Bree........

Blog #2 today, sorry, kinda.  At least it ain't about whatsherSitsInAnArrowheadSuiteName.

TMI.

As I age, as the 401K dwindles, Victor, TMI, I already mentioned that.  As costs rise (other things won't, oops).. Seniors like me look for ways to cutback.

Having a really really good Spectrum cable rate (compared to others I visited with) I still felt the all fleeting urge to cut the cord.  Did.

Got T-Mobile Wifi for fitty dolla' a month, then, would pick streaming package.

Called Spectrum to cancel.  Oh no oh no, please don't leave us, here's what we can do.

We'll give you the Wifi... AND... you can pick 15 channels, stream them using our streaming package, AND, you still get the local channels.  And your TOTAL cost will be $80.  Holy guacamole.

Hello, T-Mobile?  Nevermind.  Switched (back) to Spectrum, this time, streaming, cut cord.

While you're on the phone, what do you pay for your cell service?  Fitty bucks, Cricket, love 'em. Ain't never had any problems. Well, for $29.99 (fingernails on the chalkboard, I heard and reheard that guy's obnoxious voice from the commercials.. sorry to call you obnoxious, but not really)... for $29.99 we can give you the same thing.

Scroll to rising costs, dwindling 401K.  "OK, I'll switch."

Good service................ for a bit.........

Then, I'd dial a number, nuttin' would happen, I'd have to restart the phone.  Then it'd work.

Text a person, it wouldn't go thru.  Restarted the phone, text would go thru. Time and time again, and restart and restart again. Color me, and I would think anyone, flustered.

This ain't right, I wanna go back to Cricket.  Called Spectrum recording, YES, you got my number right that's where I'm calling from. Another recording, and said lovingly in my Rhonda #1 voice "REPRESENTATIVE" close to the top of my cig infested lungs.  OK, but first, gimme your 4 digit security code.  I forgot it.  That's ok, "Hi, my name is Sal"

Nice guy. Apologized for my probs, told "there are two things we can try... One, hang up, power off, I'll send a reset to your phone.  Leave it off for 5 minutes.  Then restart, try. If that doesn't work, call us back. "K, thanks."

Didn't work. Hadta restart phone each,  every time I would trial to dial a number, text a friend. Too late at night, I'll call again in the AM.

After 6 cups of coffee, an hour of blog writing, reading the Sports, peeing (I think) 5 times..  ring...ring.. check that.. RESTART phone then, ring ring.  "I see you're calling from 816... YES".. OK, please tell us why you are calling, you can say things like (Interject, "REPRESENTATIVE"..)  Ok, you want to speak to a representative. (This is fun, I can't wait  for AI.)  "Tech Support".

"Hi this is Bree, how can I assist you today?"   She was fun, happy.  Oft times, those two go together, but it's that third one you throw in there (fun, happy, and at work) that are difficult to attain.  Must be a juggler too, she attained all three at once.

"Regarding the 4 digit password, I can help you fix that right now if you like?"  Cool, YES!

In five or so minutes on the phone with her, she demonstrated fun, was very helpful, but I figured younger than 42 so I behaved. THE HELL VICTOR?  42?  Yeah, one of my crazy buddies, one day we were talking about creepy old men, and he said "It's ok, here's what you do.. you take your age, you divide it in half, then you add 7, and that's the youngest age gal you should approach, and it's OK to."

He's nuts. I'm 70. Halfa that is 35, add 7 = 42. There ain't no way in Timbukto or anywhere I'm gonna approach someone that young, which way to Golden Acres?

Cept Bree.. she was fun...  (and I repeat, I wouldn't, didn't flirt, just had fun. She was that.  She mentioned an IT thing they did recently that had caused some problems, she could fix.  "Go ahead and hang up, try a couple of test texts, dial a couple of numbers, I'll call you back and we'll see if I was able to fix it."

Did.  Worked.  First one, I did have to restart. From then on, two successfull test texts to some guy named Vic Schultze... then, two successful phone calls (one to my chiropractor's office, knew I'd get a recording.. and another to the Master Control Clock to see what the correct time was.. . .must be discontinued, no answer, but, it did ring thru without me having to restart my phone.

By George (Bree) I think you've got it.

So, fun Bree calls back.  Stupid Victor answers "Pizza Hut, would this be dine in or carry out."  Success, she laughed s'more.  I reported my results to her, thank her profusely.  She was appreciative, again apologized, then went into the spiel she's sposeta read "In the future, should you experience any problems, you can always logon to Spectrum dot" And I stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Nope, if I have any more problems, I'm gonna call Bree."

Laughter.  I've noticed, even in crap times, one can have fun. I like fun.  And Bree.

Wonder how old she really is.

Love, Victurd

What'd I say?.......

Beyond the right field fence.... sometimes in the parking lot... a shelter house...  Even...EVEN A TERM POLICY?  No, that ain't it.  Even in the bleachers....  An obvious joke was about to be told after a softball game of aging men aspiring to neva' leggo of being a kid...  "WAIT!", my buddy would holler before the joke got rolling... and he'd get a pen and paper out, then record it as it was told so he could retell to others later.

In 1839, some playwright named Edward Bulwer-Lytton, for his historical play Cardinal Richelieu (I neva' heard of it either) wrote "The pen is mightier than the sword."

Reckon it is. 'Cept, we lefthanders have trouble.  We smudge.  We do.  Ya write left to right. (I was curious about that, why?  Why left to right.  I mean, we gots steering wheels on both sides, some roads ya drive on the right, some on the left... CNN is for the left..  FOX for the right.. the hell?  Why can't both work? 

... rehtie onnud I ,drutciV em staeB

Where was I?  Oh yeah.  Insomnia. 2am. Writing blog.  Left to right.  Anyways, we smudge.  We lefties.

Lamar (Hunt) had a dream. He wanted to own an NFL team. He tugged on Commissioner Bert Bell's shoulder multiple times only to receive nothing but discouragement.  So... he tried to buy a team from an owner.  Nope.  Each, every one said "Nope, but mebbe you can buy a minority share of the team." Lamar then said "Nope, but thanks."

Then, Lamar heard about a guy in Houston... and Denver... and Minneapolis... and a hosta other cities (Boston, Buffalo, NY, Oakland, LA) who ALSO wanted to buy a team........

So (a needle pulling thread? Ahm, no) So..... LIGHTBULB.  After several years of becoming bored with the oil industry, he excitedly boarded an American Airlines flight home... asked a stewardess for some stationary, and right there on 3 pages of American Airlines onionskin stationary he penned the plans (provisons for owners, rough estimates of costs for equipment, revenue for ticket sales, and even (EVEN A ......VICTOR, DON'T) and even a rough schedule for the first year.  Kaboom.  The AFL (some years later to merge with the NFL) was born. As in airborne. I understand those three pages are displayed somewhere within the Pro Football Hall of Fame in Canton, OH.

The inception of the AFL.  Then, some Fitty-four years later, after a move of the Dallas Texans to Kansas City, the merger, after Broadway Joe's guarantee... right there in Miami, right into Fox's microphone, Super Bowl Champ Travis Kelce hollered "YOU GOTTA FIGHT... FOR YOUR RIGHTTTTTT.. TO PAAAAAAAARRRRRRTY!!!!:" Lamar did/had, won that right. See the onionskin proof. (In actuality, Lamar's KC Chiefs did win it more Swiftly [sorry, kinda, not really] as Super Bowl Champs in 1969.)

You gotta fight for your right to party.  Victor, who penned that?  I'm so glad you asked. The Beastie Boys. In 1986, written to poke fun at frat boys and their party lifestyle. Go figure, frat boys loved it, endorsed it. ANYWAYS, it was penned in five minutes. FIVE MINUTES. On a napkin.

Pen. Bullpen. Ballpoint pen. Quill, felt-tip, fountain, gel, pen (a female swan), pen - whar ya go if you're in trouble, pen (surrounded, penned in), pen - whar ya keep sheep, cattle, pigs, yada.  Lotsa pens.  EVEN (VICTOR!) Even pens without ink.

