait for an hour on the tenth floor of some dayum parking garage... (TBC)...

 

Gramps!  Casey's ain't even gotta place out front to plug in your radio!  Baseball Ray, HELL, ya can't even see around the dayum tree in the middle'a the field to see the batter! And it's FORTY foot tall!

 

But it's ok. Memories are like love letters tucked away.  I can still do one push up, thankfully!  I can people watch the Royals..  Bark at the Mark just don't sound the same, yet, a wagging tail is a wagging tail.

 

Mebbe one day I'll even fetch my 250 lb capacity lawnchair (learnt the hard way)... mix up some lemonade... go sit in the front yard in the shade of the pitcher's mound, er, bigass tree... meet the new neighbors...

 

Hello Muddah... hello Fadduh..  Here I am at, Downtown BallMark...

Downtown's very, entertaining.  Even better, if we're winning......

Goal's to park and actually be in our seats by the third inning.

 

Wait a minute.. everyone's here now........

Bobby's swatting...  Wacha's wailing....

Playing baseball, gee that's better.........

If you look close Pasquatch's just above the railing.

 

Usedta coulda still fits in the back pocket.. and the backa the medulla oblongata..  I guess that little redheaded snotnose is right...  The sun has come out.

 

Excuse me Sonny, how much is onea them large Casey's pizzas?

 

Love, Victurd  

 

I believe in you...........

I don't believe in superstars

I mean, VICTOR, NEVER start a sentence with "I mean." Do you NOT mean "I mean" when  you don't say it first?  I mean, bite me.  I mean, I believe in them, I'm in awe of them, but too, I know they are like me, kinda sorta.  It kinda bugs me when folks say "Don't pay not attention to actors, actresses, celebs, on political junk."  Ain't we all created equal?  They can't express opine too?  Do you believe I'm so dumb, kan't spell.. will automatically accept their view for mine?

 
Organic food and foreign cars

Whenya in the Piggly Wiggly andya see green grapes here for $1.99 a pound, then, over a bit, green grapes for $5.99 a pound, I personally am gonna buy cheap and pray I don't grow no 3rd ear or nipple due to Malathion ingestion.

 

Regarding foreign cars....  Sign say "Buick, Olds, Chevy, front brakes $149.  Down the road, sign say "We specialize in foreign cars...  BMW, Fiat, Audi, front brakes, $499."  That's some pricey ass pads, I'm break-dancing back to the US shop. 

I don't believe the price of gold

 I believe, it just don't affect (or is that effect?) me.

 
The certainty of growing old

When I was 20, 30, 40, fitty, I never gave one licka thought to being 60, 70...  Wi$h I woulda, Doc, "It hurts when I do this" can I get a handicap plate? 

That right is right and left is wrong

Quite the opposite, really.  Oh calm down redface, red hat. I was joshing.  Kinda.

  
That North and South can't get along

I've been stuck in the middle my entire life... but Winter make me root for them Southern guys.  Besides, Arizona has a 9 to 1 ratio, old bags to old coots. Misogynist!  Oh, have a sense of humor. 

That East is East and West is West

I trust that chick on GPS, she sounds hot. Clowns to the left of me (Vegas) Jokers to the right (DC(, here I am, stuck in the middle. 

And being first is always best

So very true for sports teams, busy restaurant hostess stands, urinals, Derbies and Nascar day.  Not so much for first-to-fail, greener grass, smoking, radar traps, mortuary basements.

 

But I believe in love

OH BABY, YES! Be for real, you know I mean people, pets, music, nature, much, so, so much.

I believe in babies

Who doesn't! 

 
I believe in mom and dad

I'm fully aware we each have different experiences in life. Not all great, not all horrible. 

Well, I don't believe that heaven waits for only those who congregate. When it comes to nuclear families, I always say "I couldn't have handpicked things better... the basta's (said VERY VERY lovingly) just all checked out too early on me!"  

 

And I believe in you

So, don't you checkout early on me!
 

 

 

Willie go 'round in circles........

I love me some life.  Round round get around I get around.  Ya got me goin' in circles...(pah pah pah pah) ohhhhhh ohhh around and around I go.....

