Roll out the barrel......

I get up way too early. (I go to bed way too early.) I watch ABC's World News Now. This ain't sponsored and there won't be any small rectangular box in the lower right hand corner for you to click 'Skip Ad', it's just the channel I watch....they're all kinda sorta alike... and it maybe has a touch to do with the fact this show precedes the local news, with the announcer lady I've had a goofy celebrity crush on for, oh, 20+ years now.

Good. Bad. That's life, ain't it Frank?

It's (watching the news) a compilation of events, going ons that might make you cover your eyes, grab more coffee (and a Rolaids), and then fun, human interest stories that don't last near long enough and they leave one a hollerin' "MORE! MORE!" as if you'd just watched some they-ain't-dead-yet-but-still-wonderful band saunter off the stage and you're standing, clapping, begging for more.

Then, at some point, the ABC folks bring someone out with an accordion to play their version, The World News Polka.

So, I'm a simpleton... it's ugly stuff, fun stuff (more more), aesthetically pleasing stuff (hubba hubba) and music. Frankly, that's life.

Honest, I don't like morbid, but too, reality creeps in. In case you ain't gone to the Piggly Wiggly lately, stood in line and read the National Inquirer headline about a 2016 Park City, Utah ski accident where a retired optometrist (now 75-ish) claims Gwyneth Paltrow ran into him (cha-ching), breaking four ribs, concussed, affected every aspect of his life and now wants $3+ million. Gwyneth says "nuh uh, you ran into me" so she counter sued for $1 + court costs. More.

Well, reasonable doubt, jury found in Gwyneth's favor... I read in one article (can't find it now damnit darnit) that basically went back to morbid, suggesting the guy's woes had more to do with 'that's life/you-are-aging.' (You can almost hear Norman and Ethel Thayer in the background.)  Gwyneth tapped optometrist guy on shoulder on way out "I wish you well", he replied in kind, "Thank you Dear."

Ya just never know. Imagine a circle of chairs, oh, say 21 chairs... then.. 22 of us geezers walking around while the accordion guy plays Roll Out The Barrel. The music stops. Soon restarts and there are 21 of us left for 20 chairs, etc. I abhor this particular 'etc'.

A few years back I attended a funeral with a gal I was seeing and her folks. Her Mom stated "the last of my best friends." I'll never forget that.

I guess the point being, life is fleeting. Scroll past the ugly. Stand (with your best friends) call that they-ain't-dead-yet band back for another song. (One chair for you AND one for each of your friends.) Dance to the music.

Since it's the beer barrel polka, we might as well share a beer. (Stay off the roads and the slopes if you do.)

I wish you well, love, Victurd

Life... in purple maybe

Like virtually every little boy who grew up in the 50's, 60's, the dream of course was to one day follow in the footsteps of The Mick, Say Hey or Hammerin' Hank. Dreams like that are utopic, at best, and 99.9% fail.

Perhaps we can't follow that dream, but Sports, in general, play such a huge role in society. We pick, develop favorites. We fill our chest of drawers with black and gold, crimson and blue, purple, Royal blue and in the Winter, we maybe wear red on Friday.

We decorate our walls, our Chistmas wish lists, our man caves (AND she sheds), and our hopes - with our favorites.

We go through life, sporting events in exultation or, the hurt of a dog. We raz our friends, we swallow humble pie.

We disregard, skip over articles of ne'er-do-wells (every aspect of society has a few), and we marvel at those that are wonderful, role-modeling folks.

Geez Louise, I just might fill up a drawer in my dresser with purple.

Jerome Tang, minutes before he was to coach the biggest game in his career, sought and found a silent corridor to call and express his sorrow to the parents of a K-State student who recently expired in a car wreck. He told no one of this phone call. Earlier, on campus, he'd gone to the student's sorority house to share dinner and express his condolences to them. 

A purple pattern continued.  Quite a few years ago, I had a friend who's son had a horrific work accident in Columbia, MO, and was hospitalized there. The mom had written then K-State football coach Bill Snyder, shared of her son's love for "all things K-State', included the hospital's mailing address in hopes of the coach mailing a decal, football calendar, or best case, a short note. A week or so later, K-State traveled to Columbia for a Saturday game versus MU. Late evening, the night before the game, Coach Snyder walked into the young man's hospital room for a wonderful, uplifting  visit. He told no one.

Sports are all about everything in life.. 

