Take Cover!

It's THAT time of year here.  Where's here Victor?  The Midwest.  It's an annual event, and it ain't got squat to do with climate change, global warming, AI created, that.  I personally think, wise guys at NOAA, in concert with local and national weathermen and women, sprinkle some kinda magic crap into the atmosphere in February - thereby creating Spring, early Summer torrential downpours, winds that blow ya sideways, windshears, squall lines (MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT, said 'squall lines' not squaw lines. Geez.

They (NOAA and weather folks) do this insteada starting GoFundMe's.  Victor? Why would they need GoFundMe's?  Well, in the hierarchy of the newsroom, the pay for weather dudes takes at least 3rd place behind anchors and sports reporters.  All of 'em, talk about their pets, and they have these funny ha ha names like Stormy, Breezy, Windy, Sunny, Rainbow, yada - but, due to economics, they ain't gots no way to pay for shots, flea meds, uppity style dog, cat food.. so they create all these storms, so, they'll work overtime (their GoFundMe) where they put in so many hours (compared to normal) they actually put dress pants on under their blazer, as opposed to "I'm going golfing after my three hour shift so I'm wearing my khaki shorts underneath."

Of course I jest, tornadoes are really nothing to make light of. so, I apologize.

Danger Will Robinson.   That was said exactly one time on Lost In Space. Trivia, twas said by the robot B-9).  Similar versions (Danger danger..  Warning.. yada) were said often, but adding Will Robinson happened just once.

Victor,  I'm lost.

Me too.

TAKE COVER!  So, does this mean, "Linus, get your blanket, get the hell outta here?"  Mebbe.  Of course it means the weather is conducive to potential destruction - get to the basement, shelter. or, at the least, the room within the house with the most number of walls around you.

Sometimes, "Take cover" just means getting the hell away from it all.  An argue with mate, boss, friend, coworker...    Take cover (like, a blanket).. go find a creek, beach, lake, river, country pasture - have some my time, quiet time.  Calgon time. 

Sitting peacefully in Nature, yields lowered blood pressure, all the benefits of Transcendental Meditation, whatever they are... and sometimes, gloriously, nap happens.

There once was a blonde (VICTOR!  MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT! I never even said if male or female!)... There once was a blonde lady, aye yai yai, who heard "TAKE COVER" so she did... to the levee by the river.  As she placed her blankie down, plopped atop it, she noticed a snake, all coiled up, ready to strike, a few paces away.  She peered a bit more, trying to see if the snakes head was triangular or more oval, then she remembered she couldn't remember why she was, so, she somewhat panicked, hollered at her twin, blonde sister who was on the bank of the other side of the river.. HEY! HOW DO I GET TO THE OTHER SIDE? .... silence, then, YOU ARE ON THE OTHER SIDE!  Victor, you misogynist, we've all head that twelve times before.  Make it thirteen then, bite me.

Where are some of your favorite (in nonthreatening weather) places to "Wanna get away?" from it all?   Easy chair, book?  Hobby?  1,000 piece puzzle?  Handheld walk with 'honey'?  Country drive?

I personally enjoy, the jacuzzi, the sauna, a kid's ballgame.. a seat on a bench at the Square of our old downtown, a nap in my car at the City Park, many mems... driving by places I, we lived..  or, "smooched a gal at that house", or, "wanted to smooch a gal at that house, never did"... you know.

Sometimes, putting my phone up for an hour is a pretty nice, take cover, take a break, relax.

Victor?  Yeah?  Maybe you could take a break from your blog?  Sounds like sometimes ya needta.

Right, right, you're bloody well right, you got a bloody right to say........  

So................. Take Cover.............. or, as B-9 or BR549, whatever his name was, said, Danger Will Robinson. 

Try to enjoy life, weather you want to or not.

Love, Victurd 

Listen to the thunder, the rumble and the roar...........

Sooooooooooooooooooooo peaceful.  Awakening this morning (OH CRAP, here we go, ME, ME, ME).......