Ride a painted pony let the spinnin' wheel spin...  What goes up, must come down..  Spinnin' wheel, got to go round...

As I sat on the side of the bed.. (First thing I do.. .well... before I get to that point, I grunt a bit... groan...) get my bearings... "Tuesday ain't it?...no, that was yesterday.... " then, the all important "Wonder if the Royals won?" (They were up a run or two late when I went to bed... )  VICTOR.  We're ALLOVER, no one gives a rats about the Royals except YOU!

Living life in a straight line.... that line goes from the bedroom.. thru the living room.. thru the kitchen.. It's there I stop (hey what's that sound, everybody look what's goin' round)..no, that ain't it.  I stop, make coffee.  Next linear stop in order is the bathroom... I WANTS MY COFFEE EARLY... so, sometimes that involves the pee pee dance as I make coffee. ("By GOSH, I'm GONNA get this coffee a goin' FIRST so I can have a fresh cup AFTER I pee").  I admit, sometimes I userp the order, pee first. Eh, ya gotta.

I flip the TV on.  I cannot remember the point, purpose,what they were selling in the commercial that was on.. .but I 'loved' it.  Middle age dude walks into the house... says "Damn.... it's musty."...   Wifey follows not fer behind... "Damn" she exclaims as the steps over the threshold.  Next in the door... Granny... she blurts out "DAMN!"... sumpin' must smell bad.  Junior, all of eleven, his turn.. walks in, "Damn" (Three heads swivel back to look, admonish, "LANGUAGE!" - and THAT, boys and girls, is life in America, today.

Well, not everyBobby...... HEY, ROYALS WON!  VICTOR, WE. DON'T. CARE. Well, me and Phil Collins don't care that you don't care, no more.

Then, an article on someBobby I really enjoy.  Bobby Witt, Jr.  VICTOR!  Too bad so sad, you're stuck.

Ten Kansas City Royals are participating in a program the Royals are doing, where they get out and about with kids around different KC School Districts. The day someBobby was interviewed - it was his 3rd trip to Ms. Ransom's second grade class...

The kids found out two days ago about his visit.. "I'm so scared" one of 'em said..  signs on the wall outside the class, welcomed and signed  "your friend"..  "love you forever"...  Bobby walked in to hear "Eye of the Tiger"... and, there was an easel, "Bobby Witt Jr. Approved Writing List" ... "I wrote neatly."..  "I began each sentence with a capital letter."..   (TBC)

And....... a large poster on the wall.. "DEEP BREATH JUNIOR, DEEP BREATH" .. which, is a 'take-off' on Bobby as just before each pitch, he takes a real deep breath to help him stay calm. VICTOR, WE DON'T WATCH NOR CARE.  Stuck, I call you stuck.

From the KC Star article this morning.. Jayneal was quoted "Thank you for your BobbyBreath and how you use it to help you.  We use it too when we get frustrated with a problem, or, when we need to calm down.  Sometimes, we even have to tell Ms Ransom to take a BobbyBreath!" 

They got to ask Bobby questions about whatever they wanted... he stayed quite awhile.. then, class picture (With Bobby).. just as Maggie (BobbyWife) cranked up Journey's "Don't Stop Believin", a song they learned someBobby and Maggie played at their wedding reception. SomeBobby reminded the kids, "We're keeping up with you... the entire team knows about you guys".....

For all you KC Royal naysayers, I thought, "Damn, pretty cool."  Victor, LANGUAGE (and we don't care.)

Then, Willie Go Round in Cirlces - final thoughts before clicking on this keyboard....................

Yesterday..... The Beatles Victor?  No.  Yesterday, I sent out invitations for a (hopefully) fun golf tourney I'm having.  The "Liberty Townie Golf Tourney".. Last year, we made it charitable.. raising funds for Liberty's Shop With A Cop".. a shopping spree the Police take children at need at Christmas time.. OH, to see the faces! .. a very good thing.).. 4th year.  Thirty guys/gals/golfers or so the first couple years...  Fitty folks last year.. I'm pushing for 70 this year!  We golf, tell stories, eat lunch, play Bruce's Glory Days in the background.. have fun... and watch ourselves age.  I texted 60+ folks yesterday.