Like many abbreviations today (TIA, IMO, BOGO, YOLO) I'm old and I have to look the dang things up.  All through this basketball tourney I've seen EMAW (in purple) repeatedly. OK, I give, I looked it up....

'Every Man A Wildcat'....

It's all our hope we all have the heart of a Wildcat.

I don't know why, perhaps Smitty will die..

 There was an old lady who swallowed a fly

I don't know why she swallowed a fly - perhaps she'll die!

The song could actually end here as there are a kajillion diseases one could get. Not a fan of flies. Ever almost have a wreck because ONE DAMN FLY got in your car and you frantically roll down windows, wave, woosh, swat...think it went out, windows back up, then, after ten seconds of silence.....bzzzzzzzzzzz?.. Bill Cosby (I know, but he was funny) said "October is my favorite month - the flies get slow.".. Tell me you've never walked by one of those fly glue trap things you unwind, hang - AND THEN get your hair in it?...  Whenever I think of the fly, I think of Jeff Goldblum. Eww.

There was an old lady who swallowed a spider,
That wriggled and wiggled and tiggled inside her;
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

Ever do a back bend in the forest when you feel your face planted mid- spider web? I know there are good spiders, poisonous spiders, BUT, like snakes, I ain't takin' the time to figure out which. When I think of spiders, I think of women screaming. Don't tell, me too.

There was an old lady who swallowed a bird;
How absurd to swallow a bird.
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

Poor bird. A well a everybody's heard about the bird... B-b-b-bird, bird, bird, b-bird's the word. Ever have them basta's fly into the glass of your window (again, again, again and again?) Someone said to tape a picture of a human head on the window and it would scare them away - so - I taped the mug of one of our extremely good natured buddies (who we tease unmercifully), worked, and of course I told him he was scary.

There was an old lady who swallowed a cat;
Fancy that to swallow a cat!
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

Cat huh? This is kinda like an assbackwards 12 Days of Christmas. Why would you swallow a cat? (Nevermind, don't wanna hear... I still enjoy those buffets vely much.)

There was an old lady that swallowed a dog;
What a hog, to swallow a dog;
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

Poor Fido. Man's best friend, not entre'. Old Yeller, Hooch, Benji, Rin Tin Tin, Lassie, Toto, NO!! (Even though Toto is kinda bite-size ) Deputy Dog, Snoopy, Goofy, Astro. I'm hungry, Scooby Dooby Doo, where are you? RUH ROH!

There was an old lady who swallowed a cow,
I don't know how she swallowed a cow;
She swallowed the cow to catch the dog,
She swallowed the dog to catch the cat,
She swallowed the cat to catch the bird,
She swallowed the bird to catch the spider,
She swallowed the spider to catch the fly;
I don't know why she swallowed a fly - Perhaps she'll die!

Despicable thought, udderly.. Calm down Clara, where's the vegetables? Besides, at $8.99 a pound, the hell would it cost?

There was an old lady who swallowed a horse...
She's dead, of course!

NOOOOOOOOO! NO, not Seabiscuit, Black Beauty, Secretariat? My Friend Flicka? No Belmont, Preakness, KENTUCKY DERBY? Do you realize how hard it might be for a 5'3", 107 lb man to find a job?

Sorry, kinda. I was REALLY bored, just horsin' around.

(Many years ago, we kids lived in a neighborhood next to the local college. There was a college student who would bring his guitar, us kids would gather around and he'd play songs for us like the one above. Scared our parents though, "Be careful, ya never know." Never know what? He was fun, talented and nice. The more he came, the more they worried. They kept saying they thought he was "some kinda funny." One mom even called the cops. They said they couldn't do nuttin'.  Our folks held a meeting at Frank's house. Frank was a friendly enough guy. We used to wave and say Hi when we went to Safeway and he was behind the butcher counter where he worked. Weird, last time we saw college guy singer feller, there was a neighnorhood Block Party/BBQ that night. Meat tasted kinda funny. Smitty even bit into his burger and found a 'pick'.)

Perhaps he'll die.

Love, Victurd

Awful good.

 I hate/love that.

It's lifelike. (If you'll notice, sentence one above is indented. This one ain't, looks awful. Good, I guess.)

Jobs are awful, payday ain't.  

Forrest reminds, "I'm an excellent driver." Me too... good even. Then I got married, learned I was awful. Don't get me wrong, happy. An awful good marriage, so to speak (enter a smiley face here because I'm awful at computer crap and dunno how to, but, good of you to envision.)