Ahem, sooooo peaceful awakening this morning to the 'roar' of thunder... at a level that was maybe 5 to 6 if it were on a soundboard.  Not the frantic run to the basement level of, say, Wipe Out, or In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida... but peaceful.....

This too shall pass peaceful.

Sunny beach....... VICTOR, enuff with the profanity, tain't no place for it here. NO, I meant, Sunny Beach... like  you know, you work, you toil, you save up an arm here, a leg there.... you scream (without intent to) NO, NO MCDONALDS TONIGHT....... PB&J samwiches... we're saving up, to rent us a high rise on the beach....so we can sit on the balcony... hear the peaceful wake.... (funny they call it that, because the rhythm of it actually puts us to sleep, not aWake'n us.

Weather, is like life, kinda.  Constant change, but crap we've been thru before.  It don't change in San Diego, but whothehell can afford to live there?  And, we're all different (notice?), some, might not enjoy 'never changing.'

I have weirdo friends living right here in Misery (play on a word, you know I love it here) that actually WANT TO BE IN MICHIGAN twelve months a year.  Now THAT is double stressy, like, shrinkage not only in Winter, but Summer, Fall, Spring too.  No. Thank. You.

Victor, is there a point to all this, or, is it like mosta your blogs, simply another #2 leaded pencil with no sharpener, DULL. devoid of clever lines, yet, contains the regular smudge crap on the page from being lefthanded?

Bite me, and yes, yes there is.

The thunder that's presently rolling along at a 5 or a 6?  One day, I, you, we, know it's coming - it'll be raging!  I live in a rental, as in oh sh*t i ain't gotta basement - so, it will happen and I will either go sit on the bathroom floor (it's got the most walls around me)... or, hop in my 2002 Buick Century, say a prayer, YES! YES it started... and try to outrun potential tornado, tsunami, Mother of all storms (MISOGYNIST.. AM NOT!)... and  I have done that on more than one occasion.

The point is, weather is like life. This too shall pass.

The Royals presently suck.  It's snowing, raining, icy, blowing sideways, flooding, all kindsa crappy weather... They'll be alright.  Scapegoats might, will probably happen, but they'll sort it out.  It ain't gonna thunder forever.

 Whatever life's present thorn is in your side, it may find you sitting on that nifty beach balcony, deathly afeared the ANGRY WAVES are gonna huff and puff and BLOW YOUR CHEAPY CONDO OVER.  Nah, it'll be fine.  Jump up, go inside, close the sliding door... put on some Pink Floyd, mebbe Fleetwood Mac, this too shall pass.

Thunder, at the 5-6 level, is a gentle reminder --- kinda like talking like a pirate groaning, getting outta bed... beating feet to pee before ya soil ur undies... that your hope of the rent payment arriving timely to the holding company, and shortly after Uncle Sam drops your coin in your account.  This too (worry) shall pass.. .and soon, a trip to Dairy Queen for a Peanut Buster Parfait can and will happen.

70 degrees, partly sunny, small breeze - that's the part in life like a hound (or a cat) on your lap... a phone call (to, or) from a loved one.. lasagna, perfectly cooked.  Hearing a compliment... winging one.  Seein' a little kid having fun.

Short blog today (You're welcome, they're normally reserved, coordinated with Winter Solstice)... but... seems the thunder ain't thundering (this too has passed).....

Time, Mother Nature, shake and bake (and the weather, the music, the hound, cat, loved one, whatever) helped.

Worry.

THUNDER THUNDER THUNDERATION.........

Even tides even out.

Life's a float trip with occasional rapids. An unexpected weather change where ya ain't got enough layers on.  Rain, when the tops down.  In my case, a dayum walnut that lands directly on the corner of the windshield next to the metal, uh huh, crack.  Sometimes this too shall pass.  Sometimes life ain't all it's cracked up to be, or, at least the windshield is, I guess.

Us and Them is one'a my favs for when it's thunderin' like all get out. Not sure whether it was God, Noah, or NOAA that created the saxaphone, but man that dude can wail.  And remind, this too shall pass.