Among the replies... "Yes, count me and so-and-so in!".. "I can't golf, I'll help cook."  Phone call, "I'm having rotator cuff surgery"..  many, 'crickets',.. nothing.. I'll stay on 'em.. one, "It's our 50th anniversary, we'll be on a cruise, but I promise I'll be there in 2027."... Another, "I'm having some hip troubles, I don't think I can"... "I'm in, but I don't think _____ is playin', (his wife).. but I'll find someone."  And NO, I ain't telling you who!

Willie go round in circles....... Round round get around I get around... 

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

Deep breath everyBobby, and have a wonderful day.  GO ROYALS!

Love, Victor 

Take two aspirin and call me in the morning..........

But Doc.. it's Saturday.......

Of mice and men........... as in, howta git ridda mice........

Find entry point, charge a cover charge.  No, wait, that's to git ridda men, nvrmnd..

Find entry point.  Use them snap traps there if that don't geek you out.  Glue ones if you're a cruel basta..  or, catch em in live traps so you can drop em off later in the yard of the HOA president.

Clear out the garage.  No, wait, again, that one is for men.

Today, boys and girls, we're gonna talk quick fix. Victor, when's the last time you were called a boy?  Good question, I guess it should be, 'Today, men and women"... actually though, we're old.  Google can be mean, for old chicks (sorry, not) they suggest  biddy, or old biddy.. old bag or old bat..  spinster or old maid.  MISOGYNIST!  Hang on...........

Men. Old men. Geezer. Fossil. Dinosaur. Old coot. Old codger...or, as Ethel called Walter, you old poop.

Blog draggin, hop to it.  Thx.   IT guys suggest "Did you try restarting it?"

Harry Nilsson asked Doc,  "Doctor? Ain't there nothing I can take to relieve this bellyache?"..   You put de lime in de coconut, you drink 'em bot up."

Ralphie wanted An Official Red Ryder Carbine-Action 200-Shot Range Model Air Rifle.  Little Orphan Annie's decoded quick fix for Ralphie was "Be sure to drink your Ovaltine."  Damnit darnit. OMG, no soup for you Ralphie, SOAP, only.

Thanks to that TV show where the panel of rich dudes, dudettes. welcome in wanna be entrepreneurs, listen to them beg for a$$i$tance... then yay/nay, give it or don't. Anyways, thanks to that show, Shark Tank mebbe, we're getting all kindsa quick fixes.  

A facial ice roller that you stick in the fridge for whenever you wanna take it out to give your face a chill ride, reducing puffiness, under eye circles, relieve tension from  a headache. 

Mighty Match Pimple Spot Treatment, a hydrocolloid sticker that you can apply straight onto a zit to flatten it, reduce redness, and even suck the gunk out of individual trouble spots overnight. Eww.

Old wives' tales....  MISOGYNIST! WHY, must you emphasize old? OK, how's this, "over time, wives' tales'... not much better, but go on.

Honey/sore throat.  Chicken Soup/Colds. Warm milk/sleep.  Carrots/eyesight. Walnut on scratched wood. Newspaper to clean winders.. Ice for Carpet dents. Peanut butter for gum on shoes. Lemon slices for garbage disposal.

Crap I found on Facebook:  It’s bad luck to sweep the floor after dinner. If your nose itches you are going to kiss a fool. If a black cat crosses your path it is bad luck. If your palm itches you are going to receive money. If you drop a knife on the floor the next person who comes through your front door will be male. (I have Italian and Irish ancestors…very superstitious) 

Victor them ain't quick fixes. Sorry, I was getting bored.  Us too.  Swallow a watermelon seed and a watermelon will grow in your stomach. If you cross your eyes, they will stay that way.  Braniff, believe it. 

Reader's Digest actually had me barfing up my scramble (very scrambled) eggs this morning...  they listed some old wives's tales from way back, and while they were all believed WAY BACK, they are ALL now labeled don't do this:

Desperate times call for desperate measures.  Black Death ravaging London in the 1600's, Doctors suggested Fart Sniffing.  Uh huh, not a typo. Folks huffed farts from jars.

Paste of dead mice to treat coughs, toothaches, other ailments. Don't do this. Drop 'em off in the HOA President's yard like we talked about.