You put the lime in the coconut and drink it all up. Tastes awful good, bellyache gone...awful though that I broke out in hives.

You take the good with the bad... like a red rubber ball... or a rollercoaster (some throw their arms up in jubilation, pee a bit.... others might throw __, and ____ a bit. Eww.)

Many years of awfully good lasagna, spaghetti, bowling alley 300 burgers, many emptied 30-packs of beer, have caused my physique (which, long ago when I turned sideways in the mirror looked like --> 'I' ).. now looks like --> 'b' when turned sideways. All that good food, drink, done that. Ain't it awful?

Life. Teeter, totter. (Remember the hefty kid in school that was teased somethin' awful, but got his revenge at recess when he hoisted you six foot in the air on the teeter totter, jumped off, had a good laugh whilst your tailbone hurt awfully bad for three months? Me too.)

Retirement, awfully good.  (Remember? I'm an excellent driver. good even.) Hell's bells, now I have an awful time seeing the white lines at night. Color me soon to be a day driver.  Don't cry for me Argentina, I've driven hella miles, had an awfully good life.

Dance to the music, dance to the music. He's gonna add a drummer for people who only need a beat. Then, add a guitar, to make it easy to move your feet.  I'm gonna add some bottom so that the dancers just won't hide. You might like to hear my organ, I said a ride Sally, ride. GO FOR IT SALLY, keep on'a dancin'! It feels AWFUL GOOD! Besides, there' a defibrillator in the back room, and I'll rub your feet when yur done.

The good, the bad, the ugly. Cats come to you (or not). Jump on your lap. Prrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Awful good feeling. Get up, uh huh, hairball.

Imagine Steve Martin, whatever his character's name was, frustrated something awful, talking to his wife about the complexities of life, parenting, "Life is messy..I hate messy."  Wife's grandma, very aged, pipes in with "You know, when I was young, Grandpa took me on a roller coaster. Up and down, up, down. Oh what a ride. I always wanted to go again. It was just interesting to me that a ride could make you so frightened, so scared, so sick, so excited..and so thrilled all together. Some didn't like it, they went on the merry-go-round. That just goes around. Nothing. I like the roller coaster. You get more out of it."

Color me a simpleton, that's one of my favorite scenes EVER. (Never mind the fact Martin poo-pooed her speech, wife stood up for grandma, said "I happened to have loved it." They were all going somewhere, Granny went to get in the car after her diddy.. Martin peeked out the window, smirked, "If she's so wise, all-knowing then why is she sitting in the neighbor's car?")

Life is so imperfect it's perfect. Tomorrow is another day. Laughing until your belly hurts would never happen without shedding an occasional tear. 

Check Engine Light is GONNA eventually come on, a given. Answer that damn phone, buy that extended warranty. It's an awful good idea.

Life really begins when you are finally 42" tall and you're allowed to get on the ride.

Love, Victurd

Does size matter?

 In the NFL, offensive tackles are usually taller (and heavier), so they can keep monster, maniac defensive ends from getting their grubby paws on precious quarterbacks. So, like they may consume 6,000 calories a day compared to the smaller, squattier interior lineman counterparts, guards and centers who eat mebbe 5,000 calories a day.

Those BIGN'S can also make upwards of $20 MILLION a year (compared to $1 to $10 MIL for guards, centers - so yeah I'd say that matters. Logic would say "start eating" eh? Count me in!

Then again, we got David and Goliath... Daniel La Russo and Johnny Lawrence (wax on wax off kick the bigger guy's arse) and of course Ralphie knocking the eye out of the bully Scut Farkus. (I was gonna list Popeye and Bluto but that was spinach induced.)

Big matters in an airline center seat, on a basketball court, when you're a tall guy walking thru a low threshold.

Poor Barney Fife. I watched an episode the other day where some highfalutin new County Commissioner mandated "all deputies must be (minimally) 5'8" and 135 pounds. Andy begged, pleaded, highfalutin wouldn't budge. Barney, 5'7 1/2, buck-twenty-seven", walked in defeatedly in street clothes to hand in his badge, gun (and bullet). "Now wait a minute Barn...."Andy had an idea....