Ray Charles was without. 28 years old old.  He, his 7-piece orchestra, 3 beautiful voiced gals named the Cookies (later to become the Raelettes.)  Anyways, there he/they were.  A four hour gig, not to be confused with a 3 hour tour, a 3 hour tour.  Promising four hours of entertainment, 15 minutes left to go, Ray and the group had sung every song they knew.  Gulp.  Fearing they wouldn't get paid if they left early, (too longa paragraph, see below perty please)

So...  (a needle.. VICTOR!).. So, he looked at the group, said "Listen, I'm just going to fool around and y'all just follow me.  There, right there, written in his head (NOT penned) was the song "What'd I Say." Hey mama don't ya treat me wrong.. come and love your daddy all night long.. see the gal with the red dress on.. she can do the do the Birdland all night long, hey hey, what'd I say."

Circling back to our Kansas City Chiefs, fun article (my opine) penned this morn in the KC Star. Victor, it's 4:50am, you've already read the paper?  Uh huh, and done Wordle, and watched ABC News and local News, perused what other insomniacs have said on Facebook... OK OK, we get it.  Article about Andy Reid, back in the day, when Andy was a Senior football player at BYU, he wrote a weekly column for the Provo Daily Herald. (More)

When asked, "If you had chosen the career with pen, what would your articles be like?".....“They’d be fun articles to read. You’d look forward to reading them,” he said, smiling and adding, “They’d be colorful. Colorful. I’d use my imagination and not just write from a script.”  Andy appreciates the power of words...  “Words can affect a lot of people. We know that. And the person who has the pen last wins,” he said. “Even if you come back with a rebuttal from my side, it’s not going to hold weight."

Even though Dale (my buddy who stopped the joke teller so he could get a pen), Edward Bulwer-Lytton (the sword qoute guy), Lamar, Travis Kelce, The Beastie Boys, Ray Charles, and Andy...  while they didn't hold the pen long, they held the pen last, and won.

Forward by Sean Penn...  Samuel Clemons (Pen name Mark Twain).. Taylor Swift as Nils Sjoberg (sorry, not sorry),  Theodor Geisel as Dr. Suess.

Victor, we get it. Put the pen down. NOW. 

K.

(But I had it last!, ie, Victor means just that, Victor!)

Love, with a tad bit of smudging, Victurd

The Magical Mystery Tour.......

has done come and taken us away.

Because I'm old, hardheaded, I opened my dadgum default search engine Bing and entered my preferred Google.com so I could search The Magical Mystery Tour song meaning.  A lotta "I suppose it could be" about some ugly stuff (drugs, Holocost, troops heading off on a tour in wartime, geez Loise, even Charlie Manson suggestion.)

Nomme. I like the words themselves, Magical Mystery Tour.

To me, with apologies to The Chairman Of The Board, that's life.

Life is yummy.

Further apologies to John Cougar Mellencamp Swift Kelce, I was born in a small town.

Chiefs at WJC, The KuKu, The Corner Bar, Kelsos, allover. As a little kid, wondrous. Super Bowl Champs, yeah baby........  George, threatening batting .400. Hal McCrae sliding into second knocking the shortstop into southern North Kansas City. Frank's Gold Glove(s). The calm, wise, lovable Dick Howser.

We then raised havoc, families, hamsters, war protests.. Wore bellbottoms, long hair, surfer shirts, AGD hats, mullets (e-gads). Drove Chevys to levies that you could distinctively.denote "nope, that ain't a '56, that's a 57." Magical Mystery Tour. Can't do's that nowadays, hell, I don't even know all the insignias of all the various automakers.

We even had some down times, but... that's life, right Frank?  

Class reunions at good ole shelter houses, family reunions too.  Hugs, love, former lovers, present lovers, platonic lovers.

Kids.  Had kids.  Christmas at 4:30am once again.  Eh, coffee helped. As did the wide eyed excitement. A magical mystery tour. Red Ryder BB Guns, Cabbage Patch Kids, Pound Puppies, Teddy Ruxpin.  Magical Mystery Tour, "You're doing well", right Teddy?

Speakin' o' Pound Puppies - pound puppies. Our pets, beloved, loyal, yummy, over the years have helped fill our half full glasses.  I recently eyeballed (fancy for people watched) folks at our smalltown Fall Festival. (More in a sec)... which reminds me of stops along the I was born in a small town Magical Mystery Tour:  4th of July Celebrations, Bicentennials, pillow case toting, filling up Halloweens, Graduations, Weddings, Concerts, yada.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, I was born in a small town, on a Magical Mystery Tour. I was people watching at our Fall Festival, WHICH, is fancy for dog watching too.  Mebbe one in ten held a leash (or two) as the hounds led the way like the band's baton twirler.  Simularly to the twirler a wavin', so were the dogtails.  IS THERE MUCH IN LIFE MORE ENTHRALLING, HAPPY, .SMILE INVOKING AS A WAGGING DOGTAIL?

Welcome Hos, Salvy, Esky, Moose, Gordo, all.  Oh some early hiccups, trips up and down I-29 to/fro Omaha. Ever eat a pine tree?  No, that ain't it. Ever go to the Omaha Zoo?  It's Magical too.  Anyways, all them dudes, 84% of KC folks wearing blue, chorusing in bars, out on the street, wherever, whenever, often "LET'S GO ROYALS" clap clap clap clap clap.   I supposed even ifya had the clap, it was a Magical Time.  Sorry, kinda, not really.

Even Ned went from grumpy kinda old man to beloved manager, interview dude.

We retired 'cause we're tired.  Take this job and shove it. Our new commutes are to the coffee pot, the local diner to chat with fellow raisins, then, to the Sealy Posturepedic whenever we wanna.

Grandkids poppin out.  Preggo again?  There AIN'T NO WAY I could love that second grandkid as much as numero uno.  But ya do. Life, it's a Magical Mystery Tour.  Christmas now starts at 3:30am very shortly after Santa has gone to bed.  BUT, the good thing, it's at your kid's house now, and Granny and Grandpa get to snooze in, then go see the Leggos, Toy Story, Tonkas, around 9:30am or so.  Hell to the yum. Upon arrival to see the beloved grands, 'daddy' is struggling with an instruction sheet and 43 parts to a toy. Ahhhhhhh, karma, life, but dayum good.

2 and 12.  Who's this Big Red guy? Annuder former 49'er QB to lead us?  Hey, he ain't bad, nice man too.  Then, WHOOP, THER' IT IS, with the 10th pick in the 2017 draft, we get The Future, the guy who threw for more yards in one game in college than anyone ever before (734), QB1, Jake from State Farm's best friend, the one who made barbers across KC, the Midwest learn how to chop that hairdo of his as little kids in #15 jerseys begged mom and dad for the cut. Hell, even somea us old farts bought, wore wigs like it.  Forever young, right Mr. Dylan? Can you say Sterling, Bronze, GOLD?

Fitty.  Fitty years since High School?  Well, yes, but we got 'this thing' going on, we might have to mask up and celebrate next year. We'd better be smarter than the average bear (right Yogi?) and hibernate awhile. It was with great debate, but, this blog is about happy, Magical Mytery Tour. Shit happens.  That's life.  Ya get knocked down, ya get up again, you're never gonna keep us down.

We drive around town, we see "Hey, that's where the Smith's usedta live"... yeah, I heard the Mrs passed a bit ago. Without tears there would be no joy.  We joy, rejoice in remembering those that have led the way on this Tour. We proudly keep fond memories in special drawers, pics on wall, forever etched within our brains for quick recall.

Fitty.  Fitty years, then, World Champs.  Union Station, recently painted in 800,000 blue, now Red. And then, again.  Go Big Red and he done did, twice.

Fitty plus, actually fitty six years ago, the first exhibition game after our hearts broke in Super Bowl One, we had an exhition game against, De Bears. A is for airplane, N is for NFL, do we really belong?  Damn Strait we do George, 66 to 24 we whipped up on dose Bears.

Kodak, cube flashes, photo booths for quick pics with your buds, 112 lb camcorders, thankfully, mama didn't take our Kodachromes away...  flash forward to yesterday.

De Bears. Deja Vu allover again, right Yogi? Led by Andy, our mustache drawing, chicken nugget stealing, genuine good guy, great leader, and his team, carried out a wonderful game plan getting all fitty-three involved. QB1 was again the star, but not the biggest one, right Travis?