Love, Victurd 

Small Town, Big Deal......

Should you ever suffer insomnia on a Saturday morning, I think 4-ish am, that (Small Town, Big Deal) is the name of a TV show on ABC.  They (a twosome, fun, middle age folks, lady, man) travel the US and stop in small towns that are a big deal. Blogger note: I think they gots the hots for one another, but, that's of my own surmise!

This morning, ME ME ME, (Sorry, not really) they happened to stop in Fulton, Missouri.... the town where my folks grew up...where my grandparents lived.. and where a chunk of my heart will always be.

 What's the BIG DEAL about the smalltown, Fulton, MO?  Well, lemme tellya. Victor, you probably already have.  True, screw it, retelling.

The show, had I not watched it, SURELY was about my grandparents dog Skip.  I mean, there's all kinda smalltown hounds who are famous. Name one Victor. OK.  Howabout a 5 month old puppy named Rocky from Siati, India...One morning at 1am, he started barking, howling, causing a fuss... that so happened to awaken 20 families and alert them of an incoming landslide, thus, allowing 67 villagers to reach safety just in time.  OK Victor, we'll grant you that one. The hell did Skippy do?

Grandma and grandpa went 'downtown', EVERY day.  It's what retired folk in Fulton do, every day.  OK.  Ten minutes before Grandpa went out to start the car, they'd let Skip out the door (tweren't no leash laws) and he would run the seven blocks to 'downtown', and lay down in the exact same parking spot on the main drag, every day, thus, saving it for Gramps when he and granny pulled up.

 So... .THAT?  That was enough to have a Small Town, Big Deal TV show?  Well, no, but I thought it was kinda cool, so included it.  Bring it Victor, what's the big deal about Fulton, MO.

Ever hearda Winston Churchhill?  Remember where he gave his Iron Curtain Speech?  Fulton, MO.  Well, to commemorate his 1946 speech, and as a memorial, BRICK BY BRICK, Westminster College paid to have the, built in 1700, St. Mary the Virgin, Aldermanbury Church to Fulton, numbered brick by brick, beam by beam, and reconstructed in Fulton on the Westminster campus.

Well, I guess that's kinda cool, now I bet you're gonna tell me your parents were both there.  Well, kinda.  They were actually on campus later in the day, at a dance!  Midwesterners?  Need a day trip?  Go check it out.. they've even got a large chunk (actually, huge sections) of part of the Berlin Wall itself, complete with silhouette artwork by Edwina Sandys, who so happens to be the granddaughter of Winston Churchill. Beautiful, colorful, 'free' graffiti, silhouettes on one side, stoic, numbered sections on the other. It 'speaks' to the day, the time. 

Several small towns in Missouri have been on the show. Victor, we don't care. I do, to heck with you.  Sedalia, and all the cattle drives thru there...   Hannibal, hearda Mark Twain?  Route 66 (Carthage, Cuba, etc) small towns along the stretch of the Mother Road, featuring food and roadside attractions and regional history.

Howabout Hamilton, Missouri.  You mighta heard of their famous resident Mr. James Cash Penney (lovingly called JC Penney).. well, even with his past .. small towns still can start to die out.. dwindle.. so......Hamilton basically became The Quilt Capitol of the Land, thanks in large part to Jenny Doan.  Jenny learned to sew in 4H... kept sewing.. took a quilting class nearby in 2003, and the rest, is woven into the history of Hamilton. Victor? Yes? Pretty proud of that line 'woven into history' ain'tya?  Mebbe.  So?

Anyways... the whole dadgum main drag in Hamilton is nuttin' but quilt stuff.. folks come visit from allover the World... Small Town, Big Deal.

To conclude today, we're relying on our guest blog writer, one, Mr. Bill (Bear) Day who's gonna tell us all about Danville, IL.  Bear is gonna help clear up something... the town is old, hella old.  As in, founded in 1827, and, before that, actually, occupied by the Miami, Kickapoo and Potawatomi tribes.  Guy Smith donated 60 acres, and Dan Beckwith donated 20 acres, presto, Danville.  Bear, how come they didn't call it Guyville?  He gave 60 acres? Oh, and there was a pretty famous lawyer who usedta troop through there.