Aunt Bea could fatten him up, and "remember when Chuck was havin' back problems and Doc' put that thing on him and stretched him out?" So they tried. Barney ate and ate (like an offensive tackle) and then two hours a day Barn went in the closet, had this contraption thing under his chin with a rope over the clothes hanging bar, attached to a weight that lifted Barney's head up.  It's impossible to use keyboard strokes to 'paint' a picture of Barney's facial expression as he did this (you're probably old like me, just envision Barney's panic look!) Poor Opie thought Barn was trying to hang himself and charged his buddies a nickel apiece to watch thru the window.

Ended up, Barney did stretch to 5'8", but, he kept getting the hiccups when trying to down Aunt Bea's fare. Andy saved the day ("it's permissible to have an ID on a chain under your uni") by having Barney wear what looked to be a 5 lb log chain under his uni as he weighed in.

Does size/matter matter? Hefty trash bags, gigantic sales,...humongous.. immense... husky...substantial... prodigious.. whopping...

Grandson's first soccer game yesterday... a tad nervous for him... He's 10 in a 12 and under league, probaly the smallest on the team. Holy guacamole, this little bitty gal on the purple team (and I mean little bitty, like a head shorter than my grandson and two heads shorter than his tallest teammate) - anyways, little bitty dribbled around, over and through the much bigger red dudes to the tune of five goals.

So, there you have, any, everything about size matters, sometimes.

Huh?  You were expecting?

Pervert.

Love, Victurd

Feeling gooder.

I did Wordle today and I got it in three and I'm surely convinced it's because the word was SURLY.  I have admittedly, been that of late, and it's a bit like having a wonderful plate of IHOP pancakes (Yum!), eggs, sausage, coffee (wakeup and smile Victor it's GONNA be a good day, ie, "make it so"...................and then I realize there is syrup on pages 4, 5, 6 and 7 of the Sport's page, that's always where they stick articles on my beloved MU Tigers....sooooooo...

See? SURLY.

This morning at home, one eye on FB, one eye on the TV World News (kinda Marty Feldman-style I guess).. Certain you probably watched the Oscars, maybe not, dunno...anyways, when Dan Scheinert (and his coworker) won Best Director....in his speech he said

"I had a fantasy as a kid of winning an award and going up and telling off all the teachers that gave my brother and I detention so here goes......I'm just kidding, these are the teachers that changed my life....Ms. Dummier, Mr. Toole, Mr. Hudson, Mr. Chambers...(etc).. You guys educated me, you inspired me, you taught me to be less of a butthead,"

FEEL GOODER!  It DOES still work, it DOES still matter!

Then, World News tracked down Ms. Dummier... "I was sitting there doing a crossword puzzle (I'm your age ma'm, I get it) and I heard my, and other teacher names.... it was so nice to hear someone thanking public school teachers....sure I remember him, 4th grade...I don't really know what I did for him, I treated him like all the others...but I do know, if I see him again I'll run up and give him a big ole hug!"

FEELING GOODER AND GOODER!

This is where I backspaced out all the stupid judgmental stuff I was gonna spew about things I see in SOME youth today...

Victor, is this where you surly, oops, meant surely, lull us to sleep with another personal story?

Yes. It is.

Drove to see my 10 year old grandson's first ever (first ever, any sport) soccer practice. I was excited but my eyeballs were nowhere as big and excited as my grandson's. It conjured many a fine memory...as a kid...a parent... and a coach.  I'm fat, lazy and it was cold (32) so of course I sat inside my heater running, beat up old Caddy, outta earshot of the snotnoses (said lovingly) on the field.

Not 3 minutes into practice, grandson knocked on his 10 year old butt by a humongous 12 year old who most assuredly can write his name in cursive beautifully, frontwards...and backwards. BIG teaching/coaching/kid moment. He got up and did fine which made me think the coach handled it well by saying something like "good try" or maybe even saying nothing, allowing the kid to progress (or not) on his own. Kids are darn smart.

A few minutes later, they were arranged in positions. It was pretty obvious those on the back row were the smallest, youngest, and included my grandson (do not pass midfield, do not collect $200, no soup (or kicks on goal) for you. OK, I get it. We can live with a year of this (destined to defense only) for a year...bigger...smarter...front line next year...

Then the coach blew his whistle...at least I think he did, I had "You can't always get what you want" cranked 'cause it's my favorite song.

Well I'll be darned, I look up, and he'd switched. The little-bittys were on the "go try for a goal" frontline, and the behemoths were sequestered on the no-soup-for-you back row. I LIKE this coach!