Life goes Swift, but it's been one helluva Magical Mystery Tour.

Heading back to the Sealy for a bit. Life, every inch of the ruler of it, is grand.  A Magical Mystery Tour where we never know what's gonna turn up - but mosta the time, it's yummy.

Love, Victurd

Don't mess with my toot toot....

So (a needle pulling thread?)....  So, I decided to Wiki Wiki...  Understand, in Hawaiian, Wiki means 'to hurry; fast, quick.'  You know, hubba hubba. Speakinowhich, I think Hawaiian is a fun word 'cause it uses two I's in a row. Victor, you mean like 'aye aye mate'? Well, no, which, is not to be confused with a no no.  As I looked to see howya spell 'aye', I guessed correctly and spelled it aye aye. Did you know there is an animal named 'aye aye'? Twue, it's reawwy twue.  They are native to the island of Madagascar.  

Aye ayes are little bitty, 5-6 pounds, round head, triangular ears, yellow-orange eyes, pink nose. AND, they have a distinctive middle digit with a longer claw. Weird, sound like they may be dik diks.  Ahm, no, that's differnt. They are called 'percussion foragers' as they use that middle finger to tap on wood, listen for movement of larvae hidden inside.  You mean like rat a tat tat? Ah, yeah, I spose.  Differnt. I use my middle finger when I hear honk honk.

Where ya going with this Victor? Well, me and Smokey Robinson are 'Going to a go-go.' JK. I ain't real sure where I'm going with it.  That's the way, uh huh uh huh, I like it. Aye yai yai Victor. Hey, good timing, aye yai yai means experiencing dismay or disappointment. You mean like, when the dik dik-like aye aye uses his middle finger to rat a tat tat on the wood and there ain't no larvae moving?  Geez Louise which is not to be confused with Jolene Jolene. Aye aye Sir, got it.

So (a needle pulling thread), you Wiki'ed Wiki.  Did you Wiki Wookiee? Chews another subject dummy, but I did Google Google.  And?  First story that popped up was the founder of DuckDuckGo testifying in the largest antitrust trial in a quarter century that Google has deals with so (a needle pulling thread) many phone companies (Ring Ring) and equipment managers, it's makes it hard for the little guy search engines to compete.

This is kinda hard to read Victor.  Bingo! My intent!  You know, victor Victor. I can't take it. I'm going to the loo, which, ain't to be confused with John John (he's a surfer, and also, JFK's boy's name) so I can pee pee. (What you do do is your own business.)  Well, then mebbe the DuckDuckGo dik dik should mind his own business and let Google Google. (They had had many arguments about this.)

I showed her her message. She came in in disarray. She gives in in every case. What it is is travesty. I placed the card I had written on on the desk. Victor, I Googled all those sentences, YOU STOLE IT ALL!  Then sue me you dik dik DuckDuck. AYE... ah, nevermind.  I realize that that will not be necessary.  We will discuss this this evening. 

I had had a bad day. There's no debating that that I had.  (Maybe, maybe not.) I wanted to see justice done, done right and done fast. You mean like when in Oahu, wiki wiki fast? So so annoying.  The other day, she said 'Yes, Yes!"  I said, honey, you're gonna wakey wakey the kids.  Inside, inside voice. Chill.

Gonna pick a spot, Spotify a bit.  Louie Louie.  Mony Mony. Sugar Sugar. Cherry, Cherry. Monday Monday. You're making me dizzy, my head is spinning.

I'd better Go-Go (right Smokey?)  Dominique nique nique. Up Up and Away.

It's a croc to say Later Gator, so (a needle pulling thread) I'll simply close with Bye Bye.

Forward by BamBam, JoJo White, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Toto and Zsa Zsa

Love, Victurd Victurd.

This too shall pass......

A kidney stone.  Patrick Mahomes (humor me, please.) Virtually any car behind those of us still driving into our 70's, 80's et al.

Sore throat. Page 3 of the KC Star with all the murders, robberies, yuck. An office meeting. A sermon. An election. I might remind you that you are perverted as you thought the next one would start with 'er', but huh uh, I can't, er, I mean, I won't go there.

Walking in a boot.  Recovering from your favorite team, politician, coworker, getting the boot.  The Spectrum $29.99 guy.

K-Mart, TWA, Blockbuster, Dolgins, mullets, fidget spinners, pet rocks, the Macarena, Chatty Cathy, KC Royal's 100 loss seasons, Reid/Mohomes/Kelce (We must feel the day, ie, How Sweet It Is!). Jackie Gleason, he too shall (did) pass.

Woes. Hang nails. Stinky underarms. Two and a half year old meat that's in the freezer whenya clean it out.  Terrible twos.

The ability to call, text, go see anyone ya wanna.  Bloggers who repeat things.  The ability to call, text, go see anyone ya wanna. 

The ability to hit a golf ball 300 yards. I call BS, as, I'm horrible, I slice like crazy, BUT TOO, I hit it 150 yards to the left, then it turns 150 yards to the right. 'Rythmatic relates that's 300.

Memory of much. I hate when old people tell me what to do, BUT, write stuff down. I plan to, which is fancy for probaly won't, buy a buncha spiral notebooks, sit down at night and record who I visited with, what I learned about them, what was done for the day, anything outta the ordinary, or, even the ordinary - for memories fade (they too shall pass.) Write crap down, sorry, kinda, not really. Thataway, when I keel, they could read, say "he passed. Man he was weird." New Year's Resolutions pass, Victor, you'll always be, I mean 'have', a big ass.

Went to chiropractor yesterday.  I gotta weak back.  "When'd ya get it?"  About a week back.  Anyways, the guy had the audacity (fancy for needed to show me) the X-Rays of my back, hip, yada, and how arthritis damn near blocks any bone you can see.  Then, he showed me the X-Ray of anudder 70-something, vely similar, THEN, he showed me two X-Rays of 20 yr old snotnoses.  Well would you look at those beautiful bones!  Message, beautiful bones will one day pass.  I write to me, for me, hitchhikers welcome, Victor, get off your ass and go, do.  Life, cars, even the new Teslas, run out, ie, pass.  Go, do, while ya can. End of lecture.

Lectures pass.  

Brilliant minds will hopefully lend to so many incurable, ugly, afflictions, diseases - to pass. Gotta buck, givea buck. They ain't worth much in the urn.

Money in bank account.  Money not in bank account.

The ink in a pen, the availability of sweet corn at the Piggly Wiggly (damnit darnit).  The best part of waking up, if, you don't have a spare cana Folgers. Gas, flatulence.

Expiration dates on food, license plates on cars, "Yes officer, I am insured I just forgot to put the notification from State Farm in my glove box."  The Q Tips in my glovebox. Eww. (Ya ever notice, when someone, maybe a fellow commuter in an adjacent lane, has done run outta Q-Tips so they little finger the ear...... then, LOOK.  WHY?  WHY?)

Commuting passes. BM's, DM's, M&M's.

Winter Spring Summer or Fall (they all pass).  All ya gotta do is call. Phone calls pass, end.  Good songs end too, put another nickel in, in the Nickelodean.

"Expect trouble as an inevitable part of life and when it comes, hold your head high, look it squarely in the eye and say "I will be bigger than you. You cannot defeat me." Then, repeat to yourself the most comforting words of all, 'This too shall pass.' "    Ann Landers

Whoop there it is... or was... or sumpin.  Whats for dinner mom?  Liver and onions honey. I'll pass.

Love,Victurd
 

I see you..........

 I love lots.  Family. Fun. Smiles. Laughter. Niceness. Nature, sunshine, darkness, hot, cold, rain, snow. Animals (not a great fan of raccoons though, don't wish them harm, just another zip code.) Baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet (Ford too). Golf is a love/hate.

Perhaps my favorite activity............

Your mind was in the gutter wasn't it?  For shame.

People watching.

Wiki relates "People-watching or crowd watching is the act of observing people and their interactions as a subconscious doing. It involves picking up idiosyncrasies to try to interpret or guess at another person's story, interactions, and relationships with the limited details they have."