Victor, how do you know Danville?  I'm so glad you asked.  Norris Patterson was a high school football coach there - and he eventually moved to Liberty to become the head football coach (and a VERY successful one) at William Jewell College.  MUCH of that success came from coaches he brought with him, and, year after year, many very fine football players came to lace em up at Jewell.  In fact, among the very first African American students at Jewell was a beloved fellow named Bill, "Pee Wee" Summers.    Pee Wee lettered four years in track AND basketball, and, standing just under 6', he high jumped almost 7' and was the National Champion High Jumper in 1965.  Then, longtime career as a basketball referee in the Big 8, Big 10, etc. He was a Small Town, Big Deal in BOTH Danville AND Liberty, as was Dr. (Coach) Patterson.

I'm done, sorry to ramble.

Bear, you're on! (Don't forgetta tell about the Van Dykes, oh, and Robin Yount, who else from Danville?

Love, Victurd 

 

Covers..........

At the golf course where I work......... OH CRAP VICTOR?  Is this another ME ME ME post?

No.

Mebbe.

Possibly.  

Where was I?  Ahm, Victor.. i think you were at the Doctor's office getting a cognitive assessment because you do this quite often.  What?  FORGET, you are forgetful.

Oh...

Well....... (that's a deep subject)...

At the golf course where I work........ DAILY, we get 'head covers' turned in left and right.  Head covers are these cloth, leather devices that will keep your $350 pride and joy new driver  (that you told your old lady it cost Two-fitty... sorry about the old lady part, but you're already aware I'm a misogynist eh?) protected from dings.

Men, they take the head cover off, drive their golf ball on hole #1 (forget to grab it after), play the hole, move to 2, 3, 4, etc... eventually some nice dude or dudette playing behind grabs the head cover, tosses it in their cart.. .and turns it in when they are finished....  we get, got, hunnerds  of 'em, because, as women say "Men don't pickup after themselves."  (We don't have to, we simply collect the cover from the counter the next time we play, nanny nanny boo boo._

Or, we leave it altogether...   at season end, the course has two hunnerd and fitty of em, no place to put 'em, so...  they're donated to some snotnose daycare for the kids to make hand puppets.  Yeah, they are.

Manhole covers.  Stolen by methheads to sell for scrap, particularly in December, "Methy Christmas."

OUCH! The hell?  Whar'd that cover go?

WOMEN.  Women are cover thieves. They are.  And Bic lighters.  We men wake up freezing in the middle'a the night, wanting a cig, but, there ain't no way to light it.  If it ain't the wife it's the damn dog.

The Beatles.

Ahm, Victor?  Yeah? Howinthehell are you gonna weave THIS blog together?

Cinchy.   The Beatles steal covers too.. or did.  Among some of 'em:  Anna...  Chains...  A Taste of Honey..  Please Mr. Postman..  Roll Over Beethoven (I bet he might).. You Really Got a Hold On Me..  Money..  Kansas City/Hey Hey Hey Hey, HEY! SAY IT AIN'T SO!  So (sorry), so.  Act Naturally NO! I THOUGHT SURE THAT WAS RINGO's DEAL? 

And......... the reason this here whole damn blog was written this morning, Twist and Shout. Nuh uh?  Sorry, uh huh.

As this song went thru my brain this morning.. I Googled which Beatle sang it?  (was pretty sure it was John).. John confirmed...  and twas there I learned it was actually written a couple years before the Beatles sang it (Phil Medley and Bert Burns.).. The Top Notes then recorded it..  The Isley Brothers too (and I guess that version is popular.. 

But............. I love the Beatles version.  Passion. Gravely voice.  Let it all hang out. The Hombres?  Well, no. I meant, John let it all hang out. 

I went back and listened to the Isley version.. . not bad...  then, The Beatles... found out, the reason John sounded so passionate, gravely was because they'd already recorded for 12 hours that day... it was the final song of the session... they did it in two takes and, it was a good thing they did because John was D.O.N.E, done.  No voice left.