I can't do any more. I'll vomit, promise. If you're a sicko, you can Google 15 Bizarre Ancient Remedies You Won't Believe Existed.

So, I'll hopefully start  your day off on a positive, and that positive is me getting the help outta here.

Happy day.  I won't tell anyone you already tried the fart one.  I have sicko SigaManu buddies that usedta torch 'em. Hard to get the burn marks outta Levi's, or so they tell me.

May the 4th be with you. 

Good day, Victurd 

 

 

Dots.........

Dots the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it.

Memories. Twerps of today. Victor, that ain't very kind.  Too bad, so sad, not meant to be mean.  I love little turds, toddlers, snotnoses... twerps.  The candy of choice today, from my view, foot on gas pedal, twerps in car seats, boosters, or, a big enough twerp just to simply sit on the seat itself - are/is (that always confuses me, tense.. I get tense about tense)... any kinda sour candy that makes you make a face, but, somehow, it's enjoyable enough you reach sweaty palm into bag for anuther.

Fitty, sixty years ago, that was us.. getting the lid of the Dot box open, using our index finger like a crane to swipe one or two dots up, from the box, to our mouth.  Yum, gummy, stucky, perfect. Movie theater.  They could be, and were, projectiles.  Sure, stung, but, didn't cause blindness.  If you somehow sat on one however, it usually took a couple years to be able to get it unstuck from your jeans, and by that time, the jeans fit your little brother, not you.

You're in the Army now. Well, Army Air Corps. Me padre', he was a Code something or other. WWII..  Dots and dashes, or, dits and dahs.  He'd have conversations with himself using same, we thought he was nuts, he thought he was something, and he was, in fun.

Wiki say dots been around 40,000 years.  I've basically given up on asking, when I see crap like that, "how do they know?"  Polka dot patterns surfaced in the 1850's.  Dot your i's and cross your t's means, meticulous.  I ain't never been that. You?  My notebook paper ALWAYS had frayed edges, my old Buick holds sacks from Mickey D's from when Big Macs were under two dolla, meh, who cares.  OCD people, that's who.  Mebbe one day I'll take a Dot com course on how to be more OCD. meh.

On the dot. (On time.) I am that.  You?

Sign on the dotted line.  Ever been burnt by fine print?  Uh huh, me too.

Potholes?  Call the DOT.

Rhymes.  Aught, blot, bought, brought, caught, clot, cot, fought, fraught.

Synonyms. Fleck. Blotch. Speck. Patch.

FLECK?

Pac-Man eats dots.

Montserrat, Missouri.  While it looks like you'll find a bigass French rat there, actually, it's just a dot on the map in Central Missouri.

The Azores. A dot in the Atlantic Ocean, but, quite the dot. Roughly 900 miles to the nearest major land mass (Portugal), a quarter million folks choose to live in the 9 island volcanic chain.  Rumor has it, gorgeous, and weather, mild.  Dunno howinthehell sailors find it.                                                                                            

Have an Aunt Dot?  Connect the dots as a kid?  The weirdness, diversity of folks today (and every day).. hard to connect the dots with some ain't it?

Dots are at the end of sentences...........

And blogs........................

THANK GOODNESS VICTOR.

... indicates 'to be continued'.  

Bite me, Pac-Man. 

Love, Victurd 

I see your red door................................................ and................ Paint by numbers

Pardon me boys, is that the cat who chewed your new shoes?

Wait, that ain't it.

Pardon me boys, is that the Chattanooga Choo Choo?

Mebbe.....

Rod says, every picture tells a story.  And Rod, I'll one-up ya even better, every person tells a story..... and that, I reckon, is the point today of this flimsy old blog.

I gotta buddy who wrote, and I don't think he'll sue me for copy/pasting:  

"Every morning, while I am drinking my coffee, I go through my gratitude, what I’m grateful for that day. Today I did my usuals, my house, my utilities, my refrigerator, full of food, my pantry, my running water and even toilet paper. But today I was extremely grateful that all those loud booms last night was just thunder. Praying for all the people that are in dangerous war situations."

You see, he don't. Once did, but, over the years his eyesight declined to the point he can't any longer, but, by golly that sucker can paint, and ain't that a pretty picture he wrote?  Ya damn right it is.