So............ do ya think that means we're judging?  Yeah, I suppose so.  Is that OK to do? To each our own I reckon.

Whatta we notice first?  Age I would guess.  Approximate.

Next?  Clothing?  Do clothes talk?  Mebbe. Is someone necessarily uppity or narcissistic if they're dressed to perfection?  I dunno, your take?  Maybe simply confident in and of themselves.  Perhaps proud. Care what others think.

Victor, does that mean that you 'dog' someone who looks like they just hopped outta bed, skipped the mirror to run to Piggly Wiggly to get a can'a coffee?  Heavens to Murgatroyd no. I love me them kinda people.

Their walk.  Walk 'speaks'.  Can speak about affliction.  Sadly, it seems more and more prevalent, as in like maybe 1 in 10. Ouch. The struggle is real, and kudos to those who carry on, going, doing, no matta'. Walking upright, good posture, shoulders back, head high.. Secure? Strong? Pleased with themselves?

But.......... but what if that head's held a bit too high?  Full of themselves? Those of us that mebbe walk a bit hunched over. Low self image?  Could be as simple as lifted too many damn boxes back in the day... or mebbe, they're the type that cared (a lot) for others in their lives.  Cooked, cleaned, laundered, were there, for, others.

Order in the court 'cause (People watchin) here comes the Judge. Us, we. You and me (and rain on the roof, caught up in a summer shower) eyeballs a watchin', catagorizing, surmising, yada.

SMILE (or not).  I am probaby too adored to smile. I kinda love to observe folks I am around often, then after so many, time and again, to ascertain, there ain't nuttin' to knock the smile off'a their face, I like to announce to anyone close, "Be careful, I think he/she is on drugs, he's/she's always happy." I think that kinda judging is harmless, good for the soul, and perhaps an antidote to some of today's societal woes.

Couples.  Touch. No touch? He, ahead of her?  Piggo?  She, ahead of him?  Mean anything? Like, mebbe, he owns 49% of stock?  Or mebbe, just good ole kindness, respect of the opposite, female sex.

Married longtime?   Newlyweds?  Shackin'?  On a date? (Those are real fun to watch, my take anyways.) Was at Knuckleheads recently, sat next to a couple to listen to music.  Perty obvious to be an online date... he, doted.  She, coulda cared less, didn't look at him. (Before being labeled misogynist, it coulda been exactly the other way, ie, she doted, he didn't look at her.)  Anyways, without saying so, she eventually got up and left, boredom I reckon.  Not for me, she decided.  I felt for him, but too, mebbe the result tweren't a bad thing.

Extrovert? They checkout YOUR eyeballs.  Introvert?  They'll walk around two rows'a cars NOT to meet up their eyeballs with you. Fun, ciphering is fun.

Compare.  We compare ourselves to other, my take anyways. The got:  mo' money, less money', hella younger, mebbe older (what year'd you graduate ma'am?), love kids, no likey kids, friendly, grumpy, happy, sad, in a hurry, out for a stroll, a Nascar kinda person? Hunt/fish? Symphany? Book club? PTA leader? Are they kinda like us?  Far, far away from being like us?

Park.  I think where people park 'speaks'.  Me?  Color me lazy. Now, I got's me onea them handicap placards so I'm right up town Bob Uecker "I must be on the front row!" But, before my placard, lazy.  I would drive up, down the aisles, oblivious to $3.79 a gallon petrol to find the closest damn spot I could find.  Then, others.  They park far away, pass up many spots closer.  These are hard to figure, judge if you will.  My father usedta get his exercise parking a long ways from his Sale's call.  It twasn't hereditary.

I find it (you may not) interesting to see how people respond to dogs, people, race, ethnicity, age, youth, noise, weather, the ones their with, folks in passing, to the checkout person. 

I'm a simpleton.  I can fall in love in two minutes.  Waitress across the way yesterday.  Family with four kids came in.  Waitress got on her knees (kid level) to listen to them.  Smiled the whole damn time, was disgusting, I think she was on drugs! Nodded her head, smiled when the parents ordered.  Doted on the kids, their needs.  It was under two minutes that I fell in love with her.  Victor?  Yes?  She was drop dead gorgeous wasn't she?  Mebbe, beside the point. Me? Judge?

Bored?  Go people watch.  More month than money?  Go people watch. Cheap date? (DON'T JUDGE ME!) Go people watch.  Anywhere, everywhere.  Doctor's office, WallyWorld, the most expensive spa in town. The park.  The doggy park.  The ballpark.  Last night was a perfect night for it, Bark At The Park. A wedding. Church. 

 

I ain't got any words here worth much to summarize it all. Life IS people watching. People listening. Dogs reaction to people.  Cat reaction to people (ha). Baseball moms/dads/umpires.  MU/KU. CNN/FOX. Church/Bar. Airport/bus station.  Piggly Wiggly. 

"I've learned people are watching.  So don't do nothing stupid." Bruno Mars

Love, Victurd

Basketball Jones, I got a Basketball Jones.........

I love me some basketball.  You no likey basketball, it's OK by me, turn your little self around 180 degrees, do not go thru the turnstile, do not pass GO, do not collect $4000 (inflation).  We are all human, and entitled to make mistakes, ha!  HOW COULD YOU NOT LOVE BASKETBALL!

The tip off of life.  It's a circle of players (family, doctors, nurses) surrounding two, and the lil bitty ball (baby) tossed up for the free for all of attention.

Dribble.  Differnt things to differnt folks.  As a toddler, we drool, dribble from our high chair.  That's the first quarter of life.  If we be lucky enough to make it to the 4th quarter of life, we men, we old men... kinda sorta dribble too, but from aanudder body part. Holy crap no wunder they want the lid up.  But, hey, with it down, it's kinda sorta akin to shooting a free throw!  Ooops, hit the rim, sorry. Next time. No one shoots a hunnerd percent.

Inflation - holy guacamole. I ain't talking about the kinda inflation they argue about until they're blue (or red) on CNN/FOX.  I'm talking about the bassiball.  Under inflated, ya start down court, the ball don't keep up.  Hard to play.  Over inflated, you're liable to take it on the chin like maybe a superball back in the day.

The lane.  This is kinda like parking spots.  You can only stay so long. There also be more congestion, fender benders, thrown elbows, and points made from the lane.

Points?  DOW Jones baskeball Jones.  Score, as in Paradise by the Scoreboard Lights.  Oh baby oh baby, what a play! We got winners, we got losers, but I love this (Court) bar.

Fast break.  That's like chasin' a gal at recess.  Mebbe going from zero to sixty on the onramp, or, the feeling of an inlaw at a family reunion. We gotta get outta this place.

Ball hog. The obsessive coworker who will not shut the hell up in a meeting that shoulda been over and hour ago. Children who say "NO!!!!" when you want just one little baby Snickers from their Halloween basket. Ain't it wunnerful kids go to bed so early? (And one:  Oh hell, eat two, 7, all but one.)

Benchwarmer. It takes a village of ten to practice 5 on 5. Ain't everyone in life so vely vely gifted. Many of us don't shoot nuttin' but net, we clank it off the rim, lay bricks or worse, air ball. Life, we, basketball teams, need benchwarmers.

Floater.  This is a wonderful shot to see.... usually a much smaller player dribbing toward the hoop and at bigger player, and he/she shoots it at such a trajectory that it's impossible for the big'n to block and funnels thru the net with ease.  In real life, a floater means it's time to get outta the baby pool for awhile. Charlie grab the net wouldya?

Full court pressure.  Rush hour.  Claustrophobia in a SRO crowd. More bills than money. A year of parenting a terrible two. A final exam. QUICK!  PICKUP THE BEER CANS, MY FOLKS JUST PULLED INTO THE DRIVE!..  The want, need to Spotify slow down you move too fast Feelin' Groovy by Simon and Art.

Foul.  BO comes to mind.  An F-bomb in the wrong crowd. Running a yellow light when ya shouldna. Trash day on Tuesday and your empty bin is still curbside Friday. No, or, a 10% tip.  Hanky panky when ya shouldnt oughta. A family feud on Facebook.