That's the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it.  He'd given everything.  When I did go back and re-listen, still impressive but i think they even coulda done it faster and with even more passion.  Mebbe AI will one day help them do that.

Cover the bases. (Watch the Royals, they do a Cliff Notes version.   Cover a lot of ground.  Cover your tracks.  From cover to cover.  Don't judge a book by it's cover.   Blow one's cover.  Cover letter.  Cover charge.

That should cover it.

Cover your ears, I'm gonna sing it. WELL SHAKE IT UP BABY!

Cover, as in run for.......

 Tune in tomorrow as the plan is to compare the lyrics of Alice's Restaurant to those of In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida

Happy day... and happy Birthday Terry Hahn!  

Choices.........

 Me, me, me.  Sorry.  How are you?

Yesterday, two in our golf foursome were unable to play. Should we go ahead and play?  Sure, choice #1. 

Did. Fun. Cruddy front nine, back, just a tad better, medium crappy. A beer and convo on the deck after, the choice was Miller Lite.  It tastes great, and friend John thought it too was less filling.

Age, inactivity, a whole lot of sun, a beer, and, hey, I'll grump, it's legal at my age - affliction, all combined, tired me out.

I was in bed - the choice of my upper eyelids (they kept trying to greet, say hello to the bottom eyelids.) very early. I had no choice to hop in bed way before the NY Yankees were comfortably ahead of our beleaguered Kansas City Royals. 

If I were a Sport's Writer for the Kansas City SNL News, I'd login as Victor WonderfulWhiner to say, "the hell do you expect?  Yankee payroll $336 Million, Royals, $146 Million."  Readers of said SNL rag would write in and say "We gots choices... can the manager, buy us a real good outfielder, move so-and-so up/down/out of the lineup... new hitting, pitching coach, it's the GM's fault, move 'em to downtown Nashville."  Eh, you know, fanatics.

I had choices when I awakened. I gots to be at work at 5:30am.  Retirement, ha.  Coffee, mandatory.  Newspaper, eh, come what may.  Read (and weap) over Royals, skip all the way too many KU articles... more on the paper in a sec...

I've got a really cool pump that massages my legs.  Victor?  Who cares?  My legs do! Whilst I DID awaken shortly after 3am, all them choices above... leave no room for the pump now - I look forward to it once I get home - as, I'm choosing to blog now.

Why?

Once again, I read the obits.  Chose to.  The first one I opened (only two today thank goodness).. I bawled.  Beautiful, not quite middle age lady.. wife, mom to three littles...melanoma - way too soon.  The obit writer captured the persona of her life... a giver.. loyal.. fun.. Social Worker who put that on the back burner to raise three littles.  Too. Damn. Young.  Once again, guilt sets in.  It's so hard to 'look 'em in the eye' because, one shouldn't have to read an obit of one younger, in this case, a lot younger... it just ain't right.

It jolts life in perspective.

Who gives a rats about sore muscles from golf. Golf scores. How much off my debit card went to fill my car to drive to the course.  Who cares about Major League payrolls... what pitch to throw, when, in the count.  Baseball is a carousel of swapping players, coaches, front office folks.......... real life it taking in the wonder of the carousel and seeing the plug pulled out and it comes to a forever, ne'er to circulate again, stop.

Looking in the mirror - I remind me I'm damn lucky to be writing, walking, talking, living.  We don't really call the shots (choose) when that's not going to be the case ----------------------------------

so..........once again, life still lends us the choice of how to face it.  Kindness. With smile.  Arm around.  Hugging.  Complimenting.  Appreciating what I got, not, what i ain't got.

I am very glad you are able to read this today for it means you as well still have choices.   It sucks that dark reminders relate how short life is here. The 'ya never knows' of it all.

Tears are ok, for, they are to be wiped away.. face cleansed.. .with smile, just as those that have passed before us would love for us to do.  Carry on, give smiles for, on behalf of, them.  They can't - we certainly can and assuredly might as well.