FEEL GOODER AND GOODER!

Lessons. In life (and soccer) there will be times you'll get knocked on your butt. If you work hard, someone will give you a chance. And, no matter where you go there are pretty girls.

HUH? Yeah, three of 'em on his team.

Maybe one day in Heaven (fingers crossed) I'll be doing Sudoku, watching The World Cup and I'll hear this handsome young man thanking his pee wee soccer coach for encouraging him to get up when he got knocked on his can..."oh, and thanks to my Grandpa for helping me listen to really good music."

Victor? Yes? No advice for the little man on women?  DANG, and just when I was FEELING GOODER. Surly, er, I mean surely you jest. Jest a tad mebbe.

IT'S BEEN A GREAT TWO DAYS TO ASCERTAIN TEACHERS, COACHES DO STILL MATTER!

You can't always get what you want, but life is pretty dang good.

Love, Victurd

Regarding today..............

I simply don't wanna 'today' today.

I spit in a tube, mailed it back into AncestryDot, who knew, Ferris Buehler is my 13th cousin, I can't.

I sit next to 'Horshack', would you wanna go?

What if I have to poop?

I'm nocturnal.

I'm on my last pair of clean undies...as of yesterday.... what if there's an accident?

Who will walk the dog?

I just did March 11 last year.

Bears hibernate SEVEN months. I just want one day.

There's a hair in my bellybutton and I won't be able to concentrate until I get it out.

My friend made 47 posts about Rock Chalk something or other, I may vomit.

I hit my last 7 golf balls in the woods on the front nine, thus, I don't have gas money.

Truth? Don't you ever feel like not wanting to 'today' today?

I'm staying home. I probably stink to high Heaven but the cat still sits on my lap.  There are people out there. I can't afford gas, hamburger, eggs, TP, a new house anyways.

Someone said something on Facebook I disagree with, this may take awhile to recover.

My dog ate my homework so I fed him to the goat. (Never mind the dogwalking quote above.)

I got up on the wrong side of the bed, thus, I was late getting to the bathroom.

It's supposed to rain.

I need way more than 24 hours to ptepare for Daylight Savings. I can't even find a 9 volt battery.

I think I might have tricky nosis. That turkey sucked.

I may spread germs... a bad attitude.... rumors.

My WiFi is down and I have Wordle-shakes.

Fauci said I shouldn't.

I CAN'T miss the Iowa caucuses.

My electricity just went

In due time....

Of course there's the cartoon of two Unicorns standing on the beach... in the distance, Noah's Ark sailing off, filled with all kinda two-by-two critters, and U1 says to U2 (not to be confused with Bono) "Was that today?"

Grandkids, God, and all of us love 'em, the INSTANT they are finally buckled in the car, "How long 'til we get there?" Having not learned how to 'tell time', usually any answer provided to them  with minutes, hours is met with a groan. Really creative grandparents might say "about two SpongeBob cartoons", or, if a short trip, "about as long as it takes Elsa to put on makeup and get all dressed up in her Princess gown and crown."

Really creative (frustrated) grandparents will say, "OK, we ain't gonna talk about time... instead, we're gonna see who can find a fire truck, a flag, a cow, a green car and a motorcycle first."  Proud of this new found ingenuity, said grandparent thumbs the radio dial (volume low) to the station that's played the same tunes since Nixon was in office."

The grands, now scooted up on their hineys as far as the seatbelt will allow, stretching their necks like a giraffe.. now ask, "what were they again grandpa?".."it's OK," grandparent deducts, "just a momentary interruption to Stairway to Heaven", "ahm, a fire truck, a flag, a cow, a green car and a motorcycle."

"and she's buying a stairway"..."GREEN CAR, SAW IT FIRST".."NO YOU DIDN'T, I DID!". 'ok, ok, ok, we'll call that one a tie.  Ya still got a fire truck, a flag, a cow, and a motorcycle.. and we'll add a man walking.'

No sooner than the slow end (a stairway... to he-eh-ven) "MAN WALKING! "NUH UH, THAT WAS A GIRL!".. wanting a cig badly now, said grand parent, questioning ingenuity. We'll throw that one out, ya still got a fire truck, a flag, a cow, and a motorcycle and we'll add a semi.'  "Whar's a semi grandpa".. "You know, an 18 wheeler", groan, "I'll NEVER get that, I can only count to ten." 'OK, scratch the semi...look for a boat instead."