Halftime. That's 39.5 years according to the life expectancy of a chicky, 36.5 for roosters.  "Dang it, I think the kids heard us! More later honey?" Noon, lunch hour.  

Pivot.  A nail in one's shoe. Born again. A wishy washy Senator. A severe bonk on the head that turns one from introvert to extrovert.  When GPS says "make a U-turn." The transfer portal.

Rejected.  "No thanks, I'm really not in the mood to dance." But, but, but... I gave her THE BIGGEST Valentine I got in my packet.  Thanks but no thanks, back to Indeed, LinkedIn. Life with a cat.

Technical foul.  Inappropriate. Honey, us guys are going to the Lake for a weekend fishing trip. An inlaw badmouthing 'blood'.  Pink slip, red card, 15 yards. No soup for you.

When the ball gets stuck between the rim and the backboard, WEDGIE. Of course, the underwear thing. A flat tire. Dead battery. Where the hell is a tall guy whenya need 'em?

Switch.  Corporal punishment back in the day. Career change.  When one decides they no likey Bud Light. Bob and Carol  and Ted and Alice. Oops. Honey, hand me that paira undies that are in the glovebox.

Assist.  Carboard signs. Mom can I borrow 5 bucks? Piggyback.  Walker with tennis balls. Me in a powerized cart at WallyWorld. Advice. Friends. Volunteering. A spoonful from a baby jar. Training wheels. When it takes a village. A boost up. The fat guys that push on a Philadelphia Eagle ball carrier on 4th and one.

Overtime.  Big bucks, time and a half. Retirement, Social Security, Silver Sneakers. Extra extra, read all about it. Our coach is brilliant.  WHAT A BONEHEAD. Frenetic. Hubba hubba. You're too young to be tired. Mom and dad lemme stay up until midnight on weekends.

Layup. Big Chief tablet.  Googling trivia. Remote start on a winter day. Microwave ovens. That's a gimme, ya ain't gotta putt it.

I know basketball ain't for everyone. I love me some basketball.  Dribbling the ball 4 blocks to the Catholic school playground.  Whites, blacks, skins, shirts, fun.  Getting along. Getting serious, but, walking home together, friends, always.

Cheerleaders, pep bands, alums, little kids with big eyes, we've got spirit yes we do, we've got spirit how bout you? Wins, losses.  Like life. Heart palpitations, yum. Swish. Clank. You gotta call it off the backboard! Awwwwww COME ON REF!!!!

When coach calls your name.  Oh baby, yes! Nerves. Fun, funny happens. I recently attended a game, the obvious star of the team 'blew a sneaker', ie, his socked foot was sticking out the side.  Coach hollers "Manny, C'MERE!" Manny jumped up shockedly, he appeared to have never entered a game in such a critical moment. Makes it to coach's spot in a millisec though, only to be met with "What size shoe do you wear?" Aye yai yai, that'd be my luck.

I was a gym rat.  That's fancy for, I suck, can't make the team, but I live here, love here, play here, shoot funny, shoot a lot, practice, play, occasionally get serious when an elbow flies. I love it all.  Even the time when I was coaching.... asked the team manager to enter the names/numbers in the books. Did.  But. We were at home (we have odd number jerseys for home).  Entered were the road numbers (Even numbers.)  UH OH, my fault though for not double checking.  Before a second ran off the clock, the other team got to shoot 5 techinal free throwns. And, each time I put a player in to sub that hadn't already been in the game, uh huh, technical foul, free throw AND the ball.  Oh well. I've said before, Fleetwood Mac's Oh Well is onea my favorite songs ever.

Basketball Jones... I gotta basketball Jones......

Hoop, there it is.

Love, Victurd

What's love got to do, got to do with it........

I see trees of green
Red roses too
I see them bloom
For me and you
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

Love. Mebbe the best word eva'.   153BC The ancient Romans celebrate Lupercalia , a festival of love and fertility. Crazy little thing called love.  Love her madly.  Somebody to love.  Whole lotta love. Love in an elevator.  Where is the love? Addicted to love. I, will always, love you.  I just called, to say, I love you. All you need is love.

I see skies of blue
And clouds of white
The bright blessed day
The dark sacred night
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world

MLK, advocate for non violence and civil disobedience based on love for all human beings. Mahatma Gandi, inspired millions with principles of nonviolence and truth force based on love and compassion. Mother Teresa, "If you judge people, then you have no time to love them."

The colors of the rainbow
So pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces
Of people going by
I see friends shaking hands
Saying, "How do you do?"
They're really saying
I love you

What do kids think love is, means?  "When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." "Love is like a little old woman and a little old man who are still friends even after they know each other so well." Ben, age 8 "How do I know?  Girls are gross!"

I hear babies cry
I watch them grow
They'll learn much more
Than I'll ever know
And I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Yes, I think to myself
What a wonderful world
Ooh, yes

Love is all about 'I thee wed' but it's about so much more than that. Things we love.  Doing things we love. Things that are funny.  Things that are happy. Turning the faucet handle to the left, ie, tears, when warranted. Love is a smile.  A compliment.  A touch. A hug. A thought that brings smile about someone that maybe ain't here any longer.

I falls in love too dadgum fast.  I don't necessarily think that's a bad thing.  My heart has been given, yanked, more times than the busiest tongue piercer at an LA tongue piercing studio has done puilled tongues. I care, but i don't.  I love the feeling of love.  And not just the oh baby oh baby kinda love.

Love hurts, it do. Don't care, worth it. Hearing "no, not interested, but ty.". Breakups. Divorce. Heaven, rainbow bridges, funerals, cemetaries - filled. Imagine the emptiness of never loving.

"I can't say that word... the L word. It wasn't used in our household." I call BS. Today is a durn good day to wing it then the very first time.

We could all make lists of the things we love.  In fact, screw the grocery list that you'll prolly leave on the kitchen counter anyways.............make a list of things you love.  Add to it. Reread it. Victor, I bet this is where you're gonna share your list ain't it?

Mebbe.

Sleep. I love sleep. Sinking into the sack after a hard day of loving life and all within. Dogs, tail wags, looking at you awaiting your every/next move. Welcoming home.  Running circles in excitement.  That 'be for real' look a cat gives. Toddlers, arms up accompanied with the verbiage "Up-eee" Water, sun, light, dark. The beach even though later removing sand is impossible, still, all it's cracked up to be.

Carbs, damnit.  Sugar, darnit. Sports, partaking, watching, betting, hollering during. Beauty, so many forms. Drives. People watching. Watching your kid, parent. Seeing someone helping someone who simply needs a little help.

Friends. Coworkers. School chums. "We usedta" together back in the day people.  Reacquainting. Family. Yum.

Old people. They've spent a lifetime whittling away life's worries to now stick to the good stuff. Handshakes after ballgames. Colors. Yum.  The word yum. Sarcasm, levity, comedians. Hurt so good. Do gooders. Chewing gum that's still got flavor when ya scrape it off the bedpost in the morning. The fresh feel after brushing one's teeth.  Kissing someone (NO VICTOR!) who has marvelous breath. A child that falls asleep in your arms. Ice cream/cake, allover a toddler's face.

A double lutz, a 6-4-3 double play, a Curry 3-pointer that touches nuttin' but net. A 5 year old soccer player scoring a goal...at the wrong end.

Giggling. Googling. A jacuzzi.  Waking up. When caller ID makes you smile. Beer.  Sorry.  Kinda. Not really. Laundry done, folded (what's that?), put away. Cologne.  A smile coupled with another smile. A smile coupled with affliction, not saying affliction is a good thing, but, when an afflicted person smiles, it tells us all, "Why can't you smile then?"

Bloggers who understand when readers are just about to fall asleep.

OK OK OK.  One last story, and like any old person might say (except they usually don't) "I may have told you this before"..............oh well.

After divorce, I went on tooooo many dates, toooooo dadgum fast.  I went out with a gal waaaaaaaaaaaay too young for me. Victor, how much younger than you is too young? Well, a buddy o' mine told me, "take your age, divide it in half, then add 7."  So I got my fingers and toes involved counting, lemme see, 70, divided by two is 35, thenya add 7 to get 42. I then proceeded to tell my friend he was fulla doggy do, that's ridiculous.