 Love, Victurd 

Liberty Sports

 Nathaniel Semple grew up in Liberty and earned his undergraduate degree at William Jewell College before attending medical school at Washington University in St. Louis and doing post-graduate studies in Germany and Paris. He played singles and doubles tennis at the 1904 St. Louis Olympics.

 

Otto “Jaybird” Ray—a former Negro Leagues ballplayer who lived in Liberty, Missouri until he passed away in 1976.

Ray was born in Lexington, Missouri (1893) and played in the Negro leagues at a time when Black athletes were barred from Major League Baseball. A tough, versatile catcher/outfielder, he played for teams including the Kansas City Monarchs, Chicago Giants, St. Louis Stars—and he even managed the Cleveland Browns in 1924.

Come experience this history in person: See the newly dedicated Otto “Jay Bird” Ray Black Baseball Room (named for Clay County’s only Negro Leagues ballplayer), plus additional exhibit rooms, as well as the Clay County African-American Legacy Art Gallery at the Garrison School Cultural Center and Museum. 502 N. Water Street, Liberty, MO.

 

https://www.seamheads.com/NegroLgs/player.php?playerID=ray--01ott

 

https://www.facebook.com/reel/1611400330143726

 

https://www.wjcfootball.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/12/1980-Mid-America-Nazarene-Game-Program.pdf (First WJC football game 1888)

 

 

K.U. Basketball trivia for the day: The first intercollegiate basketball game in the state of Missouri was played at William Jewell College in 1899 against the University of Kansas, coached by James Naismith the inventor of basketball. The two coaches were good friends.

Jewell lost

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charlie_Lee_(American_football_coach)

 

Ron Hall

 

Scott Carroll 

 

Bill "Pee Wee" Summers

 

1968 William Jewell Baseball National Champions

 

Larry Holley

 

Liberty Wall of Honor (Last updated 2015) 

 

The Dueling Pistols......... 

https://bvmsports.com/2022/07/25/reliving-the-dueling-pistols-game-rivalry-between-liberty-and-excelsior-springs-football/?fbclid=IwY2xjawSDy_1leHRuA2FlbQIxMQBzcnRjBmFwcF9pZBAyMjIwMzkxNzg4MjAwODkyAAEeniaHe-l0ZqRhZOOmrtzfjsUnAWw7k8dkH4xN_mEXTeOxc72LSlNmVW9U1Zw_aem_HxqLQF8SpYk2ImZQ7xkjcw

 

 

  

 

 

 

Too deep...........

I'm weird, but, that's a given. In life there are collectors.  Coins, stamps, baseball cards, LP albums, video games, action figures, and money.

Me?  I, oddly, 'enjoy' reading obits, collecting memories of folks and their lives, is fascinating.  It's little to give in one's life - to not have known them, but, to dedicate two minutes to read five or six paragraphs depicting who, what, where, when of their footsteps here.

 I can just see mine.  "He played TOO MANY softball games."  I know, by that time, I'd be too damn stiff, or, perhaps "to everything, urn urn urn" by then, I'd be unable to raise an arm and holler "BS", but, would if I could.  How'd Bill Medley say it? "Now I've, had, the time of my life.."

"TOO DEEP" is a saying by an umpire...  a slopitch umpire (and I never really knew, know how to spell slowpitch slow pitch slopitch and don't care).. but, when a ball travels over the plate, but, too far back to be a strike, he hollers "TOO DEEP."  It was a friendly saying to fellow simpletons who played too many games as well.  Oh well.  Scroll to raised arm, BS, I had the time of my life.

NOW, when I look at obits, anytime I see an obit of someone born after me, it's "NOOOOO!  TOO YOUNG!"........  Watching the news, I have extreme difficulty looking at pics of fallen policemen/women, soldiers.. NO!  SAY IT AIN'T SO.  NOT FAIR. DIDN'T DESERVE. WHY?  The same (I can't look) when a child is involved, be it a stray bullet from one they didn't even know, or, at the hands of domestic abuse, aka, killer.  It's all, too deep.  As for pics of killers.  I can't look. The Good Book speaks to judgment, hate.  Too hard for me.