Pacified again, sax music smooths into Van and "well it's a marvelous night for..." "COW! I SAW A COW" younger grandchild offers. "#$@&~" <-groan, older grandchild offers.  "OWWW...(enter older grandchild's name here) HIT ME!"...Van, in the background "all the leaves on the trees are falling.." A quick diversion into Quik Trip to move the booster seat from the middle to the window where it shoulda been in the first place. "No hitting!" It's OK now, even Olive Oil couldn't reach (enter youngest grandchild's name here.)

"Can I just have one more moondace..."" HOW MUCH LONGER NOW?"  "WE'RE NOT DOING THAT!, er, I mean you still have to find a fire truck, a motorcycle and a boat."

OK, fast forward to another trip. A long one. Liberty to Eureka Springs, gulp, 4 hours and 15 minutes away. Same three characters, same vehicle, same radio. A relaxing (?) weekend ahead, motel, swimming, hopefully happy meals, boat ride, maybe a train ride, etc.

Grandparent wiser now. $13 on Amazon (includes shipping) a deck of 52 cards, EACH different (no I SAW IT FIRST!), cards like a bird, a barn, a stopsign, police car, horse, a camper, etc. Ya get 5 cards to start. Ya see one, ya call it out, YA DRAW ANOTHER CARD, when all your cards are gone, you're the winner!" Thought to be said under grandparent breath "hopefully that will get us to Joplin." "HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GET TO JOPLIN GRANDPA?"

"You kids stay in the car a sec. Grandpa is gonna sit on the hood and have a quick cig."

This blog was started at 5:30am Central. My favorite breakfast joint don't open for 90 minutes. What can I do that takes 90 minutes? HA! I KNOW!

Thanks for your help en route. No hitting. Buckle up. Enjoy the views life provides.

Love, Victurd

Easy to be hard...

We've all heard, "It's like riding a bicycle."

I found, at least initially, that to be very tough. Much has to happen. First, you have to practice (and practice) with training wheels on.

Then, you'll need a mechanic (to take the training wheels off.) Like life, you'll find you'll always need a mechanic. Drains won't drain, dryers won't dry, AC's won't cool, furnaces won't heat, cars stop starting, enter checkenginelight here.

Thinking. Thinking can both the most wonderful thing, as well as being a bastard in and of itself. Thinking about no training wheels then leads to courage, or not. Some never try, some win triathlons.

Guidance. We'll need guidance to bike, as well as guidance to simply live. Guidance can and does help, BUT, once you're up on that banana seat all by yourself, be ready to buckle up buttercup because now it's all you.

If'n'when courage sneaks in, YOU'RE OFF! Oh baby oh baby oh baby.  Mom puts the first aid kit down long enough to use her new AT&T whatever they call that fancy phone/camera (for new AND existing customers) and you roll. Kinda.

The arms will shake spastically. Why this is, is unknown - but it will happen periodically in life... illness, loss of a loved one, and it even can in elation.

Balance. Again oh baby oh baby oh baby. Balance is critical in transitioning from 4 to 2 wheels, as well as virtually anything we do along life's path.

The gasps, the oohs and aahs come loudly from moms, dads, grannies, little brothers, all, who denote "By George I think he's got it."

Then, life is easy forever, ne'er a patch of gravel, a nail in the tire, inattentiveness, yada.

And if we're to belive that, then we might as well buy stock in Professor Higgins' forecast 'The rain in Spain stays mainly in the plain.'

By George I think he's nuts.

Biking through life is perilous. It's easy to be hard.

I wish I had all knowing guidance for us all. It's often said "My favorite kind of beer is other people's." Like guidance in life, we fer sure learn from, lean on, others.

Practice. Mechanics. Thought. Guidance. Courage. Balance.

I emote, too easily. Sometimes I guess that's good, sometimes not. Sometimes it lends to "yes, life is easy to be hard...but it'll be OK.

The best guidance, the two most incredible conversations I've ever had in my life - came in hospice. One, my sister, and two, a gal I wish I woulda started chasing 45 years ago. Very basically, "everything will be ok."

Calm. Nice. Thought. Happy. Courage. Balance. Remarkably, focusing on the other guy, not one's own peril.

Last bike rides are no fun, but people are incredible.

Base-a-ball Ray...