Where was I? (I love when old people say, think that)

Oh yeah, i was with that date waaaaaaay too young for me.  I asked her, "whatareya looking for?"  She proceeded to tell me a story about work.  She worked in ER.  "We had this elderly lady come in.  Really bad heart issues. In fact, we lost her on the table, thankfully revived her.  She was accompanied by her husband of many years.  After she Coded and then responded, the Doctor went to the waiting room to explain to the old guy what had transpired."...... 

"Then it happened again.  Brought back.  Doc again went to relate to the elderly husband.  Finally, we lost her.  Could not revive.  We draped a sheet over her.  Doctor went out to relate same to the gentleman.  Without saying a word, he got up... came into the room where she lay...  pulled the sheet off, kissed her. Replaced the sheet, went on his way.  That.  That's what I want.

Love hurts, yet feels so good.

Love, uh huh, Victurd

I played High School basketball

Al Bundy ain't got nuttin' on me.  I played High School basketball. Embarrassed by the pic? Heavens no, I am hella proud to self depricate. Victor, it's always about you, as in, TMI. Ah, feel that way if you like, Freedom of Speech... and take another look at the pic, if you feel I'm gloating, that's kinda strange, but, certainly your choice to feel that way.

This and that.

I think I was 16. Look younger I guess, but, pretty sure that's correct. Junior year. I was sooooo proud to have made the varsity roster. Only three of us Juniors did.  One, was awesome, he started and actually lead the Varsity in scoring.  Me, and the other guy, and one more Senior... we sat on the end of the bench. (more in a sec on that)

My buddies, HS Juniors on the team that didn't make the Varsity, played JV and got oodles and oodles and oodles of playing time, thus, actually surpassing me in experience in no time, and probably ability as well.

VRD. Out with it Victor, what's that?  I hope I don't embarrass.  It's "Vic, Ralph, Doug".   We are the three guys who rarely, if ever, got to actually play in the varsity games that year.  In fact, we took masking tape, and we each taped our initials at the end of the bench where we'd sit, watch the games, talk about cheerleaders, pep club gals, occasionally cheer (we weren't a very good team) and, break ground for a lifelong VRD bond.

The haircut.  Yes, Moe comes to mind. I don't know why, but it was.  It looks, frankly, stupid, agreed.  The socks.  I'd like to say I was ahead of time (I was 'black sock cool' before it was a thing) but i think I simply forgot to pack white socks for a weekend stay at grannies. (Same with the black kicks, white Chuck Taylors were safely back in Liberty.)

One more basketball diddy. In the rare event I ever did get in the game, I was hesitant to shoot.  Why Victor, did you suck? Shoot with your elbow out too far?  Yes and yes, but not the reason.  My underarm hair was light, so light, that, from afar, it looked like I didn't have any, thus, embarassed to shoot.  Victor, are you really spilling your guts to the world about this, aren't you embarrassed?  Nope, sorry, ain't.

OK, just one more basketball diddy. In the rare event I did get in the game, and in the rare event I actually DID shoot, I distincly remember hearing in the background the voice of our vested Coach yelling "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" That, plus the crooked arm, light underarm hair, VRD tape, all, didn't bode well for confidence.  Oh well. (Oh Well happens to also be one of my alltime favorite songs!)

Enough about Moe, underarm hair, benchsitting, horrible field goal percent.

The dog.  The dog is Skippy.  If I've told you this story before, I'm sorry.... kinda.  Not really.

My, our, grandparents lived 6 or 7 blocks from Downtown Fulton, MO.  It was a thing, back in the day, for old folks, whether they needed anything from the store or not, to, go to town, visit with other old folks.  Every day of the week.

Daily, Grandma would let Skip out the door, then, 10 or so minutes later, they'd hop in the three speed on the column old Chevy, head to town.  There.  Yes, there. In their 'same ole same ole' everyday parking spot, would be Skip. Laying there, reserving it for them. No, not deserving of a statue like Jim the Wonderdog, but, I thought pretty cool and unique. I likes me some unique.

That is all. Have fun laughing at me, I will grab some popcorn, find my VRD seat and laugh right along with you.

Love, Victurd

LifeFax............

Who are you?

Who, who, who, who?
Who are you?
Who, who, who, who?
Who are you?
Who, who, who, who?
Who are you?
Who, who, who, who?

Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
I really wanna know (who are you? Who, who, who, who?) 
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
'Cause I really wanna know (who are you? Who, who, who, who?)

In all walks of life (and that's a lotta walks considering in the average life a person will walk over 75,000 MILES) we meet folks right and left, and up and down and all around.

Whothehell are you?  Howdoya know?

With apologies to young folks and Paul Simon as well, wouldn't it be lookin' for fun and feelin' groovy if we had sucha thing as LifeFax, you know, like we do CarFax?  No, we wouldn't necessarily know innie or outtie, or, brushes their teeth three times a day, or, only in months with 31 days.....

But...we could ascertain much. CarFax takes the VIN# (can you say Social Security Number?), has over 139,000 data sources including every US and Canadian provincial vehicle agency plus many auto auctions, fire and police departments, collision repair facilities, fleet management and rental agencies, and more.

Inotherwords, more.  They know hella more.

But... we could ascertain much.  LifeFax (would) take the SS#, a kajillion Doctor office reports (screw HIPAA, we'll figure a way), daycare reports, educational transcripts, background goodies from.. Boy/Girl Scout/Campfire Girl, FFA, YMCA, Bunko groups, The John Birch Society, The National Enquirer, The Onion, Litigant Search, the Harper Valley PTA...  Much.  Hella much.

It would be a boon for the father of the sixteen candles daughter, and the snotnose 'contents' within the car that pulls up. Does dad (hopefully) entrust the dude?  But is he really trustworthy?  1-800-LifeFax. "WHAT?  Look here Millie, in 2016 he pushed little Johnny Donald off the bleachers at an assembly, broke Johnny's clavicle, concussed, a 12 day hospital stay.  Sally, git yurass back in here, you ain't going out with him.  Thank you LifeFax.

Honey?  Since we're gonna mortgage our future here, don'tya think we oughta check with LifeFax to see who (fer real) our new neighbors are before we put down an offer? Lemme see,,, the Kahns, our wouldbe neighb's on the East, report looks good. Daughter was valedictorian, they done fostered, rescued 27 dogs in 12 years, and they give $19 a month to St. Judes. I likes these folks.

But damnit darnit, the LifeFax report tells me, the Emmitts, the wouldbe neighbor to our West, it ain't so good. He's had 6 DUI's, she usedta pole dance back in the day, the oldest son got kicked off the HS basketball team for smokin' pot, and hells bells, they're grandparents AT AGE 38! Thanks LifeFax, and no thanks MLS listing, we ain't goin' nowhere close to these peeps, honey, put that cardboard back on our new Ikea sofa.

Coworker. Ya spend all day RIGHT NEXT TO 'EM, can't see 'em thanks to cubicle walls, but... you can eavesdrop a bit. but.... do you really know 'em? Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)

I really wanna know (who are you? Who, who, who, who?) Just dial................

1-800-LifeFax. Yep, what I thought.  Lied on the resume', filed for unemployment at EVERY past job, that hair ain't really blonde (TY BarberAndSalon.com for joining LifeFax !).. Got promoted, it's believed, due to a bit of hanky pank with the Office Manager. Geez Louise.  Ahm, nice to meet you, ahhhh,  I have concentration issues so if I don't get involved in much banter with you, it ain't you, it's me, and nuthin' personal.  Whew, glad I got that out.

The Little League Coach. Who are you, I really wanna know. Take a look at the LifeFax Suz', he had severe acne as a kid... had some recent incontinence issues, but check this out, 7 years ago he pitched for the Chattanooga Lookouts, the Cincinnati Reds AA Minor league team! That man gonna done teach Sonny a slider and a split fingered fastball, run'n grab that Rawlings glove at Dicks we was lookin' at the other day, Sonny may one day buy us a new house with his signing bonus! Yahooo!  TY LifeFax!