Kinda sorta along that note.......  I heard or read of an English teacher, in trying to teach writing.. ... trying to get whatever age folks she was teaching to 'xplain Lucy' as they wrote - had 'em blindfold a classmate, walk 'em around and describe everything. Brilliant, to me anyways.

Some say, "I can't write."  I call BS.  in your own way, you can and do.  Had a buddy, swore he didn't know how to, could never, retell a joke he'd heard, so, whenever someone started to tell one.. he'd pipe up... "WAIT".. go grab pen, paper, and write it down so he could retell.

To me, THAT is a story in and of itself! 

We. be. different.   And, that's the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it.. some would say, we're stuck with it.  Some (ok, many) geezers, retell and retell and retell, the same story.  A gal that I smooched for a few years... they were all SO thankful when I came along (NO, not because they liked me, be for real!) because I was the new listener to all her dad's stories. (Again, and again)

I loved it then, and I love it now - as sadly, he ain't around no more.  And, while sure, not fun he's gone, ALL THOSE STORIES still are in my brain, I so love that they are - and it brings heap big smile to my face every time I think of him, or, one of his stories.

Smiles accompany storytellers of each, every variety. And, if you ain't aware how big smiles are to me... then, take a year off work (or play) and reread the 12,000+ flimsy blogs I wrote before this'n.

In every day life... having recurring times with ones we hang with, work with, go to church, the bar, book club, Bunko, golf, whatever.... we have our favorites we love listening to - at least I do, dunno about you, but, I'd guess so.

I look forward to whadever in the heck I'm going to listen to today..  Sure, some ain't real fun to listen to.. .VICTOR!  Well, it's true, it's reawwy reawwy twue.. some speak of themselves (always).. but, we know that ahead, so mebbe it don't bug us quite so much. (You mean like certain bloggers Victor?  BITE ME).

Some, speak about others, and sometimes, it ain't really pretty what they say. But again... we know that in advance, and holy guacamole, it makes ya sit back and think "Hey, what if I ain't here?  Would they talk about me?"  The likely answer is yes.... but too, it lends a little more of an understanding of their "I see your red door and I want it painted black" picture, because,  maybe, they don't like what they see in their own mirror... and, that, is really sad - and, maybe makes you love 'em, or at least feel for 'em a little more.

Victor, where you going with this?  Every nook and cranny in the World, how's that? If might be fun to go sit for awhile in a foreign country, not know whatinthehell any one is saying, but.. mebbe take a guess as  to who's the best story teller... which is the geezer repeating a story over and over (Could be the Cliffs note version to Babble in learning, say, Espanol' eh?). Who always speaks about themself. Who, always speaks (sometimes badly) about Pepe' or Maria.  Which awakens every day and counts their blessings?

Life, I find anyways, is a damn fun, interesting, convoluting, wunnerful, colorful, blessed place.

Life, in black and white, wouldn't be quite as fun. And, before you run off suggesting racism, that ain't what I'm talkin'. We need hues, blues, and even pink hairdos.

If life were only paper, scissors, rock, how boring that would be, and besides, Patrick would NEVER be able to play that with SpongeBob.

I like leftfield, 'what did he just say', Ripley's Believe it Or Not, Paul Harvey, Yogi Berra, Jimmy Kimmel (just shoot me) and, I'd never forget you Guillermo.

VICTOR, you misogynist, there ain't a single lady on your list.  Geez (Louise, BaBa WaWa, Rosanne Rosanna Danna, Betty White, Samantha Stephens, Wilma and Betty, right Pebbles?

I've told this one before............. NO? NOT YOU VICTOR!  Bite me.  One time, band camp.  That lady up there I smooched with for three years or so (remember, the one whose Pa told and retold the same (fun) stories (as he smiled?)  Anyways, I follered her into the Piggly Wiggly one day........ we's outta coffee. (TBC)

They had this nifty end of aisle display, musta been thirty coffee bean varieties.. you grab your bag, fill up with the one of choice.  Not her.  She took her bag, grabbed a little of this, a little of that, actually, some of each, all.

That.  That's the way uh huh uh huh I like life, and coffee come to think of it.

Love, Victurd 

I love a parade...........