Rearrange this blog Victor, we no likey. Thanks, me neither.

Too fun:  Dogs. Cats. Good friends. Firepits. Barn doors open. Nylon undies static clung to a dress. Unintended farts. Hot chocolate/winter day.  Cold beer/hunnerd out.  Relatives.  Cars that start.  Every successful 'trip' over three inch 'ledge/divider' tween bathroom floor and shower.  "Can't wait to hear" after name you like pops up on caller ID.  Compliments, both directions. Smiles, whenever, however for whatever reason.

Howabout Goldilocks?  Porridge too hot, too cold... chairs, too big, too wide... bed... too hard, too soft.  Sometimes, just right happens.  

So, in our quest for finding, sucking up good - we dive into the pool.  Careful, can't be too shallow.  We make, keep friends, unless, we find one a bit too shallow.  In a casual setting with friends, we pick a place to sit.  If we find one that is........ too loud... talks a bit too much... talks about folks that ain't there too much... are 'right' too often (a hunnerd percent in their brains) next time, we choose not to sit anywhere close to them. Live, learn.  Ain't that what life's about? 

In spitea you basta's (said too lovingly) occasionally calling me a misogynist, I'd MUCH RATHER sit within a group of ladies...say... like, after golf, than to sit, visit with the same ole fuddy duddy guys I grew up with.  Aside from 'much more appealing to look at', funner to listen to.  One thing though I've noticed, and yes, I've prolly said it before.  After us fuddy duddies finish golf of Mondays, the ladies league is by then gathering on the back deck to play.  Twenty or so of 'em.  I LOVE IT.  Fun to watch, listen, say 'howdy'. I will say though, if there's twenty of em, seemingly, twenty of 'em are talking. which, tells my brain "too many" and, asks, who's then listening? 

Retirement is ALL ABOUT "Too".  Hey, that's too many small chocolate donuts (who cares), you've already slept 8 and half hours today and it's only noon (who cares, watch me nap).. You're forgetting you're on Social Security, you've overspent this month, put your (billfold/purse) back, who cares, my grandchild wants it, I'll figure it out later. 

Too tired.  Sounds like 'too much fun', LET'S GO!  Too far to drive (we'll Uber then, split the costs).  Too late, can't.  BS, Get up offa the couch, let's go you can sleep till noon if you want.

Sounds too dangerous..  Shuddup and put your seatbelt on.  But, but, but, what if the parachute packer has a bad day?

I fall in love too quick. No, you fall in infatuation too quick.  It's when that parachute don't open you fall too quick, oops.

Too cold. Wear a jacket.  Too many steps. Take the elevator. Too loud, wear earbuds.  Bad neighborhood, what if we get lost?  We gots GPS.

The Royals have lost TOO MANY this year, I don't wanna go.  Shuddup, go to the closet, grab your Royal's shirt.  It's too small now.  We'll go to Rally House, get another.  Cost too much.  We'll go to dead people's store, get another, I'm buying.  It's too far to walk.  Hush, bring  your handicap placard, we're on the front row.

Thirteen dollars a beer?  THAT'S TOO MUCH.  Quuuiiisssshhhhh, man that tastes good.  Just one or two though. Don't worry, long time "too many."  Besides, I already walk funny, don't needs me no beer to do that.

The Golden years.  Too fun. Everything, our beck and call.  Too many dadgum good friends to meet, see, talk to them all. Try your best. Text, message, call, go see.

I owe tooooo much to you all for being here, reading.  It makes writing, fun.  There is sooooooooooooooo much good in life.  Too much to see, not enough time to do so............but by golly, let's try.

Forward by Desmond Too Too

Were you aware too too (tutu) means Grandma in Hawaiian? Too fun.  Victor, you tell 'em, we'll decide if too fun or not.

Too deep.  I'm getting a lifejacket.

Love, Victurd