Match.com.  HA, jokes on you!  Who are you, who are you, toot toot, I really wanna know.  That'n there, LifeFax says that photo is from 2003, not no's but hells no's. Ewww..  the one over here, treated for Herpes back in aught-6, seeya, wouldn't wanna beya.  Hey, this one makes over $150K a year, I guess I'll pay the $19.99 a month so I kin' maybe see if i can get a phone number.

Damnit, our sump pump stoppeda workin.  Let's see.. Ernie's Plumbing, think I'll call LifeFax to see if Ernie's all he's cracked up to be. OK, went to trade school, belongs to Kiwanis, usher/tithes at the Methodist church, dial him up honey, i think he's OK.  Since you work from home, mebbe he could come out sometime tomorrow. TY LifeFax!

Too bad we ain't really gotta LifeFax.  Life would be so much simpler.  I guess we mostly gotta take people by their word, and look for a possible backfire later. Go over for burgers offa their Big Green Egg, but let's stay at arm's length for a few months. Dating?  Trial and error I reckon.  Of course, marriage too could be trial and error.  Error and ya fer sure gotta trial. That CarFax thing even checks for Lemons, it's too dadgum bad their ain't a LifeFax. Cause wishin' and hopin' and thinkin' and prayin', plannin' and dreamin' the kisses will start, that won't get you into the heart, so if you're thinkin' of how great true love is.. (Victor, warning, that's second song in this blog...no wait, forgot 'Feelin' Groovy', third..  Sorry.  So sorry.  You shoulda LifeFax'ed me, I've done did that many times. Sorry, not sorry.)

Well, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
I really wanna know (who are you? Who, who, who, who?) 
Tell me, who are you? (Who are you? Who, who, who, who?)
'Cause I really wanna know (who are you? Who, who, who, who?)

Snotnoses picking up 16 candle daughters of Dads, neighbors on either side, cubicle mates, Pee Wee football coaches, plumbers, and the search for the partner of a lifetime. Reckon we're on our own.

Life don't come with 'structions, or, LifeFax.

Who are you............ I really wanna know.

Love, Victurd

Yummy

The struggle is real.

Noting that sometime ago my belly had dunlapped over my pants, I needed, wanted to do something. Being a physical education major in college, I've not set a great example in the (abundant) flesh, or, in my 'ways' (Oh well, I beat myself up, justify by 'haha, I'm human', and on I go.)

So............ goodbye (mostly, carbs)...  Goodbye (mostly) sugars. Results?  Eh, who knows.

What I do know, YUMMY is ever-present, on every menu, in every fridge, grocery aisle, it's like Motown, Temptations are everywhere. (And, Chickenman, if you remember that one, "He's everywhere, he's everywhere!")  Thankfully though, chicken (without all the fried frills) is OK.

Life though, also provides MUCH yummy. Thankfully, we don't have to push away from the table of life yummy.

It's everywhere it's everywhere.

Light, sunrise, dark, sunset - and all in-between.  Color. Colors are yummy. Fog, mist, clouds, blue skies (smiling at me), grass, trees (even wickedly handsome in Winter with their growth gone like carbs and sugars).. 

Audial.  A compliment, music to the ears.  Yummy.  Ray Charles (to me), the beat, the smile, the 'man I am really into this, FEELING it) yummy.  "Here kitty kitty" laughable, yet still yummy. "Go get the ball!" of course yummy, slobbery, but fun, yummy. (Ever eat a pine tree?  No, that ain't it, prolly ain't yummy, but, ya ever pull up to an intersection, see a hound pooch staring to happily halfway out the window?  The urge to spout "Go get your ball!" hits me. I guess I would worry said pooch might jump out, but I think it'd be fun...  yummy... a good laugh.  Laughter is yummy, audible.

Fingernails on the chalk board maybe ain't yummy, but, watching your HS Math teacher (or whatever he taught) start writing on the chalkboard with his left hand, get halfway, hand the chalk off to his right hand to finish the sentence, yummy.  An unforgettable moment.

Unforgettable moments are yummy.  "One small step for man...."  "I have a dream..."  "Today I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth." "To the moon Alice." "The boy did it!" (said Homer.) Even "Take this job and shove it" can be a yummy feel good, at least until the rent's due.  

As I write this letter (blog)

Send my love to you

Remember that I'll always

Be in love with you.

Even occasionally, those who done did say "Til death do us part" part... much yum can/does happen.

Courtship, pitter patters, you're all that matters. You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain, too much love drives a man insane, you broke my will, but what a thrill, goodness gracious great balls of fire. A pep in the step, so to speak yummily. 

"Now I've had (am having) the time of my life... No, I've never felt like this before.. Yes I swear, it's the truth, and I owe it all to you, cause I've, had (am having) the time of my life, and I owe it all to you."

Anyways, you know. ___ and ___ sitting' in a tree.. K I S S I N G. Relationships are yummy.

Lover, lover.  Neighbor, neighbor. (and I mean platonic relationship).. like, student, teacher.  Player, coach.  Boss, underling. BFF, BFF. Cousins, sibs. Vendor, client. Doctor, patient. Chiropractor, one out of sorts, sorta.

People.  People who need people.  (We all do Barbara.)  We're the luckiest people in the world. 

Sometimes, we even have those "I'm not gonna 'people' today" days, and that's OK too.  Solitude can be yummy.  Anything can be yummy.  Some of you even like sushi.

Life, I love you, all is (yummy) groovy. We are the world. We are the children.  We are the ones who make a brighter day.

Even 'have to's' can be dyslexically turned into 'get to's.'  They put a red line underneath dyslexically saying it ain't a word.  Rebel can be yummy, as in, F 'em if they can't take a joke, or, a word that ain'ta word. Dyslexically can be yummy, or, so said "(Dyslexic) Man walks into a bra"....

Fun. Yes, it's yummy too.  Laugh til ya pee a bit.  It'll clean up.  Don't be, er, on second thought, do be a drip.

Yummy can be free.  Expensive. (A financial planner asked a buddy of mine and his wife "Do you fly first class?"...  Why no... why?  "Well, your kids are gonna."  Message, go, do, have fun, yummy.

Nice.  Thanks goodness most people are nice.   Nice is yummy, really yummy, a life well lived.  

Run into someone that ain't nice?  Put 'em on iggy.  Use the other end of the number 2 lead.  Copy/cut. Paste it in the trash. Ain't got time for a bad day.

I get knocked down, but I get up again.  Barry Sanders got knocked down 3,062 times, but damn daddy, did he get up again, 3,062 times. Yummy to watch.

Victor, too many dadgum songs within.

Songs can be yummy. Silent Night.  Take me out to the ballgame. Scaramouche Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?

Is this the real life?  Is this just fantasy?

Open your eyes, look up to the skies and see.....

Yummy.  It's everywhere it's everywhere.

Forward by The Temps, Ella Firzgerald, Ray What I say, Euell Gibbons, Mr. Moore, Neil Armstrong, MLK, Lou, Ralph Kramden, Homer, Johnny Paycheck, Lennon/McCartney, Jerry Lee Lewis, Medley/Warnes, Barbara, Paul Simon, more than 40 artists for "The World", EF Hutton, Chumbawamba, #20 for the Lions, Joseph Mohr, Jack Norworth, Farrokh Bulsara.

Lyrics, by Chickenman.

Yummy is everywhere, it's everywhere.

Love, Victurd

Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'...

Whatta you gonna do today?  Nothin', you?

Whadda ya want for dinner?   Nothin', thanks.

What's in your wallet?   Uh huh, nothin'.

Whatsup?  Nothin' but the rent.

Tuesdays.  I love Tuesdays.  I have zilch, nothing, planned on Tuesdays.  My favorite kinda day.  I can sit and do nothing and Google tells me I will still burn 1,300 to 2,000 calories.

Lazy River.  Yes, I've related this before... sorry... kinda..  I love a lazy river.  You sit on a raft (or lay), doing nothing and the flow of water takes you round and round and round in a big circle. One could almost fall asleep were it not for the snotnoses splashing you, all about.

Victor, perhaps YOU are lazy.   Ahm, I prefer to call it adept at nothing.