 This time of year, the clock ticks... we don't know for sure when Daylight Savings starts (9 days, but who's counting)... We in the frozen Midwest thumb through The Farmer's Almanac, NOAA and NWS to discern "We're probably maybe done with snow come March, has happened, rare, but could in April too" to which we reply, "FINE! we'll dress for it, just take me out to the ball game!"

"PLAY BALL!"  Not so fast horseface (not you, me.)  Prior to every game, umps and managers meet at home plate, talk local ground rules and exchange lineup cards. One time (bandcamp, remember managers are human too) Brewers manager Tom Trebelhorn had All Star Robin Yount listed twice, in the 3rd spot and the 5th spot. (5th spot should have been the newly acquired Mike Young.) No one caught it, it was believed. Yount batted in the first and as Young walked to the plate in the second - Sparky Anderson emerged from the Tiger dugout to point out "this says Yount is supposed to be up, he ain't Yount." Sorry rockin' Robin, "you're outta the game." He was, beet red mad.

Red Schoendienst, longtime Cardinal manager had a wonderful player named Dick Allen, but, Allen had a punctuality problem, SO, he always made out two lineup cards - as he neared home plate his coaches would stand on the top step and yell either "He's here!" or "He ain't here!"

I umpired a lot long, long ago. Many a Liberty youngster would frown and toss in "too much." Once, a really really good lefty was pitching and he was none to happy with my strike zone. In fact, he once called time out, walked to home, wiped the plate off with his glove, insert inference "you can't even see it" here. Yes, I thought about tossing him, but too, I remember being 14, and, his older brother was one of my best friends.

Speakingowhich, long time Mississippi State baseball coach (I forget his name) related a story about him getting tossed out of a game at Arkansas for arguing balls and strikes... "The ump told me 'Go someplace where I can't see you', so, naturally I went and stood on home plate."

Don "Black and Decker" Sutton was known for rubbing the baseball with sand paper, thus making it break erratically. One afternoon, umpire Doug Harvey thought he caught him. When he asked to inspect Sutton’s glove, Sutton said, “Sure go ahead.” There was, in fact, a piece of paper in the glove, but it wasn’t sandpaper. Harvey unfolded it, and it said, “You’re getting warm, but it’s not here.”

I gotta scoot, but two quickies. The most fun thing I saw while umpiring was a poor 9 year old kid getting hit by a pitch on his hand. With baby tears rolling, he limped to first base.

The second is an ex wife story. Victor, you can't tell stories about your ex wife! Oh, I don't think she'd get too upset, besides, I've got two ex's so youll never know! City Park, Liberty, MO, the small diamond. 9 and 10 year old game. Bleachers overflowing, moms, dads, grannys, aunts, uncles encircled the backstop in lawn chairs. Great game, the last inning, home team ahead 8-7. Two outs, the visitors last hope at the plate, no baserunners. BOOM, a rocket past the right fielder, batter off and running, fans up anda hollerin'. By the tme the right fielder got to it, the kid had already passed second base and he wasn't stopping. Perfect relay throw to the second baseman, even better throw home. IT'S GONNA BE CLOSE! Fans excitedly yelling at the top of their lungs.. runner slides.. catcher, now with ball...turns... Cloud of dust... the ump (my ex) perfectly right on top of it, raises her right arm, thumb extended.."YOU'RE OUTTA THERE!"... a split second later, the catcher's eyes caught hers and within earshot of many he exclaimed "But ump... I missed him!" It was calmly suggested he not say anything like that again... I love that moment and it will stay with me until I'm in my ump urn.

"The trouble with women umpires is that I couldn't argue with one. I'd put my arms around her and give her a kiss." Casey Stengel

Gotta go clean off my plate, love, Victurd

Fitty.... Who am I?

I am Ted. I was born in 1904, today's date to be exact, March 2nd, Springfield, Massachusetts, wow, Massachusetts, that's a long word.

My dad managed a brewery on Mulberry Street but was forced to close during Prohibition. We are of German descent and my sister Marnie and I experienced anti-German prejudice  from other children after the outbreak of WWI.

I went to Dartmouth where I had fun writing for the humor magazine Dartmouth Jack-Lantern. Me and 9 buddies got caught drinking gin (Remember? Prohibition?) So, they booted me from the magazine. I tricked 'em and kept writing for the mag using a pen name but I can't tell you that now, sorry.

