I've always been a tad dyslexic......... (Did I tell you about the guy that walked into the bra?)
I think I mean: Don't worry, be happy.
It be kinda hard nowadays, but shouldn't be. It can be like walking agin' the wind, leaning at a 45 degree angle forward (which is hella dangerous at our age) and it seems like ya get noswheres, fast.
The alarm goes off. Wait! That makes me happy! Victor, you're retired, you don't set an alarm. Oh yeah, forgot.
The newspaper guy throws, paper hits the ground. Yipee! Victor, ya read it/?
OK, OK, OK, so I'll login and ketchup on Facebook. Duh. Well, there IS fun there sometimes.
Victor, you've got happy meds, ain't that enough? You mean like "They're coming to take me away ha ha, there coming to take me away?" Eh, kinda, I guess.
Stymie halt. I remember back the day, my buddies standing off in a circle, one of 'em saying something about "Good shit, man." I tweren't real sure what they were talking about, but, pleased to know, in our society, there's good shit.
I ain't written' here much of late.... We're kinda caught up in this "Life, what's going on, is kinda a bummer." George Harrison might say his guitar gently weeps. Caretaker at nursing home may be contemplating same, walk around the corner, get a 'good' whiff and exclaim "Depends." Uh huh, does.
Faith in mankind. Dyslexia again. Kind man. Kind woman too. There's a lady at the golf course where I work a couple days a week, she'sb, oh, 5 to 10 years older than me. I don't think she's had a bad day in her life. Yum. Rubby off on me please!
There's a man, well, there are actually plaenty of 'em, they ALWAYS smile. Is it drugs? I want somea that stuff! I jest, a dat (dyslexia again, sorry.)
Victor, I'm from Missouri, SHOW ME this 'good shit' you speak of. Well, howabout that football player.. JJ Watts I think his name is. He got wind (no, not Depends), he got wind of someone selling much of his memorabilia so they could raise funds for the funeral of a loved one. "WAIT! Stymie Halt" he chanted. "Don't do that. Keep your stuff, I'll pay for the ceremony" and he did. That's happy.
And Bo. Happy knows Bo, or something undyslexic like that, Bo knows happy. The recent massacre of the 17 school children - he paid for every funeral.
No, funerals aren't generally happy but what I love is good people (mankind, kind man) pouring love on hate, despair.
My eyeballs try to suckup every ounce of happy I see weekly, and thankfully, that's a lot. Again, where I work. We gotta golf course, and a pool. Golfers come into the counter, continue on to the left to play golf. Swimmers come to the counter, turn right to go to the pool. As they march in, there's happiness. Why, just the other day, there was this little curlyheaded blonde, oh, maybe 4... she marched in with a Big Bird floatee wrapped around her and a smile wrapped across her face.. "Are you going golfing?" some old fart (thinking he's funny) asked.... smile got bigger..."NO!!!!!!!" And she continued on, probably dunked baby brother a time or two, peed in the pool, asked mom for some ice cream. It's what kids do.
So......... with intention, there's happy where I work. It's a place to recreate. Sunburns, stubbed toes on the concrete, sunscreen in the eyes, water up the nose.... lost golf balls, triple bogeys, and sure, even a swing-and-a-miss happen a time or seven. "I'm recreatin'.... you can't wipe smile offa my face."
Still, they happy. I am 'stuck' in the wedgie (counter) between swim and golf. That's a damn happy place to be stuck. On more than one occasion I've heard, after a golfer had just shot 23 over par, "Any day on the golf course is a good day."
Glory to the ones that maybe do, maybe don't play golf/swim, and their actions speak out "Any day in life is a good day."
Buck. Buck O'Neil. YOU COULD NOT wipe the happy off that man's face. AND, they wouldn't even let him in to play the game! God Bless you Buck, you were an example for us all. He would become the first ever black coach in the Major Leagues - but, his take on playing, life, etc... "I was right on time."
We just can't let life wipe the happy off our face. Victor, are you preaching? If you're tithing, then hell to the yes I am, ha, but no. It's a thought in all of our brains. I admit to struggling with it sometimes - then, I cuss myself out, go grab the Breyer's Butter Pecan outta the freezer, then, hell to the yes, I WILL BE HAPPY!
The KC Star. Ha. Watch this! Sure, I see page one, two, all about Biden, Congress, this, that, most, makes tummy churn (no matta what side you're on)... I scroll thru really quickly (Victor? Didn't that one lady say you demonstrated 'avoidance behavior'? Huh? Couldn't hearya, sorry, I've got The Rolling Stones Live cranked on Youtube while I type this crap, couldn't hear.) Where was I? Oh yeah, the paper. Then, pages 3-5 are all about shootings, muggings, lawsuits, housefires, yada..... so I pray. I scroll pretty quickly, as I pray.
I runs to the Sport's section, quickly pass by the article about the Left Tackle who wants a contract large enough he could buy Delaware... jump over the guess as to how many games that one quarterback will be suspended for all the civil suits that have been brought upon him by women... I dive into reading about WITT JR, PRATTO, MELENDEZ and however you spell that Vinnie Pasq-one-tino. THAT, makes me happy, even if it's an occasional 0 for 4.
Done with Sports so I Sudoku, then Crossword. I'm better at Sudoku, but, ha, if I don't get the crossword completed, I cheat (Google, which is fancy for 'learn'... 'learn' is happy, 'cheat' ain't) and fill that sucker out.
Sudoku, Crossword, Golf, Swimming = happy.
Your life? I can guess. Things that keep you sane: kids, GRANDKIDS, music, lasagna (Victor, I think that's you... oh yeah, sorry)... sex.. (VICTOR! Well damnit, do you ever frown during? Uh huh, what I thought, it's a happy thing! I think I remember.)
Birdies, doggies, kitties. Nature. The rain, from inside. The snow, from inside. The sun, out in it. Gorgeous cars, gorgeous people, gorgeous smiles, mowed grass, potholes patched, traffic cones put away - there is much, to be happy about.
Why hells bells. (I hate doing laundry.) Just the other day, as I proudly struggled to carry the basket of 3 loads of washed, folded clothes, shirts on hangers in to put them away - I was whistling I was so happy. Then, I remembered I forgot to remember to add laundry detergent when I washed them. VICTOR! NO!... Si, it's true, it's reawwy true. Eh, passed the sniff test, they'll never know, I was happy. VICTOR, WHY do you post crap like that? Because if you can't have fun at your own expense, then life must really be poopy. (Victor, i think I woulda used a different word than poopy.) Eh, whatever, my word choices run in streaks. Oops.
The point is, none of us get out alive. YOLO, which is very yummy with ROLO's. Golf. Swimming. Sudoku, Crosswords. Scoffing at cross words. Smiling at ones that have obviously forgotten their Xanax.... That attitude "YOU CANNOT, WILL NOT, wipe the smile offa my face."
I hope there's lots that makes you happy. I list my crap, I hope your list is longer and even happier. It's a choice ain't it.
Since I last blogged I've been to two funerals and read the obituaries of two or three acquaintances. Life's too short to be stuck on yuck in everyday life. Trust me, I know all to well it can be hard.
With advance apologies to everyone I'm related to, I've ever coached/taught, gone to church with, yada, life is good shit..... if we let it be.
Let It Be sounds much yummier than While My Guitar Gently Weeps.
Piece out. (I cant spell niether.)
Love, Victurd
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