Mattingly's basement, long ago.  Sure some of you old, local farts remember. TOYS.  My buddy and I, "Victor, you've told this one before."  Think nothing of it, and sorry, kinda I guess.  Buddy and I, 9-ish, had walked to the Square (or rode our bikes, I forget.)............ Wait.........

At 9 we could walk to the Square?  Nowadays?  Nope.  Rode our bikes?  Before the days of 'lock it up to that dadgum post there', nope, 'cause back then, no one would steal it, or, if they did, it'd be in the "Liberty Tribune Blotter", word would get around, the Deputy Sheriffs and Liberty's finest would certainly track it down, return it, and toss the bike stealer into the clinker.

Back to my buddy and I.  Down the stairs, toys galore.  Lady who was old (usually two of 'em, and when I say old, they were probably ten years younger than me/you now, damnit darnit.)  Anyways, the one lady eyeballed us. (Prolly looked shady, like she thought we mighta stolen the Schwinn Flyers we rode in on.).  We dreamed of Christmas, grabbed, tossed (nicely) a (deflated) basketball, a (deflated) football.  No money, ie, nothin', and, up the stairs we headed to hunt pop bottles to take to Safeway. "Hey, you two boys, c'mere."  It was summer, but, our brains harkened back to being on the playground, in trouble, a Franklin Elementary.

"Yes ma'am?"  Whaddya got in your pockets?  Nothin, honest.  And you?  Nothin' ma'am.  You took that football needle didn't you?  At this point, she had us come hither and then she dug her hand into our front pockets, quite certain we had stolen a 'football needle', something that costs a penny or two.  She didn't find nothin'.  Pretty sure we said nothin' to our folks about this.  Had this been 2023, me thinks the lady would be in big trouble, as in '5 to 10' for the perverted lady at the Five and Dime.

Daily, daily at absurd-30 in the morning, I play Wordle against my youngest niece. (Oldest niece, if you're reading this, it ain't nothin' personal, it's just because both of us awaken at absurd-30 in the morning, and we know you are in  your REM's, [doing nothin'] until 9am or so.)

Where was I?  Oh yeah, playing Wordle. She wins more than I, and I'm good with that.  Ocassionally we each may get a 3 or so, and it's winged back and forth "Great minds think alike."  Today, we each gotta 5. So, the theme was "Average minds"....  Victor, whatintheheck does this have to do with a post about nothing?

Something.  Niece informed 'this month is our don't spend month', ie, nothin above essentials, invest the rest. I told her I wish I woulda thought of that 50 years ago, for I have......... _____ saved.  Yeah, you guessed it.

That's all.  Boring.  Nothing newsworthy.  Bored.  I got nothing.  The word 'crickets' comes to mind, indicating 'nothin'.  No comprende.  Crickets are loud, annoying, not nothing.  Is that a double negative? "Not no's but hells no's" my stepson usedta say.

Time for me to go, I've got nothing to do today.

Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin' if you wanna be with me
Nothin' from nothin' leaves nothin'
You gotta have somethin' if you wanna be with me 

So not so, i love nothing.

I know nothing.

Love, Sergeant Schultze

Fill 'er up with Ethyl.........

Half full. Half empty.  Age old question. In old age, many thoughts.

The season our Kansas City Royals are having is yielding many empty seats. Tweren't that long ago you couldn't walk twenty paces without seeing any/everyone in Kansas City wearing Royal's gear, espousing (jointly) "Let's go Royals!"  

Mostly full, mostly empty.  At least, they ain't made outta carboard.

Years ago, we'd drive into Phil's Apco, cross the ding ding rope, within milliseconds a lad would run out, and one would announce "Fill 'er up with Ethyl." Ethyl, I've learned, is an additive concocted in the 1920's to combat the severe knocking of internal combustion engines. Price of tea, China, but oh well.

Speaking of empty, knocking, I pray my 2nd cousin won't get upset with me for sharing, and in preface, I want to say what a beautiful, fun, loving mother she had. She was my mother's best friend (and cousin.) There was nothing NOT to love about the lady.  Into her 90's, she was in a memory care ward.. My cousin's story from one day:

"Okay, so our mom is now residing in an Alzheimer's unit, bless her heart. Though she's not quite on the top of her game anymore she still can be funny, whether she knows it or not. Another resident is a sweet little woman named Marie who hasn't talked in a very long time but s.he loves to take your hand and give it kisses, graces you with a lovely little smile and twinkles in her eyes. It's all she needs. So I'm offering my hand to Marie today, receiving kisses and smiles when mom walks over, raps Mary on the head three times (softly) and says............"Hello, anyone in there".

The nurses witnessed this and almost fell to the floor trying not to laugh and be unprofessional but seriously, you have to be made of stone to not laugh. Marie just kept smiling."

When one leaves our physical world, we're empty, but thankfully, we have a glass full of memories.

Bank account, empty. Peanut butter jar, empty. Gas tank, almost empty. Fill 'er up with Ethyl, no, wait, scroll back to bank account, "I'd like $10 on pump 3, will that get me to Kearney to work?"

Empty nest. Empty Arms Hotel. Running on Empty. Empty calories. Empty suit.

5 Hour Energy Drink. Family gathering. A drive in the country. Sitting beside water, be it creek, pond, lake, river, sea, ocean. Memories. The vision of a face, transferred to the brain, opens our Dewey Decimal drawer to the past, the shared past. A hug. A smile. Many smiles, many hugs. Laughter. A just down plate of lasagna. Much. Much helps with emptiness. "Just one more please barkeep."

I've noticed, this blog frequently speaks to empty, full. I reckon that's "How we roll" (thank you Coach Reid) in life. Down, up. Fat kid on a teeter totter, haha, jokes on you tailbone. Rollercoaster.

One of my favorite quick videos on Facebook is of a 50, 60-something couple strapping into an amusement park ride... she, frantic.. he, joyous, onea' those laughs that make you laugh, feel comfort. WOW it lifts them, FAST, stomach dropping... by now screaming, she begs he get her down, soon kinda sorta turns to namecalling. The entire time he's joyous, knowing she'll be safe, back on ground in a few, his laughter infects, in a good way. The more she screams, the more wonderful, louder, soothing his laughter is. I'm reminded of many of my lifelong friends who have lifelong relationships - they end, and there's an emptiness. He truly cared for his wife. Whichever, she, the frantic lady, go first, or he, the calm one, there's worry. He makes her whole and vice versa. When two lean on each other, they walk upright as one. Emptiness sucks, but again, full of memories.

We are of age, many spend a huge, large, long portion of their lives fending for, taking care of, their significant other. Or child. Or grandchild. Or sister, brother. Parent. Grandparent. Bless you. Truly. Empty is really full, my take.

Emptiness. Estate sales. Auctions. Dumpsters. Full house, empty house. Once vibrant, now empty. Oft times, little or no warning.

Life is a book. No one knows how many pages within. Once after a hospital stay, my son related "Dad, I read a 600 page book." Really? Cool, what was it about.... he related the story line, what impacted him, his memories of it all. All kindsa emotions ran through his description, fun, laughter, good guy, bad guy, outings, events, lovers, family, yada, twas fresh on his brain, I loved hearing about it.

Win, lose. We all win, we all lose. Touches us, knocks us down. Fills us, leaves us empty. We each handle it differently.

A loved one just lost her father. The grandfather to her two children. I love youth. I consider her youth, certainly in comparison to me. I'm amazed by youth today and specifically her. I hope she won't mind me sharing her reaction to the emptiness. She wrote:

"The amount I miss him is near debilitating, but I know that it would break his heart if this destroyed me. My son and I have promised each other to remind ourselves every day what my daddy would want if he could tell us, and we both know it would be happy and enjoying life and doing everything we could to be as good and kind as he taught us to be and to know no matter the distance between us, he is with us in everything always, from now until I can finally embrace him. Thank you daddy, you have nothing unfinished, you gave us everything we needed and more, you will be in every smile I ever have on my face and in every word I speak and every thought I have. You are the air that I breathe."

Empty = love, full.

In life, it gets tougher to continue to walk the yellow brick road but we must. Should you, whoever reading this, feel emptiness, prayers.  I wish for you, driving across that imaginary bell at the station, allowing your ongoing life to fill 'er up with Ethyl.

Love, Victor