After Dartmouth, I went across the pond to Oxford with the intent to get a PHD in English Lit. I loved to draw, in fact, it was there I met, fell madly in love with Helen Palmer who said "Ted's notebooks were always filled with these fabulous animals. So, I set to diverting him, he should be earning a living doing that."

Victor, this is dragging quite a bit, hop to it with more hints. OK.

Moved back home (no Oxford degree)...Helen came too. I loved cartoons. Submitted tons to magazines, book publishers, and ad agencies. They said no, no, no and no. FINALLY sold one to The Saturday Evening Post for $25 and ooh la la, things fell in place.

We (Helen and I) got hitched. Ad ideas grabbed up allowed us to travel the World, "traveling helped his creativity" Helen would say.

In 1936, returning from an ocean voyage I wrote a poem that would later become a children's book, oops. 43 publishers said "no" so I was walking home to burn the manuscript, meantime. #44 said "Yes!"

During WWII, I mostly did political cartoons, and after, Helen and I moved to yummy La Jolla, CA, I started writing more and more children's books. 1954, Life Magazine basically said 'kids aren't learning to read because the books were boring, and words difficult."

The director of education for Houghton Mifflin compiled a list of 348 words he thought first graders should know, asked me to "cut the list to 250, write a book using only those words." So, I did. Something about a feline and a cap.

Later, Bennett Cerf challenged me to write a kid's book using only fitty words. So:

 a, am, and, anywhere, are, be, boat, box, car, could, dark, do, eat, eggs, fox, goat, good, green, ham, here, house, I, if, in, let, like, may, me, mouse, not, on, or, rain, Sam, say, see, so, thank, that, the, them, there, they, train, tree, try, will, with, would, and you.

Anywhere is the only word with more than one syllable. Ya know yet?

I am Sam. Sam I am..... No, that ain't right.

I am lucky. I've written and sold over 600 million copies of children's books.

I am Theodor Suess Geisel. You might know me as Dr. Suess. I do not like Green Eggs and Ham.

Happy National Dr. Suess Day. (It's also National Read Across America Day)

Love, Victurd

A quickie.....

In a world of mosquitos, crime, earthquakes, argument, affliction, poverty, Spy vs Spy, FOX vs CNN (and yes, CNN vs FOX), yada, not to mention our own, personal boxing matches within.

A breath of fresh air needed.

Jump in, or ADD ON (I'd love to hear) - let's visit stuff that brings about happiness....

#'s 15, 87 and 95.

A new airport to show off our City.

Children. So honest, so clever, so loving, SO full of FUN, zest for life.

Dogs. So loyal, so easily excited with happiness - which, fortunately rubs off like dog hair.

Cats and their predicted unpredicted behavior, oft times, purrfect.

Furnaces, AC's, fireplaces, comforters, fans, lights, candles.

Sunrises, sunsets, being the first one up, or the last to go to bed. 

Falling asleep in the easy chair, awakening, thinking "I'm glad that happened."

A text, or a name on Caller ID that immediately invokes a smile.

Hugs, high fives, fist bumps, dancing, jumping up and down. When's the last time you jumped up and down? It's fun!

A planned meeting of friends.

Something on TV that envelops your want, attention, like blinds at least temporarily blocking ugly.

A peanut buster parfait.... some thin mints.... a Stroud's cinnamon roll.

Water, be it a soaking bath, a warm shower, or even just a quick wakeup face splash.

Water, be it a lake, stream, river, ocean or even rain from the comfort of inside.

A trip, could be short, long, even fleeting that is candy to the eyes, heart.

Sidestepping rush hour, Interstates, going the two-lane backroad, lush, green fields, all kinda critters, corralled or otherwise.

A ball thru the basket, a grounder up the middle, a kick thru the uprights and a putt that drops in the hole - even if it's your third putt - hey, you're playing golf!

Love, any kind.

Music, amost any kind.

Days off.  Days on where your coworker made you laugh so hard you peed a bit.

Compliments, both directions.

Loud, quiet, percussive.

I'd better run. Victor? Yes? You can't run anymore. Ahm, did I mention laughter?

Victor? Yes? You never mentioned "A quickie"? Ahm, use your intuition. Jump up and down if you haveta.

Ohhhhhhh, wait... Say "Unique New York" THREE times, REALLY fast - that always makes me happy!

Happy Trails to you, but only if you ain't running to the loo, 

Love Victurd, pun intended I guess. Puns are happy.