I don't recall... (which, at this age, can be skeery).. I don't recall EVER, hearing a snotnose (that's the age where one is able to standup on one's own, thru Brownie/Cub Scout age.).. tweens (that's the age, torn between still playing with plastic army guys, or, peeking at the Macy's undie ads when there ain't no one lookin.)....... (TBC)

I don't recall EVER, hearing parents (that's the age between, "Oh hell, now what?".. soccer mom/dads, "Earl, we gotta STOP, or, get a 3 row vehicle", to, the age where they finally iggy ""Watch this!" and "Are we there yet", tears, "Jimmy's hitting me".. they're vested, vested by practice, discipline, don't mess with me any more." (TBC)

I don't recall, EVER, hearing a geezer, (them's the ones that cried way back when for three days 'cause they sliced the kid trying to put on a cloth diaper.. now, they don't commute, set alarms, run, jump... and, in a few decades, have changed their reply on "Can we get ice cream" from NO, to... SURE!"

I don't recall ANY O' THEM....... saying, "DO I HAVE'TA GO?" at parade time. AI learns me, and I dunno how they know 'cause they ain't been around long enough to see many parades... but they learn me "People enjoy parades because they foster a sense of community, nostalgia, and shared celebration." Not bad AI, high five... the hell is your arm?

Some snotnoses, after a quick diaper check, getta get up on dad's shoulders for the best view... others, enjoy the freedom of blocked off streets, no leash needed provided they don't stray far...  

Tweens, I ain't real sure what tweens do at a parade..  but thankfully, it's usually NOT looking at their phones, so it must be something like pinching the derriere of a friend, or, ripping off their fruit loop.  (Victor, fruit loops went by the wayside even before lava lamps came in.  Oh. Thanks)

Parents.. Rejoice cause they ain't at work.. Harken back to their own childhood mems... or, drive the tractors, convertibles.. or, run the street sweeper at the end.  Sure, crappy job, but, they getta see the whole thing closeup at the very start whilst they wait.

Geezers.  They enjoy watching snotnoses and tweens frolic here to there, and rejoice in that they don't have to be hall monitors any more.  They're sitting, which, is among the most favorite things we geezers do.  Watching the energy, we say YIPPEE and remember when we once had it... female geezers love looking at the $127 dance costumes of the littles, and, remember back to when they sewed them themselves with material from TG&Y for 7 bucks.

Floats, firetrucks, marching bands, little's schools of dance, entertainers, town dignitaries (usually geezers), clowns throwing hard candy that their dentures say "hell no" to..   beads - "Don't you dare Gladys." Cop cars, Vettes, Model T's. There's something for everyone.

A break. Abby normal, but, normal.

Calgon, take me away, John Philip Sousa (Victor, you left an L out.. bite me, look it up).. SUNSHINE... happiness... 

There ain't one thought about............Breaking news......... war......... homicides...  "taste great" "less filling" vein showing Facebook argue.....  mortgage rates... how much gas will cost to get home..  The price of tea in China.. If I hear the word tariff I'm knocking  you on...............

A shining, personal break from personal things that really hit home... illness.. upcoming treatments.. . affliction.. the needed new left hip.. .  memory loss of loved ones..... and, most of all, loss.  At least until the street cleaner comes.. .which, reminds, there's virtually shit in everything in life............

But......... we can live the life as if we're at a parade.  Pardon'a mai' French, makes all the shit not quite so bad.

Victor, must you cuss?

It's real. It's at intersections, LOUD sometimes, damn kids (that we once were).. memories of Uncle Jim and his "ahhhhhhshit" sneeze.  Of profanity, Chickenman says "IT'S EVERYWHERE IT'S EVERYWHERE"

Except.

At a parade. 

Victor?  Victor? VICTOR?!  WAKE UP, the parade is almost over!

Hey Mister?  Mister?  Yeah?  That snotnose on your shoulders... Liam, ain't that his name? Anyways, me thinks mebbe his diaper has leaked through.  DAMNIT!  Sir, there's no cussing at a parade.

Yeah, you're right. Sorry. 

It's all good.. the street cleaners just came thru. Back to real life, dangit darnit.

(Then again, with the right outlook, even real life can be a parade) 

Love, Victurd